"Luce," he says again, almost like a warning.

My hand flattens on his stomach as I take a step forward.

I lift my head to see him watching me. Not my hand, but my face. His eyes bore into mine. His mouth's clamped shut and his jaw's tense.

I move my hand lower.

His eyes drift shut.

Lower.

He lets out a groan.

And then I touch it.

"Shit," he breathes.

"Penis," I squeak.

***

Penis.

Penis Penis.

Penis Penis Penis.

That's all I've thought about since touching him this morning. I had to draw a diagram of test tubes in science lab. You know what I drew? Penis.

Penis Penis.

"I have a lot of homework tonight, so maybe skip coming over?"

He pulls his bike out of the rack but refuses to look at me. "Okay, see ya!"

-CAMERON-

For twenty minutes I try to catch Mark's gaze while him and Mom sit on the couch watching TV. When he finally realizes, I inconspicuously jerk my head toward the stairs. "My room," I mouth.

His eyes narrow in confusion.

I widen my eyes, and do it again, as if doing so will make him understand.

He shakes his head slowly.

"Now," I mouth, and then run up the stairs and into my room.

He makes me wait another ten minutes before knocking on my door. He must be able to see the panic on my face because his confusion turns to concern. "What's with you?"

"Something's wrong with my dick."

"WHAT!"

I shut the door and tell him to keep it down.

"I'm panicking here, kid. What the hell?"

"You should be panicking! I'm panicking. Something's wrong with my dick."

His voice rises. "What the hell does that mean? What happened to it?"

"Lucy touched it and she—"

"Lucy touched your thing?" he shouts.

I pick up the nearest thing I can reach and throw it at his head; a piece of paper. "Keep your voice down, jerk. Mom doesn't need to hear about my broken dick!"

"It's broken!" he shouts again.

I sigh and flop down on my bed.

"Okay." He starts pacing the room. "Rewind and tell me what happened from the beginning."

"Okay." I blow out a breath and try to calm down. "So she touched my dick."

"Where?"

"MY DICK! Are you not listening?"

"Settle down, asshole. Where were you when she touched..." His face contorts to a grimace. "You know... your..."

"My dick? At school."

"HOLY SHIT! What the hell are they letting happen in schools these days?"

"What?" I yell, frustrated. "No! It's not like she pulled my pants down in the cafeteria while we were all eating lunch and decided to tug me."

"Gross."

"Shut up!" I stand up and start pacing with him. "It was like... a little brush."

"A little brush?"

"Her hand! It kind of just... brushed me."

"And then?"

"And she hasn't spoken to me since. She didn't want me at her house. She thinks it's broken or something."

"What the hell?" He stops pacing and rests his hands on his hips, shaking his head and looking down at the floor. "So what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know!" I throw my hands in the air. Then drop my pants. "Check it!"

"Jesus Christ!" He turns swiftly—one hand covering his eyes, the other waving me off. "Put your pants back on!"

I sigh and pull them up. "I don't know what's wrong with it!"

"I'm not a doctor, I can't tell. Do you even have pubes yet?" He turns slowly, opening one eye first, scoping me out, then opening the other.

"Yes I have pubes. I'm not eight."

He rolls his eyes. "So she brushed a hand on your... you know... and then she didn't want to see you?"

"Yeah. Me, or my broken dick."

He laughs, but then stops when he sees that I'm not even close to joking. "She's probably just nervous, or embarrassed. I'm sure it's nothing. You guys are young, probably too young to be touching each other like that. Maybe it just surprised her and she feels awkward. You just need to talk to her. Like adults... and go from there."

I nod, my breath finally resembling something like normal.

He walks to the door and places his hand on the handle. "You okay, Cam?"

"Yeah," I rush out. "I think so."

"Okay." He turns the doorknob, but doesn't open the door. All signs of amusement and panic have left him. "Thank you for coming to me with this. It means a lot."

I shrug, confused by his words. "Why wouldn't I?"

***

"So we need to talk about what happened yesterday." We're at the dock on her lake, sitting opposite each other. We're trying to study but I can see her eyes keep wandering to my junk.

"About what?" she says, her eyes forced to focus on her textbook.

"About what happened in the classroom."

She looks up at me now. "Penis?"

I throw my pen in the water and lie down on the wooden planks. "Oh my God," I groan. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. I want to die." Stupid Marky Mark and his stupid advice can get funked.