The First Councel

That’s it. Fear conquered. Straddling the concrete railing, I hold on to the wall for balance. Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down, I tell myself. Slowly, cautiously, I attempt to climb to my feet. First one knee, then the other. As dizziness sets in, my cheek’s pressed against the wall and my fingers scurry up the marble like startled spiders. What a stupid way to die.

“Just stand up-you’re almost there,” Nora says.

Only a few more inches. Balancing on the railing and leaning into the wall, I let my hands scramble for the roof. Within seconds, I lock on to the marble molding and grab that sucker with everything in me. Then, anchored in place, I slowly stand up. Nora’s no longer out of my reach. A hop and quick boost finish the job.

As I prop myself up on the ledge, I hear Nora’s hushed clapping. Her feet are still dangling over the edge, and she’s hiding behind a tall marble structure that looks like an exhaust duct.

“What’re you-”

“Shhhhhh,” she whispers, motioning across the roof. As she waves me next to her, I realize who she’s trying to avoid. On the other side of the roof is a man wearing a dark baseball cap and dark blue fatigues. In the moonlight, I see the outline of the long-distance rifle that’s hanging from his shoulder. A countersniper-the executive branch version of Rambo.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“Don’t worry,” Nora says. “They’re harmless.”

“Harmless? That guy can kill me with a roll of Scotch tape and a highlighter. I mean, what if he thinks we’re spies?”

“Then he’ll stick us down and color us bright yellow.”

“Nora… ”

“Relax… ” she moans, mimicking my whine. “He knows who we are. As soon as I got up here, he took off to the other corner. As long as we keep it quiet, they won’t even report it.”

Struggling to act relieved, I scooch next to her and lean against the marble air vent.

“Still worried?” she asks as her shoulder rubs against mine.

“No,” I say, enjoying her touch. “But I’m warning you-if I get shot, you better avenge me.”

“I think you should be okay. All the times I’ve been up here, no one’s ever shot at me.”

“Of course not-you’re the crown jewel. I’m the one who’s target practice.”

“That’s not true. They won’t shoot at you without a good reason.”

“And what kind of reason is that?”

“You know,” she says, turning my way. “Assaulting the complex, threatening my parents, attacking one of the First Kids… ”

“Wait, wait, wait-define attack.”

“Oh, that’s a hard one,” she says as her hand flits across my chest. “I think it’s one of those know-it-when-you-see-it things.”

“Like pornography.”

“Actually, that’s not such a bad analogy,” she tells me.

I reach over and put my hand on her hip. “Does this qualify?”

“As what? Pornography or an attack?”

I take an immensely long look into her eyes. “Either.”

She seems to like that one.

“So does it qualify?” I repeat.

She doesn’t glance down. “Hard to say.”

I slide my hand a little higher, slowly making my way to her untucked shirt. As I sneak beneath it, my fingers dip inside the waistband of her jeans and brush against the edge of her underwear. Her skin is so tight it makes me miss college. As smoothly as possible, I make my way up her stomach.

“Not there,” she says, grabbing my hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… ”

“No worries,” she says as she offers me a smile. Pointing to her lips, she adds, “Just start a little higher.”

I’m about to lean in when I see her pull something from her mouth.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Just getting rid of my gum.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a tiny sheet of paper. As she turns her back to me, she wraps her gum in it and throws in a new piece.

“Want to take out your retainer as well?” I mutter.

Facing me, Nora’s sucking on her pointer finger. Pulling it from her mouth, she lets outs a sharp kissing sound. “Come again?”

I don’t have a single response that’ll do her justice. Instead, I just sit there for a second, enjoying.

For Nora, it’s a second too long. In one quick movement, she rolls over, straddles my legs, and, with a slight tug, pulls me toward her and glides her tongue between my lips. Right there, it all comes rushing back. Over the past two weeks, I’ve had dreams about her smell. Its bittersweetness-almost narcotic. As soon as we kiss, she slides her gum into my mouth. My girlfriend in fifth grade used to do that. I go to chew it, but it feels like it’s still wrapped in paper. Caught off guard, I pull away in mid-cough. It’s too solid. Unable to pry the gum loose with my tongue, I shove two fingers to the back of my throat, but before I can pull it out, it’s gone, accidentally swallowed.

“You okay?” she asks.

“I think so-it’s just… I wasn’t ready for it.”