Laura P__ had a pomegranate tree in her front yard. It grew up agains the low wall dividing her property from the street. Like most of the architecture in La Crescenta, the wall was built of stone or granite, depending.
Laura was in my grade in middle school. Her house was on the way to school. Built of the same stone as the wall, her house was large and impressive. Obviously, her family was more well-to-do than the rest of us.
I never stole those pomegranates, although they hung within reach of the sidewalk. I wanted one, but the maxim, "Do no wrong" was more powerful than my desire.
Her brother, Brett, was tall, attractive, and two or three years older. The years passed and I found myself with Brett in my high school biology class. As a tenth grader taking biology with the seniors, I was a little intimidated. I was also oblivious to the social climate. Brett was my lab partner, so I ended up sitting by him everyday in the high chair at the lab table. He was a senior and very attractive, so, of course, we flirted. It went on for a while. Then, it got wierd, for me, at least.
One day, during class, after whatever verbal foreplay, I must have objected to something in our exchange. He said, "so why don't you slap me?" Being wide-eyed, innocent, and smitten, I did.
Unfortunately, being aware of my own strength was not my strong point. My hand connected, definitely with his cheek. Did you hit him hard enough to leave a mark on his face? you might ask. Well, yes I did. In fact, the outline of my hand seemed permanently printed on this left cheek. Did this become a public spectacle and the talk of the biology class? Well yes, it did.
Oops, I'm sure he was in pain. He turned to me with watering eyes. I'm sure I was blushing beet red in embarrassment. The bell rang.
We left. I don't remember what happened later. I'm sure I was too embarrassed by my lack of social awareness to ever relate to him again.
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