Starkissed

by Gabrielson , Brynna

  “Grounded. You are grounded.”

  “Come on! Javier was like five years older Ava!”

  “She was over 18,” Mom says, but I can see that vein throbbing on Dad’s forehead again. He really didn’t like Javier. Though he won’t cop to it, he’s probably the one who called immigration.

  Mom sidles up to me and whispers in my ear. “Why don’t you go to your room and I’ll try and talk your father down.”

  Chapter Eight

  I stomp, like a five-year-old, all the way up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room. I slam the door behind me and toss myself facedown on the bed. Despite the fact that I barely had any sleep last night and could really use a nap at this point, my eyes will not shut. My mind is too stuffed full of the day’s events and when I do try to close my eyes, all I see are pictures of Grant floating through my head. Yesterday I was just normal, run-of-the-mill Sydney. Now I’m the girl who kissed Grant West. Everyone at school is talking about me, my best friend is losing her mind at the thought of popularity, and my parents are crazy people.

  I contemplate going on my laptop, but the very idea of accidentally stumbling across some news article about myself holds me back. And after what I heard downstairs, I’m a little paranoid about turning on the TV as well.

  “This sucks,” I say into my pillowcase.

  I roll over, and then arch my back up so I can drag my comforter out from beneath me. I then proceed to crawl beneath it and wrap it around my body. I kick off my shoes and hear them hit the wood floor – clunk, clunk – then I drag my legs up toward my chest. I stay like this for ages, listening to the sound of my breath, in and out, in and out. It’s nice in my little cocoon – quiet, dark, warm, peaceful. It almost makes me forget about...

  “How could you do it!” A shrill voice cuts through the barrier of my blanket.

  I push the comforter away from my face and sit up. Angelina is standing in my doorway, she’s wearing her white, blue, and silver cheerleading uniform, she probably just came from practice. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail. But it’s her face that I’m staring at. Her gemstone blue eyes are blazing and her lips are twisted into a hateful knot.

  “Do what?”

  “You know I love Grant West! How could you do this to me?”

  Oh great. Apparently on top of everything else, I’ve stolen my sister’s imaginary boyfriend.

  “I didn’t do anything to you.”

  She kicks the doorframe with her pristine white sneaker. “You’ve ruined everything.”

  “I’ve ruined everything? Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “God, you’re such a bitch. Your boyfriend is my soul mate. I know it.”

  “First of all – he is not my boyfriend, and secondly – you’re a lunatic.”

  “Oh come on Sydney,” she strides further into the room. “That’s not what you told everyone at school. Mom and Dad might have bought your lie, but not me.”

  “I’m not lying! And I didn’t tell anyone he was my boyfriend.”

  “That’s not what Michelle said.”

  “Well then feel free to comfort yourself with the fact that Michelle is just as crazy as you are.”

  She starts pacing at the foot of my bed. I watch her from my perch with equals parts anger and curiosity. What it must be like to live in her head?

  She stops at the far side of the room and spins to face me. “And by the way, it’s bad enough that you stole Grant, but you’re stealing my friends too?”

  “I’m not stealing your friends,” I cringe at the very thought.

  “You sat with them at lunch. All Michelle could talk about at practice was you.”

  “No, they sat with me. And I didn’t ask them to. Believe me; I don’t want to be friends with your friends.”

  “Oh please. Everyone wants to be friends with them. Just admit it, you’re jealous of me and you always have been. And now you’re going to use your new boyfriend to try to ruin my life and take my place at school.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend!”

  “Whatever,” she spins on her heel and heads for the hallway. “Just stay the hell away from my friends.”

  I climb off the bed and walk to my door. I stare is disbelief at my sister’s retreating backside. She reaches her room and steps in, slamming her door behind her.

  Will the madness ever end?

  “There you are,” Ava steps out of her room across the hall.

  Apparently not.

  ***

  “I can’t,” I shake my head for the fifteenth time in ten minutes.

  “You owe me,” Ava presses her right hand into her hip and tilts her head.

  “I do not.”

  “Oh come on. You used Javier to take the heat off of you when Dad freaked out. He was just starting to forget, and now you’ve gone and stirred the damn pot. All I want is for you to just ask Grant if he’d do it. It’s just a simple question.”

  “Get it through your head, I don’t know him.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Sydney, please.”

  “It was a kiss, that’s it. A stupid little kiss that meant nothing. I don’t have his phone number. Even if I actually wanted to, I can’t just call him and ask him to speak at your Save the Dolphins event.”

  “A celebrity behind us could make all the difference. You know that.”

  “That doesn’t change the facts. Grant West is not my boyfriend!” I’m getting tired of saying that. How many more times am I going to have to?

  I step out of Ava’s bedroom and head down the hall. She’s quick on my tail.

  “Then give me his number and I’ll call.”

  I shake my head and keep walking. This is insane. Why won’t anyone believe me? Is this stupid kiss going to haunt me until the day I die?

  I take the stairs two at a time. When I hit the first floor I shove my feet into a pair of purple flats and grab my coat out of the closet.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Dad steps out of the living room. “You’re grounded.”

  “Still?”

  “It’s only been two hours, young lady. Not two weeks.”

  “I am not grounded for two weeks.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “Dad you can’t ground her, she has to get Grant to come to my event!” Ava whines.

  “You’re still in contact with him? I thought you said you weren’t?” Dad thunders.

  Mom slips out of the kitchen. “What is going on in here?”

  “Sydney is still speaking with Grant! After I forbade her!” He sounds like a little boy having a tantrum. I’m surprised he doesn’t stomp his foot and jut out his bottom lip.

  “You are?” Mom’s face flushes with excitement.

  “Clarissa.”

  Angelina appears at the top of the stairs. “God what are you all bitching about?”

  Ava and Dad start blathering at the same time, filling the hall with such a cacophony of sound that barely a word can be understood.

  The phone rings, a long jingling trill that only myself and Mom seem to notice. She snatches the phone off the hallway table and holds it to her ear. She listens for a second, then glares at everyone

  “Quiet!” She booms. Everyone shuts up.

  “Oh, hello Michelle,” Mom smiles. She loves all of Angelina’s friends and thinks they’re perfect angels. Meanwhile, because Caroline has a few purple streaks in her hair, she often refers to her as ‘that Goth girl’ and asks me why I can’t make nicer friends, like Michelle. What she doesn’t realize is that Michelle is the devil and Caroline is about at Goth as a Disney Princess.

  Angelina descends the stairs and holds out her hand, waiting for Mom to pass her the phone.

  “Just one second,” Mom says
. She looks so happy. Too happy. She pulls the phone from her ear and holds it out, not to Angelina, but me.

  “Michelle wants to speak to you,” she tells me, and I’m sure she’s resisting the urge to jump up and down and sing out, “finally all my daughters are popular!”

  Angelina’s face turns bright red and she lets out a high pitched shriek! “I knew it!” She shouts at me.

  I take the phone from Mom and hit the end call button.

  “Why would you do that?” Mom looks appalled. “Michelle is such a sweet girl. It would be so nice if you were friends with her.”

  “I can’t believe you hung up on Michelle!” Angelina screeches.

  “She shouldn’t be on the phone anyways,” Dad interjects, “she’s grounded.”

  “But she has to call Grant!” Ava says.

  I can’t take it anymore. “SHUT UP,” I scream.

  Everyone goes quiet.

  “You,” I point to Angelina. “I am not stealing your friends. I don’t want them. They are all yours.” I turn to Ava. “ Firstly, dolphins? We don’t even live by the ocean! And second, I am not calling Grant, because I don’t have his phone number. He is not my boyfriend and never will be. Find someone else for your event.” To my mom. “I’m never going to be friends with Michelle – on a good day – she’ a bitch, on a bad day – freshman girls hide in the bathroom and cry.” And then I finally turn to my Dad. “And I am not grounded. I did nothing wrong and you have no reason whatsoever to punish me! Grant isn’t my boyfriend. I didn’t ask him to kiss me. And I didn’t ask those photographers to take those pictures. Up until now I’ve never done anything bad – not that this is bad. I’ve never even been late for curfew! Compared to most teenagers, I’m a miracle. You’re lucky I’m your daughter. Now I’m going out for a while. Goodbye.”

  I turn around and storm out the front door.

  I’m unlocking my Toyota just as America pops out of the backseat of one of her friend’s mom’s cars. She sees me and rushes forward.

  “Oh my God Sydney, I can’t believe Grant West is your boyfriend. Can you get me his autograph?”

  “No!” I let out an exasperated screech. America stares at me as if she doesn’t know who I am. I should apologize, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Instead I climb in my car, start the engine, and reverse out of the driveway.

  Chapter Nine

  “Okay, why the hell didn’t you tell me about him on Saturday?” Alyssa’s voice bursts through the earpiece of my Bluetooth headset. I wince at the loudness of her proclamation and my grip on the steering wheel slackens just enough that my car glides over the yellow line into the left lane. Thankfully there’s no oncoming traffic and I quickly right the car.

  I shrug, knowing full on she can’t see me. “I didn’t think it would end up being a national incident.”

  “So what? A guy kissed you Sydney! Who cares if he’s famous or not. That’s big news.”

  “I guess.”

  “Come on, admit it! You had fun. You like him don’t you?”

  “I do not. He’s ruined my life.”

  “You’re a teenager. A million things are going to ruin your life. But look at the pictures Sydney. You’re all flushed and glowing. I don’t care if you deny it, I know you, and when that boy kissed you, you liked him.”

  “Maybe I did,” I sigh. “But not now. Now I’d just like to slap him.”

  “Love it…oh damn,” her voice drops. “I have to go, Marcelle is on the warpath again. Emma Stone just backed out of the cover for June. I’ll call you back as soon as he’s gone.”

  Before I can even whisper a goodbye, the line goes dead. I’m about to yank the headset out of my ear when it beeps with another call.

  “Hello?”

  “Sydney,” my mother says. Crap why didn’t I check call display before I answered? “You’re father is very angry.”

  “I’m sure. But is he still crazy?”

  “Marginally, but I think he heard what you had to say.”

  “Good.”

  “So this tantrum you’re having, should we expect it to last much longer?”

  I stare out the windshield. I’ve been driving around aimlessly for over an hour. When I first left the house I considered heading to Caroline’s, but with her current dazzlement at the idea of popularity, I just didn’t want to deal with her right then. She’s probably at home, sitting in front of her computer, trying to get up the nerve to finally friend request Liam. It’s been a goal of hers for the past year. She’s gotten so close, but every time she attempts to do it, she freezes up and shuts down the computer. But now that they’ve sat beside each other at lunch and even grazed thighs, she’s probably worked herself up into another frenzy.

  So instead of heading for her place, I’ve just been driving up and down the streets of West Plane.

  “I don’t know,” I tell my mom.

  “Well...could your tantrum say take you to the grocery store?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. What do you want?”

  “Well, I have some ground beef in the fridge, so I was thinking hamburgers for dinner. But we don’t have any buns.”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  “Or tomato or lettuce, and I think we’re running low on barbeque sauce. Oh and pick up some blue cheese and maybe some mushrooms.”

  I roll my eyes, but agree to forage for the items on her growing list. Why we can’t just be like normal folks and have hamburgers with processed cheese and ketchup I’ll never understand. But no, she has to have the basil mayo and the designer cheeses.

  “Oh and honey,” her voice is a little breathy with enthusiasm. “Does Grant have the number for the house?”

  “No. He doesn’t have any number. Why?”

  I hear her exhale a little sadly and her voice has lost that excited pitch. “Oh nothing, just some boy called and asked for you a little while ago. But he didn’t give me his name.”

  “A boy called? For me?”

  “Uh huh. Have fun shopping. Bye.”

  I hang up and yank the Bluetooth headset out of my ear. A boy called the house looking for me? It had to be Paul, Zane, or Alex...but they never call the house. Just my cell.

  I turn the car off Carmen Way and head toward Wilcox Avenue. Mom usually buys her groceries at the trendy store downtown with its organic produce and fresh made bakery items. But I prefer to hit the big chain store near Colin’s garage. Everything is practically half the price as the store downtown and they have a book section which boasts a pretty decent discount.

  It takes me a little over five minutes to get there. The parking lot isn’t too full and I manage to snag a spot near the front doors. I grab a plastic shopping basket and head toward the bread section. Nothing here is fresh, all made off site, but I manage to find a bag of reasonably unsquished buns. I drop them in my basket and head toward the produce section.

  I reach up to pull one of those tissue thin plastic bags off the roll to put my tomatoes in, but the perforated edges refuse to separate. I pull a little too hard and the bag splits in half. I drop it in my basket and attempt another one. This time it frees from the roll, but I can’t seem to get the top to open and then it rips. I’m going for my third try when a voice pipes in behind me.

  “You need some help with that?”

  I freeze. I know that voice. Grant West may be a mystery to me, but I’d know the sound of Colin Wicks’ voice anywhere.

  I look down at my wrinkled shirt and wonder if I was in bed long enough earlier to cause bed head. I was too pissed at my family to look in the mirror before I left the house.

  I turn around slowly. “Um...I’m okay.”

  Colin smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkles just a tad and I nearly fall over. He looks down at the two already destroyed bags. “You sure? Those bags can be tr
icky.”

  “Right. Yeah.”

  He laughs and reaches out toward me. At first I think he’s trying to touch my face, but then I realize I’m standing in front of the bag roll. I step to the side.

  He must have just got off work because I can see a bit of black grease smeared on the back of his hand. His clothes are clean, though. He’s wearing a jeans and a blue T-shirt that rides up, exposing just a tad of his stomach, as he reaches for the bags.

  He pulls one off the roll and kind of rubs the thin plastic until the two layers separate. Then he pulls the edges of the opening apart and motions for me to drop my tomatoes inside. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  I wonder if he’s seen the pictures and cringe. It’s not like he’d even care, but you know, just in case, I don’t want him thinking I’m with anyone else. But he doesn’t say anything and I’m not bringing it up. Unsure what to do, I step back, toward the lettuce.

  “Oh hey Sydney,” he calls. He never forgets my name, ever. And of all the people in the world, he sounds the best when he says it.

  “Yeah?” I cough.

  “I called your house earlier actually.”

  “You did?” Oh my god. Oh my god. He’s the one mom was talking about? Colin’s never called me before. Why would he call?

  “Oh?”

  “Remember last month when you brought your car in and told me you wanted a stereo but couldn’t afford a new one. You asked me to keep a look out for used ones for you?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well one of my buddies just got a new car and the stereo in his old one is pretty decent. He’s trying to sell it. It’s fifty bucks.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And I can install it for twenty-five.”

  “Great,” I nod. Of course. My car. That’s what he called about. Stupid Sydney. He wasn’t looking for a date.

  “Right then. I’ll have the stereo by Thursday night. So bring your car in Friday?”