A Kiss in Time

by Alex Flinn

  “Did you?” I stop looking for Talia. It’s not like we’re on a date, after all. She’s just staying with us. And she knew Amber would be here.

  “Uh-huh. You knew I would.”

  “I didn’t know that. You broke up with me. You made out with some other guy before you broke up with me.”

  “Are you still mad about that?” Amber says.

  “Still? It just happened.”

  “Silly! It was a whole month ago.” She leans in close, so I can feel her breath against my neck, and scratches harder, until I wonder if I might begin to bleed. If I bleed to death, will she even care? “Look, I was wrong, okay? But you were going away for half the summer, and I was going to be so lonely. I didn’t want to get stuck hanging around here, dateless and desperate, while you gallivanted around Europe, making out with French chicks.”

  “So you made out with that other guy because you were going to be lonely?” I say.

  “You were leaving. I couldn’t stand to think how much I’d miss you.” She leans up against me, so warm. “Hey, I called your cell the other day. That shows I was thinking about you, right?”

  “I guess.” She’s totally lying, and I’m totally letting her. The other guy probably left town, and she wants me because I’m here now.

  I remember when I stuck my finger in that socket, my dad yelled at me for being stupid. And that’s how I feel around Amber. Stupid. The girl makes me stupid.

  “How about if I apologized?” She stops scratching and puts both hands on my shoulders.

  “That would be a good—”

  I don’t get to finish because her mouth interrupts me. Like, it’s on top of my mouth, rendering me unable to speak.

  I’d forgotten how she kissed, too.

  When she’s finally finished, she says, “Do you accept my apology?”

  I know what I should say. No. Absolutely not. I’ve moved on. I’m here with Talia, and being here with someone means something to me, even if it doesn’t mean anything to you.

  Instead, I say, “Uh…”

  She kisses me again, her long fingernails in my hair now, and I am fire and water, and Talia was three hundred years ago, or a thousand. Amber is now.

  “I missed you, Jack,” she says.

  Did she really? I want to believe that. It feels good to hear her say it, anyway.

  “God, I missed you, too,” I say.

  We stand there, making out, until someone tells us to get a room. Amber says, “We could go someplace. Are your parents home tonight?”

  Which is when I remember. Talia. What am I doing?

  She went to get the beer, and she never came back.

  “I should find Talia,” I tell Amber.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Amber says. “I’m sure she’ll find her way home.”

  Home. I laugh. “You don’t understand about Talia. She’s…she could have gotten lost or something.”

  “What is she, stupid?”

  “No. She’s not stupid. She’s…nice…innocent.” I remember Talia surfing on the air mattress, talking to my sister, asking me about gardening. Amber never asked me about stuff like that because, I now realize, she didn’t care. I could never talk to Amber the way I talk to Talia. She’d laugh at me.

  She laughs now. “Innocent? She was here ten minutes ago, and then…she went off with Robert Hernandez.”

  “With Robert?”

  Amber rolls her eyes. “She won’t be innocent for long.”

  Ten minutes ago. I calculate. That means she showed up with the beers, saw Amber putting her tongue down my throat, and stormed away, only to fall into the clutches of the biggest player in school. He’ll probably try and take her to a bedroom or…something.

  I pull away from Amber. “I brought her here. She’s my responsibility.” I stand on my toes, trying to see through the crowd.

  Amber looks annoyed and stomps her foot. “So you’re going to look for her instead of being with me?”

  “I have to.”

  “But she went off with someone else. Face it, Jack. There’s just something about you that makes girls want to make out with other guys.”

  I turn back toward Amber. “What did you just say?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I was kidding.”

  “Funny.” I laugh. “You just think I’m some loser, don’t you?”

  She shrugs, but then she says, “Of course not, baby. You’re just being silly. She probably went home with Robert.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I say. I turn my back on her and start looking through the crowd.

  “You’re not going to get another chance with me, Jack!” Amber yells.

  “I don’t want one!” It’s hard for me to say that. I know it’s not about me with her. It’s about the conquest, about winning, about proving to everyone that she can get me back anytime. And yet part of me really wants to touch her some more, wants her to be as into me as I am into her. “I’m tired of being stupid around you.”

  Then I hear a scream.

  Chapter 16:

  Talia

  Jack is not my destiny.

  I came to this party to make Jack happy. It did—a bit too happy, if you ask me, because I drove him straight into Amber’s waiting embrace.

  I returned from fetching the drinks (me, fetching drinks like a common kitchen maid!) to find them locked in a torrid kiss. Jack just kisses anyone and everyone, I now see. It was not special at all when he kissed me. His lips are everywhere.

  I turned to run away.

  That was when I realized I had nowhere to run. I was in a foreign land, a strange time, alone and friendless, all because I believed Jack—horrible Jack—to be my destiny.

  But Jack was kissing some trollop named Amber. Malvolia was right! He is not my true love. I should not even be awake. I should be back in the castle, awaiting a kiss from a respectable prince!

  “Is one of those for me?” a voice says while I consider this.

  I turn to find myself eye-to-eye with a handsome, dark-haired young man. “I beg your pardon?”

  He points to the cans I am holding. “One for you, and one for me?”

  I laugh, for it seems preferable to bursting into tears. “Why not?” I hand him Amber’s can.

  He takes it and drains it down. “Can I get you a refill?”

  Finally! A young man who knows how to treat princesses, by fetching and carrying for them. But I say, “I have yet to finish this one.”

  “Then finish it.”

  This I do, under his watchful eye. It is cold and tart and fizzy. I still have not worked out how people of this century contrive to keep everything so delightfully cold, even on the hottest of days, but it is lovely, almost worth living three hundred years.

  Then I think of Jack. Almost, but not quite.

  “Lovely!” I say.

  He laughs. “That’s a good girl.” He takes the can from my hand, then steps away to get another. When he comes back, he says, “I saw you come in with O’Neill.”

  There is a question in his voice. I answer it. “I am not with Mr. O’Neill.”

  He glances over at where Jack and Evil Amber are still locked together. “Yeah, I can see. Stupid guy. If I’d come with you, I’d never have let you get away.”

  I like the tone of his voice almost as much as the tone of the conversation. A young woman clad in a scandalous costume passes by, holding a tray of jewel-colored objects which look to be some sort of confection.

  “Want one?” the boy says.

  “What are they?”

  “Jell-O shots.”

  I have no idea what a Jell-O shot is, but many people are ingesting them. So, as not to reveal my ignorance, I say, “They look lovely.”

  “Yes, lovely!” He takes two. I see other people slurping theirs out of the cup like a drink, so I do the same. It is cold, like everything else, and sweet as strawberries.

  “Delectable!” I say.

  “Delectable!” He laughs. “Here—have mine, t
oo.”

  I do not argue. I have had little to eat, and my head is spinning. I hope this Jell-O shot will calm it down.

  “What’s your name, beautiful?” he asks.

  “Talia…Talia Brooke.”

  “Well, Talia Talia Brooke, I’m Robert, and I think you’re definitely delectable yourself. Did you bring a bathing suit?”

  I did, of course, with no intention of wearing it. I note that several other young ladies also appear unable to swim and are simply standing in the water, talking, almost as if the pool is the dance floor. But I am not about to wear such an immodest garment.

  “I do not have one with me,” I lie.

  He frowns. “Sorry to hear that. Don’t suppose you want to go skinny-dipping?”

  I do not know what this means. Perhaps he can see this by the expression on my face, for he looks annoyed, then away. But I cannot let him leave me, for then I would be all alone while Jack kisses another girl. My head is spinning like a whirligig, I suspect from the beers I drank. I feel about to cast up my accounts like a common drunkard. Still, I must keep Robert with me.

  “It is a lovely night,” I say. “Perhaps we could go for a stroll.”

  He looks back at me, smiling. “Someplace dark?”

  I blink my weary eyes. “Dark would be nice, indeed.” As I say it, I stumble upon my own feet. Robert reaches his hand out to steady me.

  “You are so kind and helpful.” I glance over at Jack. “I have no idea what I would do without you.”

  “That’s me—Mr. Knight in Shining Armor.” He laughs.

  “It is true.”

  We pass the young lady with the Jell-O shots. There is one remaining on her tray, and Robert picks it up and hands it to me. “For you, milady.”

  “Oh, no,” I protest. “You have had not even one.”

  “I insist.” He holds it out to me. It is as blue as a peacock’s feathers. I take it. “Thank you. I am excessively grateful for your help.”

  “Maybe we can figure out a way for you to show your gratitude later.”

  “I am certain we can.”

  He looks so happy about that that I begin straightaway to come up with a plan. Of course, back in Euphrasia, what he is doing is little more than common civility, but this seems to be a century completely devoid of manners and consideration. Therefore, common civility should be rewarded as heroism. If I return home (for it seems I may do just that, if Jack is not to be my husband—horrid Jack!), I could arrange a knighthood for this young man or, at the very least, a medal of some sort.

  Jack will be beheaded.

  But it is hard to think about it, with my own head so light and floaty. The only time I have felt like this before was once, when Father received a case of that special bubbling wine from France. I consumed almost an entire bottle and, in the end, felt wonderful and terrible and nothing at all like myself.

  “Ah, you don’t have to do that,” Robert is saying.

  “Do what?”

  “Arrange a knighthood for me. I’m happy to help out a beautiful girl like you, especially when mean old Jack ditched you.”

  Did I say that aloud? Has the beer done me in?

  We stroll through the crowds of people, Robert’s hand still steadying my elbow. I swallow the Jell-O shot, allowing it to play upon my tongue as it falls down my throat.

  “Where are you from?” Robert tightens his grip. “Your accent’s really hot.”

  “I’m from Euph…Europe. Belgium.” My head is spinning, and I am barely able to place one foot before the other. Were Robert not supporting me, I would surely fall. I begin to, anyway, or perhaps it is more like floating, flying, jumping from an airplane and landing in a jewel-colored cloud.

  And then I feel his mouth upon mine, Robert’s mouth, this stranger whom I have barely met. His mouth is upon mine!

  I begin to voice my displeasure, but with his tongue in my mouth, it comes out as a moan. We are standing at the far side of the pool, away from the boys and girls playing ball. Robert kisses me again. My brain is in a fog, like the moment—I now remember it—the moment after I touched the spindle when I was falling and helpless to prevent it.

  “You’re so beautiful, Talia.” Another kiss. It is too difficult to fight him in my tipsy state. He kisses me, and then I feel his hand traversing inside my trousers toward my nether regions.

  “No! Stop it!” My cries are almost soundless. He means to dishonor me!

  “No!” I shriek, although in my fog, I fear my shriek is weak. “No!”

  Indeed, he ignores my cries, his hot, rough hands searching where they ought not search. I hear sounds around me, people conversing. Does no one notice or care that he is disgracing me before their eyes?

  “No!” I pull free of him, raising my hand to slap him, and then I am falling down, down into the cold shock of water.

  Water! “Help!” I cry. The icy water sobers me somewhat but not enough. I cannot touch bottom. “Help! I cannot swim!”

  I reach for the wall, but in my beer-drenched muddle, my fingers slip away from it, over and over, scraping. Then I cannot see. All I can see is Robert above me, a surprised expression on his face. Does he not understand that I am drowning?

  “I am drowning, you fool!” I yell, but the last words are lost as my mouth fills with water. I emerge again, fighting my way up. “I am…” I submerge. Is this the end of me, then, the end of Princess Talia of Euphrasia? Shall I meet a watery grave three hundred years too late but not a moment too soon? Will I lie forever on the bottom of this man-made lake with no one to mourn me, no one to know what has become of me?

  I submerge for the third, and what I believe shall be the final, time. I lack the strength to fight my way back up. This is the end. This is the end.

  And then, all at once, I feel a strong grip upon my arm, someone pulling me up. Once again, I can breathe. I can breathe!

  Then I am unceremoniously dumped upon the patio. I take many great, gasping breaths. I lean forward, choking on great quantities of strange-tasting water. There is a hand on my back, hitting me. I choke and inhale, choke and inhale many times before I feel well enough to look upward into the eyes of my savior.

  “Come on, Talia, let’s go home.”

  I open my eyes.

  Jack.

  I collapse against him, feeling his warmth against my cold skin.

  Chapter 17:

  Jack

  “Come on, Talia. You’re drunk.” I’m trying really hard not to hit Robert. I’m in enough trouble without coming home with a black eye I got at some party.

  “I’ nodrunk,” Talia slurs. “Ihadtreebeers. Wehad wine ev’y nighat home.”

  “See that?” Robert says as Talia falls on the floor. “She’s not drunk.”

  “Well, she’s going home, anyway. I’m taking her home.”

  “Home!” At the word, Talia begins to sob. “Idonawannagohome!” She clutches at the patio chairs.

  “See?” Robert says. “She doesn’t want to go home.”

  “You really know how to pick them, don’t you?” Amber comes up behind me. “What a ho.”

  “Shut up.” I look at her. “You honestly think this is all about you?”

  She shrugs. “Who else?”

  I get down on Talia’s level and start to pry her fingers off the chair. “I don’t mean home-home. I mean home with me, my parents’ house.”

  “She’s staying at your house?” Amber screams.

  “What do you care?” I say.

  “Buthey haaate me. Theymakemesleeponairmattress.”

  Finally, I manage to get Talia up and headed toward the door. A bunch of people are standing around, drinking Jell-O shots, and Talia says, “Ooh! I want another one!”

  “Another Jell-O shot?”

  “Yes. Hungry.”

  “Did you have one before?”

  “Three,” she says, reaching for the girl who’s carrying them.

  Well, that explains that. I do a quick calculation—three beers plus three Jell-O s
hots. I try to remember the movie we saw about alcohol poisoning in health class. “I’ll get you something to eat.” I pull her away from the group and toward the door.

  “If you walk out of here, it is over between us!” Amber screams after me.

  I turn on her. “It was over a long time ago!”

  I put my arm around Talia and lead her out the door.

  I’m feeling pretty sober myself, considering I spent most of my drinking time with Amber’s tongue down my throat. Still, I drive through McDonald’s.

  “What are we doing here?” Talia says. She’s not slurring so much anymore, but she’s really, really loud.

  “It’s called a drive-thru. You get food here.”

  “You get food in the car?” She screams it so loud that the drive-thru guy asks me to repeat my order.

  After I do, she starts screaming again, “You can drive your car up to a window and get food? We have nothing in Euphrasia! Nothing! It sucked! Sucked, I tell you!” I reach the pickup window, and when the guy hands me my burgers and fries and two large, black coffees, Talia begins to jump in her seat. “This is so cooooool! Did you like how I used an American word? Coooooool! And sucked, too.”

  I laugh. She’s so cute. “Yeah, you’re a real American. Have some coffee.”

  But she’s already eating fries. “These are so cool, too! What are they called?”

  “French fries.”

  “They definitely do not suck.”

  By the time we get home, she’s eaten her way through her fries and my own, sticking me with just the burgers, and she’s fast asleep.

  I’m in luck because my parents are asleep, too. I try to help her onto the air mattress.

  Good to know: It’s not easy to get a trashed person onto an air mattress, especially when it’s not blown up enough. But finally, I get her onto it and tucked in. She closes her eyes again, and she looks so beautiful and innocent, like a little angel, and not at all like a girl who just had three, count ’em, three Jell-O shots and quite a bit of beer. I stand there for a minute, just looking at her. Then I start for the door.