Second Kiss (4 page)

The garage door opened again, but this time it was Bridget. She had just gotten her driver’s license, and she made a huge scene when she came through the garage door, reminding us that she was now a licensed driver. She was barely inside when my dad asked, “Is the car still in one piece?”

“Ha, ha,” Bridget answered sarcastically as she tossed her purse on the kitchen table. She flung the car key ring around her index finger a few times before placing it carefully on the key holder. “Dad, you would be amazed at how good of a driver I am. I think I’m ready to drive my friends to Atlanta for spring break.” She gave him a hopeful smile waiting for his answer.

Dad snorted through his nose. “Bridget, you might as well not get your hopes up because the first time you drive to Atlanta will be in your own car with your own insurance when you’re twenty-five.” Bridget moaned, and Dad chuckled into the junk mail that he was hastily scanning.

“Oh, Bridge!” Mom practically whistled as she handed me four placemats. “Don’t put those keys away too soon. I need you to take Gemma to her piano lesson as soon as we’re done eating.” Mom’s newfound indulgence of ditching the drive-Gemmaaround chore to Bridget was my newfound drudgery. I buried my head into my arms on the counter and whimpered a muffled cry into my hands.

“I hate driving with Bridget! I got so sick the last time I rode in the car with her that I had to roll the window down.” Bridget walked past me and smeared her hand down the front of my face. I pulled away from her and scowled as she stole a cucumber out of the salad. Mom was obviously too enthralled with her cooking to be swayed by my pleadings, so I turned to my dad. “Dad! You have to hear me out! Piano lessons are bad enough without feeling nauseous by the time you get there!”

Bridget stuck her tongue out at me.

“Just keep your window rolled down, Gemma. The fresh air will do you good.” From my dad, the optimist.

`I walked to the kitchen window and tore open the drapes. “It looks like it’s going to snow!” I said infuriatingly. “I’ll catch pneumonia!” Dad was still looking at the mail. How he managed to pay attention to our conversations and read his mail at the same time was beyond me. Eventually he looked at Mom, who was grating cheese into the salad. “How did we manage to conceive such a drama queen?”

A drama queen? Maybe I was overreacting a little. I mean, Bridget’s driving wasn’t that bad. But I just couldn’t bring myself to be calm about the Valentine’s dance. Maybe it was just a stupid dance. And maybe I was being dramatic. But at that moment I simply couldn’t imagine life getting any worse.

I looked down at My dress as I stood awkwardly outside the doors of my school’s gymnasium. The bottom ruffle by my knees was wrinkled from sitting on it all day in classes, and I wasn’t sure if my flat red shoes matched the red in my skirt. It seemed a little off. Clarissa and Nina had insisted that they go into the bathroom to look at themselves in the mirror before going into the dance. The noise coming from the girl’s bathroom was loud, and I could smell hairspray all the way out in the hall. I wasn’t about to go in there. So I stood by myself, gazing nervously through the open doors that led to the big room full of giggling teenagers and blaring music.

The gymnasium, which was the size of one full basketball court, was stripped of all of its athleticism. The main lights were off, and the only lighting came from a pink, blue, and green disco ball at the front of the room near the disk jockey table. Crepe paper and balloons-the same style that had been in the hall all week-hung from the ceiling and doors. In fact, it looked like the ninth-grade activities committee had just stripped the halls of all their decorations and hastily taped them all over the gymnasium. I tried to sigh, but I was too nervous to catch a full breath. I was starting to feel nauseous when Clarissa and Nina appeared at my sides.

“Ready?” Clarissa asked with a bubbly voice. This was just the sort of thing that she had been waiting all year for. It had the opposite effect on me. I couldn’t stop thinking about Trace and the last dance. I hadn’t seen him yet, and I was glad. Maybe he wasn’t here. Maybe he had gotten permission to check out early. A flash of relief and disappointment swept through me.

Clarissa and Nina each took one of my hands as we walked carefully through the opened double doors. I’m sure we looked utterly insecure and dorky. But that’s exactly what we were. The room was huge, but it seemed even bigger being crammed with three hundred seventh, eighth, and ninth graders. Most of the ninth graders were crowded up front by the disco ball. I spotted a few kids that I recognized as eighth graders standing in the middle talking, and it was obvious that the seventh graders were the small kids lined up against the surrounding walls. I was about to go take a place beside them when Clarissa started leading our little trio to the front of the room. I anchored my feet to the wood floor.

“Where are you taking us?” I asked between my teeth, my eyes wide with horror.

Clarissa looked at me with disgust. “There is no way we are staying back here with all the lame eighth graders.”

“But we are lame eighth graders!” I rebutted.

“Gemma!” Clarissa stomped her foot. “You cannot expect to dance the last dance with anyone if you don’t get out there and show them what you can do!”

“But I can’t do anything! I don’t know how to dance or shimmy or even sway side to side without looking like an idiot!”

Clarissa rolled her eyes and looked at Nina. “This seriously should have come up before today.” She looked back at me. “Just do what I do and you’ll be fine.” She then pulled me harder than I was expecting, and I stumbled forward, towing quiet Nina behind me.

Clarissa led us straight past the scattered eighth graders and into the squashed group of ninth graders at the front of the room. We bumped into a different person every step we took. I could feel their eyes blaring into my skull, and I knew they were wondering why a group of eighth graders-and not even cool eighth graders at that-were invading their personal space.

“Who invited the beanie babies?” a loud male voice boomed from somewhere in the crowd. I knew he was referring to us, and so did everyone else who stared at us in silence. I was too afraid to look toward the voice that sounded much too old to belong to a junior high student. I stopped breathing completely. I wanted to turn around and run out the back door and not look behind me until I was safely outside the school boundaries. But then I heard a familiar voice. “Leave them alone, Conrad.” I turned around, and so close to me I could hear him breathing was my Jess. I was so happy to see him I could hardly contain myself. But I had to stay cool. Screaming and giving him a big hug like I wanted wouldn’t help either one of our reputations. Thankfully, Jess didn’t care much about his. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Hey.”

Conrad let out a loud, mocking, “Ha! Dating an eighth grader, are we, Tyler?” He flashed his white teeth at the crowd forming around us then glared back at Jess. “I would have thought someone like you would set your standards a little higher than that.”

Jess kept his hand on my shoulder as he turned toward Conrad. He wasn’t flustered in the least. “I wouldn’t let it bother you, Conrad. I’m sure there will be a girl left for you.” He lifted his shoulders. “And then you’ll have a whole new set of things to worry about.” And with that Jess looked away, as though Conrad was no more than a helpless mouse.

Conrad watched us skeptically before growing bored and turning back into the crowd. I looked at Jess, bewildered. I had never seen him like this. I mean he talked smack to me all the time. But we were just joking around. I didn’t know he talked that way to big, burly guys named Conrad. I looked around at the ninth graders standing around us. I couldn’t help but notice the way all the girls looked at him with their flirting eyes-willing him to look at them. I looked back at Jess, who was oblivious to their pining.

I was about to speak when Clarissa let go of my hand and shimmied her way between Jess and me, knocking his hand loose from my shoulder.

“Hey, Jess!” Clarissa spoke in an unnaturally high voice. “Thanks for bailing us out. You made that guy look like a total idiot!”

Jess’s face turned downward, and he almost looked concerned. He looked back toward the direction that Conrad went. “Conrad’s not such a bad guy.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re such a bad guy either.” Clarissa shifted her hips so that she stood closer to Jess. I watched him carefully as Clarissa shamelessly flirted. He looked confused.

As a slow song started over the speakers, Clarissa reached up and twirled her index finger in Jess’s hair. “Do you want to dance?”

My jaw dropped to the floor. What was she doing? And how was she doing it? I have to say the only person on the dance floor who looked more disorientated than me was Jess. He clearly did not see that coming.

“Uh, well,” he cleared his throat and stumbled over a few more words, “sure.”

My feet felt like they were cemented to the ground as Jess and Clarissa stepped away from the tightly packed group so they could dance. Jess glanced back at me and pulled a face before they faded into the darker area of the gymnasium. I continued to watch as Clarissa wrapped her arms much too tightly around Jess’s neck, and he awkwardly placed his hands on her waist. I hated seeing them together. I hated it when she let her head fall back with laughter at whatever he was saying, and I hated watching him grip her waist tighter when she nearly tripped over his shoe. I couldn’t figure out why I was so angry at them. I was the one who wanted them to dance. I was the one who set this whole thing up! And now it was taking everything I had to not pounce on them and tear their hands from each other like a referee in a boxing match.

The song was over before I realized that I had stood in the same position, watching them through the entire song. I quickly shifted my gaze to the disco ball as they made their way back to Nina and me.

A moment later Nina leaned in behind me and whispered in a fluttery sing-song voice, “Trace incoming.” The sound of his name made me panic, and my breath caught at the bottom of my throat. I wanted to rewind back to the beginning of the week and tell Clarissa-stupid Clarissa!-that I did not want to dance with Trace, and she could not ask him if he liked me. That stupid deal! To think that the only thing I was getting out of this was Clarissa asking Jess to dance-the very scene that just made me want to puke!

When Clarissa and Nina stepped away to decide how to approach Trace, I stole a glance at him standing against the far wall. He was wearing a dark blue dress shirt with a silver tie and black slacks. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a GQ magazine. But other than his suit, he looked exactly the same. He didn’t need to make a special effort for the dance, I thought; he just always looked dreamy.

Jess must have seen me looking at him. “There’s Prince Charming. I was wondering when we were going to get this show on the road.”

“I’m glad you’re getting a kick out of watching my dignity being flushed down the toilet.”

“Just tell Clarissa and Nina that you don’t want them to do it. They’re your friends. They’ll respect that.”

I shook my head. “It’s too late. We had a deal, and Clarissa has already done her part of the deal.”

“What was her part of the deal?” We both looked at Clarissa, who looked as if she didn’t have a worry in the world. “I have the feeling that her side of the deal was a bit easier than yours.”

I felt sweat building up underneath my armpits. “It was so easy for her. She just walked right up and asked you to dance, like it was no big deal.”

Jess’s eyes widened. “What? You told Clarissa she could do all of this to you if she would just ask me to dance?”

I couldn’t do anything but nod.

“Wow, if I would have known she was asking out of obligation, I would have said no. She has so much hairspray on that I swear it is sticking to the walls of my lungs.” Jess let out a fake cough.

“I’m so sorry,” I started. “It was a stupid bet and I shouldn’t have gotten you in the middle of it.”

Jess’s fake coughing turned into a smothered bout of laughter.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” He stopped laughing. “How could I be mad? You are basically hyperventilating over here because Clarissa and Nina are going to tell Trace you like him, all because you thought you were helping me dance with a girl that you thought I liked. How could I be mad at you for that?” Jess cleared a stray eyelash from my cheek. “I don’t deserve a friend as good as you.”

Jess’s closeness eased my nerves, and I felt my breathing slowing down to a more even pace. I almost forgot the whole terrible situation going on around me when Jess looked over my head and said, “Uh-oh.”

I twisted around to face what he was looking at. Through the crowd I saw Clarissa and Nina, standing in front of Trace Weston!

No! I yelled in my head, but no word came out of my mouth. I wanted to scream, but it was too late. The damage was being done, and there was nothing that I could do. But I didn’t have to watch. Without looking back at Jess, I bolted from the tight group of ninth graders and headed straight for the double doors that led to the hall. Without stopping, I went straight into the bathroom, which was still packed with giddy teenage girls and their disgustingly potent body sprays. I didn’t look at anyone as I shimmied my way into the stall farthest away from the door and locked the stall door behind me. How could this be happening to me? How did I let it get this far? I wanted to cry, but I didn’t let myself. I wasn’t wearing any makeup, so I didn’t have to worry about mascara smearing-a problem that I’d heard other girls had when they cried-but I couldn’t bear to face anyone at my first Valentine’s Dance with red, puffy eyes. When enough time had passed that I was sure the illusive conversation between Clarissa, Nina, and Trace was over, I allowed myself to open the squeaky pink stall door. I was now alone in the bathroom. I guessed that meant the dance was almost over. No one wanted to be in the bathroom for the last dance, just in case someone happened to ask them.