It’s not easy, doing spotlight for a talent show, but I kept the Stevie Farber’s magic act illuminated per script. As I could see that his hat had a fake top, maybe I should have dimmed the wattage, but I’d not been directed to do so. Dell, my partner in the light booth, was in charge of the fixed equipment, a job not requiring further attention until Stevie produced the stuffed parrot -- Voila! --and took his bow.

As I swung to follow Stevie stage-right, I felt Dell’s hand slip under the back of my sweater, and kept Stevie centered as my bra was unfastened. I kept the spot on his move to stage-left as my strap was worked over my shoulder, out of my sleeve and, around my elbow, my flex helping remove it entirely

Don’t, Dell, not here, I thought, but I had to switch hands to guide the spotlight while Dell did the same on my other side.

The audience couldn’t see us, but had Stevie been able to stare into the spotlight, he’d have seen it.

Don’t, Dell, not here, I thought, sucking in my stomach as she unfastened my belt.

Chelsea Dibbins’ solo required only stationary lighting, fortunate because the spotlight would have trembled when I orgasmed.

Dell returned my bra the next day when we were alone in the girl’s bathroom.

I’d never have volunteered to do lights for the talent show if Dell hadn’t asked, but that’s what’s good about having made a friend; she’ll get you involved in your new school.

As Mr. Simmons, being a math teacher, seated his students alphabetically, I at least didn’t have to risk taking a seat being saved for someone else.

“You must be new here. I’m Dell,” the girl next to me had introduced herself. “Adella, actually, but call me Dell. This worked out great, us sitting together.”

I didn’t see why sitting by her was great, but maybe this Dell understood that it’s scary to move to a place where everybody’s known each other for years.

Dell asked my opinion of Mr. Simmons’ hairstyle. Bad comb-over, my thought, and we’d laughed until Mr. Simmons quieted the class.

After class, she said, “See you, around,” which in itself was a given, trig being every day, but at the same time, came across as a welcome.

And, indeed, two periods later, there she was in English, and as the teacher let us seat ourselves, beside me by choice.

It’s good to find a friend.

The two of us had been walking home, me recounting almost being almost run over in the hall by Marv Krebbs, Dell leaned my way and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Glad you survived.” When we got to where we split directions, told me that hat was the kiss of a zombie and now I’m her slave. I kissed her back and said it also worked in reverse and we both laughed.

And after that, we always kissed when parting, before long, lip against lip. Quick, to be sure, but it left me happy I’d met her.

Saturday, I was working on a crossword when the phone rang. “Hiya, Tangent. What’s up?”

Only Dell called me “Tangent,” in lieu of Tanya, and in turn I called her “Delta,” terms used by Mr. Simmons. Just secret names, or they’d actually call us that, we’d pledged.

“Nothin’ much. You?”

“Wanna’ come over?”

“I’d love to, but my folks are gone and I can’t just take off.”

“Bummer.”

“They didn’t say I couldn’t have a friend over here, though.”

“On my way, Tangent. I’ve got a video.”

Usually we just kissed at goodbyes, but when I opened the door, Dell gave me a big smooch on the lips and presented me with a bouquet of coral roses. “Your best color.”

I’d not been given flowers before, giving a kiss back.

“I brought ‘Loving Annabelle’,” she told me as I helped her out of her jacket. “It’s sort of different.”