I was only eleven when my bubble of space was abruptly popped. I wouldn’t call myself a germy; let’s just say I enjoy my space. Sophie, my best friend at the time, was my other half. We did everything together; she was the white cream to my Oreo. I loved everything about her except one thing; her family was very hippie-ish. They loved massage circles, bran toast, and bongos. It was on one eventful Sunday that my need for space collided with Sophie’s colorful family.

Sophie and I had just spent the entire day together and it was time to leave. I was drunk off laughter and high off happiness when I got the call to go home. I packed up my stuff, climbed up their old wooden staircase, passed the Buddha statue, sifted my way through beads and bangles, and got ready to go. While I was waiting in the kitchen for my mom to come, Sophie’s family was sitting around reading and playing guitar. Sophie had one younger brother, Sammy; he was the devil in baby form. At two years old he had probably pulled out more of my hair than I had on my head. Not to mention he was messy. I didn’t know that in order to eat macaroni and cheese you need to scrape it off the walls. In front of his parents, however, Sammy was the perfect angel. With blond hair and blue eyes, his round face looked so innocent, but do not be fooled.

Finally my mom came to the driveway and honked a warning sound telling me to hurry up. I shouted a goodbye to Sophie, who was downstairs, and went to say goodbye to her family.

“Bye guys, Thank you for having me.”

“Oh yeah, no problem, always nice to have you here Esther.” Sophie’s mom then uttered the worst words I’ve ever heard.
“Sammy, do you want to give Esther a kiss goodbye?” Sammy nodded his head in a devilish way and smiled mischievously as if he knew in his two year old brain that this would be the most disgusting and annoying thing he could do. He slid off the couch and slowly walked towards me. He stared me down, his blue eyes lasers, leaving me with open sores, smarting and stinging. He was getting closer and closer, I tried to slowly back away, softly protesting, but it was too late.

He was puckering his lips as full and red as a ripe raspberry. He had crumbs all over his face from the cookie he had just been eating. Sammy was way too close at this point. He licked his lips. He was two steps away, one step; he stopped and leaned in. What was I to do? My back was up against the wall. I was trapped by my awkward personality and my need to be polite. I leaned in and he, as if in slow motion, kissed me. It was just a peck but it seemed to last forever. I could taste the sickening kid-like cookie he had just eaten. The kiss made by blood run like honey and my mind fight to hold on like fingers holding on to a cliff’s edge. And that was it; I quickly scrambled back and hurried out the door. Without even a goodbye I got into the car and shouted at my mom to go. I got home and washed my mouth out very thoroughly.

Eventually I got better with germs, though I will never forget that insane day. I have learned to stand up for myself. Many times in the past I have found myself in a situation of discomfort and the most valuable thing I learned was the fact that it was okay to say how I feel or even to stand up and leave. Eventually Sophie and I drifted apart but the memory of her little brother will stay with me forever as a reminder to stay true to what you believe in, and to never join a massage circle.