It Happened on Maple Street

But, oh, it had been good. Better than good. That hour with Tim had been what most girls only dream about. The magic. The emotions that had consumed us with mindless need . . .

By that afternoon I was a mass of confusion. Excited and ecstatic in one moment. Despairing the next.

What had he thought?

Did he want the cow even though it had peeked its head out of the barn?

Had he really liked me to begin with?

I wished my big brother was home from college. And I was glad that he wasn’t there to witness my humiliation. He called, though.

“What’s up?” He asked when Mom told me to pick up the phone.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“What? I got an A on a paper this week. I wrote about Angel and Cherie.” Cherie was the family’s toy poodle. Angel was mine.

“Mom said you have a boyfriend.” He didn’t give a darn about my school work. Never had.

My face burned. I didn’t want to know what Mom had told him. Was I in trouble? Or going to be teased?

“I guess.”

“What’s his name?”

Like Mom hadn’t told him.

“Tim.” And don’t you dare say anything bad about him. Don’t criticize. And for God’s sake, don’t tease.

The silence was excruciating. I adored my big brother. And I’d never had a boyfriend. What would this new territory bring between Chum and me?

“He plays tennis,” I blurted. Chum had played on the high-school team. He didn’t play at college though. He bowled there.

Did that make Tim better than Chum? Because he was playing collegiate tennis?

Had I just put my big brother down?

“You like him,” Chum said.

“Yeah.”

“A lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Just make sure he treats you right.”

The knots in my chest let go. I started to breathe. “He does. I promise, Chum. He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever known.”

At least I hoped he was.

“I’ll have to meet him.”

“I know.”

“Just tell him that.”