First Kiss

by Richards

  The first song of the evening started up, and a loud disco beat vibrated the walls.

  “That’s the cue for everyone to take a seat,” Elsa explained. “Get changed and be ready to go.”

  The zombie warlord in my chest banged out an urgent message in Morse code: A-A-A-H-H-H-H-H-!-! R-U-N A-W-A-Y-!-!-! Exactly. Except where was I supposed to go? Not to mention Ben had me in a headlock.

  “Don’t even think about it!” he shouted over the music.

  Reluctantly, I let go of the door handle.

  “I just wanted to peek out,” I lied.

  “In your underwear?”

  He had a point. I should have freaked out before starting to undress.

  “Oh, all right. You can let go of me.”

  Ben released his grip, and I slunk back to the rack of clothes with my name on it. My first outfit consisted of corduroy pants, a button-down denim shirt, and a lightweight leather jacket slung over one shoulder. Not too scary, right?

  “Becca, Jackson, and Stu, you’re up,” Elsa called out.

  WHAT? My pits started spewing sweat like a spastic sprinkler. Jackson grabbed my arm and pulled me over to where Becca waited next to Elsa.

  “Here’s the deal,” Elsa whispered. “As soon as the next song starts, that’s your cue.” She motioned to Jackson. “You lead the way. Becca will be next. And then Stu. Once you reach the center catwalk, walk in unison to the end and back.” She gave us a thumbs-up. “And give ’em a little attitude!”

  For one long moment, the music stopped. And then a new song began. It started quietly before building into a throbbing dance rhythm. Elsa opened the door and nodded.

  “It’s go time!”

  We shuffled to the base of the stage steps behind a black screen that kept us hidden from the crowd.

  “Let’s do it!” Jackson whispered, tugging us forward.

  And that’s when I froze.

  “What’s wrong?” Becca asked.

  If I thought I had been nervous during our practice, it was nothing to the adrenaline pumping through my body now. Any moment, I expected my insides to spontaneously combust like a faulty Fourth of July rocket and explode in a burst of bloody glory that would end the show before it even started.

  “I—I can’t do it.”

  Jackson pulled harder on Becca’s hand.

  “C’mon, we gotta go.”

  Becca slipped her hand from Jackson’s and turned to me.

  “Stu, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m—no good—at this,” I stammered. “I’m terrible onstage, and—and—” What was the word I was searching for? “I’m spindly.”

  Had I just used the word spindly?

  Becca squeezed my hand and gave me a look so sincere I actually believed it.

  “You’re not spindly.” She broke into a grin. “And anyway, spindly is the new studly! Didn’t you know?”

  As a matter of fact, I didn’t. But in that moment, staring into her eyes glittering with sincerity, I would have believed anything, even the pile of cow poop she had just spewed. Her hand pulled me forward. The zombie warlord gave a groan and slumped down.

  Together, we climbed the steps to stardom.

  Okay, maybe stardom was an overstatement. But the crowd genuinely cheered when we took the stage. We sauntered side by side down the length of the catwalk into the sea of faces. Beside me, Jackson and Becca looked pretty much like you’d expect: all glam and attitude all the time.

  Despite my legs trembling, I found enough inner swagger to relax my shoulders and let my arms swing freely, almost like Aruna had demonstrated.

  At the end of the catwalk, we turned and paused, dismissing the audience with our hip cool. And then we strolled back without missing a beat despite the hoots and hollers shouted in our wake.

  “You guys were awesome!” Elsa gushed when we entered the dressing room. “You’re naturals!”

  “Dude!” Ben exclaimed. “You the man!”

  I gave him a high five as he and Kirsten headed for their turn on the catwalk.

  “You’re almost a man, too!” I encouraged.

  Not like he needed any extra encouragement. His chest was already so inflated I worried he’d float off the stage into the rafters.

  Diane peeked around the corner of the dressing divider and motioned me over.

  “How did you do it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Like you said I guess—I just kept going.”

  I could see her knuckles turning white. Without thinking, I patted her hand.

  “And anyway, everyone here loves you.”

  “Diane, you’re up,” Elsa called.

  She dabbed at an eye, then gave me a hug.

  “Stu, you are an amazing young man. Thank you.”

  With a parting wave, she disappeared through the doorway to the catwalk.

  Even from backstage, I could hear the reception reserved just for Diane. The crowd exploded into cheers when she took the stage and didn’t stop cheering until she breezed back into the dressing room looking like the old Diane.

  “That was amazing!” she gushed. “I had no idea the crowd would be so kind!”

  “Really?” I asked. “You’re pretty much a rock star wherever you go.”

  She swept me under one wing.

  “You make me wish I’d had kids. And that’s saying something.”

  Onstage the show continued to be a lovefest between the models and the audience, with the occasional heckle thrown in for fun such as “Hey, Joe, will you be my lamb chop?”—a clear reference to his meat float costume. And “Hey, Stu, nice ruffly shirt!” a clear reference to why Ryan and Tyler should have been banned from attending.

  After an hour of prancing and preening, Elsa, at last, called us together backstage for a few final instructions.

  “You guys have been SO AMAZING! All that’s left is to take a final bow.”

  A disappointed groan went up from the group. Elsa grinned.

  “You’ll be going up onstage one couple at a time with Diane and Joe at the lead. Spread out until you fill the entire center stage. When the music stops, Rosemarie is going to say a few words and then you’re all going to take a final bow. And that’ll be the end of the show!”

  A high-energy pop beat pulsed through the barn and got the audience clapping in unison with the beat.

  “This is it!” Kirsten exclaimed.

  “Our last chance to rock the stadium,” Ben added.

  Jackson slid over next to me.

  “Hey, Stu, I really appreciate you letting me be part of the show. But I kinda crashed the party. I’m gonna sit this one out.”

  He nodded toward Becca.

  “You two go without me.”

  Seriously? Yes! Finally! For once, it would be just Becca and me onstage together without a bicep-flexing, ab-rippling, lone-chin-hair-wielding creature from the deep stealing the limelight.

  From behind one of his brawny shoulders, Becca peeked over at me. Okay, so Jackson hadn’t done one thing all evening to steal the limelight. He had just been himself. And frankly the audience loved him, especially the girls in attendance under the age of sixty. It wasn’t his fault he had been born a muscle-bound stud.

  “No, you should come up onstage with us. We’ve been a team all night. We gotta see it through to the end.”

  “Dude, you’re right,” he replied, clapping my shoulder. “We’re Team Stu.”

  He broke into a smile. Which did little to comfort me. But next to him Becca also smiled.

  “Team Stu!” she repeated.

  Oh, why not. Go, Team Stu!

  We climbed onstage one last time and took our places spread out along the center runway while the crowd clapped and cheered. At last, the music stopped. And my grandmother, followed by Stefan and Elsa, walked to the end of the runway. She held up a microphone and addressed the crowd.

  “Wow. Has this been fun, or what?”

  A chorus of whistles and cheers erupted.

  “Thank you all so much f
or coming out today in support of the show.”

  More cheers.

  “I want to take a moment and thank a few people who made today possible.”

  She motioned Stefan to join her.

  “First, a big thank-you to the man standing next to me, who agreed to join forces this year in making this our first-ever coed fashion show. Thank you, Stefan! And I hope all you men in the audience will make Town and Country the store for all your clothing needs.”

  A big round of applause went up as Stefan took a gracious bow.

  “Next,” my grandmother continued, “I want to recognize all the hours of work put in by my lovely, talented, and capable store manager Elsa. Without her energy and dedication this show would not have happened.”

  An even bigger round of applause greeted Elsa as she curtsied, her cheeks glowing bright red. My grandmother raised one hand to quiet the crowd.

  “As many of you know, we lost our venue a week ago due to a most unfortunate electrical fire. Just when the show seemed doomed, my grandson had the foresight and courage to save the day. Thank you, Stu!”

  A wall of noise roared from the crowd. My ears turned the color of Elsa’s cheeks.

  “You the man!” Ben yelled into my ear. “Show ’em your guns!”

  I gave a weak wave to the audience. From the corner of my eye, I could see Becca and Kirsten giggling together. Okay, maybe spindly was a little bit studly. Right?

  My grandmother waved the crowd to silence again.

  “There’s one man who truly saved the day for us. One man who stepped up to help when all seemed lost and who gave an entire week of his life to make this the most amazing fashion show venue ever. His artwork is all around you and he never ceases to amaze me with his talent and kindness.”

  She paused for effect.

  “Harley? Where are you? Come up onstage!”

  From the back of the crowd, a mountain of a man with a greasy mustache and black vest walked forward. He looked like something out of a spaghetti Western, a man beyond mere mortal men. A chant went up from the crowd: “Har-ley, Har-ley, Har-ley!”

  He reached the stage and hopped up without missing a beat.

  “Har-ley, Har-ley, Har-ley!” the crowd continued.

  “Sounds like he doesn’t need any introduction,” my grandmother said. “Thank you, Harley, for everything!”

  Suddenly, Elsa threw her arms around Harley and kissed him right there in front of everyone. A collective gasp went through the crowd. And then everyone went wild cheering.

  “Go, Harley!” someone shouted.

  “You the man!” another screamed. Okay, that might have been me. But it was still true.

  Finally, my grandmother waved her arms for quiet.

  “There’s one more thank-you I want to give. For the first time we didn’t use professional models. Instead, we approached people in the community. People who had never done anything like this before. And frankly, who were pretty nervous about strutting out onstage in front of you all. But they were good sports. And I think you’ll agree that they were fabulous models.”

  She swept a hand around her at all the models.

  “Please join me in giving them a big round of applause!”

  The audience gave a standing ovation that lasted for what must have been minutes. Some of the models hugged or blew kisses to the crowd. Ben, Kirsten, Jackson, Becca, and I high-fived each other. Diane dabbed at both eyes while Joe hugged her shoulders.

  At last, the crowd headed for the exit doors. Harley came over and gave me a fist bump.

  “You were a stud up there on the catwalk,” he said.

  Elsa joined us, her cheeks still flushed.

  “Thanks for helping arrange things the way you did,” she said.

  Harley wrapped an arm around her.

  “Seems like it all worked out,” I replied, giving them my you-know-what-I-mean look.

  They both grinned like middle schoolers at a middle school dance.

  “Yeah,” they agreed.

  “Hey, Stu!” my mother called from across the barn. “Your friends are waiting. Time to leave for Becca’s party.”

  Party? What party? Oh, chipotle.

  I found Becca waiting next to her parents’ SUV.

  “C’mon,” she insisted. “My dad’s waiting for us at the park.”

  She took the seat up front next to her mom. Ben and Kirsten had the middle seats, leaving me in the back with Jackson and Carly. Carly immediately scooted over next to Jackson.

  “I’m sitting with you,” she announced, looking up at him with eager eyes. The same eyes that refused to acknowledge me sitting on her other side.

  The car ride gave me plenty of time to note the wrapped presents on everyone’s laps. Everyone’s laps except mine. Where they had hidden them during the show I couldn’t guess. It was like magic. The sort of magic that makes some people look like perfect friends while making others look like perfect idiots.

  “Where’s your present?” Carly asked.

  Well, at least she wasn’t ignoring me.

  “Um, well, it’s a long story,” I replied, keeping my voice low.

  “Do you have a present?”

  There’s nothing worse than being humiliated by someone half your age. “Well, not in the traditional sense.” Whatever that meant.

  “All my friends brought presents when I had a party.”

  “That’s nice.”

  We finally pulled into Sequim Bay State Park and followed a paved drive that wound through dozens of picnic sites. The park would make a perfect place for a horror film with all its towering evergreen trees casting shadows everywhere. Perfect for frightening movie viewers. Or the only guy at a birthday party without a present.

  Becca’s mom pulled into a parking space next to the picnic table where Becca’s dad had set up camp.

  “Oh, look,” Kirsten exclaimed. “He’s already got a fire going.”

  “Yes,” Becca’s mom agreed. “It gets cool at night in the woods this close to the water. The bay is just a short hike through the trees.”

  We piled out and greeted the other handful of partygoers including Tyler, Ryan, Gretchen, Annie, and Lisa. Together we huddled around the fire while Becca’s parents finished laying out food on the picnic table. Becca’s mom had been right. It did get cool quick here at night.

  “Okay, everyone,” she called. “Lots of choices here including both regular and meatless hot dogs, potato chips, a veggie tray, fruit, and lemonade to drink. Come help yourselves.”

  After a hard afternoon of modeling, Ben and I piled our plates with food.

  “These meatless hot dogs are pretty good,” Ben commented between mouthfuls.

  “You’re holding a carrot stick,” Becca clarified.

  He stared at the carrot in his hand. “Oh, that explains why it tastes like a carrot.”

  That got a few giggles. I refused to support such forced humor. Especially since I hadn’t thought of it first.

  After dinner, Becca’s dad brought out sticks and marshmallows to roast while Becca’s mom laid out chocolate bars and graham crackers for s’mores.

  “Have at it,” she said.

  Ryan and Tyler immediately went into action.

  “We’ll show you how it’s done,” Tyler said, piercing a marshmallow with the tip of his roasting stick.

  We all watched as they demonstrated the proper technique to hover the stick near the flames until the marshmallow toasted golden brown. Except it never worked out like that. Tyler’s marshmallow caught on fire and charred black before he could blow out the flames. Ryan’s marshmallow slid off the end of his stick and tumbled between two of the logs, where it slowly oozed and bubbled until there was nothing left but a charred blob of goo.

  After that, everyone grabbed a stick and attempted to toast the perfect marshmallow. Mostly, we caught them on fire and waved them around like goopy sparklers. Then we slid the charred remains onto a graham cracker, added a piece of chocolate, layered another graham cr
acker on top, then crammed the gooey sweet sandwiches into our mouths.

  “This is heaven,” Ben exclaimed between mouthfuls.

  “Divine,” Kirsten agreed.

  “I lost another one in the fire,” Ryan added.

  Yep. That sounded about right. With the focus on s’more building, I began to hold out hope I’d get lucky and we’d run out of time before anyone remembered the pile of presents lying next to the picnic table.

  “Time for presents,” Lisa suggested, holding hers up for all to see.

  So much for luck.

  Everyone trooped over and retrieved their gift off the pile. Well, almost everyone. I sat with my hands clasped in my lap wishing I could shrink to the size of a pine needle so I could hop on the beetle crawling between my feet and make a silent getaway.

  The next few minutes stretched on for hours as Becca giggled and shrieked her way through the funny, surprising, and often-thoughtful gifts everyone kept giving her.

  “It’s a vegan candy cookbook,” Annie said, pointing to the title that read Vegan Candy Cookbook.

  “That looks so fun,” Becca responded. “Thank you.”

  “Do mine next,” Kirsten pleaded.

  Becca unwrapped a box with a shirt that said Got Veggies?

  “It’s perfect,” Becca said, holding up the shirt while beaming at her best friend.

  Ben plunked a heavy package next to her wrapped in brown paper.

  “You think those are presents? Get a load of what I got you!”

  Becca pulled back the paper to reveal a metal bucket full of vegetables.

  “They’re from my mom’s garden,” Ben boasted.

  “They look delicious,” Becca’s mom commented.

  Ben nodded, lowering his voice.

  “Just don’t tell my mom. And I’m going to need the bucket back.”

  That got everyone giggling. I even added a tight-lipped snort; I was that moved.

  Last but not least, Jackson handed her a box wrapped in shimmering red paper with a white bow taped to the top. Becca carefully removed the bow and held it up to the firelight.

  “Is the bow handmade?”

  Jackson gave a sheepish shrug.

  “My mom’s into that kind of stuff. She taught me at our last church craft night.”