ABSTRACT
We were thirteen when we met on the bleachers in gym class, both faking our periods so we didn't have to get elbowed by the scary girls. Karen was a year ahead of me, and I'd watched her play clarinet in the band (I played drums, so I had a good view) for a full year without approaching her. She wasn't like anyone in our small town. I couldn't even say there was a type she represented. She seemed unapproachable, long hair falling over her chiseled face at her desk in the study hall we shared or in band practice, classily detached from high school hype, exuding a contained dreaminess that was almost sultry. I was more pleased than I let on when we landed next to each other on those bleachers.
