And then, because I can’t hold out any longer, I take a chance, lean in, and kiss her. So softly it makes my insides ache.
At work that night all I can think about is my first kiss.
I replay it over and over in my mind, a dreamy, goofy expression on my face. I can’t think straight. I have to double-check my running of the accounts several times because I keep making mistakes. Every time I think of our lips locking, the feel of our tongues meeting, the tenderness with which he held me close to him, my stomach plunges the same way it does on a roller-coaster ride. A part of me feels guilty. I know I’ve gone against my faith and culture, betrayed my parents, who would never, ever think to doubt my word. I’m racked with guilt about deceiving them. But the temptation is too great, the excitement too much to resist. I’ve been strong for so long and Michael’s attention to me, the way he makes me feel, is just too powerful to turn away from. And I see the power I have over him when I smile at him, flash him a look, turn my head a certain way. I see his body tense up, the look of anticipation in his eyes. The thrill of knowing I have that kind of effect on someone is intoxicating.
“You’re in a very cheerful mood tonight!” Baba exclaims as he files something in the drawer behind the counter.
I don’t dare look him in the eye.
“Did you taste the kofta challow?”
I shake my head. “No, I had the lamb korma though. Delicious.”
“Those new boys can cook. We should get them on that Chefmastering show.” He laughs, pleased with his idea.
“MasterChef, Baba,” I correct him gently with a smile.
Yep, it’s all smiles tonight. I feel alive, every cell in my body buzzing in a way I’ve never felt before.
“He came up with the idea all by himself? The Great Gatsby? In the back of his Jeep Wrangler? At the beach? With a pizza picnic?”
“Yes.” Even though we’re sitting in a quiet section of the school lawn, I look around self-consciously, worried somebody might hear.
“Michael Blainey?”
I nod, my eyes shining at her.
Paula clasps her hands together and pretends to swoon. “Enough said. I’m quoteless. The end.”
“Well, this is a first.”
“Seriously, only a complete idiot wouldn’t have been able to see you two were falling for each other.” She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger and fixes her clear green eyes on me. “So the next crucial question is this: good kisser?”
I blush. “How did you know we kissed?”
She rolls around the grass, laughing hysterically.
“What?!”
“You’re such a dork!” she cries when she’s caught her breath.
“Seriously, how did you know?”
“You just told me, dummy. Oldest trick in the book. First time?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Lived up to expectations? Or do you feel cheated out of your foolish daydreams?”
“Neither. Exceeded expectations.”
“Nice work, Michael!”
We laugh and I feel giddy with the excitement of it all.
She sits up on her knees. “Oh, hey, I’m organizing a poetry slam festival here at school at the end of term! Please say you’ll perform! The more people the better, and I know you’ll be awesome.”
“No way!” I say. “I’ll leave the performing to you.”
“Oh, come on! Please!”
“I can’t do slam poetry!”
“Just tell me you’ll think about it.” She bats her eyelashes at me, clasps her hands together as though she’s praying. “Please? Pretty please?”
I laugh, hit her on the shoulder. “Oh, fine, I’ll think about it.”
“Good girl. I already have some tenth graders who want to sign up.”
“Poor kids don’t know what they’re in for.”
“You can perform a love poem to Michael,” she teases.
“Don’t make me gag,” I say. “I don’t do corny.”
“Okay, then he can perform one for you.”
“I can’t see that ending in anything but good-bye, Michael.”
“Well, he’s over there, looking this way, and judging from the expression on his face it’s hello, Mina.”
I shake my head at her but can’t help laughing. “I never thought I’d say this, Paula, but it’s getting way too corny here and I actually miss the Oscar Wilde quotes.”
“Oh goody. Then take this one: I can resist everything except temptation.” She stands up as Michael approaches us. “And on that note, I’ll leave you two alone.”
She winks at me and walks away, her laugh echoing behind her.
The sky is angry today, ash and lead, covered in gray cotton wool. The complete opposite of how I feel inside. Inside I’m a kid running through a backyard sprinkler on a stinking hot day.
I dump my bag in my locker and head to homeroom. I spot Michael sitting next to Terrence and Fred at the back and my insides go all funny. I’m trying to keep a straight face, give nothing away. He winks at me when no one’s looking and I hide my grin by covering my mouth and pretending to cough. Leica’s bent over her desk, head leaning down on her hands, eyes closed. Jane’s beside her, biting her nails, nervously throwing glances toward the back of the room. But it’s only Michael, Terrence, and Fred in the back row, and they’re not looking at her.
I sit down, saving the seat beside me for Paula, who’s running late. She walks in as Mr. Morello starts marking the roll.
It takes me less than a second to notice something’s wrong. “What happened?”
She slumps low in her chair, fixes her eyes on the desk. “Nancy called last night,” she says quietly. “She got a job in New York.”
“Oh.”
“She was supposed to be back next month. I was counting down the days.”
Mr. Morello’s collecting the diaries to check that parents have signed his notes. We pass ours up to the front.
“What did your parents say?”
She shrugs. “They’re happy for her. Less guilt if she’s not around.”
“Maybe they’re just happy for her getting that kind of opportunity.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
“They love you, Paula. They just have high-end jobs. It’s shitty but has nothing to do with their love for you.”
“So what if they love me? I’m their daughter. That’s their job.”
I don’t have an answer to that.
“I should have known Nancy wouldn’t come back. I miss her so badly. I feel so lonely at home since she left. I can’t remember the last time I had quality time with my parents. Most weeknights I’m in bed before they get home, or else it’s a short excuse of a heart-to-heart when I know they’re hankering for a shower and bed before it all starts again the next morning.”
I listen without saying anything, giving her the space to pour it all out.
“She could have come back, gotten a job here, moved out and gotten a place of her own. I could have at least visited her then. We’d have each other. There’s no way she’ll return.” She groans. “I can’t compete with New York. She’ll meet some hot guy and they’ll spend their time having picnics in Central Park and watching Law & Order being filmed on location.”
“A couple of years and you can move out too.”
Her eyes narrow. “You bet.”
Mr. Morello’s voice interrupts us. “Joy, Craig, Paula, your parents still haven’t signed your diaries. There are notes here that are over a month old. I’ve called and left several messages with your parents.”
Paula squirms in her seat. She looks ashamed. Mr. Morello notices. He glances her way, pauses for a moment, puts the diaries aside, and says he’ll deal with the matter later.
“My parents don’t sign my diary all the time either,” I tell her.
“Do they ignore five calls from school? My mum actually complained to me that she feels harassed. It’s on her to-do list, she said.”
“Below colonic irriga
tion? Brazilian wax?”
That gets a smile out of her.
Mr. Morello reads out some announcements. We almost make it to the bell but Terrence gets up to throw something in the rubbish and notices Paula as he passes.
“What’s with you girls? You’re always PMSing. Have you been crying, Paula?”
“No,” she snaps.
“You sure? Your face is all blotched and puffy.” He laughs, shoots the scrunched-up bit of paper in his hand into the trash can.
“Knock it off, Terrence,” Michael says, but Terrence is in a goofball mood and having too much fun.
“Relax,” Terrence says.
“Sit down, Terrence,” Mr. Morello barks at him.
“But, sir, Paula’s crying.”
“She’s not crying, you idiot!” I yell.
Paula stands up. “Screw you, Terrence,” she says, and runs out of class.
Mr. Morello gives Terrence a detention. Terrence acts like his human rights have been violated. The bell rings as Paula returns. Mr. Morello asks Paula to skip the next class and meet him in his office. Jane looks upset but her eyes are following Terrence, not her cousin. Michael looks embarrassed on behalf of his dirtbag friend and I’m staring daggers at Terrence.
I close in on Michael in the hallway on our way to English.
“Your friend is a jerk,” I say in a low voice so only he can hear.
“Yeah. I know.” He looks guiltily at me. “I’ll talk to him.”
Terrence is ahead, Jane on one side, Fred and Leica on the other. They’re all laughing.
I corner Jane at lunchtime.
“She’s your cousin.”
She looks guilty for a moment, then flicks her hair and says, “So?”
“So Terrence gives her a hard time and you still act like he’s God’s gift?”
“He’s only mucking around.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s what he’s like. He’s always joking. She shouldn’t take things so seriously. He was fine at lunch the other day, remember?”
“So he can do normal and jerk. How is that an excuse?”
“There’s another side to him. I told you.”
“What kind of excuse is that? Oh, he’s not a jerk all the time. I don’t know why you insist on defending him.”
She blushes. “We’re kind of … well, we might be going out.”
I blink slowly. “What do you mean, might be?”
She laughs nervously and runs her fingers through her hair. “Okay, I’m dying to tell somebody. Leica’s having a fight with Cameron so she’s in her own world at the moment. I feel bad opening up to her when she’s feeling so low.” She sighs, then takes a step closer to me and leans in. “We hooked up on the weekend.” Her eyes flash with excitement. “At Kaleb’s party.”
I look at her, aghast. “You’re dating him now?”
“I mean, I wasn’t planning on, you know, going all the way with him. But he made me feel so special … And I felt bad leading him on and then, you know, stopping.” She sees the look of horror on my face. “No, it’s not like that. I wanted him to.”
I let out a slow breath and she shakes her head. “Maybe it happened quicker than I expected but it’s fine …” But her tone doesn’t inspire confidence. She can tell I’m skeptical.
“You think I’m a slut, don’t you?” she says.
“What?”
“Just because you come from a backward culture you think I’m a slut now.”
I feel like she’s slapped me in the face. I stare at her, stunned and hurt. Just as soon as the words escape her mouth I can tell she regrets them. Her shoulders deflate and she looks at me, ashamed.
“I’m sorry, Mina. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just not so sure of where Terrence and I stand now, after the weekend …” Her voice trails off and she shrugs. “It hurts so bad, Mina. Not knowing. I thought he’d pay me more attention this morning in homeroom. But he was distant. Then in the hallway he was warm and funny.” She’s lost in her own thoughts, biting on a nail. “Maybe he’s trying to protect me? Like, not let everyone know about us until we’ve spoken about it?”
“Yeah, probably,” I say. A part of me pities her. But there’s a part of me too that can’t believe she’s fallen for somebody so mean.
“Anyway, I’ll sort it out.” She puts on a brave face and smiles at me. “Don’t tell anybody, promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“And I’m sorry. Really.”
“Man, that wasn’t cool or funny,” I tell Terrence.
He laughs. “Yeah, it was a bit low, hey. But I couldn’t help it. I’m so over seeing girls moping around like they’re surprised that life sometimes sucks.” He rolls his eyes.
I remember when I first got my driver’s permit. I accidentally ran over a dog and Terrence fell apart on the side of the road, sobbing uncontrollably. I’ve seen Terrence pick on kids just because he’s bigger, perfect the atomic wedgie in PE. But I remember when Travis Bates came to our school for two terms last year and Terrence caught some ninth graders making fun of him because he has cerebral palsy. The look in Terrence’s eye was wild. He would have beaten the shit out of them if we were out of school. Just one word from him and they left Travis alone. He has no problem calling somebody four-eyes, but Travis was hands-off. He never hung out with Travis, but he told him that if anybody messed with him he’d fuck them up. When he’s over at my place, he’s nothing but patient with Nathan and will sit for ages listening to him drone on about plane engines.
And then he goes and taunts Paula like that, and I wonder who the hell he is.
He’s like one of those half-baked cakes. Some parts are hard and overcooked, others soft and gooey. You can never tell which part you’ll get.
The scariest thing about people like Terrence and my parents is not that they can be cruel. It’s that they can be kind too.
Anh is pissed off with my stats and pulls me aside at the beginning of my shift.
“Look, you’re not meeting targets. You’ve got to push harder.”
“Honestly, if it was between a crooked politician and us, I reckon people would choose the politician. I can practically feel the hate coming at me through the phone.”
“Derek over by the window is a zit-faced frigid who probably hasn’t had a single relationship in his life unless he’s paid for it. He couldn’t strike up a water-cooler conversation to save his life. But put him on the phone and he rakes in the money.” I look at Anh, bewildered. “So. If he can do it, you’ve got no excuse.”
“Right. Um. Okay. I’ll try.”
“Now go collect shitloads of money. We’ve got a contract from the RSPCA this month. Think of neglected puppies and cats that seemed like a good idea at Christmas only to be kicked out midyear.”
The first half of my shift is a disaster. I’m calling when busy stay-at-home mums have just picked up the kids from school. I’m the last call they want to deal with. I glance at Derek, who’s busting a pimple as he speaks. He’s obviously just scored a donation and is grinning.
The idea hits me and I run with it before I have a chance to talk myself out of it. I decide to make up rare endangered animals to get more money. There’s the white kangaroo, western hairy platypus, green-nose frog. It becomes a sort of fun challenge, trying to think up new names. I don’t know what it is about endangered species but it gets people’s attention. I exceed my target and Anh is ecstatic.
Until somebody calls in to complain that there’s no such thing as a western hairy platypus and demands a refund.
I get sacked.
Mina and I are huddled up in a café booth. She’s in fits of laughter. Not exactly the shoulder to lean on that I was hoping for.
“Tell me again,” she says, having way too much fun teasing me to feel an ounce of sympathy for the humiliating way I lost my job. “How much did you get for the white kangaroo?”
“Fifty bucks.”
She cackles. I take her hand and softly kiss her palm.
“Where are you
r morals?” She shakes her head in parody of a disappointed parent. “Honest people’s money.”
“Going to a good cause. The RSPCA would still get the money. It’s not my fault if a cat can’t arouse people’s sense of charity but a blue mountain bee can.”
“A blue mountain bee?” She laughs. “How much did that one get?”
“Twenty bucks.” I kiss her other palm. “And only because I told him the honey produced by these bees had won some international honey award.”
“A honey award?”
“Yeah. He was impressed.” I lean in to kiss her but she has the giggles and pulls back.
“Speaking of honey,” she says, “I feel like a brownie.”
“Oh, I can see the connection.” I stand up to buy her one.
“Sugar. Duh.” She sits up, stretching to see the display of cakes. “As a feminist I don’t expect you to buy it for me because I’m a girl. I’m asking you to get it because I’m too lazy to get up.”
I laugh and she grins at me, poking her tongue out of the side of her mouth.
Terrence calls me as I’m paying. I don’t take the call, and text him that I can’t talk and will call him back soon.
“Do you have to go?” she asks me when I return.
“Nah, it was Terrence. I’ll call him later.”
“I don’t get you two. You’re so different.”
I shrug. “We go way back. It’s hard to just end a friendship.”
“I can’t imagine you having much in common.”
I take a long sip from my milk shake. “Basketball. Gaming. That’s about it. I know he can be a jerk and a sexist pig. But I know he can be a good guy too.”
She frowns. “Just because somebody can be good sometimes doesn’t make up for the times they’re a jerk.”
“Yeah, I know. Look, I’m not making excuses for him.”
“Sounds a bit like you are.” She takes a bite of her brownie and watches me closely as she chews.
“I’m not, I promise. I hate how he acts at school sometimes. But … people are complicated, is what I’m saying. You see one side to him. I see others. He’s always been there for me. You need him and he’s there, no questions asked. Like I said, we have history. It’s hard to turn my back against that.”
The Lines We Cross Page 19