I am 13. I have just finished boxing in a match at the premier’s house. His son, my friend, is having a birthday party, and he would occasionally steal his father’s car and drive us around the neighbourhood. Years later, he would accidentally hit and kill his best friend while driving, after a night of drinking. The person I fought is a relative of mine, and afterwards green pus pours out of my mouth. I hide away and cry, possibly from the pus but more likely from being mocked for losing the fight.
After I recover and return to the party, I lose a bet by coming in last in a lawn game, and so my friends are allowed to ask out a girl for me. I’m given a choice between one girl, who had a small moustache, or another, whose her breath was terrible. I selected the halitotic option, and she will say no.
Later that year, I get my first real girlfriend, and I fall asleep during our first kiss. There was speculation that she had already had sex with someone before we get together. This scares me, as I’m clueless and confused about anything close to this.
After a couple of weeks of going out, consisting primarily of talking about how we go out, she breaks up with me through one of her friends. A few days after that, her and one of my best friends make out in front of me, next to the Needs on Lemarchant Road.