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She giggled. “I like trees.”
“Believe me, you wouldn’t like this one. I’d make sure to find a wasp’s nest and put it up there with you. They’d sting you every time you thought about kissing someone.”
“You wouldn’t.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Just try me and you’ll see how deadly serious I am about you never being naked with another boy again.”
She pouted. “You’re mean. Why are you allowed to get naked with Cassie, and I’m not allowed with Liam.”
“Because I’m older.”
“So when I’m older, I can?”
“No.”
“But you said—”
“Never mind what I said.” Prowling toward her, I tapped the pornographic educational book. “Read this. It has all the answers.”
She eyed me before finally nodding and turning her inquisitive gaze back to the pages.
For the next few hours, I sat in the chair in the corner, clutching the handles with white knuckles, and instead of telling Della about sex and kissing and everything in between, she told me.
She read the words she knew and stumbled over those she didn’t.
She dashed across the driveway to see Patricia and came back armed with terms like Fallopian tubes and ovaries and clitoris.
And it was to my utmost mortification that she became the teacher on a subject she’d begged to be a student in.
A student who must never know she’d far exceeded the capacities of the boy who said he’d teach her everything.
The boy who now knew absolutely nothing.