The desire to fit in often puts pressures on girls to be sexually active. In the following memoir selection by writer Mary B. Kahle, the adult woman describes the experience of the girl she was at age fourteen.
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| | I.
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| | Glen and David show up at my house one evening. These guys are cool, the most popular freaks in the ninth grade. I am surprised, no, shocked to find them at my door. I act casual. They want me, it seems, to go with them to the carnival. "Ever ride a Ferris wheel on acid?" they grin. "It'll be fun."
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| | Hours and too-bright lights later, dazed and empty-headed, I find myself in David's basement, drinking beer with his older brother. He is big, surly, wearing a black leather jacket. I have heard enough about him to be afraid, but I still act casual, trying to stop the sound of blood that pounds in my ears. Then his hands grip my shoulders, and suddenly, fear is an electric eel that I hold in my mouth. At fourteen, I don't even know enough to call it rape.
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| | I walk home in the darkest of darks. What I want... what I long for, is a mother's soft lap, hands stroking my hair, comfort whispered there. A rocking-chair mother, big enough to take me in.
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| | II.
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| | I learned about sex on my own, in secretabout my almost-woman's body, about a cycle more
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