Second Kiss

by Natalie Palmer

  I was surprised by Jess's confession of jealousy. It was a con fession I had wanted him to make for such a long time, and now that he had, I wasn't quite sure what it meant. Did it mean that he wanted to kiss me? Or was it simply an explanation for his actions and nothing else? He was still standing so close to me, and he didn't take his eyes off mine for one moment. He raised his hand up once more and ever so gently rubbed the back of his fingers along the jaw line of my face. When his fingers reached my chin, he slowly dropped his hand and stepped away from me with a sigh. "Just for the record, why were you and Greg going to kiss in front of a room full of people?"

  I nearly got whip lash from Jess's new direction of conversation. I could have sworn five seconds ago that he was going to kiss me, and now he was asking about Greg? It took me a second to gather my thoughts. "I don't know. I don't think he was really going to kiss me."

  Jess looked confused. "It sure looked like he was going to kiss you from the angle that I was at."

  I skimmed my fingers through my hair, and a million tiny strands fell back around my face. "No, it was just a game. He bet me a quarter that he could kiss me without touching me."

  Jess looked up at the sky and rolled his eyes.

  "What?" I asked innocently.

  "The quarter kiss." Jess rubbed both of his hands over his face.

  "The quarter kiss?" I repeated. "There's a name for it?"

  "The guy bets the girl a quarter that he can kiss her without touching her-which is obviously impossible-then he kisses her, and when the kiss is over, he hands her the quarter since he lost the bet. So the girl gets a quarter, and the guy gets a kiss. It's stupid."

  I looked away from Jess toward the pale yellow siding on our house as the information registered in my brain. "It was a trick," I said as the events from the night before unfolded in my mind. I started breathing heavier as anger filled my lungs and then my cheeks. "He was going to take advantage of me in front of all of those people!" I began to huff, and I could feel my face getting hot.

  "Don't be too mad, Gemma. Greg's not such a bad guy; he just likes attention."

  "How do you know him, anyway?"

  Jess hesitated. "We kind of hang out with the same crowd."

  My mouth dropped open. "So Drew was right?"

  "It's not like we're good friends; we just happen to be friends with the same people."

  "Is he a sophomore like you?"

  "No, he's a senior."

  "A senior?" I was almost flattered to think that a senior in high school almost kissed me. But then I remembered the trick, and a wave of nausea passed over me. "He's two years older than you. I don't know anyone two years older than me."

  "That will change when you get into high school."

  "So all those people that were here last night-you know all of them too?"

  Jess took a deep breath. "It's not like they're assassins. They didn't know they were going to a fake birthday party."

  "But the alcohol in the punch! You knew it was there without even tasting it!" It was all coming together in my head now. "Do you go to a lot of parties with alcohol?"

  "You know me, Gemma. You know that I'm home with my mom and sisters on most weekend nights. And when I'm not with them, I'm with you. I don't go out and party with those people. But I'm friends with a lot of them at school. A lot of them are on my baseball team, and some of them are in my classes. They don't all drink, but some of them do. I can't tell them how to live their lives. I just stay away from that side of them. But I know that some of them do it, especially Greg. So when I saw the punch in his hand-I just knew. He's a nice guy; he's just got some messed up priorities."

  My arms were folded tightly over my chest by now, and I grunted as soon as Jess ended his speech. "Nice? I don't think a nice guy would trick a girl into kissing him."

  "You could have said no, Gem. You are partly to blame, as much as you'd like to be the victim in this situation."

  I thought about that for a minute. As much as it bugged me that he would claim that I wanted to be a victim, I kind of knew it was true.

  He continued, "And I was probably a bit rough with those things I said about Drew. She's living in the shadow of her brother, and it makes sense that she feels like she needs to do things that are as elaborate and as noticeable as he is. And besides, you could have said no to her too."

  I relaxed my shoulders and looked up at the night sky. "I could have said no to a lot of things."

  "But you didn't, so I said no for you."

  And that was how it had always been with me and Jess. He was the smart one, always ready to give me advice when I did something stupid. And I was the naive one, always ready to be saved. And I had to wonder if that's all we would ever be. Why hadn't he kissed me? Why was I always making such idiotic decisions? Why would Jess want to be with someone like me? Then it occurred to me that maybe Jess's closeness, his soft touches, and his long stares had absolutely nothing to do with him wanting a relationship. Maybe that was just his way of taking care of me.

  I fully expected to be mocked and scorned when I returned to school on Monday. But when everything seemed normal, I remembered that besides Drew and Carmen, everyone at my house on Friday night was in high school. That made me feel older than I was. I wasn't sure how things were between Drew and me. I wasn't sure if she was mad at me for the way the party turned out. I wasn't even sure if I was mad at her for the way it all turned out. I wanted to be mad at her, but just like Jess had said, she wasn't entirely to blame.

  "Hey!" I tried to sound as casual as possible as I approached Drew and Carmen at our locker before first period. Drew was emptying the contents of her backpack into the locker while Carmen carefully applied lip gloss in a portable mirror she held in her hand. Both of them seemed surprised to see me.

  "Hey," they both said simultaneously, though the emotion behind their greeting was lacking.

  I reached over Drew's head to grab my geometry book and asked how their weekends were. Neither of them answered me, but they watched me with careful eyes. I leaned up against the wall next to our locker and pretended not to notice. "It got warm this weekend. I can't wait for summer." Nice, I brought up the weather. Could I be any more awkward? But I had to say something.

  Drew looked at Carmen then back at me. "We don't think it's a good idea that you share our locker anymore."

  "Are you serious?" I stared at Drew with my entire face scrunched up around my eyes. She must have been joking. I thought she might be a little bothered about Friday night, but to entirely end our friendship? The whole stupid fake birthday party was her idea!

  "Things were just so weird the other night." Drew replied without looking at me.

  Then Carmen added, "It left a bad taste in our mouths." That was one of the first times Carmen had actually spoken to me directly.

  "You have got to be kidding me." I glared at Drew. "You're the one that came up with the fake birthday party. You're the one that invited half the high school. And you're the one that asked your brother to kiss me!" I was yelling now and slowly becoming aware of the passing students that were turning their heads toward the commotion.

  "You could have said no, Gem" Drew muttered into the stack of books she was holding against her chest.

  "Why does everyone keep telling me that? There were a ton of people around! Most of which were very good-looking high school boys! So I gave into peer pressure! I'm fifteen! It's my job to give into peer pressure!"

  Drew looked around the hall like she was bored with the conversation. "Sorry, Gem. It was just too ... weird."

  I glared hard at the side of her head. She may not have been able to see it, but I knew she could feel it. "Why did you even become friends with me? Was it so you could humiliate me? Did you just see me as an easy target to belittle and boost your selfesteem?" And at that moment I knew. I knew why she had started talking to me. I knew why she had made me her new best friend. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before. "You used me to get to Trace Weston, did
n't you?" Drew shifted her feet uncomfortably, and Carmen stood next to her like a bodyguard. "That's it, isn't it? You thought I was friends with him, and you thought you could get to him through me. Well, I've got news for you. Not only did you not get Trace, you just lost me!"

  Drew and Carmen stepped out of my way while I hastily pulled from the locker what belonged to me-two textbooks and an old granola bar. I slammed the locker shut and marched down the hall while Drew and Carmen watched with looks of shock plastered to their faces. When I was twenty feet down the hall, I turned around one last time.

  "And don't call me Gem!"

  I heard another bell ring, which meant first period was over. I wiped at my eyes and pulled myself together enough to be able to finally exit the stall. I made it to second period and then to third and onto the rest until the final bell rang. And then finally, I made it home. I stepped through our front door and clumsily dropped my backpack on the steps. The house was filled with its usual smells of my mom cooking in the kitchen, and I followed the smells until I got to the kitchen counter, where I fell heavily into the bar stool and waited for Mom to ask me what was wrong. She was stirring something in a pot on the stove, and it took her longer to speak than I had expected.

  "I'm worried about you." The words themselves made sense since I was basically having the worst week of my life, but the tone of her voice created a knot the size of Rhode Island in my stomach. She was mad.

  I lifted my head off the counter and watched the back of her as she stood motionless, staring into the pot in front of her. "What do you mean?" I needed an explanation. I was going crazy not knowing what would make her so angry that instead of yelling at me she was giving me something close to the silent treatment. We hadn't talked much since my confession to her the night before. She seemed pretty normal at breakfast, though she did mention that we were going to discuss the "consequences of my actions" tonight after dinner. But even then she didn't seem angry. Not like this.

  She turned around slowly as she rested the spoon on a plate next to the stove. She stared at me with cold, hard eyes as she lifted up her hands. She pointed to the index finger on her left hand with the index finger from her right. "First, you throw a party in our home when your father and I aren't in town and when we had specifically said you could only have two friends over." She paused and pointed to her middle finger. "Second, you snuck out of the house to go talk to Jess after you were already in trouble." She pointed to her ring finger next. "Then to top it all off I get a call from your principal-for the second time this year-telling me that you skipped first period today!" Her eyes were huge, and I could have sworn I saw a blood vessel pop in her forehead. "Is there something going on with you that I don't know about?"

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

  So Mom went on, "Do you honestly think that I have nothing else in my life to worry about? Do you think that things are just so darn easy that you need to skip school and throw parties so I have something to do?"

  I could feel the tears pressing their way up toward my eyes again, and I knew I couldn't hold them in. I began to sob for the zillionth time that day. "I didn't mean to skip first period!"

  "Oh! You didn't mean to skip first period." Mom bounced on her hip as she continued on with her sarcastic dramatization. "Well, as long as you didn't mean to skip first period, then I guess it's okay!" She suddenly remembered whatever was in the pot that was starting to boil. She picked up the spoon and started stirring furiously.

  "It's true, Mom, I didn't mean to skip class." The tears were strolling down my cheeks faster now. "It was just such a terrible day!" I buried my head in my arms.

  "Oh, let me guess. Did you forget your class schedule and go sit by the dumpster all day? Oh wait, that already happened!"

  I didn't know Mom had it in her to be so sarcastic. She hated it when Bridget and I were sarcastic. She always said it was the devil's humor.

  I lifted my head and looked at her in awe. I couldn't believe I had actually brought my mom to her snapping point. I had gone too far.

  "Mom, I-"

  "No! I don't want to hear it right now. Just go up to your room!"

  I waited for her to change back to the mom I knew. I waited for her to put her arms around me and tell me everything was going to work out all right. But she didn't, so I finally slunk off of the bar stool like an earthworm and dragged myself up the stairs to my room. I closed the door behind me and walked directly into the closet. I closed the closet door behind me and crawled in the darkness through my church dresses until I reached mine and Jess's wall. I curled my legs up to my chest as tight as they would go, and then I cried myself to sleep.

  I woke up sometime later to the sound of loud voices.

  "What do you mean she's not in here?" It was Mom, and she was still yelling.

  Then I heard Dad's calm, even voice. "Are you sure she came up here?"

  "Yes! I told her to come up here an hour ago!" Her voice became low and bitter. "So help me if she snuck out again! I have had it up to here with that girl!" I could imagine Mom holding her hand up to her forehead as she said it. I was about to reveal myself to my parents until I realized that Mom was now crying. Dad made hushed, soothing tones, and I was sure he had his arms around her. Her words were broken and came intermittently between the sobs. And though they were muffled by the flannel shirt that covered Dad's chest, I heard her words clearly when she said, "Oh, Rob, how ... am I going to raise her ... without you?"

  I realized then that there were other possibilities beyond divorce. Maybe he was going on a long trip. Maybe he had gotten a job offer in Germany or France or some far away country and we would only be able to see him on holidays and a summer vacation. That would be sad, but it would be a much better option than divorce. The second option made me feel lighter, and I finally found the strength to lift myself up off the carpet and crawl out of the dark closet into my bedroom. The sun had set and only a tiny bit of blue light shown through my windows. How long had I been in there? I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the lit hallway. I blinked at the sharpness of the light and rubbed my swollen eyes. I could hear my parents and Bridget in the kitchen, utensils hitting plates, and ice bumping against the water glasses. They had gone ahead and eaten dinner without me.

  I walked into the kitchen feeling like an outsider in my own family. I stopped at the doorway and watched as Bridget dished herself up a second helping of lasagna, my favorite meal. Dad was the only one to look up at me.

  "Hey, Gem, where have you been?" His mouth was turned upward, but his face didn't look happy. I could tell that he was trying to keep himself on an even playing field between me and Mom, but he wasn't going to be able to stay there for long. He always succumbed to Mom's side of the battle. Not because he always agreed, but because he was a loyal husband.

  "I fell asleep in my closet," I mumbled. They were the first words I had spoken since I was sentenced to my room by Mom. The words came out with a grumble in my throat.

  Bridget snorted as she took a bite of green beans. Mom put her fork down and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  "You should eat, Gemma," Mom spoke softly without looking at me, "while it's still hot."

  Part of me wasn't hungry, but part of me was starving. I think the part of me that was starving was also the part of me that ached for normalcy with my family. I loved lasagna, and I longed to be able to enjoy it while laughing with my parents about my day at school or listening to Bridget tell about a date she had to go on that weekend even though she really didn't want to.

  I slid into my usual chair at the table as Bridget continued telling my parents a story about her biology class that I had apparently interrupted.

  "So Sandra goes up to Mr. Kroff and asks why she got a B minus on her report card when she's gotten As on all of her tests." I stared at Bridget, even though I was barely listening to her, and it occurred to me that her world really hadn't changed that much. To her this was just a family dinner like any other night. She wasn
't in big trouble like I was. And she didn't overhear Mom say something to Dad that wasn't supposed to be heard. "Then Mr. Kroff tells her-in front of the whole class-that she was tardy nine times this semester, and he takes two percent off your grade every time you are tardy! Can you believe that? Two percent! That really adds up!" Bridget looked around the table with wide eyes, even though the rest of us were staring at our forks, emotionless. "Sandra was the only one in the class getting a better grade than me. So you know what that means." Bridget took another bite of green beans then continued, "I'm the top of my class."

  At that Dad seemed to beam back into the present day from wherever his thoughts had taken him. "Wow, Bridge! That's great! Congratulations!"

  I knew he hadn't heard a word of the story before that, but Bridget was beaming with delight. Bridget took another big bite of her food, and there was a long stretch of complete silence while she chewed. Mom barely looked up from her plate, and Dad only looked up to reach for the salt and pepper. I ate quietly, though the lasagna didn't taste nearly as good as it usually did. The tension between my parents and I was thick, and the silence was making everything taste worse with each bite. I couldn't take it any longer.

  I looked at Mom, who was watching her green beans as she pushed them around her plate. "Why are you going to have to raise me without Dad?" I didn't mean to yell.

  Mom's head shot up and stared at me in shock across the table. Dad looked at me with as much astonishment until he turned to my mom and put his hand on her arm.

  Bridget broke the silence, "What are you talking about, Gemma?" Panic filled her eyes as she saw everyone's expressions. She looked back at Dad. "What is she talking about?"

  Dad took in a deep breath and looked at Mom questioningly, but she didn't take her eyes off of me. "Maybe you two girls should go upstairs and do your homework. Your mom and I will clean up down here."