His jaw dropped. He’d never seen a girl pee before, had no idea what the squatting business was all about. The wet ground sucked at his sneaker and he tipped back on his ass with a yelp. Marci straightened abruptly and crashed over to him, kicking him hard in the ribs when she reached him, leaving a muddy toeprint on his fall windbreaker.
She wound up for another kick and he hollered something wordless and scurried back, smearing marsh mud across his jeans and jacket.
“You pervert!” she said, pronouncing it Yuh peervurrt!
“I am not!” he said, still scooting back.
“Watching from the bushes!” she said.
“I wasn’t—I was already here, and you—I mean, what were you doing? I was just minding my own business and you came by, I just didn’t want to be bothered, this is my place!”
“You don’t own it,” she said, but she sounded slightly chastened. “Don’t tell anyone I had a piss here, all right?”
“I won’t,” he said.
She sat down beside him, unmindful of the mud on her denim skirt. “Promise,” she said. “It’s so embarrassing.”
“I promise,” he said.