Forbidden Fruit. Erica Spindler

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СКАЧАТЬ His eyes twinkled. “Can I see, too?”

      “I’ll let you see, if you’ll help me. But you have to keep it a secret. Can you?”

      He nodded solemnly. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

      “If we’re caught, we’ll get in trouble. Big trouble.” At the thought of her mother discovering her disobedience, a quiver of fear moved through her. Glory caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and glanced at the partially closed library door. Her mother had not gotten up that morning; she never did when she had one of her headaches. Most times, when she had one of her headaches, Glory didn’t see her until dinner. Sometimes not even then.

      Reassured, she returned her gaze to Danny’s. She tipped up her chin in challenge. “Can you handle that?”

      He straightened and puffed out his narrow chest. “If you can, I can.”

      “Good.” Glory rubbed her hands together. “The first thing we need to do is to move this chair over to the shelves. If we both push, I’ll bet we can do it.”

      He climbed off the chair and together, giggling, they alternately pushed and pulled it across the room. They parked the chair directly underneath the Michelangelo book; Glory climbed up and a moment later, she closed her fingers over it.

      The volume was large and heavy; Glory very nearly couldn’t get it off the shelf. She wiggled it to the edge, then lost her grip and it crashed to the floor, making a huge racket. Glory’s heart skipped a beat. She looked at Danny, he looked at her. They both turned toward the library door, half-frozen with the certainty that they were about to be found out.

      One moment became many, and finally Glory was able to draw an even breath. She held a finger to her lips, then scrambled off the chair to retrieve the book. She opened it, flipped through, and found what she had been seeking. The sculpture was called David; he had curly hair and a pretty face.

      And he was naked.

      Cheeks burning, she lowered her eyes, almost afraid of what she might—or might not—see. But there it was, at the top of the man’s thighs, like pieces of rolled-up fruit or a cannoli.

      Glory narrowed her eyes, studying. It looked so weird, so strange and out of place. She touched the photograph lightly, both intrigued and repelled. Did all men look like this? Did all men have a cannoli between their legs?

      “No fair!” Danny craned his neck. “Let me see…let me see.”

      Glory tore her gaze from the strange and beautiful image, though it took great effort. “Are you sure you’re old enough?”

      He lifted his chin. “If you are, I am.”

      “I’m two years older than you.”

      “But I’m a boy.”

      She glared up at him. “Big whip. I’m still older than you are.”

      He stuck out his lower lip. “You promised.”

      “Oh, all right. But don’t blame me.” Glory handed him the book. He looked at the page, his expression blank. “What?”

      “That,” she said, reaching up and pointing.

      He tipped his head, studying the image. “What?” he said again.

      Cheeks on fire, Glory stood on tiptoe and pointed to the exact place in question, the rolled kernels of flesh at the apex of the man’s thighs. “That!”

      “You mean, his penis?”

      Glory stared at him aghast. A penis? It was called a penis?

      “I have one, too. All boys do.”

      All boys had a…penis. Dumbfounded, she climbed back onto the chair and took the book from Danny’s hands. Admittedly, she’d had little contact with boys. She attended an all-girls school, and other than Danny and a couple of distant cousins, she had never been allowed to spend time alone with boys.

      Her mother had told her that was because nice girls didn’t associate with boys. But Glory knew that other boys and girls went to school together, that they played together. She had seen them over the estate wall, she had seen them get on the streetcar together, had seen them riding their bicycles, side by side, down the avenue. And she had listened to the other girls at school talk, girls who she had always thought were nice.

      Glory frowned. But still, it smarted that little Danny, just out of kindergarten, was privy to this important information. It smarted, too, that he acted so casual about it, as if everyone knew about penises. Everyone but her, that was.

      Danny was a boy, Glory remembered suddenly. That’s why he knew. He probably had no idea what girls had. She drew herself up to her full forty-eight inches and told him so.

      “Girls have vaginas,” he said, nodding his head for emphasis.

      She made a choked sound. “How do you know that?”

      “My mom told me. Boys have penises, girls have vaginas. That’s the way God made us, special and unique.”

      She drew her eyebrows together, confused and annoyed. “Then, it’s not a secret?”

      “Heck, no.” He shook his head. “Everybody knows about ’em. Well, almost everybody,” he amended. “And my friend Nathan, he calls his penis a hooter.”

      “Hooter,” she repeated, trying to adjust to all this new information. Why, she wondered, had her mother kept this from her? And why, when she had pointed to the man’s penis at the museum and asked about it, had her grandmère acted so weird, then dragged her off? It made no sense.

      Glory looked at Danny, an idea coming to her. “Can I see yours?” she asked, surprising herself. “I mean, I’ve never seen a…a penis before.” The word felt strange on her tongue, and she blushed. “If you show me your penis, I’ll show you my vagina.”

      “I don’t know,” he said, pursing his lips. “You might make fun of me. An’ what if we get caught?”

      She shook her head. “I wouldn’t make fun, I promise. You’re my friend, and that wouldn’t be nice. And we’re not going to get caught. I just want to see.”

      He thought a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

      He pulled down his shorts and underpants. Glory made a sound of surprise and crouched in front of him to get a better look. He did have one. But it looked different than the one in the art book, and not like fruit or a cannoli at all. She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer, studying it. It was much smaller. And bumpier. Like a bumpy little cocktail frank.

      A horrified gasp broke the quiet. Glory jerked her head up. Her mother stood in the doorway, her face pinched and white, her eyes wide and wild-looking. Even from across the room, Glory could see that she was shaking.

      Glory swallowed hard, fear rising in her like a tidal wave. The book slid from her hands and hit the floor, falling open to the naked David. “Mama, I didn’t—”

      “Whore,” her mother СКАЧАТЬ