Nina leaned in closer to me. "We all know about the picture you took of him yesterday in fifth period."
I wondered how many times I was going to have to be reminded of that. But they were right; he probably already knew I liked him. What did I have to lose? Before I knew it, the contract was back in place, only now the stakes were much higher.
I tossed my empty plate and chocolate milk carton into the garbage and wondered how I'd let that planning session go so horribly. We barely discussed Clarissa asking Jess to dance. I guess it was simpler for her being so mature and all. I walked to fifth period in a daze, almost forgetting that I was about to see Trace. I entered the brown-carpeted classroom just as the bell blazed through the hall. Trace was already at his desk, but I was too humiliated to make eye contact with him. I glanced at the back of his head twice during class, but I thought about him, and the contract and the dance-the last dance-all through the math lecture. I had approximately three and a half more days of normalcy. After Friday I would never be able to look at him again.
"It's my Thursday shirt," was always his answer when I teased him about wearing it so often.
The sun was shining on his shaggy, light brown hair, and he looked younger than usual. Maybe it was the red yo-yo he had wrapped around his finger. He held it up to me as I approached. "I won it in geometry for being on time to class every day this semester."
I stuck my tongue out at him. "Goody-goody."
I wanted to tell Jess about the Valentine's dance. Nothing seemed to be real until I had said it out loud to Jess. But if I told him about Trace, then I would have to tell him about Clarissa, and that would ruin everything.
"You're sure quiet today," Jess said as he twirled the yo-yo around his finger. "You okay?" I realized that we had been walking for almost five minutes in silence. I just couldn't think of anything else to say with such a huge issue pressing against my eyeballs. I gave in, like I always did with Jess.
"No, I'm not okay." Jess stopped twirling his yo-yo and looked at me intently as we walked. I looked ahead, but I could sense his concern. "It's this stupid Valentine's dance!" Jess relaxed and started twirling his yo-yo again, but through his eyes it was obvious that he was amused.
I shot a glare in his direction. "It's not funny, Jess! Clarissa and Nina are going to ruin my life!"
Jess's voice was calm like my dad's, "How can they ruin your life at a Valentine's dance?"
"They're going to tell Trace that I like him and ask him if he likes me back! Then they're going to ask him to dance with me-the last dance!"
"Wow." Jess raised his eyebrows, but other than that remained emotionless. "Sounds romantic."
"Not romantic." I emphasized the "ck" sound for effect. "Humiliating!"
"Doesn't he already know that you like him?"
I stopped walking and scowled sourly at Jess.
"I mean, you did take a picture of him in the middle of class."
He said it so nonchalantly. I was fuming mad. "Jess! I didn't mean to take the picture of him! He just thinks that I meant to take it of him!"
"Right, and he thinks you like him."
"But I don't!"
"Yeah, you do."
"But he doesn't know that, and if Clarissa and Nina tell him, then he'll know!"
"So why are you letting them do it?"
Oh no, this was the part that I was dreading. "I can't tell you."
"Why can't you tell me?"
"No, shhh!" I held my index finger up to his mouth, and I could feel his lips curve into a smile under my finger. "I can't tell you," I said between gritted teeth, "so don't ask."
We started walking again as Jess tried to make sense of what I was telling him. "Okay, so for some reason that I can't know about, you are allowing Clarissa and Nina to ... what were the words you used ... ruin your life?"
I sighed deeply and looked down the long, narrow road in front of us. Gigantic evergreens taller than skyscrapers lined the road as far as the eye could see. There were two routes between our street and the school. In the mornings we would always take the faster and more boring route through the S-shaped streets of our neighborhood. But on the way home from school, we would take the adventurous route. It was technically a shortcut, but Jess and I didn't rush the adventurous route. Our junior high was in the middle of town, but Jess and I lived next to Emery Lake. The land between the lake and town center was hidden by endless acres of forest. Lush, green needles that would leave an ever-present dew sparkling between their branches covered the hills like a wet cloth. There was an amazing contrast of their red trunks and rich brown pine cones that seeped deep into my blood. The forest was our playground.
After cutting through the trees on a half-mile long path through the woods, Jess and I would cross over a brown grassy area that was once a community soccer field. The field was over grown now with weeds and scattered pine branches, but the old soccer stands were still in place, some of them loose and considered a hazard by grown-ups. Jess and I spent most of the afternoon sun hours hanging from the soccer stands or trying to hit them with stray rocks. Today, however, was a serious day containing a severe dilemma, and I walked placidly through the field. "I don't know," I finally responded, "maybe there's just a part of me that wants Trace to know the truth. Maybe it's time I take a chance and see what will happen." I felt liberated with my newfound bravery, and the sun seemed to beat down on me harder than before.
"See what will happen?" Jess smirked. "What can happen, Gem? You're fourteen years old."
I hated it when Jess told me my age. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as I balled up my fists at my sides. "Oh! And you're so old and mature!"
"No, I don't think that I'm old and mature, which is the reason that I'm not the one fretting over my love life."
That only made me angrier. "I'm not fretting, Jess!" But I knew that wasn't true, which only made me angrier. "And as for my love life-I think I should have the right to do what I want! I'm not a little girl anymore, Jess! I'm a teenager!" I took a deep breath and stamped my foot. "I even wear a brat' That word, that disgustingly putrid word, escaped from my mouth-much too loudly-like a bullet from a presumably unloaded gun. Jess's eyes widened, and his whole face turned a shade of pink. He immediately averted his eyes away from me and followed the swinging motion of his yo-yo with deep concentration. I couldn't believe I had just said the word bra in front of Jess. There were about five words in my vocabulary that I absolutely would not say in front of him, and bra was at the top of the list.
The thick silence between Jess and I was nauseating, and I cringed at the thought of how terrible this day had turned out. I grunted quietly as I kicked an empty Coke can toward the fence. Jess stiffly looked toward the can and then down at my foot. He couldn't even look at me in the eyes. I turned my glare toward him without moving my head. My face was molded into a deep scowl in order to outwardly show my contempt toward him and the entire situation. We slowly made eye contact and without any warning at all Jess's eyes began to crinkle as his face lit up.
"What's so funny?" I was still scowling as Jess began to laugh softly. "This day is so stupid," I said with a slight stomp in my foot.
We didn't say another word to each other as we made our way across the final yards of the big field.
On the opposite end was a barbed-wire fence that separated the field from our neighborhood. A small hole was put in the fence, probably years ago by some rebellious teenage boys, and over time the hole had grown to be big enough to crawl through. Jess held up the loose fencing wire for me to crawl through. I made my way through carefully-though I had done it so many times by that point that I could probably do it blindfolded-and waited for Jess to toss me our backpacks before climbing through himself. The other side of the opening introduced a whole new playground. Massive walls of concrete blocks lay in ruins where construction of a small storage unit had started once until the owner went bankrupt, leaving a maze of cinder blocks for Jess and me to play on.
We called it
our concrete jungle.
Most of the block walls were low enough for us to see overthough I had to be on my tiptoes. But some walls were high enough that we could climb them and see over the trees and roof tops of the surrounding houses. The lot itself was about the size of a tennis court, but it seemed a lot bigger with the maze of block walls. Jess and I were pretty much the only people who ever went there, though every once in a while we found an old cigarette butt or an empty pop can, indicating that someone else had trespassed there while we were in school or fast asleep.
I tossed both Jess's backpack and my own on a pile of blocks and headed over to the first high wall. I sensed Jess's hesitation to follow me. Lately he had been having these strange ideas that he was too old to climb the blocks. I usually told him to get real and come on. But today I didn't push him.
I pulled a peanut butter granola bar out of my pocket that I had snagged on my way out of my house that morning. I plopped down on the blocks and swung my legs against the wall as I chewed into my snack. This particular wall was probably a good ten feet off the ground, but the blocks were thick, and I wasn't scared of heights. I was two bites into my granola bar when Jess climbed the blocks and sat next to me, swinging his legs to my rhythm-still playing with his yo-yo.
"You want to know a secret?" Jess said, watching his yo-yo go up and down.
"Of course I want to know a secret," I replied without hesitation-who didn't want to know a secret?
"Remember last Wednesday when I couldn't walk home with you because I went home with a kid from my class to work on a group project?"
"Yes," I mumbled-that was a miserable thing for him to do.
"Well, we were in the kid's bedroom working on the project-there were about four of us guys-and he pulled up some pictures on his laptop." Jess didn't have to say what kind of pictures they were. I could tell from his posture and the way he bit his lip that they weren't pictures of outer space or famous athletes. I had never actually seen pornography, but I had heard it joked about once on a rerun of Friends, and my mom had made me change the channel.
"Did you look at it?" I knew I had no right to ask, but Jess and I asked each other questions that we had no right to ask all the time. Jess was still looking down at his yo-yo, which he was now holding still in his clutched hands.
"No, but the other guys did. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept coloring in maps for our project. It was the worst feeling." Jess ran his fingers through his hair. "I hated it."
"Did they make fun of you?" I kept swinging my legs to act as natural as possible.
"Yeah, sort of, but mostly they were just embarrassed I think. After it was over, when one of the guys' moms picked us up to take us home, it was so weird." I studied Jess's face for a couple seconds and then looked out ahead at the forest of tree. "I'm telling you this," Jess continued, "because I don't want you to think you're alone in this whole weird growing up thing. And I'm sorry I said that nothing could happen with that Trace kid. He probably does like you, and I hope you get to dance with him."
"The last dance," I grumbled.
"Yeah, the last dance." Jess weakly raised one corner of his mouth. "And look how mature you are-we both are-sitting here on this wall having a grown-up conversation and all. It feels nice."
I was still quiet. I hated the idea of growing up.
I hated bras, and I hated dances, and I hated grown-up conversations.
"Do you want a bite of my granola bar?" I asked Jess-trying to change the subject. He grabbed the granola bar from my hand and took a bite off the end.
"The last dance," Jess repeated as he chewed. "I wouldn't dance with a girl on the last dance if someone paid me." I jerked my gaze toward Jess's face and angrily grabbed the granola bar back from his hand.
"Why not?"
Jess shrugged his shoulders. "Because, the last dance is always blown up into being such a huge deal like you're supposed to end up marrying the person or something."
"But what if someone asks you to dance the last dance?"
Jess looked at me surprised. "What are you so uppity about?"
I squeezed the granola bar tightly in my hand and felt it change form. "You can't just decide that you're not going to dance, Jess! If someone asks you, you can't say no!"
"What's the big deal?" He was eyeing his yo-yo again as he spoke.
I took the last bite of my granola bar and talked with a full mouth. "I just don't want you to be socially awkward. People see me with you every day, and it would be bad for my reputation."
Jess twisted his mouth. "Trust me, Gem, I think taking pictures of guys in class will do far more damage to your reputation than me not dancing the last dance." Jess laughed and threw his yo-yo across the lot onto a pile of dirt. "I'm terrible at those things. Come on," he pushed himself off the cement wall, "let's get you home."
She had obviously gotten the hint. "What's the matter, Gemma?"
"Today was the worst," I huffed. Mom kept stirring her sauce or soup or whatever she was making, but she was looking at me with a furrowed brow, and I knew I had her attention. I told her about Nina and Clarissa and their stupid idea, and I told her the other side of it about Clarissa asking Jess to dance.
Mom tapped her big wooden spoon on the edge of the pot and laid it on the counter. She examined the contents of the pot but spoke to me, "I think you should forget about Trace and dance with Jess yourself." She walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a head of lettuce. I moaned when she said it and put my head on the counter in front of me. I gave a similar reaction every time my mom talked about me and Jess in a romantic way. The garage door opened, and I heard my dad's soft footsteps in the side hall. He walked into the kitchen when my mom was midsentence. "I think he will make such a great husband someday."
Dad raised his eyebrows, "Husband?"
"Hi, Dad," I said, making sure my voice still sounded exasperated. Mom spoke in a higher notch as she said, "Hi, honey," and kissed him on the lips. I watched them carefully, trying to figure out how they did it without bumping noses.
"What's all this talk about husbands?" Dad continued as he wiggled out of his coat and flipped off his shoes.
Mom answered, "Oh, Gemma is going to ask a boy to dance this Friday at the Valentine's dance, and she's nervous about it." Is that what she got out of it? I've been pouring my heart out to this woman for the past twenty minutes, and that's how she rephrased it?
"Mom!" I exclaimed. "He's not just any boy! And it's not just any dance! It's the last dance!"
Mom pulled a dish full of baked potatoes out of the oven. "Oh, right," she said, only half paying attention. "Didn't I mention that?"
The garage door opened again, but this time it was Bridget. She had just gotten her driver's license, and she made a huge scene when she came through the garage door, reminding us that she was now a licensed driver. She was barely inside when my dad asked, "Is the car still in one piece?"
"Ha, ha," Bridget answered sarcastically as she tossed her purse on the kitchen table. She flung the car key ring around her index finger a few times before placing it carefully on the key holder. "Dad, you would be amazed at how good of a driver I am. I think I'm ready to drive my friends to Atlanta for spring break." She gave him a hopeful smile waiting for his answer.
Dad snorted through his nose. "Bridget, you might as well not get your hopes up because the first time you drive to Atlanta will be in your own car with your own insurance when you're twenty-five." Bridget moaned, and Dad chuckled into the junk mail that he was hastily scanning.
"Oh, Bridge!" Mom practically whistled as she handed me four placemats. "Don't put those keys away too soon. I need you to take Gemma to her piano lesson as soon as we're done eating." Mom's newfound indulgence of ditching the drive-Gemmaaround chore to Bridget was my newfound drudgery. I buried my head into my arms on the counter and whimpered a muffled cry into my hands.
"I hate driving with Bridget! I got so sick the last time I rode in the car with her that I had to roll the win
dow down." Bridget walked past me and smeared her hand down the front of my face. I pulled away from her and scowled as she stole a cucumber out of the salad. Mom was obviously too enthralled with her cooking to be swayed by my pleadings, so I turned to my dad. "Dad! You have to hear me out! Piano lessons are bad enough without feeling nauseous by the time you get there!"
Bridget stuck her tongue out at me.
"Just keep your window rolled down, Gemma. The fresh air will do you good." From my dad, the optimist.
`I walked to the kitchen window and tore open the drapes. "It looks like it's going to snow!" I said infuriatingly. "I'll catch pneumonia!" Dad was still looking at the mail. How he managed to pay attention to our conversations and read his mail at the same time was beyond me. Eventually he looked at Mom, who was grating cheese into the salad. "How did we manage to conceive such a drama queen?"
A drama queen? Maybe I was overreacting a little. I mean, Bridget's driving wasn't that bad. But I just couldn't bring myself to be calm about the Valentine's dance. Maybe it was just a stupid dance. And maybe I was being dramatic. But at that moment I simply couldn't imagine life getting any worse.
I looked down at My dress as I stood awkwardly outside the doors of my school's gymnasium. The bottom ruffle by my knees was wrinkled from sitting on it all day in classes, and I wasn't sure if my flat red shoes matched the red in my skirt. It seemed a little off. Clarissa and Nina had insisted that they go into the bathroom to look at themselves in the mirror before going into the dance. The noise coming from the girl's bathroom was loud, and I could smell hairspray all the way out in the hall. I wasn't about to go in there. So I stood by myself, gazing nervously through the open doors that led to the big room full of giggling teenagers and blaring music.
The gymnasium, which was the size of one full basketball court, was stripped of all of its athleticism. The main lights were off, and the only lighting came from a pink, blue, and green disco ball at the front of the room near the disk jockey table. Crepe paper and balloons-the same style that had been in the hall all week-hung from the ceiling and doors. In fact, it looked like the ninth-grade activities committee had just stripped the halls of all their decorations and hastily taped them all over the gymnasium. I tried to sigh, but I was too nervous to catch a full breath. I was starting to feel nauseous when Clarissa and Nina appeared at my sides.
Second Kiss Page 2