Jess looked at the rest of my awkwardly staring family while he wiped at his mouth with a napkin and swallowed the food in his mouth. "Gemma," he whispered, "let's talk about this later."
I turned back to Mom. "How long have you known?"
Mom's mouth was gaping. "I'm sorry, I just assumed that Jess had told you."
"How long?" I asked again.
Mom looked at Jess with apologetic eyes while searching for the right thing to say.
Then Bridgett entered the conversation. "Well I've known for at least a week and I couldn't care less, so ... " She shrugged her shoulders apathetically and continued eating her food.
I couldn't say a word. I couldn't look at my family, who had known all this time that Jess was leaving and hadn't thought to say a word about it to me. And I definitely couldn't look at Jess, who hadn't had the decency to tell me himself. I got up from the table and without saying a word I walked out the front door and into the dark night. I kept walking down the porch steps and across the front lawn until the lights from my house no longer lit up the air around me.
I heard my front door slam, and soon rapid footsteps were coming up behind me. "Gemma!" It was Jess, and as mad at him as I was, I still couldn't help but want to turn into his arms. But I didn't. My pride wouldn't let me. So I kept walking, my arms stiff and angry at my sides. Soon Jess caught up to me and grabbed me gently on my arm. "Gemma, listen to me."
I stopped and glared at him in the darkness. I wanted to hurt him as badly as he had hurt me.
He caught his breath and continued, "I wanted to tell you... "
"So why didn't you?" I spat.
"Because I knew you'd be upset. You were dealing with so much already between your dad and this Trace thing ... "
I laughed angrily. "Trace?You didn't tell me because of Trace?"
"You've just been really preoccupied lately and-"
"Don't you dare blame this on me! I wasn't preoccupied with Trace!" I lifted both of my arms in exasperation. "Jess, you mean everything to me! Who cares about Trace? He doesn't matter! What matters is that you are going to be three thousand miles away!"
"It's only for three months, Gemma. It's not that big of a deal."
You know when you're a little kid and you fall off something like the monkey bars or the trampoline, and after the initial hit you can't breathe for a second; you literally can't catch your breath because it's completely knocked out of you? Well, that's exactly what happened to me, right then, when Jess said that being away from me for three months wasn't that big of a deal.
I stepped away from him slowly, my body aching with the realization that he meant a whole lot more to me than I was ever going to mean to him. My jaw tightened as I turned back to the dark road. "You're right," I whispered with a raw voice. "It's not that big of a deal." I let my arm slip out of Jess's grasp and I walked away. This time he didn't follow.
"Gemma!" Drew called and waved me over to the couch. "Come sit down! There's a spot next to J.R."
As I walked toward my assigned seat, I made eye contact with Trace. I lifted my chin toward him to which he lifted a couple of his fingers in a half wave. He looked exceptionally good in his midnight blue button-up shirt and some long, baggy, khaki pants. His hair was doing this kind of gelled, loopy thing on top, and he looked tanner than usual on his face and neck. He was just as good looking and witty as Jess. But he was also new and exciting.
"Let's play a game." It was J.R.'s cousin Danny who said it, but we were all relieved that he did.
"Let's play Pictionary," suggested Stella.
"No. I'm a terrible drawer," complained Carmen.
"I have a game," Drew said with mischievous eyes. Everyone looked at her and waited for the name of her game.
"It's called Kissing Rugby. My brother plays it with his friends all the time."
J.R. clapped his hands together. "I vote for Drew's game."
"What's Kissing Rugby?" Stephanie asked.
Drew pointed to the back of the basement, where there was no furniture. "Everyone needs to sit on the floor. Let's go over there; there will be more room."
One by one everyone started getting up from the couch and making their way to the other side of the basement as directed. As I made my way over, I felt warm hands on my shoulders. I turned around to see Trace standing so close to me that I could have counted his eyelashes. "Hey," he said softly.
I could feel my face turn a bright shade of red. The same butterflies that always fluttered in my stomach when Trace was around were going wild. "Hi!" I forced myself to sound as perky and unaffected by him as possible.
"I was worried that you weren't going to show."
I bit my bottom lip. "My sister told me I had to be a little late or else I'd look like an idiot. She read it in some book."
Trace squinted his eyes at me. "I'm pretty sure you would have looked as good fifteen minutes ago as you do now, but either way, I'm happy to see you."
The room spun around me as I took in what he had just said. Did he just tell me that I look good? And he's happy to see me? I obviously loved hearing that, but I couldn't help but think of Jess. There was something so different about the way I felt when Jess stood this close to me. Trace was lacking the protective influence that made me feel invincible when I was with Jess. And when Jess was standing that close to me, there was no way I was thinking about Trace. When Jess stood that close to me, the rest of the world went out of focus. I shook my head at the thought of Jess and reminded myself that it didn't matter. He isn't that big of a deal, Gemma. Remember?
When we were all situated and sitting in a circle, Drew passed two bowls around while announcing that the girls should take one of the folded pieces of paper from the white bowl and the boys from the black bowl. We all did what we were told. I unfolded my piece of paper to see the number nine written in Drew's handwriting. I leaned toward Trace, who was sitting between Drew and me, and he showed me that his paper had the letter Q. "What is this about?" he asked as he showed me his letter.
I shrugged, and we both looked to Drew for an explanation.
"Okay, does everyone have a number or a letter?" she asked the group. Everyone nodded. "Here's how it works," Drew continued, holding up two other bowls, one black, one white like the others. "Each of these bowls contains the same numbers and letters that I had you all pick. So for the first round I'll pick one letter and one number out of each bowl. The person with the letter read will chase the person with the number read around the circle and so on."
"Like duck-duck-goose!" Kit shouted.
"Kind of like that, yeah," Drew replied. "Only, when you catch the person you are chasing you have to tackle them and kiss them."
"Before they sit back down in their spot," J.R. concluded.
Drew nodded. "If you get kissed, you are the chaser the next round, and we'll pick out of the bowl someone for you to chase. If the chaser doesn't catch his target, he has to go again with someone new. Got it?"
Everyone nodded, and the girls in the circle straightened their blouses and checked their hair.
Drew picked a piece of paper out of the black bowl-the boy's bowl-first. "R," she said as she looked around the circle for the boy belonging to that letter. J.R. stood up. "That's me," he said while rubbing his hands together. "All right, Drew, tell me who I'm kissing!" Everyone knew that J.R. came from a rich family. His dad was the president of some big company like Crest toothpaste or something like that. He was dressed in designer clothes from head to foot, but besides that he was kind of funny looking. He had a small, pointy face with black curly hair that twirled around his ears. But he hung with the cool kids in school, and I could tell from the looks on the girls' faces that they wouldn't mind having their number called.
Drew pulled out the next piece of paper. "Number nine."
I gasped when I heard my number called. I looked at Trace, who urged me to stand up. "Maybe you should start with someone else," I said to Drew. "I don't even know what to do."
Dr
ew looked pleased. "If I were you I'd start running."
From the corner of my eye, I saw J.R. inching around the circle toward me. I was absolutely positive that he was disappointed that my number was called and not one of the beautiful and popular girls that still sat in the circle. But he came toward me anyway, and so I did what I had to do. I got up and I ran. When I picked up my pace, so did J.R. I was two people away from making it back to my seat on the carpet when I feltJ.R. grab hold of my arm. I yelped in fear, excitement, and anxiety-as he pulled me to the ground. I covered my face in nervous laughter as J.R. kissed me on the back of my head.
"There!" he said, pulling himself off me. He walked back to his place and sat down. "I kissed her."
I scrambled to my feet, feeling a little bit ridiculous, and looked at all the staring eyes.
"He didn't kiss her on the lips!" Kit shouted.
"I think he kissed her hair," said Stella.
"Drew never said I had to kiss her on the lips!" J.R. fought back. "She just said I had to kiss her, and I did!"
I felt so stupid. J.R. obviously didn't want to kiss me, and everyone knew it. I wanted to take off up the stairs and run home. But I didn't; I just stood there and waited for another letter to be called out.
"J.R.'s right," Drew said as she pulled a piece of paper from the black bowl. "You just have to kiss them. It doesn't matter where." She unfolded the paper and read the letter out loud, "P."
I have to admit, I was disappointed when it wasn't Trace's letter Q but I was even more disappointed when I saw Danny stand up with his yellowish teeth and zit-covered chin. Because Danny was J.R.'s cousin, he was invited to these types of parties by blood relation only. That's why he got away with his bad breath, hairy neck, and tapered, washed-out jeans. When his number was called, he was on his feet and running before I realized what was happening. It finally donned on me that I was supposed to chase him, and I began to clumsily sprint around the circle. I didn't even get close to him before he slid back into his original spot on the floor.
Drew took an exaggerated breath. She was obviously annoyed. "You know, Gemma, you're just going to have to keep running around the circle until you kiss someone."
I looked at her with earnest eyes. "Maybe we should let someone else have a turn."
Drew cocked her head to the side. "Gemma, it's not like this counts as your first kiss or anything. I told you that you can kiss them wherever. It doesn't have to be on the lips."
I stood in shock with the realization that Drew had just announced to everyone in the room that I had never been kissed. I could feel Trace looking up at me, but I didn't want to look back at him. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. I just nodded slowly at Drew as she read off the next letter, "E." Kit stood up and started galloping around the circle like he was on a pretend horse. Everyone started hooting and hollering for Kit. So I did what I had to do. I started chasing him, and I ran fast. I ran as fast as I could so that I could finally sit down and get out of this horrible predicament. Kit was barely halfway around the circle before I caught up to him, took hold of his hand, and slammed a kiss on his pinky knuckle.
"There!" I said breathlessly. "I got him." And I plopped back down onto the carpet next to Trace.
Drew didn't look impressed, but she shrugged and pulled out a number from the white bowl. The game continued on. Boys chasing girls, girls chasing boys. Most of the kisses were given somewhere on the head or cheek or even nose. No one had gone straight for the lips yet, though I swear Kit tried to kiss Drew on the lips, but she turned her head before he got the chance. As time went on, the tackling was more athletic, the hollering from the rest of us in the circle was louder, and everyone knew everyone's number so we all knew exactly what number or letter to wish for when it was our turn to chase or be chased. Trace had just been chased, tackled, and kissed on the ear by Stella, who was a lot more aggressive than I ever would have guessed, leaving Trace standing and waiting for the number to be called out of the girl he was supposed to chase.
Drew pulled a piece of paper from the white bowl. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I swear I saw the number fiveStephanie's number-through the white paper when she unfolded it. But the number that Drew called out wasn't five. The number she called out was the number seven. It was her own number.
She threw the bowl of papers down on the ground and made a whoop sound as she took off running around the circle. Trace took off chasing her. A sickening feeling grew in my stomach as I thought about watching him kiss her. I wanted to close my eyes. But I couldn't. I just watched the horrific scene unfold before me. But as I watched I realized it wasn't all that horrific after all. In fact, Trace was barely moving. His run was more like an injured looking jog, and he made no real attempt to reach for her even when she slowed down to let him catch her. Before long they had made their way around the circle and Drew was back at her original spot. All she could do was sit down. She had beat him. She was victorious. Or was she? I watched her closely. She was breathing heavily and smiling slightly as she picked up the bowl and the papers that had fallen out. "I knew you couldn't catch me," she said, waving her hand at Trace. But there was an awkward silence from the crowd. A silence that made me realize that everyone knew the truth. Everyone knew that Trace hadn't given it his all.
Drew quickly pulled another number out of the white bowl. She looked at the unfolded piece of paper for a long moment before reading it out loud. "Gemma," she looked up at me and stared emotionlessly into my eyes. "It's you. Number nine."
I acted as normal as I could as I got up from my spot and took off running around the circle. I was paying less attention to the game at hand and more attention to Drew when I was suddenly tackled to the ground by the huge force behind me. It was, of course, Trace, and he ruthlessly pinned me down underneath him. He hovered over me with a red face and a wide smile and then began leaning down toward me in slow motion. I held my breath, waiting for him to kiss me and wondering where he was going to do it. My cheek? My forehead? But as he leaned closer, he was looking straight at my lips. His eyes were zeroed in on them as if they were the elk and he was the hunter. My breath was caught in my throat as I quickly licked my lips. There wasn't a sound in the room besides Trace's breathing. And in the next moment, it was happening. Trace's lips made contact with mine. I closed my eyes, and my mind went blank. I had no idea what to do so I just lay there and let him kiss me. Trace's lips pressed firmly against mine for a second or two before he pulled slowly away and sat back on his heels.
The group erupted in cheering as Trace helped me up off the ground. "I hope that was okay," Trace whispered as he smoothed out my hair.
I pulled on my shirt and rubbed at my frazzled hair as I nodded politely at him. "Sure, it's a game. That's how you play it, I guess." But the truth was that I felt angry, disgusted, and violated. He knew I had never been kissed, and yet he still did it in front of the entire group for a stupid game. My first kiss was over. I felt empty. And my lips tasted like Trace's stale gum.
"Who's next?" J.R. asked when the chatter had died down.
"No one," Drew said as she stood up onto her feet. "This game is getting lame." She walked back to the couch and sat down by herself. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven.
"I should probably go upstairs and wait for my mom to come," I said to anyone that was listening. But everyone besides Trace was laughing at J.R.'s impression of Stella running away from Danny.
"I'll go wait with you." Trace looked into my eyes with a serious expression that made me recoil.
"It's okay," I objected. "I'm sure she'll be here any minute."
Trace looked like he was going to object but decided not to after examining my expression. "I'll see you on Monday then."
"Sure, Monday," I stammered, then I turned toward the couch to say good-bye to Drew. But she wasn't there. When I reached the top of the stairs, the house was completely dark. The house looked a lot smaller tonight than it had when I was there three months ago making t
he movie for German class. I looked out the front window, but Mom's car was nowhere to be seen.
"No one's out there."
I jumped at the voice that came from the pitch-black living room on my left. I squinted my eyes into the dark until I saw the black shadow of Drew sitting hunched over on the piano bench.
I breathed easier. "Drew, I didn't see you there."
I thought I heard her laugh, but she didn't say anything in response.
"I looked for you downstairs to say good-bye. Why are you up here all alone?" My eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, and I could see her more clearly as I walked into the living room.
"You know I like him. You know that."
I searched for something to say, something that would make me innocent in this situation, but I was coming up with nothing. "Drew, I-"
"I asked you in the beginning if you liked him."
"I know," I said quietly.
"Did you not like him then? Did you only start liking him after I told you that I liked him?" Drew sounded more hurt than angry.
"I don't know." I felt like a child as I searched for an answer. "I've liked him for a long time. But I had just barely started hanging out with you. I had made the mistake before of telling friends who I liked just to have them use it against me."
"Sounds familiar," Drew spoke softly, but her words dug into my chest like a dagger.
I had no idea how to respond so I just stood in the darkness completely quiet.
Drew filled the silence. "You want to know what's ironic? I actually started liking Jess more than Trace. But when I saw the way you lit up whenever Jess's name was mentioned, I decided to stay away from him."
Right then Mom's car lights flashed across the front windows. I stood motionless for a moment longer watching Drew's black figure in the darkness. Then I turned to the door and left, without saying a word.
I breathed in a heavy sigh and turned around to face him. He looked so perfect, especially for seven forty in the morning. He had fresh gum in his mouth, and his lips were just slightly parted with a bit of a smile as he spoke. Yet somehow my stomach didn't flutter-not one bit-as he looked humorously into my eyes. "Your locker is actually in the elementary school a few blocks down the road."
Second Kiss Page 17
