It's about 1% fictionalized.
The Night Elizabeth Dorsey and I Swapped Spit
“Can I have some gum?” she asked, jog-bra’d, brown hair sweaty. We were seventh graders.
I took the wad from my mouth.
She plucked it away, popped it into her mouth, and smiled.
As she bounced back onto the court, laughing at Phil’s banter, I felt a buzzing emptiness in my stomach. Slightly dizzy, I ran after an errant volleyball.
Later, nervous, at the drinking fountain: “Can I have my gum back?”
I took it like Communion, tasting her warm saliva.
During rotation she asked for it again. Back and forth, and then she left. I kept chewing.