How to Keep a Boy from Kissing You

by Tara Eglington

  I lost track of time as I perused the book aisles, seeking wisdom like a pilgrim visiting the Delphic Oracle. After an hour or so of browsing, I headed for the checkout laden down with reading material. As I passed the Mills & Boon section, I remembered the rumour that Mrs Kent was a closet romance writer. This was my chance to find out. I searched for the name I’d heard she used as her nom de plume: Catherine Goldstein.

  There! I grabbed the novel and looked at the racy cover. A buxom blonde in a skimpy gown swooned in the arms of a broad-shouldered man. I opened it up to see if the writing resembled Mrs Kent’s style. Not that I’d really seen much of her writing beyond her comments on my essays. I started reading a love scene and my cheeks burned. Luscious bosoms?

  ‘Enjoyable reading?’ a low voice murmured in my ear.

  I shrieked and whirled around to confront the pervert reading over my shoulder. As I turned, I stumbled, and fell towards Hayden Paris.

  ‘Hey, look, we’re almost replicating the pose on the cover,’ he remarked as he caught me.

  ‘You scared the life out of me!’

  ‘I see you’re still wearing that vanilla scent.’ Hayden set me on my feet, his hands on my shoulders to steady me. ‘It’s obvious, Aurora. Consumed by desire for me, you were drawn to the romance section.’

  ‘If you take a look at my intended purchases,’ I said, indicating my tower of books, ‘you’ll notice that none of them have anything to do with love.’

  ‘A cover,’ Hayden said. ‘You’re an intelligent girl; you knew you’d need one.’

  I barely restrained myself from grinding my teeth in frustration.

  ‘Hey, this girl looks a lot like you, Aurora.’

  I yanked the novel from him. The girl on the cover did look like me, but was very scantily dressed.

  ‘Why is this afternoon getting progressively worse?’ I said.

  ‘What happened this afternoon?’

  ‘Another episode in the continuing saga in which my mother finds it impossible to accept me as I am,’ I said before I could stop myself. Why was I telling Hayden my personal business?

  ‘Come on.’ He put a hand on my arm and guided me towards the bookshop’s café. ‘Let’s get a coffee and discuss it.’

  A coffee and a discussion? That’s what girlfriends did together. However, I let him lead me to a table. I felt so miserable about the situation with my mother that I’d discuss it with anyone, even Hayden Paris.

  ‘My mother wants me to be a model,’ I stated flatly.

  ‘A model?’ Hayden’s eyes became wide and he took a large gulp of his coffee.

  ‘So that’s an unbelievable idea?’ I said, feeling cross at his reaction.

  ‘No, not at all,’ he said hurriedly, setting his coffee down. ‘You’re, you know …’

  ‘I’m what?’ I waited to see what insult would come out of his mouth, hoping I could think of a quick retort.

  ‘You’re, you know …’ he repeated. He looked oddly nervous. ‘You’re … you’d be a perfect model,’ he finished, taking another gulp of his coffee.

  ‘Why are you making a face?’ I asked suspiciously.

  ‘Just the thought of opening up a magazine and having you look out at me … it’s …’ He looked away.

  No acerbic wit courtesy of Paris? The world was topsyturvy.

  He turned his gaze back to me. ‘So you don’t want to do it?’

  ‘No. I know it sounds crazy because any other girl would love to —’

  ‘But you’re not just any girl,’ Hayden broke in. He halved a dark chocolate cookie, my favourite, and passed the bigger bit to me.

  ‘Yeah.’ I couldn’t believe he understood. ‘I appreciate the talent it takes to be a model, but it’s just not something that inspires me.’

  ‘What does inspire you?’ He looked at me intently.

  ‘This.’ I gestured at the books around us.

  He leant forward. ‘The way books affect us?’

  ‘Yes!’ I cried.

  ‘I love that Kafka quote: “We need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide.”’ Hayden’s eyes were glowing. ‘“A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.”’

  I have to admit that I admire people who can quote passages from books. ‘That’s such a beautiful way of putting it.’

  ‘It’s one of my favourite quotes,’ Hayden said, stirring his coffee. ‘I get it. You want to be the one swinging the axe.’

  ‘With intention, not wildly!’ I laughed. ‘That sounds rather lethal.’

  Hayden winked. ‘Good luck explaining that one to your mum.’

  We laughed and sipped the last of our coffees at the same time.

  ‘Hey, why were you here?’ I asked as we parted ways, me to purchase my towering stack of books, him to go meet Scott.

  ‘Reasons,’ he said mysteriously and gave me a wave.

  ‘You’re a Mills & Boon fan, aren’t you?’ I called after him.

  Several curious customers turned to check out the male romance junkie. Hayden gave me a ‘Sure’ look, but his face radiated embarrassment.

  For once I’d got the better of Hayden Paris.

  CHAPTER 11

  Undesirable Aura

  ‘Heaven,’ Jelena murmured as she bit into a brownie.

  ‘If you’re not careful, Ms Carraway is going to kill you,’ Cassie said in a warning tone, her face almost hidden behind a Mount Everest of cookbooks. ‘You know how she feels about people eating in the library.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Jelena looked unconcerned as crumbs from the brownie fell under our study table. ‘If she comes by, I’ll just offer her some.’

  ‘Oh my god.’ Lindsay looked over my shoulder. ‘Tyler’s heading this way.’

  Everyone’s eyes shot to the spot just behind me.

  ‘Everyone look away from Tyler right now,’ I said softly. ‘Lindsay, remember what I told you this morning. We’re playing it cool. Now, everybody laugh,’ I instructed.

  ‘At what?’ Jelena whispered.

  ‘Just laugh!’

  Looking like you’re having a good time is one of the fundamentals when dealing with an ex. Most guys expect you to be beside yourself after losing them. Acting happy ensures they receive an ego check.

  We all broke out into peals of laughter. Tyler looked at us cautiously, but walked up to Lindsay.

  ‘Hey, Linds.’ His voice was super low. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’

  Lindsay slowly turned to him and stopped laughing. ‘Sure, Tyler,’ she said, poker-faced. ‘Go ahead.’

  He ran a hand through his sandy-coloured hair. ‘I sort of hoped we could talk privately?’

  ‘Privately?’ Lindsay put on her confused face, the one that we’d spent twenty minutes perfecting this morning. Call me psychic, but I’d had a feeling that Tyler would be making the approach today.

  ‘You want your stuff back, right?’ she went on. ‘I can drop it in your locker if you want.’

  Another key to dealing with an ex is to remain friendly and unconcerned. Your world continues without him.

  ‘Lindsay, I don’t want my stuff back.’ Tyler dropped to his knees in front of her. He took her hands in his. ‘I want you back.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’ Lindsay pulled her hands away and Tyler looked shocked. ‘I mean, yeah, I know you want me back ’cause I’m great and fantastic and all.’

  You should always remind an ex of how wonderful you are.

  ‘But didn’t you want to … what was it again?’ Lindsay tapped her chin, pretending to be struggling to remember. ‘“Spread your wings and fly like an eagle”?’

  People at the tables nearby turned around at her words. Tyler looked embarrassed. Rightfully so. I mean, hello, talk about a B-grade movie line.

  ‘Look, Lindsay, I needed some time apart —’

  ‘That’s cool,’ Lindsay interrupted. ‘So why are you her
e again?’

  ‘Because I’m an idiot!’ Tyler cried.

  Half the library jumped. I saw Ms Carraway’s head jolt up from her Charles Dickens.

  ‘We already knew that,’ Jelena broke in.

  I frowned at her. Friends should never butt in on an I-want-you-back scene. Otherwise, things can turn hostile.

  ‘I needed the week apart to realise that I don’t need to be alone to soar, Lindsay.’ Tyler stroked her cheek and pulled her closer. ‘You’re the wind beneath my wings.’

  I rolled my eyes behind his back at his plagiarism of Bette Midler’s song.

  Lindsay pulled away from him. ‘Well, I think it’s good we’ve had this time apart.’

  ‘Good?’ Tyler leapt up.

  ‘It’s given me some time to think.’ Lindsay looked at me uncertainly.

  ‘Don’t give up now!’ I mouthed at her.

  ‘And I’m enjoying having some space,’ she finished.

  ‘Linds, we don’t need space!’ Tyler cried. ‘We’re perfect together! Who needs space?’

  He moved closer to her and knocked Cassie’s tower of cookbooks to the ground.

  Ms Carraway strode over from her desk. ‘Tyler, you’re disrupting a quiet study space.’ She attempted to usher him out the door.

  Tyler gave Lindsay a pleading look and pushed back in front of Ms Carraway. ‘Linds, can I meet you after school?’ His voice was shrill.

  Ms Carraway nodded towards the library monitors, who walked forward and grabbed Tyler by the arms.

  ‘Tyler, there isn’t going to be any reunion,’ Lindsay said softly.

  ‘Yeah, there will!’ Tyler cried as the library monitors dragged him off. ‘I’ll win you back! I have not yet begun to fight!’ He shook a fist in triumph as his voice faded beyond the door.

  Jelena raised her eyebrows. ‘Dramatic enough?’

  ‘I hope I’m doing the right thing,’ Lindsay said. Her eyes were slightly teary now that Tyler had left the room.

  I looked at her. ‘Lindsay, remember what I told you? It’s just like when mistreated workers go on strike. You’re not taking the first offer. You’re aiming for better conditions. Tyler will have to fight to win you back.’ I smiled. ‘And as we all just heard, he’s vowed to do that.’

  The bell for our last afternoon class sounded.

  ‘Yes! Forty-five minutes till the weekend officially starts!’ Jelena bounced from her seat.

  ‘I fail to understand your enthusiasm,’ I said. ‘You know our last class is interpretive dance.’ I sighed and picked up my handbag.

  Jelena and I waved to Cass and Lindsay and headed off in the opposite direction.

  ‘Aurora, I told you last week, Ms DeForest is several bricks short of a load,’ Jelena said. ‘Just put a spiritual look on your face and she’ll be happy.’

  ‘A spiritual look?’

  ‘Widen your eyes and give serene smiles. Works a treat,’ Jelena insisted.

  ‘Everyone sit down in a circle,’ Ms DeForest directed as she glided to the centre of the room. ‘Close your eyes and chant after me. Ooooooommmmm.’

  ‘Umm?’ Jeffrey chirped as we all found a place on the floor. ‘I say that all the time in class.’

  ‘Ooooooommmmm!’ Ms DeForest yelled.

  Really. How did she expect anyone to relax if she shouted the spiritual mantra at a 130-decibel level?

  ‘I can see into your secret soul,’ she recited in hushed tones. ‘I know you are feeling a lack of fulfilment in this modern world. You are feeling empty —’

  ‘Actually, I’m feeling pretty full,’ Jeffrey announced.

  ‘Did you have the chicken burger from the canteen?’ Travis Ela asked enthusiastically.

  ‘With extra fries,’ Jeffrey said. ‘Total satisfaction.’

  ‘You’re feeling empty,’ Ms DeForest repeated. Her voice gave the impression that she was gritting her teeth. ‘Let me lead you in a new spiritual direction.’

  If we were heading in her spiritual direction, I was going to make a U-turn. Maybe some of us didn’t feel empty, just like Jeffrey said.

  Ms DeForest started a CD of lute music.

  ‘Psychic intuitiveness begins with opening your mind to the universe. Soon you will be able to use tarot cards, and receive messages via dreams and willing spirits.’

  ‘Willing spirits?’ Jelena sounded incredulous. I opened my eyes to see her navy-blue eyes full of disbelief.

  ‘I know!’ I whispered, glancing over at Ms DeForest to ensure that she wasn’t paying attention to us. ‘That sounds more like meddling with the dark side than a form of spiritual enlightenment.’

  Ms DeForest opened her eyes and looked at me. ‘Aurora, why don’t you lead our next exercise?’

  Her glare made me think of Medusa — one glance from her could turn a person to stone.

  ‘Everyone walk over to the ribbons.’ Ms DeForest gestured towards a pile of rainbow-coloured ribbons on sticks. ‘Select one, and form a line behind Aurora.’

  ‘Ribbons?’ Jesse Cook sounded shocked. ‘Can’t the guys have something more masculine?’

  Tom Meyer folded his arms. ‘I do not do ribbons.’

  ‘Anyone who refuses to use the ribbons will be staying after school to help me dye new ones for my out-of-school classes.’ Ms DeForest smiled like a cat that’s caught its first mouse. ‘Aurora, twirl to the other side of the room, swinging your ribbon in a rainbow arc.’

  I was never going to talk in class again. I started twirling, and everyone followed me. At least we were united in our embarrassment.

  ‘Become one with the light!’ Ms DeForest called. ‘And back again, to the other side of the room!’

  ‘Jesse!’ cried Amber Jenkins. ‘You nearly poked my eye out!’

  ‘Can you blame me?’ Jesse’s arm waved around out of control as we continued twirling from one side of the room to the other. ‘All this spinning is making me dizzy.’

  Ms DeForest turned up the lute music. ‘Faster! Connect with the divine feminine and masculine energies!’

  ‘I can’t connect with anything when I’m waving a rainbow ribbon,’ complained Tom.

  ‘Now, leap up in the air!’

  How come Ms DeForest didn’t have to leap? She’d taken a seat and propped her maroon-slippered feet up on another chair.

  ‘You are like popcorn kernels — bursting into new life! Pop! Pop! Now the popcorn is getting burnt —’

  Jeffrey let out a scream and threw himself down on the rosewood floor. I stopped twirling and all the other twirlers crashed into me.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Ms DeForest leapt out of her chair and stalked over to Jeffrey.

  She could be a bit more sensitive. What if Jeffrey was having a seizure? I knelt down in front of him anxiously.

  ‘You said we were popcorn kernels getting burnt.’ Jeffrey rolled on the ground like he was trying to smother a fire. ‘I demand to go to the infirmary!’

  Travis sank down on the floor next to him. ‘Yeah, I think we’re all suffering third-degree burns!’

  ‘Aurora!’ cried Jeffrey. ‘I need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!’

  Jesse clasped his hands together in a begging gesture. ‘Save their lives, Aurora!’

  God, how embarrassing.

  ‘Get off the floor now!’ Ms DeForest grabbed Jeffrey’s and Travis’s arms.

  ‘The pain!’ moaned Jeffrey.

  ‘Pain is part of the transformational process,’ Ms DeForest huffed as she pulled them up. She muttered something under her breath about ‘the energy expended in teaching the spiritually barren’ as she switched off the CD.

  ‘I hope everyone has prepared their two-minute dance based on a traumatic experience,’ she said, walking around us, her hands curled into fists by her sides. ‘Remember, this is a non-judgmental space.’

  Shane Davis leapt to his feet. ‘My trauma’s about the moment I discovered the extent of the destruction of the world’s oceans.’

  His CD started up and I realised it was the s
ame one that the NAD meditated to. Shane began leaping in the air, making high-pitched dolphin-like noises. He waved his arms like an undulating jellyfish, then threw himself onto the ground and stretched out in a starfish shape.

  Jelena rolled her eyes. ‘This is ridiculous.’

  ‘I think it’s touching that he’s showing such concern for the creatures of the sea,’ I replied, as Shane pretended to be a turtle choking on plastic rings.

  ‘Excellent, Shane.’ Ms DeForest gave the first smile of today’s lesson. ‘Who’s next?’

  I stood up. I just wanted to get this over with.

  ‘My traumatic experience happened just recently,’ I announced. ‘It’s a story of an audition gone wrong.’

  I threw myself dramatically to the floor, symbolising the moment Hayden and I had stumbled onto the stage, then spread my arms out in shock as I saw the audience staring at me. I twirled in confusion at Mr Peterman’s remarks, and stopped abruptly as I figured out what he meant. I kicked my legs in the air like a Russian dancer, symbolising rebellion. Finally, I was dragged away by an invisible force (Hayden). I finished, breathless. I’d actually got into this whole interpretive dance thing! I looked at Ms DeForest expectantly.

  ‘Pretentious,’ she said.

  My mouth dropped open.

  ‘No authenticity,’ she added. ‘Who’s next?’

  ‘No authenticity?’ I repeated, my hands shaking in shock. ‘But that’s what really happened.’

  ‘There was no surrender to the dance or your emotions —’

  ‘I think it was pretty emotional,’ Jeffrey put in. ‘I observed the real event.’

  ‘Jeffrey, who is the interpretive dance teacher?’ Ms DeForest glared at him.

  ‘The dance was what I felt,’ I said, looking at Ms DeForest earnestly. ‘And who I am. So how can you say that it wasn’t authentic?’

  ‘Well, sometimes we have to change who we are,’ Ms DeForest replied.

  Change who we are? Who was she to say something like that to a teenage girl already fending off a morass of self-doubt?

  ‘I thought you said this was a non-judgmental space!’ I spluttered.

  ‘I don’t like your aura,’ Ms DeForest said icily. ‘Report to the office.’