Yochana lay on her bed.

Her mother was downstairs
preparing evening dinner.

The boy at school questioning
began as soon as she got home
from school. Did he look
at you today? Did he show
interest in you? I can always
ask your friend, Angela?

Her mother's questions rained  
down on her as soon as she
entered the door. No he didn't,
Yochana lied, not at all; he
ignored me; he's like that,
she added to add credence
to her reply. She watched
her mother's features. Does
she believe me? The eyes
scrutinised her, peering eyes,
like those of a sparrow hawk.

Yochana wasn't sure if her lying
had gone over. Angela hadn't
been around when she had
seen the boy Benedict that day,
but she couldn't be sure if her
friend had seen or not. If I
find out that you have been
lying, my girl, you will regret it,
her mother had said as Yochana
climbed the stairs to her room
to change out of her uniform.

At lunch time she'd met him
as she promised she would.

Angela had gone home with
women's problems so she had
no fear of a spy. She could hear
her mother downstairs banging
around in the kitchen preparing
dinner, moody, wondering if her
daughter had lied or told the
truth about the boy. She lay there
on the bed. The boy Benedict
there inside her head. The kiss
of cheek and hand, and then lunch
time, she had allowed him to kiss
her again. Lips to lips. How had she?
Not sure if she had or had she?
She had just the once kiss on the lips.

Behind the maths block, briefly.

Lips to lips. Once. She sensed
his lips there still. As if frozen there.

If I find out you have lied, her
mother had said, you will...regrets...

The slaps of the other evening
stung her hand. But what if she
found out I lied? Closing her eyes
she saw him still. Lips and lips.

Felt still. Wet and warm. Later
that evening Schubert songs had
been sung, her mother singing,
Yochana played piano. The slaps
on hands and thighs had stung.