“Why do I kiss him if he’s a jerk-face, then?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even remember it happening. But if I were you, which I am, I would not kiss him in the first place. Did you write it down in the notebook?”
I’m pretty sure that’s something I’ll remember, but I climb out of bed, turn my light back on, find my spiral notebook, and open it. Then I write DO NOT KISS SEAN PUTTIN. “Done,” I say. Then I add, “I don’t kiss like a fish, do I?”
“Of course not!” she huffs. “You’re a superb kisser.”
“Swear?” I ask nervously.
“Of course. I bet he kisses like a fish, and you were trying to compensate.”
“I have no idea how I kiss,” I admit. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”
“That’s right. You still haven’t had your first kiss!”
“Thanks for rubbing it in.”
“I’m not. It’s dimp—sweet.”
I hug my pillow to my chest. “When do I have my first kiss? Real kiss, I mean. Not like with Jarred and Anthony. With tongue.”
She laughs. “You’re seriously adorable.”
“Don’t laugh!” I say, my cheeks burning. “Just tell me the truth. What’s my first real kiss like?” I know what I want my first kiss to be like. How I imagine it being. Sweet and soft and romantic with someone who makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
“Oh. Well. I don’t know.”
What is she talking about? “How do you not know? You’re me in the future! You must have had a first kiss.”
“Yeah. Lucky for you I’m not Maya.”
I giggle, but then I feel bad. I miss my sister. “She’s in college now. I’m sure she’s kissed someone.” I’ve been so busy with Ivy, I kind of forgot about her. Her role has been usurped.
“How would I know? It’s not like we talk about stuff like that.”
“But what about my first kiss?”
“I remember what happened to me, Frosh,” she says softly. “But what is going to happen with you is not the same as what happened with me. Get it?”
Aha. “Your first kiss was with Bryan.” Obviously.
She doesn’t say anything.
“Ivy? Are you still there?”
“Yeah. I am. And it was.”
“So I guess you don’t know who my first kiss is with, then. Since it’ll be different than yours.”
“Yours will be different,” she repeats, and her voice sounds faint or something. “I have to go.”
“Good night,” I say. But she has already hung up.
chapter nineteen
Tuesday, May 27 Senior Year
Even if she’ll never experience it, I can’t stop remembering.
The first kiss.
It wasn’t after movie-turned-bowling night. Or three days later, Tuesday—Frosh’s today—on our first Subway lunch. It was that Friday night, September sixteenth. I invited him over. I tried on about nine cute-yet-casual outfits before settling on jeans and a stretch V-neck shirt that showed off both my eyes and my boobs. I painted my fingernails and toenails soft pink. After an extra-long gel-and-scrunch routine, I tied my hair back in a ponytail to give it a more chill look. I did my makeup extra light to look natural, and brushed my teeth about seven times just in case.
Dad was working, but Mom made us peanut butter and white chocolate cookies and then disappeared into her room. Bryan was sitting next to me on the couch. Of course I couldn’t concentrate on TV. How could I when the cutest boy in the history of the world was sitting right beside me? When the credits rolled, he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Hedgemonds Park?” he said. “We’ll rank their swings on a scale of one to ten.”
I slipped into my favorite black sandals. It was one of those perfect Florence September nights. Warm, breezy, clear stars sprinkled across the sky.
We sat beside each other on the swings. Pushing back and forth and back and forth. He started showing off, pushing higher and higher. I pushed higher and higher.
My sandal flew off.
He started laughing and jumped off the swing to get it.
He picked it up and I thought he was going to make a whole Cinderella production of it, but instead, he just stood by my swing until I slowed to a halt.
Of course I knew what was coming.
He put his hands over mine and leaned down and kissed me.
His lips were soft and light and sweet and everything else disappeared except for the kiss and the moment. The perfect kiss in that perfect moment.
Everything I had ever wanted, imagined. Happening to me. Happened to me. And now …
If you kiss a boy and he doesn’t remember, did it really happen?
If it didn’t happen, why do the memories still hurt?
chapter twenty
Wednesday, September 14 Freshman Year
I’m practicing my lines in my head when I run smack into Bryan. And I mean smack into. He’s standing in the hall. I’m not paying attention. I walk into him. My books scatter into the air like pigeons under attack.
“You need to be declared a national disaster area,” he says with a laugh.
“Tell me about it,” I say, feeling my cheeks burn. “It’s my fault. I was trying to do two things at once.”
He bends down to help me collect my stuff. “What’s that? Walking and breathing?”
I giggle. “No, smarty-pants, walking and practicing my lines for the play.” I pick up my economics quiz. Mr. Jacobs handed them back right away and I got an A! I am an economics genius. But now’s no time to gloat … adorable Bryan is talking to me!
“Oh, you’re a play girl,” he says.
“When you say it like that, it sounds kind of naughty,” I say with another giggle. Omigod. What am I doing? I’m flirting with him! I can’t flirt with him. No flirting with Bryan allowed! Even if he’s adorable. Even if I’m all flushed.
His smile shows off his perfect dimples. “You strike me as more nice than naughty.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” I ask.
“A compliment.”
I pile the last book into my arms and look right at him. Shoot. Why’s he still so cute?
“How’s the boyfriend?” he asks.
I’m about to say “The what?” But then I remember my lie. “Oh, he’s fine.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Um, his name?” What is his name? “It’s … um … Ivy.” Ah! “Ivan.”
He nods as though I didn’t just sound like an idiot. “What school does he go to?”
“Oh, he doesn’t go to school here. He lives … not far. In Buffalo.”
“Do you get to see each other a lot?”
“No. But we talk a lot.” I wave my cell phone. “Free long distance.”
He gives me another one of his dimpled smiles. Adorable. Wait a sec! Is that where Ivy got the expression “dimples”? Because Bryan’s are so cute?
“Good luck,” he says.
Huh? “With my boyfriend?”
He laughs again. “With the auditions.”
Right. “Thanks. See you later.” I give him a brief salute and then hurry on my way.
Karin’s locker is diagonal from mine, and Joelle and Tash are already waiting for us.
Joelle is dancing. “What are you ladies doing now? Anyone wanna come over?”
“I have practice,” Karin says with a big smile. “Sorry!”
Yes, Karin made cheerleading. Not that I’m surprised, since I already knew she would. They posted the list at lunch. I’ve thought about trying to get her to quit, but I’m not sure what I should tell her. Get out now before you become obsessed with plastic surgery? But then what if she gets another eating disorder? Or becomes obsessed with tattoos? Or becomes a drug addict? It’s like Ivy said—trying to fix one thing can lead to unintended consequences. I’ve decided to try a subtler approach.
“I can’t come either. I have play tryouts,” I say
to Joelle. Then I turn back to Karin and add, “Before you go, I just want to mention—you look fabo today.”
“Thanks,” she says, smiling.
“Really,” I tell her. “Your boobs look terrific in that shirt.”
She blushes and fidgets with her top. “Um, thanks?”
Joelle bursts out laughing.
“Doesn’t she?” I ask the other girls. “I wish I had her boobs.” My plan is to layer on the boob praise for the next three and a half years.
Tash is the same color as Karin.
Joelle puts her hand on her hip. “Let’s see … yes, she does have good boobs.”
“Both of you wear the same cup size as I do,” Karin says.
“Maybe,” I say. “But yours are the perfect shape.”
Joelle sticks her chest out. “Are you saying mine are shaped imperfectly?”
“You also have perfectly shaped boobs,” I say. Must be careful. I don’t want to drive her to the knife too.
“Why, thank you,” Joelle says.
“Can we get back to talking about the play?” Karin asks. “You guys are freaking me out.”
“Yes, the play,” Joelle says. “Did I tell you I’m helping with costumes and design? Maybe I’ll get to dress you as Belle.”
I laugh. “Don’t count on it. I have no talent. I’m more of a background-teacup sort of girl.”
Joelle stops dancing and turns to Tash. “Why don’t you audition too?”
Tash almost drops her books. “Are you kidding?”
“No, I’m a hundred percent serious.”
Tash shakes her head. “I’m not really a play person.”
“Neither am I,” I say. “You should do it.” As soon as I say the words, though, I try to swallow them back. Must not encourage friends to do random things that could change the course of their lives. Who knows what dangerous path the school play could lead her on? Whatever. She’s not going to audition. At the library during lunch, while she helped me with chemistry, I told her I was trying out, and she showed no interest in the play whatsoever.
Joelle squeezes Tash’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to get into a good premed program? Maybe this could help.”
You already get into Brown, I want to tell her, but I don’t. That would be weird.
“It would be good for you,” Joelle annoyingly continues. “Help you break out of your shell. Come on. If Devi can do it, so can you.”
Tash switches her schoolbag to her other shoulder. I expect her to say no way. To say she’s not interested. To say thanks but no thanks. She shrugs. “All right.”
Huh?
“Good for you!” Joelle sings, clapping her on the back.
Not good! Ivy is going to kill me! Tash’s future is fine. Her future is great. She’s going to Brown! She’s studying medicine! She wants to cure cancer! I can’t let her try out for the play. It could ruin everything. “No, no, no!” I wail.
They all stare at me.
Tash blinks. “You don’t want me to try out?”
“No. I mean, yes. Um, of course I do. But you don’t have the script. You know. For the audition. You should have told me at lunch if you wanted to try out and then you could have had time to study it, but at this point …” I shake my head.
“What do I have to do?” she asks.
“You have to be able to read from the script. You know. To act it out. The auditions are now. You’re not going to have time to memorize it. And also, you need to prepare a song.”
“Her memory is pretty photographic,” Joelle says. “And can’t she just sing ‘Happy Birthday’? That’s a song, right?”
“Happy Birthday”! Why didn’t I think of that? I wouldn’t have had to practice my song a million times and broken all the mirrors in my house. “You’re going to sing?” I ask her. “In public?”
Tash shrinks into herself. “I don’t know …”
“Oh, shut up,” Joelle says. “You’re doing it. I dare you. And Devi will be right next to you. And I’m coming for support. You’re doing it if I have to drag you there myself. Devi, give me that script.”
What can I do? I hand over the paper and pray I’m not about to destroy the future health of humankind.
chapter twenty-one
Wednesday, May 28 Senior Year
I see it right after I finish dinner. I see it and I squeal.
“What’s wrong?” my mom asks, opening my door. “Are you okay?”
I point to the acceptance letter on my bulletin board. “I got into Tufts! That’s top tier! It’s ranked twenty-eighth of all the universities in the country! Twenty-eighth!”
Mom looks at the letter and then back at me. “I know, honey. We’re very proud of you.”
“You know?” Of course they know. I didn’t just get in today.
This is all so amazing. I put Frosh on the right path and presto—Tufts, here we come! Sure, there was three and a half years of hard work in there, but I just can’t remember it. I call Frosh to congratulate her as soon as Mom leaves the room. “Guess what you did,” I sing.
She hesitates. “Um, I don’t know.”
“Come on, just guess.”
“It doesn’t have something to do with a certain someone auditioning for the school play, does it? Because that wasn’t my idea. It was all Joelle. And then I figured, well, if it didn’t come from me, then maybe it wasn’t a problem. But is it?”
Huh? “What are you talking about?”
She pauses. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Tufts. You got in.”
“Oh. Is that good?”
“Are you kidding? It rocks!”
She giggles. “Never mind, then.”
“No, I don’t think so. Tell me what you were talking about.” My heart races. “What did you do? Is this about Karin? Did you tell her to do something else?”
“Um, actually, I did say something to Karin, but it wasn’t a big deal at all. I swear.”
She’s seriously freaking me out. “What did you say?” I ask, and rub my left temple. This time-travel thing is going to age me prematurely.
“I’m trying to make her feel more confident. So she doesn’t get plastic surgery. So I told her she has great boobs.”
Alrighty. “And how did she react to that?”
“She thought I was being a bit weird. But I think it’s a good plan! ’Cause Karin obviously has self-esteem issues, right? No matter what she does—gymnastics, cheer, whatever—she’s insecure about her looks. What she really needs is her friends to make her feel better about herself.”
The kid has a point. “Not a terrible plan.”
“I know, right?”
I breathe out, relieved. “So Joelle told Karin to audition for the school play?”
“No, she told Tash to.”
Huh? I close my eyes. Headache getting worse. “Tash wouldn’t be in the play. She’s not a play person. She barely speaks in public.”
“That’s what I thought! But she tried out!”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe it!”
“I know, I couldn’t either!”
This could be bad. Very bad. “Well, do you think she made it?”
“I don’t know! She wasn’t terrible. I mean, she was nervous, and her voice was shaky, and she’s not very good at projecting, but most of the freshmen weren’t that great and someone has to make the chorus, right? Do you think it’s a big deal?”
Oh, God. What if she does get in? What if she’s great? What if Tash’s trying out changed her path for good? “What if she falls in love with being an actress and drops out of school to move to Hollywood?”
“That would suck,” she says. “Unless she gets fabo roles. Like in TTYL. Omigod, can you check? That would be so cool.”
“Not cool!” I say. “She has plans! She’s supposed to go to Brown!”
“You could always go to L.A. and bring her home.”
“The only way I’m going to Los Angeles is if I get into UCLA and that hasn’
t happened yet. This is a problem.” I start hyperventilating. “This is bad. Very bad. Okay, calm down,” I tell myself. “I’m sure everything is fine. I better call her to check.”
“Good idea,” she chirps. “Call her from the house phone and leave me on the cell.”
My fingers can’t help trembling as I dial. The cell is pressed to my right ear, the house phone to my left. I know I look ridiculous. It rings. And rings again. Her voice mail comes on. Instead of her old message—“Hi, it’s Tash. I can’t come to the phone”—music blasts in my ear.
“You are the dancing queen
Young and sweet
Only seventeen!”
Houston—or, uh, Hollywood—I think we have a problem. “I’m going to call you back,” I tell Frosh.
“But—”
I hang up, grab my purse, stuff my feet into my shoes, and hurry downstairs. “Mom, can I borrow the car?”
“Sure, honey,” she says. I kiss her on the cheek and then run outside, slide behind the wheel, and hightail it to Tash’s house.
At a red light, I let my mind wander. Tash fell in love with drama and then dropped out of school to move to Holly wood. Or Broadway. She is no longer going to Brown. She is no longer studying medicine. She will no longer find the cure for cancer.
That seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?
So she had the chorus of Mamma Mia! on her cell phone. She could just like musicals in this new reality. I floor the gas when the light turns green.
I pull into her driveway about five minutes later, get out of the car, lock the doors, run up the stairs, and ring the doorbell. Once, twice. Three times.
Tash’s stepmom, a petite brunette, answers the door.
“Hi,” I say breathlessly. “Mrs. Havens, is Tash home? I really need to speak to her.”
She shakes her head. “We haven’t seen Tash in a while.”
Oh, God. Oh, no. She’s dropped out of school. She moved to the city to be a struggling actor. All cancer-curing dreams forgotten. I knew it. “How long has she been gone?” I ask, clenching my fists. I’m going to kill Frosh.
“Since this morning,” Mrs. Havens says. “She said they were ordering dinner at school. Devi, aren’t you in the scenes they’re practicing tonight? You’re in Mamma Mia! too, aren’t you?”
Gimme a Call Page 11