Chapter 1

It was in the mid-fifties. No computers, no internet, no cell phones, no sex education, and school nurses didn’t hand out condoms to twelve-year-olds. At the ripe old age of fourteen, I had the Sears and Roebuck catalog to learn what ladies wore under their dresses. And my prized possession, a tattered copy of Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog tucked in the back of my closet that Billy Thompson and I rescued from Mr. Arnold’s trash. So forgive me, if I seemed a little naive in that summer of 1956.

Ellen Farrow lived down the street from me and seemed to like me. At least my fourteen-year-old brain had convinced itself that she did. Ellen is two years older than me and about the coolest girl, I ever saw. She may have been a little thin for some guys taste but I knew she was smart because she wore glasses, always had a book with her, wore skirts below her knees and kept her black hair neatly tied in a ponytail. I liked smart girls.

Ellen often sat on her front porch steps reading, studying or writing in her diary. She always smiled and waved when I waved to her when I walked by. It was not unusual for folks in our neighborhood to acknowledge their neighbors with a friendly hello or a wave. But for me to wave to Ellen Farrow the first time was an act of pure courage. My god, I was hoping she would acknowledging that she knew I existed and hoping she would not ignore me as if I was beneath her notice.

Even that first time I waved to Ellen she waved back and let me see that sweet smile. I was in the habit of finding an excuse to walk by her house almost every day. Sometimes it was as simple as “Hey Mom, I am going to take a walk.”

It was on one of my frequent expeditions past Ellen’s house when the sky opened up with one of those freak ten-minute summer rain showers.

I was just about to wave to Ellen when she let out a shriek, jumped up from where she was sitting on the porch steps and ran up on the porch laughing as I stood there like an idiot getting drenched to the skin.

She called to me as she motioned for me to come up on to her porch, “Get up here, Billy. Don’t just stand there in the rain.”

Holy crap, she knew my name. I opened the gate and ran up on to the porch huffing and puffing.

Her voice was like music to my ears, “Don’t you just love the warm rain in the summer, Billy? Oh, look there is a rainbow.”

“Yeah, I see it.” I was standing less than a foot from her. My mind was reeling. She knew my name and let me come up on her porch. I was almost shaking with giddiness. I peeked at her as she stood next to me gazing in wonder at the rainbow. I noticed with great satisfaction that she was not that much taller than me.

She let out a sigh when the rain ended and the rainbow faded. “Oh, my you’re soaked. Come in the house and let’s get you dried off.”

Ellen Farrow took my hand and led me into her house. My heart was beating a mile a minute. She was holding my hand. I was inside her house. She knew my name!

Just as we walked in Ellen’s mother came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “My, my, Ellen, is that the cute Billy Tucker you’re dragging in here to drip all over my floors?”

I had made it all the way in the front door and Ellen was still holding my hand. My heart sank. “I’m sorry Mrs. Farrow, I’ll go back outside.”

Then Ellen’s mother smiled, “Oh don’t mind me, Billy. I was just teasing Ellen. Let me get some towels.”

Ellen led me to the bathroom and told me she would be right back. A few minutes later Ellen came back with her mother and some towels in her hands. Mrs. Farrow was holding a flowered robe in hers. Ellen put the towels on top of the hamper.

Mrs. Farrow handed me the robe as she ordered me to take my clothes off, “Take your wet clothes and sneakers off and hand them out and I will put them in the drier. When you are dried off put this robe on and come to the kitchen. I will have some cookies and tea ready for you.”

I shut the bathroom door. I took off most of my clothes and dried myself off. I debated whether I should take off my underpants. They were pretty damp so I took them off and checked to make sure they looked clean. I was naked in Ellen Farrow’s house. My weenie started acting up.