"Yes," I said, wondering why I was getting so annoyed at him. It wasn't like he knew I was into him. I decided to tell him the truth about my dating history. After all, he obviously wasn't interested in me the same way I was in him, so it wasn't like I could look like any more of a dork in his eyes. I took a deep breath. "You know, to be honest, I've never even been on a date," I blurted out. "I've never danced with a guy, never gotten flowers from a guy ... hell, I've never kissed a guy." Josh stared at me. "Yeah, that's right, I'm a loser," I said, standing up. "Now you know about me."
Josh held up his hands. "Whoa. Whoa. I so didn't mean to get you upset. I was just asking about you is all."
"I know," I said, sitting back down. "Just sometimes it gets frustrating, especially when I run into 13-year-olds who've had more experience than me."
"So seriously, you've never been kissed? Like, ever?"
"Nope. Unless you count my dad or my cousins. And I most definitely don’t."
"And you're 15?" He was still staring at me, his eyes wide. He blinked a couple of times like he couldn't believe it.
"Look, this wasn't my choice, okay? I didn't ask for it to be this way." I folded my arms across my chest and turned away.
Josh leaned over and before I knew what was happening, kissed me right on the lips. I was so surprised, I fell off the bench and landed in the grass.
Josh grinned at me. "I was that good, huh?"
I blushed. "What -- what was that for?" My heart was now racing in my chest. I was pretty sure that I was dreaming but, nope, there he was.
He shrugged. "Well, now you can't say that you've never been kissed, right? If people ask, you can tell them that your first was with Josh Kowalski, the best kisser in the universe."
"You wish," I said, shoving him, though privately I vowed to never wash my lips again.
"Hey, it's not like you have anyone to compare it to," he said, giggling. He stopped laughing. "I am joking, you know."
"I know. But now that I'm 'experienced,' I intend to find as many guys as possible to compare you to."
"I wouldn't bother. I guarantee, you've had the best."
He's right, I thought, knowing that if Josh were the only boy who'd ever kiss me, I'd be happy. Because he was the only one I wanted.
###
The rest of the evening went by in a blur. We went to an Indian restaurant for dinner and stopped to do some window shopping, but I couldn't really concentrate on the sights around me. I kept looking at Josh and imagining his kiss. I hoped that we'd get to share much more than a peck on the lips, but I didn't want to push it. I'd take what I could get!
As we rode back to Long Island, Josh stretched out over the row of seats. I sat away from him until he reached over and pulled me toward him. "So, you survived going to the city with me," he said. He rested his chin against the top of my head. "Was getting up early worth it?"
"Totally," I told him, leaning against his chest.
"Um, about before ... you're not mad that I did that? I mean, I probably should've asked you before I went ahead."
"No, it was fine," I said, trying to act cool. The truth was, I'd never forget that kiss for the rest of my life.
###
By the time Josh dropped me off at my house, it was close to midnight. He walked me to the front door, holding my hand as he did so.
"I guess this is it for a couple of days," he said sadly.
"Yeah. I guess I'll see you after Christmas?"
"Sure. We'll talk, okay?" He came closer to me. "So, I, uh, had a great time today," he stammered. "Um, thank you."
"I did to," I said. "A really, really great time."
"Good." We stood there for a few seconds looking at each other. I wondered if he was going to kiss me again, but instead, he reached out and gave me a bear hug. I clung to him, breathing in his scent, which was a mixture of soap and detergent.
"Merry Christmas," he said, eventually letting me go.
"Merry Christmas," I whispered, as I watched him leave.
CHAPTER 13
"OMG, so he actually kissed you?" It was early the next morning and I was talking to Lana. She squealed with excitement.
"Yep," I answered. "Right there in the park."
"Yay!" I could hear her jumping up and down. She was so loud, I pulled the phone away so she wouldn't hurt my ears. "That's awesome, Mel. You're a lip virgin no more!"
"I guess, but I kind of screwed it up," I admitted.
Lana stopped shrieking. "What did you do?"
"I was so shocked I fell off the bench," I confessed. I could hear Lana laughing. "Gee, thanks for your support. It was embarrassing, okay?"
Lana stopped giggling. "Hey, it can't be any worse than my first. It happened when I went to the movies with Chris Greenbrook in the seventh grade. He slobbered all over me, and I ended up swallowing a piece of chewed popcorn that had been lodged in his teeth. Then, there was George Linson..." She made a sucking sound. "Fishlips! I felt like I was kissing a trout."
"I don't think I was that bad," I said. "I think I'll be ready for next time, like when we use tongue and stuff."
"I'm sure you'll do great with that. Playing the flute for all these years must've given you some sort of practice in that department. As I'm sure playing the trumpet has for Josh."
"Lana!"
"Hey, I'm just tellin' it like it is."
"You're very strange sometimes," I said.
###
After Lana and I ended our conversation, I went to the home to visit my grandfather. I wasn't sure what to expect, even though Mom said that he was now talking, but I wanted to give him his Christmas gift in person.
"Melinda!" he called out when I arrived. A nurse helped him move to a sitting position. "I'm so ... glad to ... see you." His speech was slurred and his body still hung limp like a sack of potatoes, but light had returned to his eyes. Before he'd just stared ahead with this dead expression, but now they were alert and aware, as a person's eyes should be. My own filled with tears; mostly from relief, but partially because it suddenly hit me how much I'd missed having him in my life.
I ran over and gave him a big hug. "I'm happy to see you, Grandpa," I said. I held him for a couple of minutes, then reached into my bag for his gift. "Here, I have something for you." I handed him a framed picture of him and my mom from when she was about five. They were both dressed up so I'm assuming that they were at someone's party. He was in a suit and tie and my mom was wearing a pink, filly dress. I'd scanned it and made it larger on my computer. Then, I'd printed it out and worked on the frame, painting a flower design around the border. He smiled at the picture.
"I remember ... that day," he told me, examining the photo. I noticed that he paused a lot between words. "We ... were at ... my sister's and she was ... taking photos with ... her new camera. Your mother kept ... complaining because ... she wanted ... to go ... to the ... park."
"Oh. Did she get her way?"
"Yes," he chuckled. "See that ... pretty dress she's wearing ... there? She got it ... completely covered in mud. Your grandmother ... had a fit."
I giggled. I couldn't imagine my mother rolling around in dirt. "Grandpa," I began, "I'm sorry I haven't visited you as often as I should've. I have no excuse."
"Sure you do," he said. "You're ... a growing girl. You've got your ... music to work on. You've got ... your schoolwork to do. You shouldn't ... have to sit ... around a hospital ... all day. I don't understand ... why your mother ... does it. She needs to get ... out more."
"I'm still going to try to visit you more often."
"Melinda, sweetie .... listen," he said. "Hospitals ... stink. I have to ... be here, you ... don't. Don't tell ... your mom this, but she's ... starting to drive ... me nuts, being here ... all of the ... time."
"Grandpa..."
"Now ... let's talk about ... something nice. Your ... mother says ... you've been .... spending ... a lot of time with a boy."
"Yeah," I said. "His name's Josh. He's in band with me."
"Does he ... treat you ... nice?"
"Yes, very."
"Has he gotten ... fresh with ... you?"
"Grandpa! No, we're friends. And he's been a gentleman."
"Is he ... good to ... his mother?"
"Yes, they're very close."
"See?" he said. "That makes ... me feel ... better. Now here's what ... I want you ... to do. Get the hell ... out of this lousy ... room, go home, and ... give what's-his-face..."
"Josh."
"Give Josh ... a call. Tell him ... that if he ... messes with you, your ... old grandpa's ... gonna mess ... with him."
"Got it." I said. I wasn't sure that at this point my grandfather had enough strength to "mess with" a fly, but I appreciated the thought.
"Hey, it's my ... job to say ... things like that."
I kissed him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Grandpa."
"Merry Christmas ... to ... you, too."
He waved at me as I left, the smile still on his face.
###
Despite everything that had happened in my family this past year, or maybe because of it, we had a great holiday. My parents went all out when it came to decorating the tree; meanwhile, they let me prepare our dinner, though Dad cooked the goose. Lana slept over on Christmas Eve so she could be there when we opened our gifts the next morning. I got her a new makeup kit and she gave me a coffee table book on the painter, Pablo Picasso. But my parents had the biggest surprise for me: a new flute.
"I don't know what to say," I marveled, admiring it. The solid silver plating reflected the lights from the tree. I held it up, watching the colors bounce off of it. "It's beautiful."
My dad grinned. "Well, don't just look at it. Play something!"
"Okay." I played the first few measures of my recital piece, loving how smooth the instrument's tone sounded. Everyone applauded. I knew the spring wouldn't pop out on this flute.
"It sounds great," my Mom said. She held up her violin. "Do you mind if I play with you?"
"Sure." She began the first strains of "Silent Night" and I joined in. From there, we played "Jingle Bells" and "O Come All Ye Faithful." Lana and my dad sang along.
"This is awesome," I said, giving each of my parents a hug when we'd finished. "This has got to be the best present ever."
Mom put away her violin. "Well, we know it's been a hard year for you." She sighed. "And I know I haven't been easy to deal with. I'm sorry that I've been on your back about your weight."
"It's okay. I know I'll be healthier if I lose some more. But I really am trying."
"I know you are and I also know I need to ease up a bit. I can't monitor every single item of food you put in your mouth. Consider this as us asking you for a new start?"
"Okay." I looked down so they couldn't see my eyes welling over. What was it about this holiday that was turning me into such a crybaby?
"We can't guarantee that things will be perfect," she continued, her voice wavering. She wiped away a tear. "In fact, we can pretty much assume that they won't be, but we'll try to act more like a family." She looked over at my dad. "We've been seeing a counselor," she revealed.
He nodded. "It'll take some time, but I think it's helping," he said. "We have been arguing a lot less."
I sniffled a bit, then kissed them both. "Maybe I can join you for some sessions,” I acknowledged. “I haven't exactly been an ideal daughter."
"None of us has been ideal," my dad said.
###
After dinner, Lana wanted to use her new makeup kit on me.
"No," I said. I held up my hands to block my face from her Brushes Of Doom. "You kind of went overboard for the recital."
She waved the mascara wand around. "You act like you're scared of this thing!"
"I am! I don't want my lashes looking like spider legs!"
She pouted. "Fine, fine. But will you at least let me paint your nails a funky color?"
"Go ahead." She got to work on my fingernails. "Just don't go crazy. I don't want Josh to see me looking like a clown."
She rolled her eyes as she applied a dark purple polish. "Ah, I was wondering how long it would take for you to mention your dream boy."
"Sorry, Lana. I know I've been talking about him a lot this weekend. But you know how it is."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm second best now," she said, sighing. I couldn't tell if she was joking. "I'm Lana, Second Banana."
I went to hug her. "You're hardly second in my book."
"Ahhh!" she cried. "Don't mess up your nails!" She worked on them for a few more minutes then asked, "Why don't you come out with me tomorrow night? I'm going to a party."
"I don't know," I hedged.
"Please? It's been ages since we've gone to one together. We could use a nice girls’ night out. You know, now that you have Josh and all...."
"What do you call this?"
"This is fine, but we need a change of scenery. And you hardly ever go with me to these things."
"That's because they're not fun for me," I said. "Everyone always talks to you while they ignore me, and then they wonder why you're friends with me."
"Oh, come on," she pleaded. "Please, please, please? I'll be your best friend."
"Not if you're forcing me to go to some stupid party."
"You know you want to, everyone's doing it, just once won't hurt..." she rambled.
"Alright." I sighed. If I didn't give in, I'd be hearing about it for the rest of my life. Besides, she was right; we could use a girls' night out. "Who's throwing it, anyway?"
"Jan Weitz is hosting an 'Anti New Year's' bash," she explained. "She's annoyed because she doesn't have a date for the actual night. She figures that the day after Christmas would be perfect because everyone's bummed out that the holiday's over. Yeah, I know, it's a little weird. But it's still a party."
"Would she even want me there?" Jan was in my math class, but we didn't talk much. She managed the boys’ basketball team and hung around with the popular crowd.
"Oh, she won't care," Lana said "She told me to bring some more people."
"She probably meant guys."
"Well, she never specified. Come, on, we'll have a good time. I hear Jan's having people from Smithfield there, so there'll be some new blood. Maybe I can meet a guy who Ken hasn't warped."
"Okay," I said, realizing that I should probably give it a chance before deciding that it wasn't fun "Meet me at seven."
###
Before heading out to the party, I considered calling Josh, but figured I should honor Lana's wishes to spend some "girl time" together. I wanted to make sure that I didn't become one of those people who drops all of her friends when she gets a boy in her life. Josh was still new, whereas Lana's like family.
Lana's sister drove us to Jan's place around eight. The Weitzes live in one of the newer developments in town with a gate at the entrance. A guard made us sign in.
"Someone's all la-di-da living in a gated community," Lana cracked after the guard let us through. "This is so fancy."
"Yeah, but with that guard standing there, how do you ever surprise anyone here?" I wondered.
We soon arrived at Jan's home and I whistled in awe as we made our way up the circular driveway. She lived in a mansion! The white modern-style home was several stories high, with odd-shaped windows that stuck out of every corner. It looked like a puzzle where the wrong pieces had been put together. It reminded me a bit of the paintings in the Picasso book Lana gave me. "This is a great place!" I said, suddenly filled with excitement. "I hope one day I'll be able to live in a house like this."
"Not if you're a classical musician," Lana said. "You'll be lucky if you can afford a house at all. You might end up living in the sewers with your new subway musician friends."
I laughed. "They do not live in the sewers! Besides, I could be a famous flute player."
"Maybe. And maybe Josh will be famous, too. You'll get married and live in a giant home shaped like a grand piano."
"There you go."
"If not, don't worry. I'll be a famous designer, so you guys can come live with me."
Lana leaned over and rang the doorbell. Jan answered, looking annoyed. "Can you believe Ryan Barsky told me I'm built like a little girl?" she complained, not even bothering to greet us. "Hello, this is my party. And he insulted me!"
"Oh. I'm sorry." I really didn't know what to say. Jan is kind of short with a slight build, and has shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair and freckles. Truthfully, she does look kind of young. I shuddered at the mere idea of agreeing with Ryan on something.
"Well, I hope you guys have a better time at my party than I am," she moaned as she beckoned us inside. "Food's in there." She motioned toward the living room. "TV's in there." She pointed toward the family room. "And if you want the good stuff – wine, beer -- it's down there." She nodded toward the basement. "Mom and Dad let me have some stuff, but I have to keep track of designated drivers."
"We don't drink," I answered, "and we have a ride."
She looked at me like I was crazy. "Fine, suit yourself."
###
Lana and I slowly walked around the party searching for people we knew. The inside of the home looked a lot like the outside: everything was white and modern. So many people were crowded in there, though, it was difficult to see the furniture. I guess Jan's mom was pretty relaxed about letting that many people into her home. Mine would freak out over the possibility of someone spilling something on our couch, let alone on one that was white leather.
We made our way into the kitchen where plenty of party goers were drinking the "good stuff," as Jan had put it. Some guy with long, black hair handed us each a beer. "Welcome, ladies," he slurred and staggered away. Lana dutifully sipped her drink. I went to put mine down on the kitchen table next to the bowls of chips.
"No, don't, Mel," Lana whispered. "Just drink some."
"Why?" I'd never had beer before and didn't particularly like the smell.
"Just do it," she hissed, her eyes darting around. "It was a gift! You don't want to look lame. Frankly, you shouldn't have told Jan that we don't drink."
Revenge Of A Band Geek Gone Bad Page 14