Confessions of a Serial Kisser (15 page)

50

Intersection

T
HAT NIGHT
, as Mom and I were enjoying a perfectly pleasant bowl of double-fudge ice cream, she brought up the subject of my dad, trying to convince me that "we should get together as a family and talk."

I, in turn, told her that "we should get together as a family and hammer nails into each other." I frowned at her. "It would definitely be more fun."

"Look, sweetheart," she said, scraping daintily at her ice cream, "your birthday's coming up and--"

"And what? You'd like to ruin it by inviting
him
?" I dug up a glacier of ice cream and bit in. "No thank you!"

"You and he used to be so close..."

"Stop it! The past is
behind
us. It's
over.
Why are you letting yourself be manipulated by him? Whose idea was it for you to go over to the house, huh? His, right?"

She blinked at me a moment, realizing that I was fully aware of her little rendezvous. Finally she took a deep breath and said, "Look. I really think we should all go to counseling together. We can get things out and an objective third party can help us sort through our feelings."

I shoved back from the table. "You can go. I don't need a third party--I know exactly how I feel." I folded my napkin and restated the obvious: "My father's a two-timing jerk and I don't want to see him."

She gave me a pitiful look. "But he's sorry, honey. He's really, truly sorry."

"He should be," I told her, and went to bed.

In the morning, I was half awakened by tingling. Tingling, and a racing heart. I hugged my feather pillow close. It was a warm, soft cloud, and I sank into it deeper and deeper.

"Aaah!" I cried, jolting upright.

I'd been dreaming about Eddie Pasco.

I threw back the covers and got out of bed, muttering, "Don't be insane!"

I showered and blew out my hair, and with half an hour to spare after dressing and putting on my makeup, I decided I deserved a frappuccino for breakfast.

A grande!

With whipped cream!

Unfortunately, my dad was parked outside the condo when I slipped out the door.

I walked past him and his ridiculously cool Mustang.

He got out and followed me.

"Evangeline! Evangeline, please. Talk to me."

I kept walking.

"Evangeline, come on. How many times and ways do I have to say I'm sorry. I was a jackass. Yes, I know. Yes, you're right."

The light at the intersection was green, so I stepped into the crosswalk with great confidence, ignoring him. And then my shoe started squeaking.

Why was my shoe squeaking?

Why did today of all days have to be squeaky shoe day?

"Angel, please!"

I spun on him. "Don't you ever,
ever
call me that again," I seethed.

Then I ran away, leaving him in the middle of the intersection with traffic idling in all directions.

51

Bumping into Tatiana

W
HEN
I
GOT TO SCHOOL
, I took my frappuccino directly to Room 212 and signed up for after-school tutoring.

"When can you start?" the teacher asked after she saw that I'd checked off math and chemistry as areas of strength. "We're desperate for chemistry and math tutors."

"Today," I answered.

"Wonderful!" She put out her hand. "I'm Mrs. Huffington. Delighted to have you on board, Evangeline."

I shook hands and left, and immediately ran into Tatiana Phillips.

"Evangeline?" She blushed. "Wow. You look really...different."

I couldn't seem to find any words.

"I...I'm sorry you didn't come out for volleyball this year."

"Not your fault," I managed.

"Thanks," she said, and she seemed relieved. Not in a phony, dramatic way. More like she'd been secretly holding her breath and could finally let it go. "I'm sorry," she said, looking down, "about everything."

I nodded. "The whole thing stinks."

"You're telling me." She glanced at me. "Is your mom taking him back?"

I don't know why, but I rolled my eyes and gave a goofy smirk. "I sure hope not."

She laughed. "Parents, huh?"

I laughed, too. "Exactly."

"We missed you on the team this year," she said, and her eyes looked soft and a little sad.

I snorted. "Oh, right. You missed me all the way to league championship!" Then I added, "Congratulations, by the way."

She nodded. "Thanks." Then suddenly she shot forward and gave me a hug. "Please come out next year," she whispered.

All at once my chin quivered, my eyes stung, and my throat totally closed up.

I couldn't speak, but I could still nod, and I could hug her back.

So that's what I did.

52

An Unexpected Kindness

R
OBBIE
M
ARSHALL WAS STANDING OUTSIDE OF MATH
when I arrived. It being Tuesday, I couldn't help but notice his pumped-up arms. Biceps the size of softballs, triceps like fleshy mountain ridges.

He was, without question, sizzling hot.

He tugged out his ear buds when he saw me coming and pressed off his iPod. "I downloaded some Stevie Ray last night. He's awesome!"

I stopped cold. All of a sudden I was back in the intersection with my father. All of a sudden coffee for breakfast didn't feel like such a good idea. All of a sudden I was just
shaky.

"Evangeline?" Robbie asked, stepping forward.

"Please," I said weakly. "Please don't ever mention Stevie Ray Vaughn again."

"But--"

"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't make sense."

He looked crushed, and I felt bad, but I wasn't about to explain.

Robbie followed me inside and took his seat, too, but I avoided looking at him. As other people filed in, I went through the motions of preparing for class. Planner out. Homework out. Pencil out. Book out. Then I tried to look busy, even though I had nothing left to do.

"Psst!"

It was Robbie, leaning across Sandra Herrera's desk.

I shook my head and didn't look over.

"Pssssst!" he said louder.

How annoying did he want to be?

I flashed him an angry look, which softened immediately when I saw that he was trying to give me something.

A small, crisp, white paper sack.

"I got these for you," he whispered.

I probably should have refused the gift, but it's hard not to take something that's being held out to you.

So I took the sack.

There was a box inside.

A little white cardboard box.

I gave him a puzzled look.

Robbie Marshall may have arms of steel and diamond-encrusted teeth, but the smile that danced across his face was boyish and very shy. "Open it."

Sandra Herrera appeared as the tardy bell rang, putting a human screen between us. And as Mrs. Fieldman clapped her hands and called, "Settle down--we've got lots to cover today!" I peeked inside the little white box.

Robbie Marshall had brought me chocolates.

53

Avoiding Sweets

"H
E BROUGHT YOU
CHOCOLATES
?" Adrienne gasped when I showed them to her at break.

"I tried to give them back, but he wouldn't take them."

"Are you going to go out with him?"

I shook my head.

"Are you going to
eat
them?" she asked, staring at the box.

I shook my head again. "I'm not sure."

"I'll help you," she offered, a mischievous grin dancing across her face.

They were still unopened at lunchtime, unlike the gossip circuit. Word had been transmitted to Sunshine, who found me in the Snack Shack line and immediately began short-circuiting. "I just want to know if it's true," she said, her eyes sparking.

"Probably not," I replied. "Especially if you heard it at school."

"Quit being clever and just tell me!" She glanced over her shoulder, one way, then the other. "If he brought you chocolates, I'm going to kill him!"

I moved forward with the line. "Then he most definitely did not bring me chocolates."

"He did, didn't he! You're not going, 'Chocolates? What chocolates?' You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

I sighed and said, "Look, Sunshine. Robbie and I are not going out. Stu and I are not going out. You can have either of them or both of them. I don't care."

For some reason, this totally popped her fuse. "He never brought
me
chocolates. Ever. And I did a lot more to deserve them than you!"

I resisted the obvious and very tempting retort and instead said, "Can you take it up with him? Because this conversation is making me lose my appetite, and I've really been looking forward to a half-frozen bean burrito all day."

She took a step back and stared at me. "You are
weird.
Just
weird.
"

I nodded. "Well. I'm glad we've cleared that up."

She made a strangled-sounding noise and stormed off.

After I bought lunch, I set off to find Adrienne, but in the process I ran into Eddie Pasco.

"Hey," he said, looking at me with bedroom eyes. "I had a dream about you last night."

"Aaah!" I cried, bolting past him.

With a laugh, he followed me, footing his soccer ball along as he went. "It was a great dream...."

"I don't want to hear about it!"

"Sure you do."

"No! I don't!"

Trevor Dansa was coming toward us. Trevor Dansa with the khaki Dockers, polo shirt, and 4.0. Trevor Dansa, whom I'd known since seventh grade, whom I'd done science fair projects and PowerPoint presentations with. Conservative,
sober,
and moderately handsome Trevor Dansa.

Eddie was grinning at me as his feet spun and toed and caressed his soccer ball. "There was honey involved." One eyebrow arched in my direction. "Do you like honey?"

That was it. I didn't want to imagine him and me and honey! And I should probably have run or ducked into the girls' bathroom, but instead I grabbed Trevor Dansa by his polo shirt buttons...and kissed him.