The Kissing Booth Girl and Other Stories

by A. C. Wise

  My stomach does its flip-flop trick again, but this time, it’s a good thing. Every time I think about life without high school, the part that always breaks me is the idea of Soo and Gord and Kiri not being there anymore. Joey, Sid, and Natalie, well, they’re another thing, but Soo, Gord, and Kiri, they’re my family. We’ve seen each other pretty much every day for the past five years. We know everything about each other. But none of us have decided for sure what we’re doing after high school, and for the past couple of months I’ve been afraid I might lose them.

  I grin at Soo, and raise my empty cup in a toast.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Not even for the end of the world?” Soo says.

  I punch her shoulder in return. “Not even then.”

  It’s the last stretch before we reach Soo’s family’s cabin. Soo and Gord are asleep in the backseat propped against each other. The high-school sweetheart gig is usually bullshit, like Natalie and Sid who tell everyone they’re “engaged to be engaged.” Gord and Soo aren’t like that. They’re happy just being what they are, which is what makes me think that’s what they’ll always be: Gord and Soo forever in ridiculous glittery prom dresses and powder-blue tuxedos. Unchanging. They have to be. I’m counting on it.

  I glance at Cal. He doesn’t look quite so dead in this light. I wonder what he’s thinking. We didn’t spend much time together in the weeks leading up to prom—too much to do with final exams and championship swim meets—but in the last forty-eight hours, I’ve discovered dead boyfriends can be awfully quiet a lot of the time. He doesn’t breathe, I’ve spent a lot of time watching to be sure, but he still talks. He smells faintly like lemons, not decay. He didn’t eat before prom, and I think he only sipped from Gord’s flask to be polite, not because it would get him drunk. So I have no idea if he’ll ever share my craving for burgers after a really hard swim, or want to go to the shitty local neighborhood bar that’s our rite of passage the moment we come of age. As for kissing? My stomach’s been in knots, wanting it and dreading it ever since our last dance.

  Those are the little things. There are big things I wonder about, too. Like the accident. I never asked him about it. I’m extra careful driving ’cause I don’t want him to remember anything ugly, not on a day like today.

  The biggest questions though, the ones I’m trying not to think about though, are why did Cal choose me? And how long can this possibly last?

  The turn-off comes sooner than I expect. I jerk the wheel and the car leaves the paved surface for the long gravel drive. The tires jounce in potholes, bringing Soo and Gord awake. Trees close in on either side, whip thin, their leaves still pale green even though it’s late May.

  “Park up there.” Soo points to a gravel area in front of a basketball hoop with no net.

  I help Cal and Gord unload groceries while Soo unlocks the door and turns on the water and electricity. Kiri pulls in behind us a moment later, then it’s a flurry of choosing rooms and unpacking supplies.

  The cottage is perfect—kitchen, sitting room, bathroom, three bedrooms, a back deck, and a dock jutting into the lake. I step outside and breathe deep. The air really does smell better here, and the silence is the kind we never get in the city. Wind creaking in the treetops, distant voices carried across the flat surface of the lake.

  I’m filled with the desire to stop time right here and spend the rest of my life looking at the intensely green trees, imagining deer with wide, liquid eyes looking back at me. No decisions about the future, no possibility of anything going wrong. Just peace and silence.

  The porch door slides open behind me. Cal puts his arms around my waist and leans his chin on my shoulder. I’m afraid to speak. I will myself not to move so this moment lasts, his body pressed against mine, making me shiver slightly as we stare out at the lake. Me breathing, him not.

  I let myself relax. Cal isn’t going to slip away from me or vanish in a puff of smoke. He lifts his head from my shoulder. I feel him tense. No, he’s gone rigid, a thing of cold clay. I twist around to see his face. He’s staring at the trees to the right of the dock, their protective semicircle around the lake.

  “What is it?” My voice comes out ragged, even though I wasn’t intending to whisper.

  He reminds me of an animal, scenting prey. I can’t turn all the way around as his body pins mine against the rail. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it, his dead weight holding me in place. My ribs squeeze tight. There’s a flicker of movement in the trees, a shadow slipping between the trunks. A person? Someone watching us? There are other cabins here, Soo has neighbors. One of them could be taking a walk in the woods. But the back of my neck is cold in a way that has nothing to do with Cal behind me.

  The woods feel haunted, the silence no longer comforting. Panic claws at me, and I can’t even say why. I scan the trees, but whatever I thought I saw is gone.

  Cal shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I thought I heard something, but it’s nothing.”

  When he steps back, I turn all the way around to look at him. His eyes are that halogen-on-water color, unearthly. Despite his words, he’s still looking past me, at the lake and the trees, and the back of my neck is still prickling. Dancing with him last night, I could almost forget he was dead, but not now.

  People die and they stay dead. Cal came back, and I never questioned why, because he asked me to prom, and smiled his winning smile, and I wanted to not be alone so badly that I dared not ask any questions. I think that’s also why Soo, Gord, and Kiri didn’t stage a dead boy intervention. They wanted me to find love.

  Soo slides the door open and pokes her head outside. “We’re going swimming before dinner. Wanna come?”

  “We’ll get changed.” Cal’s grin is easy. My pulse thumps once, but just like that, the tension is gone. Birds flicker between the trees, but nothing else. Like a bubble popping, voices carry over the lake again and a breeze ripples the surface. Everything is fine.

  In the room we’re sharing with Kiri and Joey, Joey’s things are already piled on the top bunk. Kiri is settled on the bottom bunk, which leaves me and Cal the narrow bed pushed against the opposite wall.

  My pulse hammers all over again, seeing just how small the bed is, and my mouth goes dry. Kiri gathers her things as we enter and flashes me a brief smile as she slips out the door. Then I’m alone with and Cal.

  “I’ll close my eyes if you want,” Cal says, and I realize the tips of my ears are bright red just thinking about getting changed in front of him.

  I’m on the swim team, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been naked in front of plenty of guys. But this is Cal Flenders. This is different.

  “You don’t have to,” I say, wishing he would, hoping he doesn’t.

  My swimmer’s body suddenly doesn’t seem like enough. I turn so I don’t have to see whether he’s looking, changing quickly. Cal is still in his jeans when I turn back around, but his shirt is off, and his zipper undone. It’s obvious he isn’t wearing underwear. A thought flashes through my mind that maybe I should run outside and drown myself right now, rather than suffer the embarrassment of my inevitable boner.

  Do dead boys get boners? Or are they safe from being mortified? Oh, God, pun intended.

  I’m rooted to the spot. Cal’s half smile slides into something that takes my pulse beyond racing to a full on heart attack waiting to happen. He keeps his placid gaze on me as he skins his jeans. It’s sexual but also natural, like sexy is something Cal is, not something he does. His dick is soft, looking…I want to say adorable, within a wreath of darker blond pubes. When he turns to get his swimsuit, I see the jagged scar—pale violet against his flesh—where a piece of his windshield ended up inside him. My hand flies to cover my mouth, but I’m still turned on and confused and thinking about running to the lake and drowning myself all over again.

  “Don’t worry, I take it as a compliment.” Cal’s voice snaps me back to reality.

  He’s facing me again, and pointedly looki
ng at the crotch of my trunks. I try to hide my erection, even though it’s too late, but Cal is already sliding past me toward the door. He squeezes my cock through the fabric and flashes that crowd-pleasing grin as he steps into the hall. A bolt of lightning launches from my groin to the top of my skull. I don’t have to worry about drowning myself because I’m already both dead and wired, and happier than I’ve ever been.

  As soon as the blood stops rushing in my ears and other regions, I follow Cal outside. The others are already gathered on the dock, and I can’t resist showing off. Water is my element. I execute a perfect shallow dive, skimming under the surface and barely making a splash. Cal sits with his legs dangling into the water.

  “That was pretty good,” he says. “But I bet I can hold my breath longer.”

  Emboldened by the memory of his fingers on my cock, I grab his legs. “Okay. Let’s see you try.” I yank him into the water.

  Cal comes up laughing. He flails for a moment before catching edge of the dock.

  “I have a confession,” he says. “I never learned how to swim.”

  Something about the idea of the dead boy drowning strikes me as wildly and inappropriately funny. Laughing, I swallow water, and end up coughing and clinging to the dock next to Cal. Water drips into my eyes and our fingers leave damp patches on the wood.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll teach you.”

  I’m not as bold as he is, but I let my finger brush his chest underneath the water as I back away. My breathing is under control again, and I tread in place, watching him. He reaches for me, and I dodge.

  “Catch me if you can,” I say. “Best way to learn.”

  He lunges again, clumsy, and I play keep away with my body. He doesn’t stray far from the dock, doggy-paddling in little circles, and something about it—his helplessness, his vulnerability—makes me want to be caught more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  He grabs my shoulders and dunks me. I let him, because he’s Cal Flenders, and he’s the most beautiful boy, dead or alive, I’ve ever known. I open my eyes on a dim, green world. Silver bubbles the color of Cal’s eyes trail from my open mouth. Soo, Gord, Kiri, and Natalie are playing an awkward game of chicken. I watch their flashing legs for a moment before tilting my head back to take in the fractured sun and sky seen through the water. I was wrong before: This is the best moment to stop time.

  The marshmallow at the end of Kiri’s stick flares, sugary-blue, before dropping into the fire.

  “Oops.” Kiri giggles.

  Joey belches, reaching for another beer. “Anybody know any good ghost stories?” He takes a long swallow, then looks at Cal. “Sorry. No offense.” Joey’s bloodshot eyes aren’t entirely focused; after a moment, he snickers.

  Should I leap to Cal’s defense? The thought is half-formed, muzzy with alcohol and Joey’s weed. It would be the chivalrous thing to do.

  Cal shrugs.

  “So what’s it like?” Sid asks. “Being dead.”

  Natalie shoots him a look, which he ignores. Sid likes to push buttons. When I told him I was gay, he didn’t miss a beat before asking, “Top or bottom?” Weird as it sounds, that’s the thing I like about Sid. He actively tries to piss people off while everyone else is either busy worrying about getting people to like them, or talking about them behind their backs. All things considered, Sid is harmless. All bark, no bite. In our junior year, he tracked down the kid who carved the word faggot into my locker and punched him in the face right in front of the principal. Instead of apologizing, he let them suspend him for a week until the kid finally apologized and faced a three-month suspension for hate speech.

  Even so, I can’t help tensing at Sid’s question. Asking Cal these questions chips away at my daydream, as if it might be a scab and there’s a nightmare underneath.

  Natalie presses her lips into a thin line. Over dinner, she and Sid fought about whether shellfish feel pain, putting them on the verge of breaking up yet again. Sid’s question opens whatever wound is festering between them and Natalie rises, stalking toward the house. After a moment, Soo follows, stuck playing peacekeeper because it’s her house. Sid stays put, but Gord follows Soo inside.

  “I don’t know,” Cal says.

  “How can you not know?” There’s a gleam in Sid’s eyes, the one he gets when he’s looking to start trouble, maybe taking his annoyance at Natalie out elsewhere. He’s smoking one of his Indonesian clove cigarettes, which he thinks makes him cooler than the kids who smoke Camels. I briefly consider a dramatic gesture, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and crushing it underfoot. Would that make me look heroic?

  “What it’s like to be alive?” Cal shoots back, but there’s no venom in his tone.

  Sid opens his mouth, and closes it again, his pot-fogged mind temporarily blown.

  “I’m going for a walk.” Kiri steps over Sid. Branches crack underfoot.

  “Fuck it,” Sid says after a moment, following Kiri. Joey doesn’t say anything, but wanders after them.

  At least I don’t have to worry about Kiri being alone in the woods, or Sid trying anything just to piss off Natalie, or stoner Joey tripping over a branch and breaking his neck. All I have to worry about is Cal. Cal and me. Alone.

  I tip my head back, looking at the stars. They’re so much brighter here, not like the bruised-orange sky in the city that blocks out everything.

  I’m afraid to look at Cal. I can’t stop thinking about his hand on me in our room, and the brief flickering touches underwater. What if I find expectation in those eyes of his that are the same color as the stars? I’ve kissed exactly two boys in my lifetime. Even worse, what if I don’t see any expectation at all?

  “Sorry about Sid,” I say as a distraction.

  I sneak a glance at Cal. He’s watching the fire, almost like he’s forgotten I’m there. The glow reflects off his skin. His eyes aren’t starlight after all; they’re the same color as the flames.

  “Want to see something neat?” he asks.

  The skin at the base of my spine prickles. There’s too much silence in the woods. I should be able to hear Joey, Sid, and Kiri, but there isn’t even any wind. Before I can answer, Cal plunges his hand into the flames.

  “Shit! What are you doing?”

  He pulls his hand out, fingers still burning. I whip off my jacket and smother the flames.

  Cal frowns. “It didn’t hurt.” I’m afraid he’ll stalk off like Natalie. My stomach flops; maybe that last beer wasn’t such a good idea. What if I puke all over his shoes?

  Cal unwraps the jacket, and hands it back, tone softening. “I hope you didn’t ruin it just for me.”

  It smells smoky, but otherwise the jacket looks fine. I shrug it back on, but the chill is already under my skin. Something about Cal treating death like a party trick pisses me off. I want to yell at him, but at the same time, it’s his death; he can do what he wants with it.

  But I can’t help thinking of Cal on the basketball court, his I-got-this grin, like nothing could ever go wrong. It’s the same for all the sun-bright jocks and cheerleaders, and even the stoners and losers and freaks like me and Kiri and Soo and Joey and Gord, all of us believing we’ll live forever. Really, though everything is so goddamned fragile. We’re getting ready to go out into the real world, and it isn’t safe out there.

  “Do you remember the crash?” The words are out before I can stop them.

  Cal reaches for a long stick lying between his feet, and puts one end in the flames, twirling it.

  “Sometimes. I remember the sounds—tires screeching, glass shattering. I didn’t feel it when the windshield went in.” He touches his side where the scar arcs up under his clothes. “Dying’s easier to forget than you’d think.”

  Then I’m kissing Cal. Or he’s kissing me. I’m not sure how it happens, but it is happening.

  His lips are warm, but only from the proximity of the fire. His tongue feels cold. He slides a hand under my shirt, the hand from the fire with its skin ashen. I try not to t
hink of burning flesh touching my goose-pimpled skin. I fumble at his fly before I have time to think about what the hell I’m doing. Cal doesn’t have a heartbeat, no blood flow. Which means…

  Kiri screams.

  The lake catches the sound, whipping it along the shore. I reel away from Cal, panting, as the cabin door bangs open.

  “What was that?” Soo comes off the porch, Gord behind her.

  There’s a loud crash. Branches snap. Joey, with Kiri right behind him, tripping on the loose, stony shore bordering the woods as they run toward the cabin. The left side of Joey’s face is slick with blood, black in the moonlight.

  “Sid. It fucking got Sid!”

  Joey crashes into me and I catch him. He swings a bloody palm, thrashing, and it’s a moment before he recognizes me, us, the light and the safety of the cabin.

  Kiri’s eyes are wide, her breathing shallow. “We have. To get. Inside.” She sips air in little gulps.

  “What happened? Where’s Sid?” Natalie steps off the porch.

  Another crack, another tree snapping. Soo’s expression goes shocked-wide. I see it a moment after she does, but my brain refuses to make sense of it. A human shape swaying on the line where dirt meets the stony shore. One, then two. Then more shadows than I can count trickling out of the woods.

  “Inside.” Soo’s voice is hoarse; she grabs my hand and pulls.

  “What about Sid?” Natalie says.

  I push her ahead of me and she only resists for a moment, Joey stumbling up the stairs behind me. Gord locks the door, and Soo drags an end table across it.

  “What’s going on?” Natalie’s voice is on the edge of breaking.

  Joey’s left ear is entirely gone. His shirt is covered with blood to the waist.

  “The woods,” Joey says, “are full of motherfucking zombies.”

  Everybody tries to talk at once.