Looking around, I spot a cluster of goths standing outside a card store. Not all of them go to our high school, and I ask Colton if there’s another school in the area.
He nods, and between bites gives a muffled, “Catholic school.”
I take a closer look and see one of the girls I don’t recognize is, in fact, wearing a plaid, pleated skirt underneath her black jacket. She also has on combat boots, and her white shirt is filled with safety pins, but technically I guess she’s wearing a school uniform.
Colton playfully offers me a bite of rice, and I try my best to eat it daintily. But no matter how much extra time I’ve had to practice acting graceful, I’m still me. I bite at his fork like I’m one of Jim Henson’s puppets with a single hinge for a mouth.
Fortunately, Colton smiles at me as if he finds my snapping at his fork adorable. He dips his head forward, and I wonder if my first kiss is about to happen here in the middle of the food court at the mall.
“Ugh, get a room,” I hear in a disdainful voice on our right, and look over to see Kaia gliding by with her crew of girls—who I still haven’t managed to put names to.
Colton looks surprised to see her. “Where were you hiding all day, girl?”
She sidles up to our table and traces a manicured finger along the edge. “I could ask you the same thing, Colt. I was hiding in plain sight.”
I just sit there with my Muppet mouth hanging open. I wait for the two of them to put together the fact that I manipulated the entire day to keep them apart, but Colton only shrugs. “Yeah, I was in plain sight too. Showing Andie, here, around the school.”
“Hi, Kaia,” I say, giving a feeble wave.
Her airbrushed features collapse into a scowl. “Have we met?”
Shoot. I realize too late that she and I obviously didn’t meet today. It’s just so hard to keep track when everything is so repetitive. “Sorry, I thought I heard someone call you Kaia just now.” I point in the general direction of her friends.
She looks at me suspiciously.
Colton must pick up on the tension between us. He grins and says, “Andie and I got to know each other during the summer at the theater.”
Kaia rolls her eyes. “You and those stupid action movies.”
Colton looks at me. “Andie’s a hardcore movie buff.”
I laugh. “Understatement.”
“I heard she’s a bit of a performer too.” Kaia is clearly not happy with the way Colton is continuing to look at me. I could squeal with triumph. Obviously, I’ve finally won his affection, if not his love. Could he possibly love me?
“She was amazing in the gym this morning.” His dazzled gaze answers my question. He may not love me yet, but he’s definitely on his way.
And Kaia can see it too. She gives Colton a huffy good-bye and struts away, her friends faithfully following her wake.
I’m glad to see her go, even though I realize that without the benefit of the extra time spent working on a dance routine, Colton would be with Kaia right now. In fact, it’s not entirely fair that he’s with me.
But none of that should matter because I’m in, right? I won. I just need to get Colton to follow through with a kiss, and my life should start moving forward again in a nice, chronological fashion.
With a smile, he scoops up another bite of rice and says, “My buddy has this house party that’s sort of an annual tradition to celebrate going back to school. It’s always a blast. You want to come along?”
I’m not sure if him asking me to “come along” to a house party is quite the same thing as asking me out on a date, but this sounds like my big chance to snag that first kiss.
“I’m in,” I say, and snap open my jaw hinge as he shoves another mouthful of rice toward me.
After I change out of my cheerleading outfit, Mom has the time of her life trying to help me decide what to wear to the party. Of course, she thinks I should be rocking that stupid pink polka-dotted dress I woke up in.
I’ve never been to a high school house party that had more than three people and less than one mom present, but I have seen many teen movies. So I know for a fact that the vintage dress would be all wrong for the party. Not to mention another small detail—the thing seems to be the bane of my existence.
I reject Mom’s advice to “stand out, not blend in” and wear the jeans, black top, and high heels that mimicked Kaia’s outfit. I remember Colton liking it almost as much as my cheerleading getup. Plus, I did work super hard figuring out how to walk in high heels, so I might as well exploit that skill.
When we pull up to the house where the party’s taking place, my first thought is that it could be straight out of a movie. Spotlights illuminate the bushes in front, decorative bricks line the oversized windows, and the grass is so smooth and green that the yard looks practically carpeted.
Once Colton cuts the car’s engine, we can hear the music blasting from where we’re parked on the street. It gets louder as we get closer, and as soon as we enter the front door we’re greeted by a wall of sound. I start thinking maybe it would be better to have my perfect first kiss somewhere private and quiet.
“Colt!” The call rises above the din of music, and Colton responds by punching both arms up in victory, which initiates an even louder cheer.
As we make our way through the living room, a cluster of football players crowds around and chants. I work to get my energy up to match the room by thrusting my hands in the air a few times. I even give a little “Woo,” but nobody even seems to notice.
After about six minutes of this, I make a quick, silent wish to be back home on the couch with the DVD remote in my hand. Of course, the fact that this is my natural reaction probably explains why it has taken me months of reliving the same day over and over to finally get invited to this epic social gathering.
And by “epic” social gathering, of course I mean “overcrowded and loud.”
Unlike the mall, there are no social outliers present. Everywhere I look there are either jocks, or wannabe jocks, or girlfriends of jocks, or wannabe girlfriends of jocks.
It’s strange, because most of the teen house parties I’ve seen in movies have a diverse cross-section of types.
This must not be Maya’s house either, because there’s no sign of a single cheerleader, and Petra and Anna clearly didn’t get an invitation. Also not present are any of the goth kids I’ve run into, and I can’t even picture Tom’s zany crew crashing this party. A quick sweep of the room shows no sign of Kaia or her glossy-haired friends, and I wonder if she’ll show up here in this version of today.
Colton takes my hand and leans close to my ear. “Did you have parties like this back at your old school?” he asks over the music.
I grin at him. “This is a first for me.”
He laughs. “Well then, I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
I laugh back, but for the first time since I met Colton, I feel slightly uneasy. I have been so focused on getting my first kiss with him, I haven’t considered what else he might expect from a girlfriend. Suddenly, I’m wondering where on earth the parental supervision is at this party.
Colton leads me into the kitchen, where red Solo cups are being filled from a big, silver keg in the sink. I do realize that underage drinking is a common trope in teen movies, but I didn’t think it happened in reality. Especially not on a school night.
When Colton grabs two cups filled with beer and tries to hand one to me, I give the first excuse that pops into my head. “Sorry, I’m on antibiotics.”
He frowns and takes a step back. “I hope it’s not for anything serious.”
“Oh, just an ear infection.” I stick a pinky in my ear and wiggle it around to really sell it. A few people from the small group in the kitchen are watching me, and they look a little grossed out. So does Colton. Great. But I’m definitely not drinking that beer.
With a shrug, he takes a sip from each of the cups he’s holding. “More for me.” We begin to circulate, and I can’t help but notice that despit
e the manic tone of the music, nothing much is really happening here. There are some people taking selfies that I’m sure will look great online, but just because they are all perceived as cool does not mean that this party is necessarily a cool party. I’m pretty sure I attended better birthday parties when I was, like, eight. In fact, introducing a piñata might help right now.
Colton guides me into the living room, where a rather unruly crowd is gathered around an enormous television hanging on the wall. Onscreen, a female acrobat is busy giving a roundhouse kick to a soldier wearing a beret. He retaliates with three rapid-fire punches to her face, and the crowd reacts with a cheer.
The guy who answered to Motko at the mall food court earlier is standing beside a cute brunette, and the two of them are manically working over the buttons on two large controllers.
“Whoa!” someone cheers. “Now finish him, Shana.”
I realize Shana’s character is the soldier, and she’s undeniably winning this match. The one loop-through when Shana and I spoke, her voice was soft and she seemed a bit on the shy side.
Now her face goes red as she screams, “Die, you meat bag. Die!” Apparently, I’m really bad at reading people. But it also shows just how much different settings affect how people act.
For instance, I happen to know that Motko is whip smart when it comes to calculus, since he’s in my class and has known the answer to the first difficult question every time the teacher asked it. But right now, he’s either drunk or half asleep, because he’s grunting illegibly while jabbing at the remote control with both thumbs.
“I play winner,” Colton pipes in.
When Motko finally dies onscreen, Shana takes his remote and holds it out toward Colton. “You sure you can handle this?” She is clearly flirting with him, and my jealousy level shoots to DEFCON 5. Or maybe that’s DEFCON 1; whichever is the high one. I make a mental note to look that up.
But I’ve worked too dang hard to get to this point just to lose Colton to another girl because she’s awesome at playing video games. I can be awesome at playing videogames too.
“Let me give it a shot,” I say, plucking the remote from her hand.
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise when we begin, and my Asian fighter instantly wallops her soldier with a few good kicks to the face. The crowd presses in expectantly, but my luck runs out after two roundhouses.
Within moments, my character is bleeding profusely as the announcer describes my beating in new, creative ways, calling out things like, “Spectacle!” “Failure!” and finally, mercifully, “DE-feat-ed!”
Colton eases the controller out of my hands. “Let’s try that again.”
I whisper to myself, “Let’s try that again, indeed,” and step back to make room. In my mind, I’m already figuring out how many loops it will take for me to become an expert gamer. Skipping school to practice playing seems like an excellent plan.
Colton uses the remote to change his character into what looks like an adorable little white squeaky toy. Next, he switches the background to a boxing ring, and the announcer declares, “Free for all!” and counts down from ten to “Go!”
The whole crowd in the living room begins cheering at the television as Colton and Shana’s characters ruthlessly attack each other.
It is immediately obvious that Colton is even better at the game than she is, and he seems to take great delight in beating her soldier senseless. Once the announcer confirms his victory, Colton gives a satisfied grunt and punches both arms victoriously in the air.
The room erupts into cheers as if we’re at a major sporting event and the home team just scored. Colton smiles, keeping his hands up as he turns to me.
“What do you say, Andie?” He asks loud enough to be heard over the noise, “A kiss for the winner?”
I widen my eyes at him. This is an odd and awkward and extremely public way to get my first kiss.
On one hand, I’m happy that I do not need to become an expert gamer after all, since that wasn’t something I really wanted to spend the next few weeks or possibly months doing. But on the other hand, I have no idea what’s about to happen. I mean, this isn’t an ordinary physical attraction/dopamine situation. This is some advanced-level space-time continuum stuff.
Will there be a flash of lightning when our lips touch? Is levitation a possibility? Maybe I’ll pass out and realize this was all a dream when I awake. Can I be instantly whisked into the correct point of time in the future?
I try to figure out the proper timeline since school started and estimate we would probably be well past the holidays if time hadn’t stopped working on day one.
As I’ve been debating whether to kiss Colton, a forceful chant has been rising up. People are calling out, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” as if Colton and I are an old rock band my dad still listens to.
It would be easy enough to simply ignore the group, go home, and cycle through tomorrow. Maybe angle for a more secluded moment. Now that I know the layout and players of the party, I’m pretty sure I could redirect all this action. But then, I don’t really want more action. I’m thinking a public kiss will at least keep things respectable.
This is it. I’m going for it.
I give a small smile and lean toward Colton. The private way he smiles back makes me realize right away I was wrong about the whole “respectable” part. He snakes both arms around my torso, and dips me backward in one smooth motion.
I can feel my face heat as the blood runs up my neck. While my blush gains force, Colton stands over me, mugging for the chanters. Who are now wildly hooting and hollering at us.
“Go for it!” someone calls, and next thing I know, Colton’s lips are sealed to mine as he holds me firmly in my uncomfortable backbend.
There are no lightning bolts. There is no levitating. No waking up from a dream.
As Colton makes a big show of mashing his lips into mine, what I experience is the feeling of his hand boldly working its way from my back toward my bottom.
I try to squirm free as the crowd’s Ooooohs grow louder and louder, but Colton holds me fast. With both wide hands. Including the one that is now fully cupping my butt.
I go blind with rage.
Breaking free, I channel every bit of my cheerleading training to deliver a powerful flex kick, nailing him right between the legs.
Colton goes down so fast and hard, a unanimous “Oh!” sounds from the crowd surrounding us.
In my mind, I see a montage of movie clips showing numerous cheap groin kicks and pain-filled, comical reactions as Colton curls into the fetal position on the floor.
Everyone stands silently gawping as if I’ve just hit the pause button on the gaming control. Time seems to have frozen completely. Like, now instead of rewinding and looping on me, everything has just stopped.
Finally, Shana unpauses to give a brief giggle.
Colton yells out a nasty endearment in my direction, and I turn on the stems of my high heels and make a dash for the door. On my way through the living room, I knock into someone’s red Solo cup and beer splashes onto my jeans. I run from the house without looking back.
I’ve pictured how my first kiss would go many, many times, but I never in my wildest imagination ever envisioned it like this.
My calves burn as I walk the three miles home, and I can’t even call my mom because I reek of spilled beer. But, hey, at least I’m totally preoccupied by that awful image of my very first kiss. I can’t believe Colton publicly groped me in the middle of a house party. And true love or not (and obviously not), now that we’ve kissed, I’m pretty sure I’ll be stuck living with this version of today.
I would’ve been better off with my very first do-over. In fact, I’d almost prefer the original, humiliating pink polka-dot dress version. Almost.
All my hard work to establish myself as Colton’s girlfriend has been a complete waste. Plus, of course, I’ll be living out the rest of my senior year as a social pariah.
I find an empty soda can and stomp on it with the f
ront of my toe, flattening it so I can kick it along the road as I walk. Each time a car drives by, I tense up, afraid that Colton or one of his friends will come after me, but nobody does.
It’s just me, and my used-up, flattened, empty soda can slowly making our way home. By the time I hobble in the front door, I’m feeling just as raw and scraped up as the crumpled can.
Mom is sitting on the giant pink couch, and turns to greet me with an excited, “Did you have fun?”
Her raised eyebrows drop fast when she sees my expression. “I kicked my date in the groin and had to walk home in these heels. So, ya know, not such a great night overall.”
Mom holds both hands over her mouth. “Did he try something?”
I nod my head. “He got a little too friendly, but don’t worry. I knew just how to handle him.”
“You . . . kicked him in the groin?” Mom slides her hands down, and I see she’s smiling proudly. “I suppose that’s one way to send a clear message. Do I need to get involved?”
“No. I took care of it.” I’m just mad at myself for not paying enough attention to whether I even liked Colton after spending so much time with him. I was so smitten over the summer that I didn’t really look at the way he treated me, let alone other people. I have started to feel very, very stupid for spending all these endless days doing everything I could to impress him.
“Well, at least you only wasted one night,” Mom says brightly, and I resist the urge to burst into tears. She looks at me with sympathy, and gives one of her typical responses. “I already queued up a good movie, in case you came home early.”
“Of course you did.” I sigh and fall into the pink leather couch beside her, pulling the blanket over my jeans. The beer smell is mostly gone by now, but it’s better to be safe.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to watch it.” Mom sounds a little hurt.
“What’s the movie?”
Her excitement is immediate, like I’ve just flipped her switch to On. “Well, I really wanted you to see this before your first day at the new school,” she says.
Pretty in Punxsutawney Page 11
