TAYLOR

His name is Colin, and he's much nicer than the other boys. We're twelve years old. It's springtime.

I don't usually get along well with other boys my age, so my friends are mostly girls. Maybe they think I'm cute. The girls, I mean. The boys just make fun of me. They say I talk funny. I'm smarter than most of them, but they're stronger and faster than I am, which is all that really matters. But who cares, right?

Colin is new to Knothole. His family moved here a few weeks ago from the southern group. The other day in class, when Rosie dismissed us for lunch, Colin shared a sandwich with me after noticing that I forgot mine at home. He also saw what I was reading: a collection of neat science fiction stories that Bookshire let me borrow awhile ago. Colin told me that he likes to read, too. After class, we walked together back to my hut, talking about all kinds of things. We have a lot in common. My parents were glad to see that I found a new friend.

Today Colin and I decided to go to the lake. It's close enough to Knothole that the adults won't be worried about us, but far enough away that we feel at least a little bit independent. The lake is beautiful today. It's Saturday, and the sky is clear and sunny and warm. Colin is trying to teach me how to skip rocks, but I just can't figure it out. Giggling, we lay down in the grass and eventually try spotting characters in the clouds above us.

His fur is a dusty tan color and short. There are patches of white on his muzzle and chest and stomach. He tells me he's a dingo. I'm a fox, but I guess that's obvious. He flashes a grin at me. My heart flutters. He has the nicest eyes: not quite blue, but a cool, soothing gray. He tells me some great stories about where he used to live and the people he used to know. He has such a sense of humor. I wish I could be funny like that. Why do all of my stories have to be so sad?

Before I have a chance to reflect, he suddenly pounces on me. We tumble and wrestle our way down to the lake shore, laughing. I land softly on the damp sand with Colin on top. There's a moment of peaceful silence between us. When he smiles and takes my hand to help me up, my butterflies are out of control.

I'm not sure how much time has gone by, but we're standing closer now. His lips are warm and soft against mine.

We're fourteen. It's summer. Colin and I have snuggled up together in our secret place: a cozy little forgotten tree house on the edge of the Great Forest. Nobody knows about us yet, which is really sort of exciting. It's like an undercover romance.

The sun has slowly begun to set, casting an organic crosshatch of leaf shadows across the planks of the tree house. Colin is laying on his back, and I'm resting on top of him with my head on his chest. He's a little bit taller than I am now. His arms and torso are lean and well-toned. His fur is gorgeous. He's sharper and more attractive than I think even he realizes. I, on the other hand, spend too much time fussing over my own appearance. I can never get my hair quite right after I wake up. Besides that, I'm too thin and at least a couple inches shorter than anybody else my age. I spend an hour in front of the mirror every morning -- trying on clothes, fluffing my tail, wondering if my teeth are white enough -- while Colin can get up and throw on just anything and still look presentable. His scruffy charm is adorable.

I sigh. He notices. "Something wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Just a long day."

"Heh. Yeah…"

"How was yours?"

"It was okay. Ran some laps around the forest. Beat my record time."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, by three seconds. Woo hoo."

"Aw, you little athlete." My arm is already around his waist, so I tighten it into a miniature hug. "Proud of you."

"Eh. Guess it's not bad. Still can't beat Sonic, of course, but who can?"

My face sours. I don't like Sonic. In fact, I'm probably the only person in Knothole who doesn't. His friendly attitude and heroic disposition have always seemed artificial to me. He's a couple years older than Colin and I, so we aren't usually in the same circles, but the few times I've spoken to him have been brief and awkward. He doesn't make eye contact when he talks to people. Or maybe it's just me.

In any case, I don't feel like commenting. Instead, I slip my hand underneath Colin's open shirt and brush my fingers lightly against his ribs. He wiggles a bit and laughs. "No no no, stoppit."

"Hehee."

"Serious!"

"Only if you beg." I start tickling with both hands.

"AHH! Taylor!"

"You're helpless, aren't you?"

"Stopstopstop pleeeeeeze!"

"Well… okay."

I curl up on top of him again, nuzzling just underneath his neck. I can feel his pulse against my cheek. He's out of breath, but still laughing. Softly.

I giggle. "Feels funny."

"What?"

"Your laugh. It tickles."

"Gotcha back, then."

"Silly."

I'm fifteen and a half. Colin is sixteen. It's autumn. There is a waterfall that cascades into a glistening, intimate pool in the deep of the Great Forest. When it's nighttime here, the moon casts a breathtaking spectacle: a shimmering, neon dance of liquid verticality that glows even brighter when seen from the other side of the falling water. Colin and I are hiding inside a rocky alcove behind the waterfall. It is nearly the end of September, but the hot nights of August have somehow continued to linger. Most of Knothole is probably asleep by now.

The sound of the waterfall consumes us in a universe of privacy. Our fur is wet. We're holding each other in a warm embrace. Between soft panting, my kiss slides gradually from his mouth to his chest, and we allow ourselves to sink to our knees. His arms are wrapped tightly around my abdomen. I grasp his shoulders and comb my fingers into his fur, following the backbone all the way down to his tail. His wide paws move up to my biceps and hold me securely. We are already naked. My face brushes the fur just above his navel before dipping lower. He makes a small noise.

I can feel that he's almost ready. Before long, he carries me up, and I turn to brace myself against a wall of the alcove. He grabs my waist, positions himself behind me, moves to my thighs. I guide his hands between my legs and squeeze gently. He whispers something into my ear, but I can't hear him because of the waterfall. We are soaring. Higher -- higher. Faster. Breathless.

After the storm it is calm again. We are bathing in the shallow end of the pool. Some time later, we help each other dry off and sit together on a smooth extension of stone that overlooks the scenery. We stay awake just long enough to see the sunrise.

We're seventeen. It's winter. We've awakened in a surreal prison of windows and mirrors. I can see Colin at a distance, calling to me. His voice is muted. It takes me a moment to realize that we are separated by a thick pane of glass. My head feels cloudy, like I've been drugged. My thoughts are a spiral of emotion and panic and confusion. Nothing makes sense anymore. I need Colin. I need his comfort and his strength.

I see that he's kneeling close to me, hands pressed against the glass, and he asks me with his eyes if I'm okay. Together, we touch our hands to the invisible barrier between us. And I cry.