“You’re ditching school?”
“Yeah,” I said. We heard a rumble as the bus rounded the corner, on its way to the stop. I looked ahead of us down the block at the people stepping toward the curb. Cam was there, but he wasn’t watching the bus, he was watching me. I took a step away and motioned for Vanya to leave. “You go,” I said.
She took an uncertain step, but she didn’t have time to argue. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to…you know.”
“Process?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll be alright?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“I’d stay with you but I have my Physics paper due, and a Spanish test second period, so…” she said, backing away. The bus drove past us, its indicator flashing.
“Go,” I said.
“Call Ty, alright? I bet it’s not what it looks like.” I waved her off and she ran for the bus, holding her hot chocolate high, and her backpack jiggling and bouncing around on her back, throwing her off balance and making her weave. She made it to the crowd of people at the door and fished out her bus pass. Cam stood back, watching me. He raised a hand in a wave, a solemn wave. He knew something was up. I waved back, turned, and walked away.
***
I didn’t go home, I didn’t know who would be there. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Dad was running late, or Mom got stuck on a call and was working from home for the morning. Once I had turned the corner and was out of sight of the bus, I paced, striding back and forth, startling an old lady clutching a Chihuahua to her chest as I about-faced and nearly ran straight into her.
Ty could not cheat on me. I could not have only had two boyfriends in my entire life and have both of them cheat on me with skanky girls. What was so wrong with me? Did I take too long to put out? Was I not easy enough? Did every other girl on the planet move faster than me when it came to boys? What about the girls with those purity rings who were holding out for marriage or Jesus? Did their boyfriends get bored and cheat on them too because they wouldn’t give it up? It’s not like I had no plans to. I mean, Ty was older, and I could just tell he was more experienced, I probably had other girls to live up to. Actually, I’d never thought of that. In my opinion I should have been comparing pretty favorably to other girls. I sent him that photo.
And then I freaked out and demanded he delete it. But I had condoms. Okay, not that he knew about, but if Ty hadn’t had a zillion people in his apartment – half of them celebrities – and he hadn’t fallen asleep talking to me, I’d have proved I could be a skanky girl too. Wait, no. Not a skanky girl, just, I wasn’t meaning to hold out on him. Had he had sex with her, that girl? Had he been seeing other girls while I wasn’t around to catch him?
Images whirled through my head of boys in bands and their groupies. And fans, and being approached at bars and clubs and restaurants and in the street.
He was totally cheating on me.
I pulled out my cell and speed dialled Ty. That was it. I wasn’t putting up with a scumbag cheat for a boyfriend, even if he was a rock star. Whatever, like I cared. I loved that he was into music as much as me – more than me – but I didn’t love him because he was famous. Hell, I didn’t love him at all!
I held my cell to my ear and waited impatiently for it to ring. I wanted to hear his lame excuses, I wanted to hear him grovel and apologize, but I was not going to forgive him.
“The number you have dialled, has been disconnected or switched off,” a cheerful automated voice said.
No freaking way! I stabbed the end call button with my thumb and made to throw it at the ground and smash my cell into itty bitty pieces but at the last minute I didn’t let go, and just swung my arm in a forceful circle like a crazy person. The man leaning against the desk in the Real Estate office I was in front of watched me with uncertain amusement and straightened the pamphlets and magazines on the table. I guess he didn’t know what to make of me.
I sighed angrily. So Ty’s number was disconnected. Great, he had a new cell number and he hadn’t even told his girlfriend. We were so done. Maybe he’d already decided that and hadn’t told me, so maybe he felt he was all justified to go out with other girls. Well he wasn’t!
I stopped in at a general store and grabbed a couple of today’s magazines with Ty on the cover. Either big or small picture, if he was on it I was reading it. I suppose I was gathering evidence.
Since I wasn’t going home, instead, I went to Mads’s house. Her mom’s car was in the driveway, so I snuck through the side gate and into the backyard. Scooping up a few pebbles from the landscaped garden, I tossed them gently up at Mads’s window. The venetian blinds were closed and I could imagine her lying in her bed, cuddling a teddy and feeling sorry for herself, mourning the loss of Dev. I could be down with that. But mourning the loss of Ty. After punching some pillows and teddy bears.
I tossed another pebble, and flinched as the blinds wrenched up and Mads peered urgently down at me. Her whole body slumped when she realized it was only me. She looked behind her into her bedroom, mouthed something at me and pointed downstairs. Her mom must have been somewhere downstairs. I pointed at the laundry door and she nodded and disappeared from the window. I scurried around to the laundry and as I walked past the kitchen window, I came face to face with Mrs. Maloney. I bobbed down out of sight and ended up being poked in the butt by a bunch of branches. She hadn’t seen me. She hadn’t looked out the window, and I heard music waft out toward me as she emptied the dishwasher. She sang along with some show tune, warbling “Mariiiiiaaaa, I just met a girl named Mariiiiiaaaaa”. If Mads’s dad had married her mom for her musical abilities, well that would explain the divorce.
I made my way around into the backyard and hid behind the shed, peeking out at the door. A minute later Mads opened it silently and waved me over to her. She closed the door carefully, quietly behind her. She looked terrible, wearing baggy grey sweats and her face was pale and splotchy. She really did look sick, but I knew she wasn’t. Heart sick, maybe.
“Is that you, Maddie?” her mom called.
I snuck up the stairs to her room, and Mads coughed and wandered into the kitchen. “Yeah, mom.” I heard her say with another cough and a groan. I entered her room and closed the door behind me, kicked off my shoes, dumped my backpack on the floor and snuggled into her bed, hugging her teddy where she had discarded him. Then I punched him. Then I hugged him again.
Mads returned with a bowl of ice cream with one spoon in the bowl and one hidden up the sleeve of her sweater. I scooched over and she snuggled into the bed with me.
“Well Dev dumped me,” she said, handing me a spoon. “It’s all over forever. He’s never going to come back to me now.” She leaned her head on my shoulder.
“What happened?” I said.
“He thinks I’m too flirty.”
“Well…”
“But I wasn’t even flirting, I swear I wasn’t. That stupid guy just came out of nowhere. And he was fugly too. And then Dev saw and came to his own conclusions.” She screwed up her face like she was trying to cry. But then she sighed and gave up. Her eyes were so red that she was probably all cried out.
“Couldn’t you explain to him?”
“He doesn’t want to hear it. Apparently I do it all the time.” She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Why aren’t you at school?” I took a scoop and filled my mouth with ice cream. The cool sweetness felt good melting on my tongue. Who said ice cream couldn’t fix everything.
I leaned over her to my backpack on the floor and pulled out the magazines. I flipped open the copy of Celebrity to the right spread and slapped it onto her lap. While she looked through that, her mouth dropped open in shock but then it shut again and she clenched her jaw, glaring at the page. I flipped through another of the mags until I found the right page. It was plastered with pictures of Ty and that booby girl. There was another picture, aside from the one where they looked like they were about to lock lips. Th
is one had her arms around his neck, and you could see one of his hands on her waist, but the back of her head was in the way, so you couldn’t tell if they were making out or not. Which was worse, cos it totally looked like they were.
Mads scowled at the magazine in disgust. “Boys suck,” she said. “So what are you thinking?”
“That he’s cheating on me.”
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“I called him earlier. His number’s been disconnected.”
“Bastard.”
“I have to dump him, do I have any other choice?”
“No,” Mads shook her head. “No you don’t.” Then she stopped, and thought. “Actually, maybe yes. I mean, maybe he’s not cheating on you,” she said.
“Look at the pictures,” I said, stabbing my finger at one of them. “It’s kind of obvious.”
“I don’t really think she looks like his type,” Mads said.
“How do you know what his type is?”
“I’m just saying, considering he’s going out with a kind of scruffy rock-”
“I’m not ‘scruffy’,” I said.
“A scruffy rock chick, and well he seemed happy about it, I just don’t think slutty bimbos are really his thing,” she said.
“Aren’t they every boy’s thing?” I asked.
Mads shook her head in defeat and ate some more ice cream. “You have to call him and have it out. Tell him that just because you’re not together doesn’t mean you have no idea what he’s getting up to.”
“I tried, but his phone’s disconnected!”
“Oh yeah. Email him then.”
“I can’t have this conversation through email,” I said. “I have to talk to him.”
“Well I guess you’re waiting. Until he calls you.”
I groaned and buried my face in her teddy. I felt Mads’s body stiffen beside me, and when I looked up, her bedroom door was open, her mom standing there with her arms crossed, looking displeased.
So I was kicked out and Mads was yelled at and then sent to school. I figured chances were good that my house was empty by now so I trudged home, checking my cell every couple of minutes, hoping for a call. Would he know he needed to call me? Surely Sasha that publicist lady would have shown him the mags, given him a heads up that he was a cheating douchebag and he should talk to his girlfriend. I checked my cell again, but still nothing. I hated this! I unlocked the front door and was greeted by Poo Bum’s nose in my lady bits.
“Oi, personal space, boy,” I said, swatting his head away. I gave him a pat on the back to show I wasn’t angry and he wagged his tail and headed back to the living room, passing my dad on his way. Crap.
He paused, staring at me in surprise. I opened and closed my mouth, what was a good excuse? I coughed once and grimaced.
“What are you doing home?” he said.
“I…” The words were there in my brain, in my mouth ready to dribble out, about how I had gotten sick and decided it was best to just come home. Maybe I’d even thrown up on the bus, yeah, that would be good. I didn’t even need evidence for it, he’d send me up to bed for sure if I said that.
“I…” Or maybe I had been feeling sick all morning but thought it important not to miss out on school, he’d buy that. I knew how vital my education was so I was going to just suffer through it. Learn me some knowledge. He’d eat that shit up. Probably even rent me some DVDs for my sick day.
“I think my boyfriend’s cheating on me and the whole entire world knows,” I said instead. I didn’t mean to, I meant to say all that being sick and vomiting and education stuff but instead my whole face crumpled in on itself and my eyes started squirting out tears and my nose filled with snot. I threw myself at my dad and hugged him tight. He patted my backpack, and slowly hugged me close, not sure what the hell had just happened.
“Oh, honey,” he said, stroking my hair, letting me cry and get snot all over his shirt. “You have a boyfriend?”
“Not anymore!” I pulled away from him and wiped my nose on my sleeve. Mom hadn’t told him anything. So it was about time he knew.
I took him up to my room. My dad was never allowed in my room. I had bras and tampons and God, I had condoms in my room. He wasn’t allowed to see any of that. But I pushed open the door and led him inside. First, I showed him that original copy of Star, with the article about Ty and me being a couple, that cute photo of us kissing outside the music store, the article about me as an up-and-coming song writer. He stared at it, gobsmacked. I booted up my computer and showed him the music video for The Kiss Off. All slick and awesome, with lots of close ups of Ty, his hair straight and floppy over his eyes as he played the wounded boyfriend, hiding around a corner after spotting his girl with another guy. Only it wasn’t him being cheated on again, it was me. Archie, Seb and Tommy played his boys (which wouldn’t have been hard, considering they were his boys), patting him on the back sympathetically. But Ty threw them off and strode away. Then it cuts to them playing a show, the crowd jumping up and down, arms in the air, and he was singing the chorus angrily, glaring at the camera.
“You’re dating this boy?” Dad asked. He pointed at the screen. “That one? That guy right there?”
“Yes,” I said.
“That one?”
“Yes!”
“How…I don’t…” I think my dad’s head nearly exploded. “How do you even know him?”
“He’s from here, Dad. He’s the one who pulled Poo Bum off me when he was just a stray dog who attacked me in the street,” I said. “Local boy made good and all that.”
Dad thought for a moment. “And my daughter wrote that song? I’ve heard it on the radio, Poppy,” he said. “I’ve sung along to it in the car. And you wrote it?”
I nodded.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Why don’t I know these things? I’m so proud of you honey,” he beamed at me and stroked my cheek. I tried to smile, but wiped the tears from under my eyes instead. “And you’re going out with this boy from the biggest band on the planet right now?”
“They’re not the biggest-”
“That’s what Mickey J said on the Top 40 show. ‘Biggest band on the planet’.”
“Yes dad – I’m going out with him. Except…” I handed him today’s magazines and watched as he flipped through the significant pages.
“That penis,” Dad said.
My head jerked back in shock. “Pardon?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m going to kill him. He may be some heart throb or whatever but he has no right to treat my daughter like that!”
“Dad-”
He threw the magazines at the wall. “No right at all! What’s his phone number, Poppy? I want to talk to this little punk.”
“Dad, no!” I said. “God, this is why I don’t tell you things, you’re turning into a crazy person.”
“Of course I am! He is disrespecting my daughter, Poppy, and he’s not getting away with that.”
“It’s not like I know for sure he’s cheating on me,” I said. “People say that half of what magazines report is actually bull.”
“Those photos didn’t look like bull.”
“But you can’t actually see them kissing. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe she was just a drunk girl all over him and he didn’t have anything to do with it. Maybe the picture’s completely out of context.”
Dad crossed his arms and shook his head, his lips pursed together. “I don’t like it, Poppy.”
“I don’t like it either!” I said. “But maybe…”
“What?”
“It’s got to be hard for him, screaming girls, groupies and all that. Throwing themselves at him. They might be doing that. I mean, they do gigs at clubs – I bet there are heaps of slutty girls throwing themselves at him,” I said. I had a mental image of girls in tiny dresses stroking his arm, dirty dancing up on him, grabbing at him. I nearly gagged.
“If he’s my daughter’s boyfriend he better not be doing anything …any of tha
t stuff. I mean it, I want to talk to him.”
“His cell’s broken at the moment,” I said. It was technically true. I mean, it could have been true, I might not have been lying.
Dad swore and growled which was a big deal because dad was like, he was usually super mellow. And he never swore, at least not that I ever heard. Yes, when he was watching a basketball game but that was different.
“So, Dad?”
“Mmm?”
“Can I have some ice cream? And some movies?”
He frowned at me. He didn’t approve of me skipping out on school so he said, “Just don’t tell your mother.”
***
Chapter Sixteen
I sat on the couch watching action movies and cartoons (definitely not in the mood for anything with love in it) and constantly checking my cell. He wasn’t calling me, why wasn’t he calling me? He was somewhere in the country (who knew where he was today?), and I couldn’t reach him. I needed to reach him; I needed to know one way or the other. But instead, I watched cartoons and ate double chocolate fudge ice cream from the carton.
Right as the big pink dinosaur lumbered out of the house before it exploded, my cell phone chirruped that I had a text. I grabbed it and read, my breath caught in my throat.
But it was from Ravi.
Dude, seen the mags. Don’t sweat it. Sure there’s an explanation, he wrote. Parents out, so party at mine tonight. Come be with your peeps.
So I decided to go. Van couldn’t because she likes to get through at least three hours of study on a school night and she had hockey then violin on top of it, and Mads wasn’t going because she didn’t want to run into Dev, so I wouldn’t be with all my peeps. But there’d be a couple.
When I arrived, the very first thing I saw was Cam sitting on the couch with a bunch of people, and Nikki perched on the arm, holding his hand. What was that about? Didn’t Van say they had broken up? Since when did breaking up look like that? Maybe holding hands with your ex is the new thing, I mean, he held my hand at the movies that time Ugh, I shouldn’t be here. Not with them all smug and together and me all gullible and publicly cheated on.
The Kiss Off Page 14