Rejected Kiss (Sweet N' Sour Kisses

Home > Young Adult > Rejected Kiss (Sweet N' Sour Kisses > Page 3
Rejected Kiss (Sweet N' Sour Kisses Page 3

by Cindy M. Hogan


  “Let's hurry to your house and see. How should we answer them?”

  A bit of acid bubbled in my gut. She was assuming a lot.

  “You mean, how should you answer Zack?” I opened my eyes wide and gave her a pointed look.

  “For now, that is.” She looked at me from the corner of her eye. “There's no way I'll get asked and you won't. That would be a disruption in the stars.”

  The disruption was real. Caleb hadn't asked me, and he wasn't planning on it. After Ali answered Zack, he told her their group was complete, and it included Caleb and his date. Which wasn't me. And no invites came the rest of the week.

  I went dress shopping with Ali. She was going to look amazing. I was so excited for her. Not only was she going to prom, this was the first real date she'd ever been asked on. It wasn't hard to dive into her excitement because she always dove into mine.

  But when I wasn't with Ali, maintaining excitement was getting more and more difficult. For the week before D-Day, my nerves were completely frazzled. I couldn't sleep, which only added to my craziness.

  Buzz about prom was all around me. It seemed I was the only one that hadn't been asked. My nervousness was turning to fear. Ali's words about the ultimate fail weighed down on me. I was losing my concentration in classes, and I felt a constant impatience. I couldn't get rid of the anxiety no matter what I did. I even tried long, hot baths with my music blaring. There was no relief.

  I'd had a taste of how fun the dances could be, and I wanted more of that. Why wasn't anyone asking me? My list of names grew smaller and smaller as more and more guys asked girls to the dance. About halfway through the week, I panicked a little, catching Ali in the hall in between classes.

  “Ali, maybe I should just ask someone now. All the good guys will be gone if I wait any longer.”

  “I forbid you from asking anyone. You will be asked. I just know it.”

  She sent me off to class still feeling totally wretched, but smiling, hoping someone would notice me and ask me. There were even moments I thought I should mope around instead. Perhaps then someone would feel bad for me and ask me out. I'd take a pity date at that moment.

  Friday came fast, and I was trying to stay positive. I was such a wreck, I bumped into people in the halls and went to the wrong class twice. I forced myself to focus on Ali and what she still had to do to be ready for prom. The closer it got to the date, however, the harder it was for me to live vicariously through her.

  By the time third period rolled around, I must have looked like a crazy person. I found myself glancing all around, starting at noises, and stopping at every drinking fountain because my mouth was bone dry. Good grief. It was only a dance.

  I'd been running a little late-while my mouth was bone dry, my bladder hadn't felt the same way- I had to find a bathroom, and fast. I hated using the bathrooms at school. They invariably stank, but it was unavoidable. I pushed hard on the door and sprinted for a stall. The bad news? There were only two stalls. They did, however, have four urinals.

  I stopped abruptly and someone ran right into me. I stumbled forward, closer to the urinals. My legs didn't seem to work, and I stood there staring at two boys using those urinals.

  The boy who'd run into me headed for the last urinal and called out, “Girl on the premises!” Heat rushed up my neck and to my face. The two boys turned their heads to look at me, and I pivoted around and high-tailed it out of there, running into yet another boy on the way out. The boy snickered and pointed as I made my way back out into the hall and then into the girls' bathroom. I pressed my back up against the closed stall door and took extremely deep breaths, trying not to think about what I'd just done and seen.

  By the time I recovered and made it to class, my usual seat at the front was taken. I scanned the room desperately, and headed quickly to a seat in the middle of the room, mumbling an apology to the teacher as I passed. After arranging all my stuff, I glanced around the room and tapped my foot wildly on the floor.

  Finally, with fifteen minutes till the end of class, our teacher stopped talking and the room turned into a roar of conversations. The topic at hand? Dresses, tuxes, and day-dates for prom. I tried to appear busy while listening intently. I needed to know who hadn't been asked.

  Kristy, a girl next to me, turned and pushed on my arm. “Who are you going with, Brooklyn?”

  “No one,” I said, trying not to sound defeated. A huge lump formed in my throat.

  “Are you serious?” It wasn't Kristy talking, but a boy behind me.

  Should I engage him or pretend I didn't hear? When I hadn't answered in a timely fashion, he added, “You really haven't been asked?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to turn around.

  “Wow! I find that really hard to believe.”

  I had to turn around at that. It was the student body officer Ali had drooled over at the sweethearts dance. My jaw dropped slightly. I'd had no idea he was in my class! Maybe that's why he'd seemed familiar?

  All eyes were on me, like I'd turned purple or something. I had to try to make light of the situation and said, “Well, you know, everyone wants to save the best for last.”

  Everybody laughed and the bell rang. I smiled along with them. What I really felt like doing was crying. Another week had passed. Tomorrow was D-Day, two weeks before prom. As much as I hated admitting defeat, I was going to have to swallow my pride and ask someone.

  Chapter 3

  The doorbell rang Friday night right after I'd closed my bedroom door to sleep. My nerves were fried, as I thought of the ordeal of asking someone to prom. I sighed. It was probably one of Hannah's trillion friends wanting her to play night games. I thought about ignoring it, but then thought I'd want Hannah to get the door for me if someone came to hang out. I bounded up the stairs and yanked the door open, ready to direct her friends to her.

  “She's in her room,” I said to the empty space in front of me. No one was there. A big rock sat on my porch. I moved around it, noticing a second, fist-sized rock to the front of it. Under the smaller rock was a piece of cardstock paper with writing on it. In shock, knowing what this probably was, but not believing it yet, I picked up the paper and read:

  Brooklyn,

  It would rock if you'd come to prom with me.

  Anxiously waiting,

  Cal

  A quick glance at the rocks showed NO written on the big rock and YES written on the small one. Excitement burst out of me and I screamed out, jumping up and down. I ran inside, forgetting to shut the door. “Mom! Hannah!” Luke's curse was broken.

  My mom rushed out of her room. “What? Is everything all right?”

  “Better than all right! I just got asked out to prom.” I squealed and jumped up and down again.

  She smiled in that way only she could when pleased with herself.

  I stopped jumping. “Did you arrange this somehow?” Heat spread through my gut. This couldn't be true. Having your mom set up your date was worse than asking one yourself.

  She laughed lightly. “No, no. I just knew he was going to ask you because he asked my permission.” She retained the funny look on her face.

  “What?” I put my hand on my hip and scowled.

  Hannah rounded the corner and said, “What's up?”

  We ignored her, and my mom started to explain. “Let's just say that someone called me around three o'clock today and asked if it was fine with me if he asked you out.”

  My jaw and Hannah's were hanging wide open.

  Hannah whispered, “Awkward.”

  A weird, scared, and silly feeling crept through my bones. What kind of guy asks permission to ask you out? Permission from your parents, no less? I realized I didn't know much about this guy at all-only that he was in my Religion class, and he was a student body officer, and people liked him. He seemed nice enough, but was he a weirdo?

  “What did he say exactly?” I took a cautious step toward her, biting my lip.

  “Let's see. He introduced himself to me.” She
made her voice deep. “'Hi, this is Cal Neville. You don't know me, but I was hoping you'd allow me the honor of taking your daughter, Brooklyn, to prom. Before you answer, I thought I'd tell you about myself. I attend Layton High School, am the activities SBO, am the oldest of five children, and I've earned my Eagle Scout award.'” She paused and brought her voice back to normal. “And then he said something about being an honest, kind human being who likes to create fun activities that everyone will enjoy.” She grinned. I could see every last one of her teeth.

  “You like him already, don't you?”

  She raised her hands in the air. “I don't know where you got that idea.”

  “Oh, no! You think he's a total dork? I don't think he is-”

  “I never said that either. How could he possibly be a dork with all those accolades? Besides, I doubt he'd be a weirdo if he's an SBO. For a few minutes, however, I did think he was going to ask if he could have your hand in marriage.”

  “Mom!”

  “He sounded like the perfect gentleman, and I think he will take care of you. In fact, I can almost guarantee it. He even said that he wanted your dad and me to have a chance to ask him any questions we might have. What's he like in real life?”

  I put my head in my hands. “What did you ask him?”

  “I asked him what his intentions were with you.”

  “You did not.” I thought a hot iron was about to leap out of my chest.

  She laughed. “Of course I didn't. What's he like?”

  I exhaled loudly. “He seems nice. I've only spoken to him once in Religion, and I saw him announce the king and queen at sweethearts.” I wrung my hands.

  “Well, I can't wait to meet him.” She had a glint in her eye and walked back to her room. She called out, “Congrats. I'm so excited for you. Your first prom.”

  I yelled back, “Thanks.” And then I whispered, “Please don't let him be a weirdo.”

  Hannah giggled. “I can't believe you're going to prom. I thought you'd kissed your dating days goodbye.”

  “Thanks a lot, little sis. Thanks for believing in me.”

  “It's not that I don't believe in you. I don't believe in them.” She kicked up her foot behind her and pivoted on her other one. “I'm going to go check out how he asked you.”

  I followed close behind.

  “This is good, Brooky. How someone asks you out tells you a ton about them.”

  “Really?” I said, leaning against the door, still feeling giddy with excitement.

  “Yes. What this tells you is that he loves rocks and is a sappy fool.”

  I shook my head, taking a deep breath of the cold air. “I can't believe I'm going. I still can't believe it.”

  She shoved the rocks to the side of the porch and then snagged my arm. “Let's go inside. It's freezing out here.”

  I rushed to my room and called Ali. Her scream was so loud, it hurt my ear. We were both going to prom.

  Before falling asleep, I debated how I should give Cal my answer. Of course, I could just drop the small rock off at his door-but that would be too easy, too predictable. I hatched a plan and went to sleep smiling. This was going to be epic.

  It was time to put my dad, the cop, on the case. He called Mrs. Neville, and they came up with a plan on how to ambush Cal with my answer. Apparently, Cal was beyond reproach. There was nothing that my dad could play off to pull him over, so my dad talked to the officer at the high school, and he found out some vandalism had been happening to cars during lunch. So, my dad colluded with Cal's mom to prank him with my answer.

  Cal's mom set up a web camera inside her foyer to catch it all. My mom, Ali, and I sat in the car just down the road, giggling as my dad, dressed fully in his police uniform, knocked on their door. As the door opened at Cal's house, I slid down in the seat even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me in the dark.

  We watched on my mom's tablet as Mrs. Neville opened the door. The camera was pointed at the living room to catch the most action, so we couldn't see my dad's face, but his booming voice transferred very well over the camera.

  “Mrs. Neville, I'm Officer Clark. I'm afraid I need to speak with your son.”

  “What's this all about?” Mrs. Neville was playing her part perfectly. Cal passed the camera on his way to join his mother at the door. Ali giggled and I shushed her, not wanting to miss anything.

  “There've been some incidents of vandalism at the school. We believe Cal was involved. May I come in?”

  The three of them walked in front of the camera and sat down in the living room. Cal was positioned so that we could see his entire body on the screen, and my dad sat to one side so he was visible in profile. It couldn't have been more perfect.

  “Oh man, look at the poor guy. He's petrified!” My mom tsked. I was dying. This was the best ever.

  “Cal, it's time to come clean.” My dad's voice was stern, and Cal's face went white. I could see him trying to understand, to form a defense.

  “But I-I would never-”

  “We have witnesses, son. We know you did it.”

  Cal didn't deny it. His head hung. “You have witnesses?” He kept clasping and unclasping his hands.

  “Yes.” My dad's lips were pressed tight, and his intense stare even made me feel guilty.

  “Well, what do I need to do to make it better?”

  My dad's eyes looked past Cal to his parents, giving them a what-in-the-heck look, but only for a second. Then he was back in character.

  “So, you're admitting you did it?”

  “No, but if people are saying I did, what can I do?”

  My dad's lips turned up in the corners, and he had to smack them to hide his amusement. He reached in his pocket. “I just need you to write your statement, then we can work on reparations. You'll need to start thinking about how you're going to pay for all the damage you caused.”

  “Okay.” His face glimmered with sweat, and he sat up straight in his chair, hands still clasped. It may have been a trick of the light, but he looked a bit green.

  My dad handed Cal a pen and a crumpled piece of paper. Cal took them from him. His eyebrows knit together in confusion, and he tried to smooth out the paper on the side table. The rock with YES printed on it fell out and tumbled to the floor.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said as he reached down and picked it up. He stared at the rock for what felt like forever, his mouth open in shock. As realization dawned on him, he stood up, staring at the rock. He turned it over and over again in his hand and said, “No way!” He looked at my dad and then his parents, and everyone busted up laughing. Cal stood up and rushed out of the room-it happened so fast I couldn't tell if he was upset or not.

  “Where'd he go? What's going on?” Ali demanded, grabbing the tablet away from me.

  Next thing we knew, Cal was barreling toward us. We sank lower and I said, “Oh, no. You think he's mad? Would he get mad?” No one answered. I peeked over the dashboard and noticed as he got closer that he was grinning. I sighed with relief. He must have loved it. He knocked on the driver's side window, and we all slowly sat up in our seats. My mom rolled her window down.

  “Mrs. Hamlin?” he asked. His eyes rushed to me.

  “Cal?”

  “That was awesome,” he said in a rush, winded. “Oh, my gosh. I was so scared. I thought I was going to jail, and when your dad said I was going to have to pay all that money to repair all those people's cars, I was dying.” He laughed and sighed and then hurried over to my side of the car. He stood outside the door. I looked at my mom and she shrugged. My dad was still talking to Cal's parents on the porch. I opened the door and got out.

  “That was the best. Seriously. Thank you.” He smiled, shaking his head. “You totally got me.”

  “Oh my gosh, your face was priceless!”

  “Wait, you saw-? But how?”

  I held up the tablet and grinned. He covered his face in his hands and laughed harder.

  “Why didn't you speak up and say you didn't do it?” I d
ropped my jaw, held out my hands, palms up, and let my eyes bug out.

  “I did. I mean, I thought I did. But, I didn't want anything hanging over me. And if people were saying I did it, then I needed to get it cleared up.”

  “You get it cleared up by telling the truth, not allowing yourself to be railroaded.”

  “Hey, I was nervous. I've never been interrogated by a cop, and your dad-no offense-was scary.”

  I laughed out loud. “He's a marshmallow in real life. But he even scared me in that video.”

  “Yeah. He could make me admit to almost anything.” He laughed again and put his hand to his chest. “That was just-the best.”

  His excitement was contagious, and I laughed. “I'm glad you liked it.”

  He lunged at me, picking me up over his head and spinning us around.

  I screamed out as we spun, a bit of fear creeping in, wondering if he'd drop me. He didn't.

  After he set me down, he said, “We are going to have the best time together. I can just tell.”

  “I'm sure we will.”

  My dad walked up at that moment.

  “Now, listen here, Cal. I've got my eye on you. Don't forget it.” My dad put his hand on his gun in its holster. He actually looked a bit menacing.

  Cal stood up straight. “I won't, sir, and you've got nothing to worry about. And Brooklyn-I've planned a game night on Friday with the other kids in our prom group. I want to make sure everyone gets to know each other so we're all comfortable together on the big night. Now that I have your answer I can officially invite you. So, can you come?”

  I was already nodding my head enthusiastically, even before he'd finished talking. Even if I'd had something, I'd cancel it. This prom date was morphing into something really big.

  “Sounds great, Cal.”

  He grinned at me. “All right, then, good night.” He opened the car door for me, and I climbed in.

  By the time Friday rolled around and all my tests, essays, and projects were done, I was exhausted, but I thought my straight A's were still intact. I needed to do something fun-I was really looking forward to the game night with Cal. I was antsy waiting for the fun to begin, and I couldn't just sit and wait in my room. Instead, I spent the afternoon jamming out to my Alan Jackson station on Pandora in the kitchen, making a killer batch of cookies.

 

‹ Prev