“You are so smart!” She kissed my cheek and hurried toward the kitchen at the end of the hallway, not even aware I’d taken her beer. I ducked back into the bathroom and poured the rest of the bottle down the sink.
Yes, I was that girl at the party.
Buzzkill girl.
This time when I stepped out of the bathroom I was stopped by Ethan.
He grinned and touched my arm. “There you are. I thought someone else stole you away.”
My cheeks grew hot again as I shook my head.
And then he was kissing me!
My first kiss, and it just happened!
No warning. Nothing!
And it was awful.
It was like he was trying to eat my mouth and wriggle his tongue in it at the same time!
Thankfully it didn’t last long, and he pulled back to smirk at me. “Let me get you a beer. Don’t go anywhere.”
The skin above my top lip and below my bottom was wet with his saliva.
Get the hell out of here, Comet! And I listened to myself. Without thinking of Vicki or Steph, I hurried past the bodies in the crowded hallway and darted outside. Running down the steps, I didn’t even care if my Alice heels broke from my manic escape. I just wanted out. I threw open the main door to the building, and it banged against the wall. Loudly.
“Whoa!”
I skidded to a stop at the shout, noting to my horror the crowd of kids standing near our local pub, the Espy. Embarrassment flooded me when I realized it wasn’t just anybody standing there. It was Stevie and his gang of miscreants.
And Tobias King.
Tobias had his arm around a girl I didn’t recognize, a beer bottle dangling from his hand. He stared at me, frowning.
“Ye awright, Comet?” Stevie called. Alana Miller, a scary, would probably take my head off if I looked at her the wrong way, girl in the year below me had her arms around his waist.
I managed a nod at Stevie and then threw a reluctant glance at Tobias, who had dropped his arm from the unknown girl and was staring at me intently. Flushing harder, I turned from them and started to walk down the esplanade.
“What the fuck is she wearing?” I heard a girl cackle, and there was more laughter.
I hunched into myself and picked up speed.
That speed turned to full-out running once I knew I was out of sight, and I didn’t stop until I was at my front door. It was only once I was inside my bedroom that I managed to relax somewhat.
And then I slumped onto my bed and fought the urge to cry as I wiped at my mouth and shuddered.
That was kissing? That horrible, wet, slug-like act was kissing?
Every time I got to a scene in the book where the hero and heroine finally kissed, it made me flush hot in a good way, and my chest filled with this delight, this giddiness that was hard to describe.
I had yet to read a book where the heroine got her face munched on!
“Ugh.” I shuddered again.
Of course my first kiss would suck. Literally. I don’t know why I ever expected anything else. And this was exactly the reason I should have stayed home tonight—so my illusions wouldn’t be shattered by a presumptuous nineteen-year-old boy who had not received permission to put his mouth anywhere near mine!
I yanked off my clothes, only slowing to take care with my expensive boots. Just as I was slipping into my pajamas, my phone made a little jingle of a noise, alerting me to a text.
Vicki : WRU@
I sighed and quickly replied. I went home. Tired. I’ll put a key under the mat for you. xx.
Two seconds later it pinged: RUOK xx.
Yeah xx
Although I didn’t like the idea of putting the key under the mat, there was really no other way for my friends to get in the house other than for me to stay awake all night. And I didn’t want to. I wanted to sleep so I could forget the fact that my mouth had just been attacked.
On that note I flossed and brushed my teeth. Thoroughly. And then I rinsed it multiple times with mouthwash. Staring into the mirror, I got a flashback of the feeling of Ethan’s kiss and shuddered again. “Ugh!” I made a face at myself.
Tomorrow I was going to do a reread of my favorite romance just to get this awful real-life imagery out of my head.
* * *
I awoke with a start, my heart in my throat, the blood whooshing in my ears.
“It’s just me, babe,” Vicki’s voice whispered in the dark, but it sounded thick and cracked.
“Vicki?”
Down the hall I heard water running from a tap while Vicki’s silhouette solidified out of shadow as my eyes adjusted to the dark.
She pushed the covers back and climbed into the bed. The denim of her jeans rubbed against the light fabric of my pajama bottoms, the floral perfume she wore mixed with the scent of beer enveloped me, and the soft, tight curls of her hair tickled my chin as she wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her face to my collarbone.
I felt her body shake.
I felt something wet drip onto my skin.
Sleep deserted me at the realization that my best friend, who rarely cried, was sobbing quietly against me.
Concern kicked my heart into speed and something ugly twisted in my gut as I closed my arms around her and held her tight. “Vicki?” I was afraid. Afraid to ask what happened, all manner of dark suspicions lurking in my mind.
She held on tighter but didn’t say anything, didn’t relieve me of my fears.
The flush of the toilet brought my thoughts back to Steph as I heard the bathroom door open and her stumbling steps down the hall. My bedroom door swung open and shut, and Steph’s dark figure rounded the bed and got in at the other side of me.
Not even a minute later her drunken snores filled the room.
“Vicki...what happened?” I dared to ask.
I wasn’t sure she’d answer.
But then...
“Jordan,” she whispered tearfully. “He wanted to have sex. I said I didn’t want to, and then he said I was too young for him and...he went off with some girl from his class.”
Dipshit.
Arsehole.
Wanker!
I tightened my grip on my friend. “I’m sorry he did that.”
She cried a little harder, and I tried to soothe and hush her. After a while I felt her body relax. I was sad for her. I hated that a boy had treated her so poorly when he was lucky Vicki Brown had even noticed he existed.
Yet, there was a part of me that wasn’t surprised.
In fact, it just drove home to me why my book boyfriends were a million times better than the real thing. Tonight I’d gone to a party for someone else because I’d made a promise to try harder. However, years ago I’d made a promise to myself, and that promise was painted above my headboard.
To thine own self be true.
Be true to yourself.
Standing in the corner of a party, talking to a boy who bored me and pretending that he didn’t, allowing him close enough to violate my lips... I hadn’t wanted to do any of those things. I hadn’t wanted to go to the party in the first place! And look where it got me.
Worst night in a long time.
From now on, I did what I wanted to do.
I would remain true to myself.
Stay at home reading a lot of books and writing my poetry.
Even if everyone, including my best friends, thought it made me the biggest antisocial weirdo in Porty.
THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG
7
They all want to solve you and your mystery,
But I don’t.
They want to unravel your secrets, your history,
But I won’t.
I keep lying to myself, safe from your jagged edge,
All the while my curiosity tries
to lure me off the ledge.
—CC
September first was the day I decided to push the boundaries of the school uniform. Our dress code was pretty strict but over the last few weeks I’d gotten away with adding cute, kitschy brooches and pins to the lapels of my blazer. So a week ago I’d asked Vicki if she had time to make me a few pairs of knee-high socks. In black. With gold stripes. They matched the uniform! They just jazzed it up a bit. Vicki whipped them up in a week and today was the first day I was wearing them.
I thought they looked cute, but I had to admit I was a little afraid of a teacher pulling me up for them.
Being worried about wearing outlandish knee socks was the least of my concerns. But I didn’t know that when I walked into the school building that day.
I didn’t know that until English class.
After a few weeks we’d made fast progress with Hamlet. We were on Act Two Scene Two, and Penny Shaw in the year above me was reading the part of the First Player when I became aware of someone hissing something at someone behind me.
The hissing grew more frantic, followed by the sound of stuff thumping to the floor.
We all whipped around to look as Tobias King got out of his chair to pick up his books and jotter from the carpet wearing a beleaguered look on his face. I glanced at Heather to find her opting for an angry, smug expression.
“What is going on over there?” Mr. Stone snapped.
Heather and Tobias seemed to cause some kind of kerfuffle in every lesson, so I could understand why Mr. Stone’s patience was growing thin.
“Nothing, Mr. Stone,” Heather answered sweetly.
“Nothing?” Tobias huffed, still standing as he stared down at her incredulously. He turned to Mr. Stone. “You do realize I’m sitting next to someone in need of a mental health professional?”
“GFY, Tobias!” Heather yelled.
“I have a teenage sister, Heather.” Mr. Stone looked so harassed that I felt sorry for him. “I pretty much understand every text abbreviation under the sun. You can wait outside the room until the end of class and stay there until I come see you.”
“But—”
“No buts, Heather. And when you return to my class, Tobias will no longer be sitting next to you. I’m tired of the two of you causing disruptions. Tobias, grab your things and take the seat next to Comet.”
The blood suddenly whooshed in my ears as my heart rate shot up. I stared in horror at Mr. Stone, and he gave me a reassuring look.
How had this happened?
How was it possible that one little sentence had completely ruined my day? No...wait. My entire year in English class.
The seat next to mine made a rough scraping sound against the hardwearing carpet, and I stared determinedly ahead as Tobias King’s large body settled beside me. I could feel the sprawl of him, the warmth, and smell his faint spicy citrus scent.
My cheeks burned and my muscles tensed as I held myself away from him. As good-looking as this boy was, his indifference, his delinquent behavior, had taken a toll on my crush. I’d thrown him over in favor of a fictional immortal boy warrior called Noah.
However, it was hard to remind myself of that when he was so close—so terrifyingly close—that my body hummed with awareness. I couldn’t concentrate on what was being taught. All I could focus on was the shift of his legs under our desk, the way his arm almost brushed mine as he lifted a hand to drag his fingers through his hair and the irritated sigh that escaped him.
I wasn’t the only one who heard that sigh.
“You disagree, Mr. King?” Our teacher stared at him.
Disagree about what? What had I missed?
Dammit!
“I didn’t say anything.”
I almost jumped at hearing Tobias’s voice so close to me. It had a deep, husky quality that I found pleasant despite myself. It was the accent, I tried to reassure myself. It was different, and I liked different, that was all.
Really.
“You didn’t have to say anything. The sigh was enough. If you disagree with Penny’s understanding of the scene, there are politer ways to respond, Mr. King. Why do you disagree?”
What had Penny’s understanding of the scene been? Oh my goodness, I never daydreamed in English! Damn Tobias King.
He answered with bite, “I think it’s pretty clear Hamlet isn’t referring to his mental state as the devil.”
What? I searched the text in front of me and read it, trying to understand.
“Read the passage again, Tobias. And then tell me what you think it means.”
“I don’t want to read it.”
“Do you want to fail?”
Tobias shifted in his seat, and I risked a glance at him. As soon as my gaze landed on his face, he looked at me.
Crap.
I whipped my gaze back to my text, my cheeks furnace-hot with embarrassment. Then, to my surprise—to all our surprise—Tobias began to read.
And read well.
“Play something like the murder of my father
before mine uncle; I’ll observe his looks,
I’ll tent him to the quick; if ’a do blench,
I know my course. The spirit I have seen
May be a devil, and the devil hath power
T’ assume a pleasing shape; yeah, and perhaps,
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me. I’ll have grounds
More relative than this—the play’s the thing
Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.”
My breath stuck in my throat as silence reigned over the classroom. It would appear that the magical something Tobias King had—that magnetism—could be used against me.
Because the boy made Shakespeare hot.
It didn’t seem possible that a teenage boy with the wrong accent could make Shakespeare hot.
I gulped.
“Very good, Tobias,” Mr. Stone said, sounding as astonished as I felt. “Now tell me what you think Hamlet is saying.”
“He’s saying that the ghost may be using his grief against him to manipulate him to take action against Claudius. So Hamlet has decided he needs to be sure and wants to use the play to get some kind of proof of his uncle’s betrayal.”
“Yes,” Mr. Stone nodded, his gaze softening ever so slightly. “That’s exactly right. Well done.”
As class continued, I struggled to stay focused. It was hard to after discovering there really was a reason Tobias King had been placed in my English class. The boy was smart. So why was he hanging out with Stevie Macdonald and his crew of miscreants?
And why oh why did he have to be the one boy whose voice made the hair on my arms stand up?
Just before the bell rang, Mr. Stone announced something that took my day from bad to worse. “Team assignment. We’re going to get your talking outcomes out of the way this year, since I know how much you love those.”
We all groaned. Well, I didn’t groan. I blanched.
“To make things somewhat easier on you, you will be working in teams of two. Look at the person sitting next to you, because they just became your talking outcome partner.”
No.
No. Way.
I looked at Mr. Stone like he’d just betrayed me, and he gave me a small smile before addressing the rest of the class. “Each of you will be given sections of the play to present on. A few of you will be sharing the same assignment, so it’ll be interesting to see what you come up with. You’ll have roughly a month to put your presentations together. I’ll provide you with your talk date and time next class. I’m coming around with your assignments now.”
Mr. Stone stopped at Tobias and me first, and I still hadn’t gotten over my shock so it was a miracle I even processed what he said to us.
“Tobias, Comet, I want you to present on Hamlet’s character development through his soliloquies. Remember to pick quotes from the soliloquies to present to the class to highlight your analysis of his character evolution.” He placed a copy of the assignment on our desk.
We were silent a moment, an awkward, terrible silence, as Mr. Stone moved on to the rest of the class. I couldn’t be the one to speak. It seemed impossible. Even though I was panicking at the thought of messing up an English assignment, I was unable to turn to Tobias to arrange time to work together. That would bring reality crashing down around me.
Tobias did it for me. “So I guess you’ll want to get together to do this?” He flicked his piece of paper with the assignment on it. He couldn’t have sounded less enthusiastic if he tried.
For some reason my irritation with his tone helped clear my throat. “Yes. I don’t want to fail.”
I still hadn’t looked at him, but I could feel his gaze on my face. The burn of it was too much, and I finally caved and returned his stare. Tobias seemed to study me for a moment and then he sighed heavily. “Fine. My house after school.”
Wonderful.
Not only, I guessed, was I going to be lumbered with most of the work, I was going to have to drag my butt out of my comfort zone and visit a boy. At his house. “Where do you live?”
“Do you know where Stevie lives?”
“Stevie Macdonald?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I don’t.” Why on earth would he think I would?
“He’s my cousin. My mom and I are staying with him and his mom for a while.” He flipped his copy of the assignment over and began to scrawl on the blank side. Finished, he shoved it toward me. “Tonight. Seven o’clock. Be there. If you don’t show, I’m not waiting around.”
I was shocked to hear that Tobias and Stevie were related, but suddenly their attachment to each other made more sense to me. Perhaps it was merely familial obligation that had brought such different boys together in friendship?
As much as I hated to say it, considering I was already anxious about the fact that I had to go over to Stevie Macdonald’s house that evening, I said, “One night won’t be enough.”
Tobias’s lips curled into an arrogant smile. “I’ve heard that before.”
The Fragile Ordinary Page 7