I did not expect one of the activities that I would participate in when we went back to visit San Francisco would be dumpster diving, but on Saturday night, that's where I found myself- trapped in a dumpster.

It started at the set-striking of The Jungle Book. People were collecting props and sets, and there wasn't much instruction going on. We thought we were done when Mrs. Stahlbahm realized that a tree was missing. She freaked out, thinking it had gotten thrown away. Donovan quickly told her he'd go look in the dumpster, and I, without much thought, volunteered to help him.

We went out into the chill air, our breath puffing out in frosty bursts. I shivered, surreptitiously rubbing circles into my arms. Donovan noticed and asked if I wanted to go back inside, but I am not one to shrink away from duty, and I said no.

We held our breath and raised the lid of the dumpster. The smell was quite rancid, and it was very dark. We quickly realized that we were not going to be able to find it without using our hands, and so, though not too pleased, we climbed into the dumpster.

Donovan started sifting through one half of the big bin and I sifted through the other half. After maybe ten minutes, Donovan gave a yell of triumph. He waded through the garbage towards me, dragging a tree behind me. I would have liked to turn up my nose at it, but instead, I grabbed the other end and we heaved it over the side and onto the ground below.

We were very pleased with ourselves until we came across a dilemma. We didn't have a clue how we were going to get out of the dumpster. And while there are many places that I'd love to be stuck with a cute guy, a dumpster wasn't really one of them.

We had vaulted over the side to get into the dumpster, but there wasn't really space to do that in the actual dumpster. Donovan paced around in the garbage, muttering to himself and trying to find a way out. I tried to stop my butt from freezing off, but it wasn't working that well and rubbing my butt up against the side of the dumpster wasn't something I was willing to do in front of Donovan.

Finally, Donovan asked me to try to box jump out, but it didn't work, and all it gained us was a bruise on my already sore-from-basketball shin. We were running out of ideas, and meanwhile, it was getting darker and colder. I decided to make the most of the situation and used my phone to take a video of us in the dumpster. (In hindsight, we could have called someone and asked someone to come help us, but both of our brains were frozen and not working that well.)

Donovan muttered some more and then decided that our best shot was for me to boost him out of the bin. I wasn't sure it would work, but I agreed to try. I put my hands together and he stepped up, jumping over the side successfully! He did a roll into the wet pavement and then did a little victory dance. A side of him I barely ever saw was peeking out.

After letting him celebrate for, like, two minutes, I reminded him that I was still in the dumpster. He quickly hastened over to me. Taking my hands on his, he had me get one leg up on the side of the bin. He then grabbed me under my arms and lifted me up over the side.

Once I was on the ground, he latched onto my waist and swung me around. I wasn't sure how to react at first; after all, I had just seen him act as the villain in the play. Then, I saw the bright, happy smile adorning his face, and I laughed out loud as he spun me around again.

This was the second side of Donovan that I had seen come out in Mosaics, when he wasn't being pressured by all the popular boys. I loved this side of him; so happy, light, and free. He whirled me around one more; a squeal escaping from my lips, my fingernails digging into his shoulders. He laughed with me, reminding me that we did it; we saved Mrs. Stahlbaum's tree!

His hair clung to his forehead, his eyes sparkling with starlight, the cold fogging at his lips. He stared at me, and I seemed to forget everything else. We both knew that we should go inside, but before we could turn away, our mouths were on each other.

The kiss swept through my entire body, catching it on fire. I clung to Donovan, and all of a sudden, I was crying. There were full-on tears pouring down my cheeks, in between our lips, and onto his hands, which were intertwined in my hair. We both opened our eyes, mine watery, and looked at each other. His eyes burned with fiery love and passion. He pulled his lips away and sat down, pulling me down along with him.

Donovan told me to talk- to tell him everything, and I did. I spilled it out- how I felt so confused and alone and like everyone was forgetting me. I confided it all in him, and he listened. He showed that I wasn’t forgotten. He put his arms around me, and I cried into his shoulder.

Once I calmed myself down some, Donovan kissed me again. Somehow, in the course of the kiss, I ended up laying on the ground with Donovan next to me, his arm under my head. Donovan assured me that I was not forgotten- another kiss was given as proof. Apparently, he had loved me since the start of sixth grade. Anyway, my dumpster dive had just gotten a lot better.

Donovan and I sat up, my head on his shoulder. We talked and talked, Donovan rubbing warmth and feeling into my arms. Soon, though, we weren't talking anymore- we were kissing again. His hands were on my waist and in my hair, my hands were around his neck and on his face. His warmth seeped through my clothes into me, our chests pressed together as we kissed.

After ten minutes, our kissing was interrupted by Elisa's voice telling us to stop kissing and come inside to help. We sheepishly went inside, hands clutched together and big smiles on our faces. It dawned on me that a long distance relationship would be hard to pull off, but Donovan and I promised to call every week. We had Elisa take a picture of us to remember the moment.

So there you go- I mean, I didn't think my trip could turn into something so exciting! My first kiss- on the ground, next to a dumpster, with an old classmate. What could be better?

Donovan and I are going strong. I'll tell you if we ever break up.

And, P.S., dumpster diving isn't as bad as it seems.