Lily glanced around to double-check that no one was in hearing range. “How long—how long have you known about . . . the way you are?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve always known I was . . . different. It didn’t seem like a surprise when I figured it out.”
They crossed Polk Street on Chestnut, heading for the stairs up Russian Hill. It was cold today; the air was damp and the wind constantly tugged at Lily’s hair.
“What about you?” Kath asked. “How long have you known?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a long time, in some ways. But not very long for real. Not—not until you.” Lily glanced sidelong at Kath.
“I’m glad I could help,” she said, smiling.
Lily laughed, and then shivered. She wasn’t sure if it was the wind or Kath’s smile that did it. “Do you remember that day in Senior Goals when you said it wasn’t strange that I wanted to go to the moon?”
“I remember.”
“I think that was the first day I really noticed you.”
“Took you that long?” Kath teased her.
“Maybe I’m a late bloomer,” Lily said tartly. “Why, when did you notice me?”
Kath shot her a grin. “You really want to know?”
“Yes!”
“Well . . . last year, you helped me with a geometry proof. You probably don’t remember. You do this thing where you . . .” Kath trailed off, looking a little shy.
“What? What do I do?”
“You chew on your lip when you do a difficult math problem,” Kath said. “It’s cute.”
Lily’s face went red, and she laughed. “I’d better stop that in college, or no one will take me seriously.”
When they reached the stairs they started up side by side, and sometimes as they climbed they bumped against each other, accidentally on purpose. Lily’s arm against Kath’s; their hands knocking gently together; their fingers almost linking.
Right before they reached the top, Kath said very softly, “I want to kiss you again.”
A jolt went through Lily—she had to stop to catch her breath—and Kath stopped too, and they turned to look at each other. The wind had gone still, and Kath’s hair was blown sideways across her forehead as if someone had tousled it with their fingers. Lily could look at Kath forever, but looking was not enough. She wanted nothing more than to touch Kath, but the space between them seemed to buzz warningly. They were on top of Russian Hill now, on top of the city itself, completely exposed.
“Where?” Lily asked. “Where can we go?”
* * *
—
The last stall in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor had a full-length door, but every girl knew about it and tried to use that stall when she was on her period. There was a shadowy corner under the stairs to the gym by the locker rooms, but anyone could walk past and see them. And then Lily remembered the home-economics storage closet on the third floor, which had a key that Lily knew about from her time on the dance committee.
Several days passed before Lily was able to get the key. Preparations for the Miss Chinatown contest were ramping up (there were barely three weeks to go), and after school Lily had to help sell raffle tickets at the Chinese Hospital, or at Flora’s father’s store, or at the Eastern Pearl. Figuring out a way to evade Shirley’s various demands felt like running an obstacle course, but Lily was afraid to deny her too openly and raise her suspicions.
Finally, on Thursday after school, Lily met Kath outside the home economics kitchen, where she pulled the key off the pegboard over the sink, and then led the way to the unmarked door down the hall. Lily checked to make sure that the hallway was deserted before she unlocked the closet, and then she and Kath quickly ducked in, pulling the door shut behind them.
It was cramped and dusty and hard to see. The only light came from the crack beneath the door, and Lily immediately bumped into a stack of metal bowls that made an awful racket. “Sorry!” Lily whispered.
“Careful.” Kath reached for her hand to pull her away from the bowls, and it was the first time they had really touched since that night in the alley.
Lily suddenly felt strangely shy. Kath was so close. She couldn’t see much beyond the dim outline of Kath’s head and shoulders. The storage closet smelled faintly of pineapple juice, and Lily heard the sounds of the school in the background. Distant doors slammed shut; voices rose and fell indistinctly; footsteps came briskly down the hall toward them and then, thankfully, went past. The closet didn’t lock from the inside, of course; anyone could open the door and find them. She was conscious of her own hand becoming slippery in Kath’s.
“Are you okay?” Kath whispered. “You seem . . . tense.”
“No, I . . .” Tense was not the right word. Terrified, maybe.
Almost a week had passed since their first kiss, which had been so surprising that it almost felt accidental. Today was no accident. They had planned to meet here, in this closet, to keep this secret. They knew what could happen if they were discovered; Jean had shown them.
For one awful moment Lily wanted to flee. She could open the door right now—she could say this was all a mistake—she could feel the relief waiting for her out in the hallway, and perhaps Kath sensed this because she asked, “Are you changing your mind?”