Somehow, though, I think she’d give me the third degree if I were to write condoms.
So one afternoon after weight lifting, I walk down the street to King’s Royal Engagements to borrow Mom’s car. I tell her I’m going to the public library for a book they don’t have at school.
She stops typing on her computer and turns to stare at me. “You’re driving yourself to the library?”
“Yeah,” I croak.
“I’m surprised you didn’t have Levi take you before he went home.”
“I forgot. So can I borrow the car?”
Mom fishes her keys out of her purse, passing them to me. “What book do you need from the library that they don’t have at the school?”
“Oh, um, it’s for a paper on snapping turtles,” I lie.
“Snapping turtles?”
I cough. “Yeah.”
“And you can’t look it up on the Internet?”
“Mr. Robinson says we can’t use any online sources.”
Mom doesn’t believe one word I’m saying. God, why did I think this would be a good idea?
She passes her keys to me. “Be careful, Tadpole.”
I call “Thanks!” over my shoulder and hustle through the front door to the parking lot.
Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I buckle up and adjust my mirrors, and with a deep breath, I start the ignition. Driving to the grocery store seems like a big risk in order to buy condoms, especially since there’s no guarantee I’ll be having sex. But safe sex is important. Coach Woods said it’s crucial to always be prepared. I’m sure Levi has condoms, but girls should have their own supply too.
Before we first kissed, Levi asked how far I wanted to go. I wasn’t sure at the time, and if we’re being honest, I’m still unsure. But when we kiss, my thoughts disappear along with my clothes. It’s just me and him, our bodies, and passion.
I understand why Coach Woods says it’s important to be prepared for anything.
I put the car in reverse.
Which grocery store should I go to? Food Lion and Walmart are generally very busy, and several of my classmates work there. With my luck I’d run into everybody under the sun if I chose either of those stores. The Quick Pick is small. But would they have a good variety of condoms? It’s the kind of place you go if you need to pick up staples like milk, orange juice, toilet paper, and lottery tickets. I’m sure plenty of people consider condoms a staple.
After debating whether to travel to another town, I decide that is not worth the risk of me crashing the car, and head to the Quick Pick.
When I arrive, only five cars are in the lot, and none look familiar. Whew. I can do this.
With a deep breath, I unbuckle my seat belt and head inside. I beeline for the toiletry area, searching the shelves, discovering a condom selection in the “family planning” aisle. Why is it called that? Shouldn’t it be the anti-family planning aisle?
I look left and right to make sure I’m alone before I start shopping. The Quick Pick has plenty of latex condoms to choose from. There are also nonlatex condoms available for people who have a latex allergy. In class, Coach Woods said that a latex allergy is no excuse not to use a condom.
The store also has lambskin condoms, which I find creepy; plus, according to Coach Woods they don’t protect against STDs. Not that I think Levi has an STD, but again—you always want to be prepared. Then there are condoms called “Ribbed for her pleasure.” Just reading those words makes me blush. I blush even more furiously when I find a forty-condom variety box called the “Ecstasy Package.”
They even have condoms with designs—there’s plaid, polka dot, glow-in-the-dark, and more. I guess some women like decorated penises?
I snort at the idea of asking Levi, “Could you wear this camouflage condom please?”
Levi says he’s normal-sized, but what if I insult him by getting the regular ones? I decide on a ten-pack of extra-large condoms that cost $7.20 because it seems like a better deal than only getting three for $2.50.
I grab some deodorant and a new toothbrush so I won’t only be buying the condoms and head to the front of the store. A man is in line ahead of me, buying a bunch of lottery tickets. I check the time on my phone. It’s taking longer than I’d like. Is he buying tickets for all his friends and family? I tap my toes on the floor.
“Tadpole?”
Oh. My. God.
I slowly turn around. It’s Dad.
I should make a break for it. But that would be shoplifting and the last thing I need is to get arrested for stealing condoms. That kind of stuff stays on the Internet forever. USA Swimming probably wouldn’t care to have a condom thief on the national team.
“Maggie? Are you okay?” Dad asks. “What are you doing here?”
Oh my god, oh my god. Most embarrassing moment ever.
I improvise, shaking the box of condoms. “Um, I had to pick these up for health class.”
Dad sees what I’m holding. His face turns white, and his eyes balloon.
“We’re using them on bananas,” I add.
Dad’s Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows. “Uh, I figured the school would supply them…?” He scrubs a hand through his hair, eyes darting around the store. Is he scoping out the exits?
“Coach Woods said I need extra practice,” I ramble. “I kept busting them in class.”
“Well, good. Your mother and I have always been pleased at how seriously you take your schoolwork.”
I hold up the box. “Do you think I got enough?”
Dad coughs into a fist. “Ten. Hm. Seems like you’ll get plenty of practice. Extra-large, huh?”
I might die.
“Bananas are pretty big, you know.” I clear my throat. “What are you doing here, Dad?”
He stares blankly. “Oh! We had a toothpick emergency.”
“A toothpick emergency?”
“Yeah, we ran out of toothpicks for the hors d’oeuvres at the nursing home reception. So you came to buy the condoms yourself? Why didn’t you put them on your mother’s shopping list?”
“I couldn’t put something like that on the list, Dad.”
“Why not? It’s just like any other school supply. You need pencils and paper, you put ’em on the list.”
“Oh my god,” I mumble.
“Next,” the teller says, and I place my deodorant, toothbrush, and condoms on the counter.
Dad steps forward and adds his items to mine. “I’ll pay for hers. My treat.”
And that’s when I die of mortification.
? ? ?
After swim practice at school one day, Levi gives me a ride. “Want to hang out at my house tonight?”
“I don’t know why you’re even asking,” I reply. “We always go to your place.”
“We can start going to your house when you start cleaning your room.”
“Ugh, okay, Mom.”
He chuckles.
“You’re my best friend. That means you should love me, messes and all.”
“I do love you, just not your messy room. I can’t walk in there without stepping on something. I could twist an ankle.” He points at me. “Coach would say going in your room is an unsanctioned activity.”
“Levi,” I warn, making him laugh again. “You really don’t want to come over because of my room?”
“No, it’s not that. Oma said she was making a Bundt cake today.”