Confessions of a Serial Kisser (22 page)

75

Roadblocked

A
S IT TURNS OUT
, my mother had also ditched. Seeing her in the kitchen startled me, but I tried to act nonchalant as I said, "Oh, hi."

"Oh, hi," she said evenly, then immediately called my dad. "She's here." She kept the conversation brief, then looked at me and said, "I got an automated call from the school this morning, informing me that you were absent."

They did that? They had no system for stopping mass murderers or drug dealers from traipsing around campus, but they had automated attendance security?

What kind of insane priorities did our school have?

"Oh, God," I said with an exasperated sigh as I hurled down my book bag. "Does everything always have to be such a downer?"

She ignored my question and instead crossed her arms and said, "Adrienne also called, looking for you. She thought you might be sick."

I rolled my eyes and plopped into a chair.

"I asked her what was going on with you, and I finally got it out of her."

"Oh?" I gave a little squint. "So tell me--what
is
going on with me?"

"Apparently you've become a serial kisser."

"A
what
?"

"Those are her words, not mine."

"She called me a serial kisser?" I flipped my hands up and rolled my eyes. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! So I've kissed a few guys, so what?"

"Well, apparently your name is winding up on urinals, and boys are getting suspended on your behalf, and people are confused by your kisses."

"Oh,
God.
Why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut?"

"Because she cares about you, that's why!"

"She's
mad
at me, that's why! She's trying to get
back
at me, that's why!"

My mother took a deep breath and said, "Tell me where you've been all day. Have you been out kissing people?"

I laughed because it was such a bizarre question. And really, would I say yes if I had been? "I was at Groove Records," I said. "Didn't kiss a soul."

"You were at Izzy's? All
day
?" She said it like she both didn't believe it and was afraid it might be true.

"All day," I said. "Izzy taught me how to play guitar."

She blinked at me, her mouth suddenly pinched into a little knot.

"See?" I said, sticking out my swollen and very pink fingertips.

The doorbell rang.

"Oh,
great,
" I grumbled. "I can't believe you called Dad. There's no way I'm talking to him." I sat up a little as she headed for the door. "I'm actually extra mad at him--why didn't
he
ever teach me how to play guitar?"

But it wasn't my dad. It was Adrienne. In tears. Flushed and hyperventilating. "You," she said, pointing a shaky finger at me, "are no longer my friend! I want nothing more to do with you or your psycho lips! You stay away from
me,
you stay away from my
brother,
and you stay away from Paxton!"

"Paxton?" my mother asked. "Who's Paxton?"

"The guy I'm in love with!" She turned to me and screamed, "You knew I was crazy about him and you
kissed
him!"

"I
didn't
know!" I cried. "Adrienne! I--"

She left, slamming the door, so I charged after her.

Unfortunately, I found myself roadblocked by my dad.

76

The Clash

I
T TOOK TEN MINUTES
of struggling and screaming and trying to get out the door before I finally gave up. Adrienne was long gone, and something about my parents fighting together against
me
completely wore me out.

And while I was panting in a chair, trying to recover, my mother told my dad everything Adrienne had told her.

"A serial kisser?" he said, looking at me in disbelief. "Good God."

I glowered at him. "Quite the puritanical reaction from someone who's cheated on his wife."

"Stop that, Evangeline!" my mother commanded. "His behavior doesn't justify yours! His behavior doesn't have anything to
do
with yours!"

The room fell deadly quiet, which my dad fixed by saying, "Does it? Is this your way of acting out against your mother and me for getting back together? Because if it is, it's not going to change anything. Your mother and I are working things out, and--"

"And that's something most kids would be thrilled about," my mom said, her eyes pleading. "Honey, most kids whose parents split up
want
them to get back together; to be a family again. If I can forgive him, that should be the end of it!"

The whole earth seemed to spin for a moment as I finally figured out what was wrong with her logic. I blinked at them both, then slowly rose to my feet. "This is
not
about just the two of you! It quit being about the two of you when you had
me.
It's about the three of us." I turned to my dad and said, "It's about the trust
I
had in you. About the faith
I
had in you. About the belief
I
had that I was your 'angel' and that you would always be there for me!" My chin was quivering and my eyes were brimming. "You told me, you
promised
me, that you would be and I believed you. Idiot that I was, I believed you!"

I bolted into my room and wedged my chair up against the knob. Then I threw myself onto my bed and sobbed my heart out.

77

Puffy Eyes

T
HE NEXT MORNING
I woke up wiped out, with horribly puffy eyes. "Oh, great," I moaned into the bathroom mirror, then staggered into the kitchen to retrieve the herbal compress.

My mother and father were at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.

"Oh, great," I moaned again, yanking open the refrigerator.

"Ready to talk?" my mom asked calmly, her coffee mug poised at chin level.

I grabbed the compress and staggered back to my room. "I'm not going to school," I said flatly.

"Then we're not going to work," my mother said. "We'll be right here when you decide you'd like to try to talk this out."

I staggered back to my room and fell asleep for about an hour, but when I peeked out my bedroom door, they were still there.

Once again I felt trapped. And I considered escaping through the window, but where would I go? My eyes made me a one-woman freak show. Once upon a time I would have run straight to the Willows', but that fairy tale had come to an abrupt (and unexpectedly tragic) end.

So I stayed put. And I didn't actually spend much time brooding about my parents. What was the use? They were going to do what they wanted to do.

Adrienne was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I had to find some way to explain things to her. I hadn't set out to kiss her true love first. I wasn't a back stabber with psycho lips! I was her best friend!

But in the pit of my stomach I didn't feel like a best friend.

And as I sat trapped in my room, it occurred to me that all this heartache might be for something that didn't even exist. What if there was no such thing as a perfect kiss? What if it was some unattainable ideal that only existed in movies and between the covers of a book?

But
Adrienne
was real. Her friendship had been real. She'd been there for me through everything! I couldn't imagine my life without her.

No, I had to find some way to explain.

I had to apologize.

I had to fix things!

But she was at school, and I wasn't about to go there with my insanely puffy eyes. So I sat down at my desk and wrote her a note. A letter, actually. I explained everything and told her how sorry I was, and how much I appreciated what a great friend she'd been and how I'd do anything to get her to forgive me.

After reading it over, I realized that it was disjointed and rambling, and that I'd forgotten to say a few things.

I'd just begun rewriting it when my father came into my room. "What do you say we all take a walk?"

I looked over at him. "What do you say you walk yourself right out of my room?"

My mother was next. "Please, honey, you need to come out here and talk."

"No, I don't," I told her.

Around eleven-thirty my father tried again, this time bringing with him a sandwich flanked with apple slices.

I gave him a searing look. "What makes you think you can just come in here?"

He sat down anyway and tried to talk, but I ignored him and his pathetic peace offering. Finally he went away.

I rewrote Adrienne's letter four times. I kept adding things, changing things. And when I'd completed the fourth rewrite, I discovered that I'd absentmindedly eaten most of the sandwich and apple slices. "Moron," I grumbled. And because I was obsessing to the point where I had eaten the enemy's food, I declared the letter to be good enough. I folded it, origami-style, into the shape of an envelope, wrote Adrienne's name on the outside, and put it in my pocket. Then very quietly I wedged my desk chair up against my doorknob, and for the first time in my life I escaped my parents through a window.

78

Jagged Halves

I
T MADE NO SENSE
to go to the Willows' house and wait. School was in session for another two hours, and afterward Adrienne would (most likely) have stories to cover or songs to sing. So despite my bedraggled state, I walked to school and waited for Adrienne outside her fifth-period class. I made no eye contact with anyone. I just stood by, my heart beating faster and faster as the end of class neared.

When Adrienne appeared, she threw her nose in the air and marched past me. "Here," I said, falling in step beside her. "Please read this."

She refused to take the letter.

So I forced it on her, and her response was to rip it in half.

"Nothing you can say will make this better," she said, and threw the halves at me.

I watched in disbelief as she walked off. We'd been friends,
sisters
our whole lives. How could she not even read what I had to say? I'd spent the entire day agonizing over it, and in one measly second it was in jagged halves at my feet.

I picked up the pieces, licked my wounds a moment, then left school.