Chapter 1

I can’t go back to the beginning. That would be too hard. Later, maybe with some context to give me support I can bring it up, but not now. With a scowl and roll of my eyes I can say that my introduction to men and sex and everything started just after we’d moved and I’d begun high school. Everything before that scarred me, but after that, in Kevin’s bed and with Treyvon, they really started me off on the path that led me here. Kill them or curse them or give them high fives for a job well done, it doesn’t matter. I’m here now and that’s all that matters.

My parents had found a really nice place. Just a junky little two bedroom house, but with a yard and in a nice neighborhood without any big box stores, and even within walking distance of my new school. My little sister had to catch a bus for school every morning, but she didn’t mind. She was the golden child, the beautiful little girl that did everything mom and dad wanted and expected of a kid. Just the opposite of me.

Do I sound bitter there? I’m not. Not really. I know who I am, who I was in the eyes of my parents, and accept that I was just a little too mediocre, too normal, too average for my parents. Whether it was my grades at school, my inability to play piano, or my lack of concern about how to make a perfect pot of rice, my parents just sighed and set their sights on my perfect little sister.

Again, no hate from me. She was a little beauty, with perfect grades, perfect smiling face, perfect ability to speak my parent’s dialect of Chinese, and perfect talent at singing any pop song rising in social media. That’s why my sister got all of the attention from my parents. Of course, this meant she had to be perfect, to always be perfect, while I was allowed to lounge around and be just another mediocre kid. Trust me. I totally preferred being forgotten and left alone to do what I wanted.

My parents wouldn’t just let me or my sister enjoy life as all-American kids. My mother joined a church just so my sister could join the choir and get free voice lessons. My sister loved it of course, quickly becoming the cute little singing star. No diss from me, the kid really did have a great voice and could impersonate half the singers you hear out there, but I was sure glad it wasn’t me.

Spoke too soon. I was enjoying my freedom until my father made a deal with a family down the block. He agreed to install a sprinkler system for their yard in exchange for free piano lessons. Just writing that out took a lot out of me, so maybe I don’t want to get into it just now. Keep it in mind, though. Those piano lessons are way important, and not because I learned all the major chords.

Guess I should stop here and explain a few things. First is that my family was Chinese, as in straight from China. I was born in a part of China I couldn’t find on the map if you paid me, but my sister was born here, in the US, so she was a citizen from the start. Lucky kid. My name was originally a Chinese name, shortened to Mei, the whole thing actually translating to “beautiful ocean” but here in the states I just came to be known as May, as in the month of May. A weird coincidence made all the more strange when a nurse at the hospital my sister was born in suggested the name April for her. April and May, perfect sisters, though we couldn’t be much more different.

Not just different as in how perfect she was or still is from me. We hardly even looked alike. She was four years younger than me, but quickly passed me in height. The nurse at school said it was probably because of me eating bad food when I was younger, but I don’t remember ever starving as a kid. Still, I was short, maybe the shortest kid at my high school, while my sister looked tall and perfectly proportioned. Her skin was light to white while mine looked like I had a permanent tan. Not a dark brown but not the alabaster white my parents loved and respected. Another difference was that her face was oval and had kind of round eyes with just the right kind of almond slant that made hearts melt when she smiled. My face, on the other hand, was kind of roundish with what kids and adults alike stereotypically referred to as slanted close-eyed slits.

The one part of me my parents did approve of was my small feet. Small and symmetrical, though darker than my mother liked. My dad couldn’t get over how my dainty feet could hold me up, but my mother made him shut up and stop admiring them.

I didn’t look all that different from my parents, or at least not now that I’m grown, but I was so different from my sister, my father and mother openly joked about how their real first kid was stolen at the hospital in China with me being put in her place.

Anyway, back to the story. My parents were desperate for work, always looking for better paying work, and that’s why we moved. They’d found our new place in a new city, working by the hour for some cleaning company owned by a questionable relative we hardly knew. Parents worked like six days a week, mid-morning to early evening, meaning me and my sister were largely left on our own. Yet while my sister studied and tried to be ever more perfect, I went back to enjoying my freedom and did other stuff. Used to just hang out with friends or get lost in my phone or, you know, practice piano, but then we moved to that new place and things changed like you wouldn’t believe.

No more piano, thank the gods. I’ll get into that later.

So, on most days, my sister and me went to school and our parents went to work and got home about seven every night. As long as I had rice and some kind of dish ready for them to eat, they never griped or bothered me. On Sunday we all cleaned the house, and I do mean everybody and everything, but that was okay too. It kind of pulled us together as a family.

My new high school was great, at least compared to the urban ghetto kind of place I’d almost been forced to attend. I was so happy when we moved. Walked over to the high school two weeks before the start of classes just to check it out. I really looked forward to new classes, new books, even studying for tests. I kind of liked school and tests just because the rules were right out there in the open. Obey and do okay. I wasn’t real good at it, getting just a mix of Bs and As, but it could be fun. Read the book, listen to the lecture, learn what the teacher thinks is important, study, take the test, and get patted on the head for being a good if not quite perfect kid. It was the one part of life that seemed calm and simple and without all the daily bullshit. Until I was compared to my sister.

Days passed and everything was working out, though I was a bit slow at making friends. Walked to and from school on my own, lugging a heavy bookbag, waiting for some excitement to brighten my otherwise very boring and predictable life. Didn’t have to wait long.

One day early in the school year I was cutting across a public park on my way home when I passed two young girls sitting on a park bench. With a glance I saw they were huddled together and trying to draw Pikachu. So lame. Everybody tried to draw Pikachu. You know, the Pokemon character. I was amazed it was still popular. I’d grown up with the cartoon series and as soon as I hit my teens I gave all my cards and stuff to my little sister.

Thing is, I was a good artist, not that my parents cared. Early on I practiced at drawing all the little guys I could. I was even good at drawing Ash and his two sidekicks. The one class at school I was most looking forward to taking was art, but I couldn’t start that until my tenth year. No matter. I practiced a lot on my own, and that included being able to free-draw all the characters in the Pokemon series.

Anyway, I saw the girls failing at drawing anything that looked like Pikachu, so I dropped down next to the little redhead girl and asked if I could show them how to do a better job. Thought I’d be spit at because I was a stranger and everything. I was surprised when they asked to see what I could do, and even more surprised that they loved my art so much.

Figured I’d do a couple of characters and head for home, but the older one, the redhead named Jena, jumped up and pulled on my hand and said I had to come by her place and see all the stuff she had on her walls.

Her friend, Rhonda, did the same and I somehow got forced into walking three blocks out of my way to Jena’s home. Nice, standard suburban home, much nicer than what my family had moved into a few months before. While pretending to admire Jena’s artwork, and calculating how much time I’d need to prepare dinner for my sister and parents, Jena’s brother walked into the room.

Actually her step-brother, his father having married Jena’s mom just a couple of years before. He startled the hell out of me, throwing out a loud, “Hey!” when he opened the door. I shrieked, the girls laughed, and the brother, Kevin, apologized, his face going red as he introduced himself. He was tall, nice looking, even looking a bit older than his age of 19. We talked for a while, like about different Japanese anime series and some favorite video games, and then I had to go.

It seemed odd to me at the time, the girls wanting me to come back to visit and even the brother telling me to drop by after school. I mean, not only were we all totally different ages, like little girls and older working guy, but they were about as white as the cheap bread most stores have. Doubt that they ever ate rice other than that weird boxed stuff. So it was strange becoming friends with them so fast, but also kind of welcome, and I found myself smiling as I returned home. It was nice having made friends.

Went back a couple of times after that, most notably to Rhonda’s birthday party. It was held at Jena’s place where I met Jena’s mom and Kevin’s dad. Kevin stood by the barbeque on hot dog duty, and since everybody else there was either a lot older or a lot younger than me, I hung with Kevin most of the afternoon. Just talking back and forth. I found out he had a job, living at home, kind of nice, sort of handsome, and with curly brown hair. Handsome, interesting, but still just another guy, right? Interesting, but I was cynical enough to know to stay at arm’s length.

Then reality hit. It’s hard to write the next page or twenty because this is when everything changed. I’m both horrified and angry and kind of okay with what happened, all at once. Girls go through this stuff, though maybe not just as I did. In some ways, it all worked out, but sometimes back then I’d wake up in a sweat and wonder what kind of crazy dream I was being forced to live out.

I’d gone over to Jena’s place, yet again and for reasons I can’t remember. Just out of boredom I guess. Parents were gone, the house left to Jena for the day except for the presence of Jena’s older brother, Kevin

Had some fun with Jena and Rhonda, ate cheap ramen for lunch, gossiped as all girls do, and out of the blue Rhonda told me to leave because she had something real confidential she wanted to discuss with Jena. Like they couldn’t do that online or over the phone or something. I reminded myself that the girls weren’t even in their teens, so it was no big deal and I shut Jena’s bedroom door behind me. Walking down the hallway, I glanced past Kevin’s open bedroom door and saw him sitting on the bed, doing something on his laptop.

Without thinking and for no good reason I entered his bedroom and looked over at what he was doing. It was a work-schedule with all sorts of other stuff he had to pay attention to for the warehouse work he did. He was nice enough to explain, but I didn’t really care. What I did care about was a World of Warcraft link on his screen and I asked if he really played the game. Not that I did or even really wanted to, but a couple of guys in my history class kept bringing it up and had the logo on all their school supplies.

Kevin had me sit up next to him on the bed and opened the program, showing his favorite character and roles and stuff. Then out of nowhere he asked if I could draw anything from out of the game, like maybe duplicate some of the artwork. I shrugged and said maybe, and he asked about my interest in art and then asked about my father. Keven grew really interested in my father being a diesel mechanic and even wondered if he could ever meet him and talk cars and trucks some day. It was a great talk with a guy I’d normally just walk by on the street.

Then we heard Jena’s door open, the girls yelling for me to come back. I started to roll off of Kevin’s bed, but he put out a hand, whispered that I should hide, and pulled his comforter over my body. I thought it would be a good game, a trick to play on Jena. A few seconds passed and I heard footsteps and Jena asked Kevin if he’d seen me.

“No. I just got some water and didn’t see her. Try out back.”

Jena yelled out for Rhonda to check the backyard and then began talking to Kevin about the party their parents had gone to. I can’t remember any of the details, because while he and his sister talked, Kevin’s left hand had reached out to massage my breasts. I’m not talking about rubbing the front of my shirt. His hand slipped under my blouse, pushed aside my bra, and was having fun thumbing my right nipple like we’d been dating for a year.

I couldn’t say anything, not with his sister there. I knew that if I just popped out of bed with my tits showing, Jena would have thought I was making moves on her brother and spread the news to the parents. They talked for maybe two minutes, just enough time for Kevin’s hand to push over and tweak my left nipple. Jena finally left, following Kevin’s instructions to close his door and let him work in peace.

Two seconds after the click, Kevin was there with me under the covers, this time with his mouth taking the place of his hands. Not the first guy ever to touch and then suck on my tits, but it was sure a surprise. To tell the truth, I’m not sure I gasped from Kevin doing it so sudden or from the very welcome sensations that came from his tongue and lips lapping at my nipples. Felt good but I still struggled, whispering about how he needed to stop, but for every word I got out, I had to suppress a moan. I mean, it felt really good to have his mouth sucking on my tits. A suck, a nibble with his teeth, a little bite to my nipple, a lap of his tongue, and then repeat. Only a minute into this and my body was shaking, my voice unsteady, and my mind totally unsure of what I’d gotten myself into.

I finally found the strength to push his hands and head away from my chest, but he only moved higher. First he kissed my neck, whispering about how much he liked me. Then a quick kiss to my lips, saying how beautiful he thought I was, how he loved my eyes and how he liked to hear me talk. Then another kiss to my lips, with just a touch of his tongue to mine, then a kiss to my neck, and then back to where his teeth latched onto my right tit, lashing my nipple with his tongue and making my eyes roll back into my head. It was so scary, so wonderful, and I found myself having to argue with myself over how not right Kevin’s actions were.