Greg's lips were only millimeters away from mine. My face tensed up as I squeezed my eyes shut and pursed my lips in a tight, awkward pucker. In the final second before Greg's lips touched mine, the front door hinge made a high, squeaky sound that caught the attention of everyone in the room, especially Greg and me. I looked up and over Greg's big head to see that standing in the doorway with an expression of horror worse than my own, was Jess.
Jess was panting and out of breath. His face was red, and it was apparent that he had sprinted here from his house. He looked at me in total shock then slammed the door behind him. "What's going on here, Gemma?"
I was stunned silent. I couldn't have said a word even if I had something to say, which I didn't.
Jess continued, "Why are these people here?" He waved his hand around the room, never taking his eyes off of me.
"Dude, Jess," Greg piped in. He was still holding my hand in his. "It's just a party. There's no reason to be so upset about it."
Jess's gaze turned to Greg, his eyes blistering with anger. "Just
a party, Greg? And I'm sure that red liquid in your cup is just fruit punch."
Greg let go of my hand and looked down at the cup he was holding.
"It is fruit punch, Jess," I spoke for the first time since Jess entered the scene. "What else would it be?"
Greg looked at me with big eyes like a puppy that had just made an accident on the carpet.
Jess ignored my question, but his attention was now turned to me. "Were you actually going to kiss him?"
I moved my lips, searching for the best explanation, but I was too embarrassed to tell him the truth.
Jess turned his head back to Greg. "Do you know how old she is?" Jess stepped closer to Greg. I was surprised that they were the same height.
"She's sixteen. Today is her birthday." Greg's voice sounded strange when he wasn't yelling above a noisy crowd.
"She goes to school with your little sister. You really think she's sixteen?"
Jess was angry, and everyone in the room felt his fury. There wasn't a face in the crowd that wasn't listening intently to what he was saying. Greg was stunned. For the first time that night, he didn't have anything to say.
"She's fifteen!" Jess spat it out of his mouth as if he were calling me a whore or an adulterer. Greg looked quickly at me then down at his cup. Jess waited for a response, but when none was given, he turned to the rest of the crowd. "Everyone, out!" There wasn't too much more that could shock me after the events that had taken place that night. But I was floored with everyone's reaction to Jess's command. Everybody in the room scattered toward the door with hardly a word. The house was empty within seconds. I hadn't moved from my place on the step, and Jess was still standing in the same place as well. Drew had moved toward the door but stayed standing just inside it, holding onto her coat. Bridget had come out of her room upstairs and was watching us all from over the banister. The vaulted ceilings over the front room allowed her to have a bird's eye view of everything that was going on. I wished so badly that I was up where she was instead of down here.
Jess's anger filled face expression softened slightly. "Are you okay, Gem?"
I nodded slowly, biting my bottom lip in an effort not to cry.
"What happened? Why were all those people here? Do you even know any of them?"
Jess's assumption-no matter how true it was-that I wouldn't know who any of those "popular" people were jabbed at the core of my chest. I was so angry at him for barging in and making me look like a fool in front of all those people. I stormed down the bottom step, past Jess, and into the kitchen, where I started angrily emptying the clean dishes out of our dishwasher. Jess followed me into the kitchen. "Gem, I don't know what's going on, but you really put yourself into a dangerous situation here."
I banged the pots and pans together loudly as I inserted a clean pot into the cupboard.
"There was alcohol in those cups, Gemma. Alcohol! Every person in here was underage. And you are way underage!"
My chest heaved with anger as I practically chucked all the clean Tupperware into the rotisserie. Jess had walked around the counter and was standing right next to the dishwasher, so I had to dodge him every time I turned to put something away. For a moment I wondered about Drew and Bridget but figuredif they were still around-that they had intelligently decided to stay out of the fight.
"And the image of you and Greg-almost kissing!" Jess grabbed his head as if he had a terrible headache. "I'll never be able to get that image out of my mind! Seriously, Gemma, were you really going to kiss him?"
I was emptying the utensil tray now, not even paying attention to making sure each utensil got in its correct slot. I couldn't look Jess in the eye. I had never felt such anger and resentment toward him-or anybody for that matter-in my whole life.
"How did all those people get here anyway? Did you actually invite them?"
"That's it!" I yelled while slamming a plastic pitcher on the counter in front of me. "You have absolutely no right to be saying those things!"
Jess looked shocked, but I didn't care.
"You say I shouldn't hang out with those people? You say I shouldn't have alcohol at my parties! But tell me this, Jess, how did Greg Markoviak-someone who is obviously a partier-know who you are?" I slammed the empty dishwasher door closed and folded my arms across my chest.
Jess's tone was cautious and slow. "What are you talking about?"
My tone was opposite, hyper and fast. "Drew said that you're a partier. That you hang out with people that drink and do all sorts of bad stuff." I relaxed my arms and took a deep breath. "I didn't believe her at first, but now I don't know what to think!" I could feel the cruelty in my voice. I had never dreamed of speaking to Jess this way. I had never dreamed of feeling such animosity toward him.
"You believe Drew?" His words were soft and even.
"Yes."
"The same Drew who invited her brother and all of his drunk friends over here to take advantage of you?"
I felt defensive, for Drew or myself, I wasn't sure. "That's not true." Or was it?
"The same Drew who told everyone it was your sixteenth birthday?"
I was stunned silent.
"Yeah, I can see how you would trust Drew. She's proven herself to be a truly loyal friend." His words were drenched in sarcasm.
"Why would she lie about you being a partier?"
"How would I be at parties on the weekends when I'm always here, with you?" Jess suddenly looked tired. He brushed his fingers through his hair, but he was still looking at me in the eyes. "If you can't trust the person you've been friends with for most your life, what makes you suddenly so keen on trusting a girl you've known for a month?"
I didn't have an answer for him. I stood in front of him, holding onto the dishwasher handle, feeling unsure about everything. My house had never sounded so quiet. It was a shameful silence.
"I should go." He sounded serious but not angry.
"Why didn't you tell me that you knew who she was?" I asked angrily as a last attempt to win the conversation.
"Who?" He cringed with exhaustion.
"You knew that Greg was Drew's brother, so you must have known when I was talking about her for the past couple months who she was. Why didn't you warn me? Why didn't you tell me the Markoviaks are trouble?"
Jess sadly lifted his shoulders then dropped them in defeat. "I don't know. I guess I wanted to let you figure things out for yourself."
I let both of my arms flop in the air and slap against my sides. "Well that would be a first!"
Jess shook his head and turned to walk out of the kitchen. He had almost disappeared behind the wall that led to the front door when he turned and looked at me. "I'm always here, Gemma." Jess's eyes were glued to mine. "With you."
I swallowed hard as I felt the salt of tears filling the crevices behind my eyes. I watched him step out of sight. I listened to him close the front door as he left. Then I allowed the tears to flow down my cheeks.
My Parents got home late the next afternoon from their trip. They both smelled like an airport terminal as they breezed happily from the garage into the kitchen, where Bridget and I were both making dinner. We thought it would be a good idea to kiss up to them as much as possible in case one of the neighbors mentioned the number of strange cars outside our house the night before.
Bridget was a beautiful faker. She lied perfectly when my parents asked her how everything went while they were gone.
"Fine." She yawned. "Not much happened. It was kind of boring, actually."
My parents bought it easily. After all, why should they have any reason to doubt? Neither one of their daughters had done so much as stayed out past curfew since we were old enough to have a curfew. We were basically the easiest kids a parent could ask for, most of the time.
All through dinner my parents gabbed about their trip. Dad had a meeting the first morning for work, and after that he had a vacation with my mom all paid for by his company. Mom's eyes were as big as baseballs as she whipped out gift after gift for Bridget and me that they had bought at the hotel and museums they'd gone to.
The more happy and easygoing my parents were, the more guilt-ridden and panicked I became. Bridget didn't seem to be fazed by the fact that we had blatantly lied to our parents. I, on the other hand, felt like the whole earth was spinning off its axis because of it. I stayed strong as long as I could, convincing myself that it was better for everyone in my family if my parents just never knew about it. It could be one of those funny stories I finally confessed about fifteen years down the road when I was safely married with three kids. We would all have a big laugh about it then.
But I did a terrible job convincing myself. I nearly vomited every time I was around my parents for the rest of the night, especially if either one of them looked me in the eye. It was nearly ten o'clock, and my parents were in their bedroom getting ready for bed. My dad had a toothbrush jammed halfway down his throat-he was a huge advocate of brushing until your gums bled-and my mom was sitting on the bed in her pajamas, flipping through an old Home Journal magazine. On any normal night at this time, I would breeze by their bedroom yelling a "goodnight and I love you," but tonight wasn't a normal night. Nothing about my life was normal so long as this lie was swirling around my head.
I stepped cautiously into their bedroom. "Hey!"
Mom looked up from her magazine. "Hi, honey." She looked back down and licked her finger to turn the page.
"So it sounds like you guys had a good trip," I said for the millionth time that night. We had been doing nothing but talking about their trip all evening.
Mom looked up at me with tired but kind eyes. I could hear my dad spitting toothpaste into the sink in their master bathroom. "Yes, we did. And everything was all right here?" I wasn't sure if she meant to make it sound like a question, but I felt like I needed to give her an answer.
I felt my palms starting to sweat, and I began swaying back and forth from the balls of my feet to my heels. "I actually need to talk to you guys about that."
Dad's attention was caught, and he walked into the bedroom, water still dripping from his chin.
"About what?" Mom closed her magazine and set it on the nightstand. I had their undivided attention, and suddenly I was scared to death.
"Remember how you told me I could have two friends over last night?"
They both watched me carefully, not saying a word.
"Well, for about a half hour there were more like thirty people here."
Both of their eyes bulged out from their eyelids. "Thirty people? Here?" My mom squinted her eyes at me as though she was having a hard time seeing.
I grimaced and nodded my head. "Drew thought it would be fun to have a fake birthday party for me."
"A fake birthday?" Mom asked. She actually sounded calm.
"Who's Drew?" Dad asked.
"It's Gemma's new friend at school," Mom answered him, but she was still staring at me.
"Yeah, she wanted to have a birthday party, but none of us have birthdays in March, so she wanted to see how many people would come here if we told them it was my birthday."
Both of my parents rolled their eyes.
"I know, I know," I continued. "In hindsight it seems totally obvious that a whole bunch of people would show up because Drew is so popular. But at the time I just couldn't believe that anyone would go to a birthday party for me! Nobody knows me. I feel so invisible when I'm at school!" Okay, I admit that at this point I was desperately attempting to make my parents feel sorry for me to ease the punishment, but it really wasn't that far from the truth.
"So you told Drew that it was okay to invite all her friends here while we were gone." My mom was not smiling, but her face was still her normal beige tone, so I took that as a good sign.
"No! She said that we should each just invite one person, she and Carmen and I, and we would see what happened from there. The person that Carmen invited didn't even come!"
"Who did you invite?" Dad chimed in. He was now flossing his teeth. It was so like Dad to get caught in a random and unnecessary detail.
"No one." And that was the truth. I didn't have anyone to invite.
Mom was sitting straight up in her bed, her arms folded over her chest, and her lips taught. "And let me guess, Drew told the most popular kid in school, and he and his buddies all showed up?"
She was getting good at this. I nodded.
"Why were they only here for a half hour?" I could barely understand Dad, as he was talking again with two fingers and a string of floss in his mouth.
My head was bowed so low that I was speaking straight into my chest, "Jess came over and kicked everyone out."
Dad scratched the top of his head and tossed his floss in the trash can.
Mom was still except for one eyebrow that lifted high enough to reach her hairline. "I'm disappointed in you, Gemma."
That was the sentence I had been dreading all day, and my mom said it best. She was disappointed in me. It wasn't a big surprise, but it sounded terrible said out loud.
I wanted her to yell at me. I wanted her to tell me I was grounded for a year. But she just stared at the air between us, looking older than I had ever seen her look before.
"Thank you for telling us the truth. Your father and I will talk about what we think will be the best consequence for your actions, and we'll talk to you about it tomorrow." She didn't ease off from her seriousness for a moment. She was perfect at being firm. She scared the heck out of me.
I mumbled a good night and closed their door behind me. My heart was beating incredibly fast as I walked down the hall toward my room.
"Hey, loser," I heard Bridget's voice as I passed her room. I knew she was talking to me. I stopped and peeked around her half-opened door as she grumbled, "Get in here." I pushed the door open and walked up to the edge of her bed stand. She was sitting in her bed just like my mom, reading a big textbook. Her room was covered with Yale paraphernalia. Hanging from her walls were posters, banners, an old vintage sweater, the works. She had wanted to go to Yale to study law since she was born. She was definitely the intelligent one out of us two sisters.
"What?" I muttered the way a defensive little sister does to her big sister who just called her a loser.
"Since you're going to be doing my chores for the next year, I thought you might as well get started now by taking my dirty clothes down to the laundry room. Make sure you separate the darks from the whites."
I looked at her in amazement. "You heard me in there?"
"This house isn't that big, Gemma." She was looking at her textbook again. She and Mom were so much alike, except that Mom was caring and loving and kind.
"They won't get mad at you," I whined. "I'm the one they can't trust."
She snorted. "Oh trust me, I'm in trouble. Big trouble. You think they're going to see past the fact that there were thirty kids in the house while I was upstairs in my room minding my own business?" She snorted again. "No way. I'
m probably in it deeper than you are. Not that I care. I'll be out of this house and living in the dorms in five months, but we made a deal and you're doing my chores-for a year."
I scowled. "You just said that you won't even be here for a year."
"Yeah, but all my things that I leave behind will need dusting. And I'll come home now and again with dirty laundry-that should give you plenty to do." She dipped her nose back into her book. I huffed and left her room. When I got to my room, it was dark. I didn't want to turn on the lights. I stood in the blackness for a minute, contemplating the whole weekend and how things had changed so dramatically in twenty-four hours. My parents couldn't trust me. My sister was my new master. Jess, my best friend, hated me and probably wouldn't ever talk to me again. And Drew, my only friend at school, who also probably wouldn't talk to me again after last night, was turning out to be not such a good friend after all. Life had been so much simpler a few months ago. I silently wished to be able to go back to that time.
I was still standing motionless between my closed door and my bed when I heard a small tap at my window. I darted out of my room so quickly that I forgot to switch on the light for a signal. I had been dying inside for the past twenty-four hours that we hadn't spoken to each other. I closed the back door carefully and tiptoed on the cold grass until I saw Jess staring up at my window with a handful of small rocks in his hand.
"Hey," I spoke cautiously. I was suddenly not sure if he had come to make peace with me or to reprimand me some more.
Jess was startled, but he looked happy to see me. He dropped the rocks in the flowerbed and walked toward me. "I didn't think you were going to come down."
I looked up at my window then back to him again. "I'm sorry for last night," I said. "I was mad about the dumb party and... "
Jess stepped toward me and placed the top of his index finger on my lips. "I didn't come here for an apology," he whispered. He was standing so close to me that I could feel his cool, minty breath on my cheeks.
"Why did you come then?" I asked when he lowered his finger from my mouth.
He didn't blink once as he stared at me with his crystal blue eyes, searching for what he wanted to say. When he finally spoke, his words were distinct and exaggerated, "I hate seeing you with other guys. When I walked in on you and Greg, about to kiss... " He shook his head at the memory. "... I went ballistic. I overreacted. I'm sorry."
Second Kiss Page 13
