Random memory - Children of the corn

I have the world's worst memory. I can't remember people's names until I've met them at least half a dozen times. Birthdays are completely beyond me and phone numbers are either saved in my phone or unknown. Because of my memory disability, I've decided to implement a new feature - the random memory. To preserve the simple but profound moments of my youth, I'm blogging them here for prosperity.
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When I was in grade nine, I was still torn between two realms: the innocence and freedom of childhood and the racy, seductive thrills of being an adult. How I filled my summer nights during these tumultuous years seems the perfect reflection of this mindset.

With our parents safely consoled by the thought that we were watching movies at each others' homes, groups of hormonally charged teens gathered under the buzzing yellow lights of the street. Boys and girls awkwardly flirting by teasing, pushing and tickling. The boys roughhousing with each other as they jockeyed for our attention.

Behind the high school lay a field of corn, lush and green in the summer heat. With furtive glances, we would slip into the field, the cool leaves brushing the sweat from our tanned skin. The game was simple: a no-holds-barred game of kissing tag amongst the crops. The addition of carefully tossed ears of corn helped you to locate your prey amongst the rows (and perhaps leave him slightly dazed and requiring your full attention). The premise of a game managed to erase the awkwardness that usually plagued our romantic attempts.

Stalking through the neat lines of plants, my heart would race with possibilities. Would I be caught by the pasty skinned boy with the perpetully bad breath or would lady luck be with me and let the dark-haired, crystal-eyed object of my affection wrap me in his arms.

I remember one particular night where the moon was full and lit up the field like a bright cosmic spotlight. The leaves of the corn seemed to have an etheral glow and it gave the entire game a more magical feel. On this particular night, a closely-held secret crush was amongst the players.

As I cautiously poked through the rows, ducking incoming corn missiles and spider webs, I suddenly felt hands clasp around my waist. I spun on my heels, my heart now threatening to explode from my chest as I confronted my captor. My eyes must have matched the moon in both size and brightness that night as I realized that I was in the arms of my crush.

His t-shirt clung to his skinny body and the effort of the chase speckled sweat on his brow. His hands felt hot on my back and I was painfully aware of every one of my curves that bordered his touch. We smiled shyly at one another before he pushed on my back to bring me closer. As my lips grazed his, I could smell the too-sweet cologne on his peach-fuzzed cheeks. The kiss held for a moment, lingered as we shared the electric current of lust and love. And then, all too soon, the squeals from other players broke through the enchanting silence of the kiss. In a flash, we darted off in opposite directions, lest we be found and teased mercilessly by our friends.

It was through these green fields and stolen moments that I began to gather small grains of self-confidence and glimpses into the passionate world of adulthood. Amongst the corn, the tiny kernals of who I would become were nurtured and sprinkled with a touch of magic.