It can be pretty jarring.
So there was Paige showing off her limited cache of adjectives, when suddenly, Dad rushed into the room and blurted, “I bet none of you know what a blue moon is.”
Junior blinked and looked around like he’d wandered into an alternate universe and was trying to spot a secret passage back to his own planet.
“Uh, a blue moon?” he repeated.
“That’s right! I’m sure you’ve heard the expression ‘Once in a blue moon,’ but did you ever stop to wonder what a blue moon actually is?” Dad said, sounding a lot like a game show host.
Junior stared harder. “Not really,” he said, when it became apparent an answer was expected.
“You’ve never been curious about it?” Dad asked.
This time, Junior kept quiet. I noticed he seemed to be edging toward the hall, and he might have made a break for it if I hadn’t moved to the left and blocked his escape path.
I’m betting it will be a while before he comes here again.
And, oh yeah. It turns out that when there are two full moons in the same month, the second one is called a blue moon. Not the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard, but I don’t suppose it did me any harm learning that bit of trivia.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Friday came, and everything was nicely set up. As far as Mom and Dad knew, I was going to be hanging out at Steve’s place for the evening — an impression I’d managed to give them without actually lying.
They might have said I could go to Tamrah’s party if I’d asked, but not without ruining the whole thing for me first. Mom would have called Tamrah’s mother and asked a bunch of embarrassing questions. No way I could let that happen.
As soon as supper was over with, I headed to Steve’s place. He was home alone, not that it mattered. His mother almost never asks what he’s up to. He’s got it made, the way he comes and goes and does what he wants without parents watching every move he makes, or sisters running around in various states of crisis.
On the walk to Tamrah’s house Steve made a point of sniffing the air and amusing himself with a few wisecracks about an explosion at a perfume factory. When I didn’t react, he came right out and asked what the heck I had on.
“What? This?” I said, trying to sound manly. “Just a bit of aftershave.”
“After what?”
“Aftershave.”
“What’d you shave? Your legs?”
“Ha. Ha,” I said, deadpan, though it was kind of funny. It sure cracked Steve up. He was still chuckling when we got to Tamrah’s place and turned up the driveway to the side door.
There was a fair amount of noise from inside and I had to ring the doorbell a few times before Tamrah came along, peering through the glass and waving us in. I thought she frowned a little when she saw Steve, but then she smiled and said she was glad we could make it, so I guess it was okay.
We followed her into a room that was half full of kids — mostly from our school. Music blared in the background and it seemed everyone was yelling to be heard over it. One girl was dancing by herself in the middle of the room, turning and swaying and holding her hands up in a fluttery kind of way. I tried not to stare.
Someone noticed me and called out, “Hey, it’s the photo guy!”
“Is that what they call you?” a girl I vaguely recognized asked.
“They call me Derek,” I said.
“But you’re the photo guy, right?” the first person insisted.
“You need a nickname,” added the second girl.
The next thing I knew, there were a bunch of nickname suggestions being tossed around. None of them were cool or clever, but I smiled, playing the good sport and hoping none would stick.
It was a relief when the dancing girl jumped on the couch and everyone’s attention shifted. By the time she’d finished performing and returned to the floor, the subject of what to call me had been forgotten.
I drifted around the room for a while. These weren’t kids I usually hung with, but everyone was friendly enough. It was all laid back and a lot tamer than what I’d expected. Until about an hour later, when something unusual happened.
That was when Tamrah and I had what I can only describe as an encounter. I was coming out of the bathroom when I found myself face to face with her.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, because I thought she was waiting to get in there. It turned out she had something else on her mind.
She took my hand and tugged me into a nearby bedroom. Hers, I guess. I didn’t exactly take in a lot of details on the decor. Tamrah nudged the door half shut with her foot and stepped closer to me.
“So—” she said.
“So—” I repeated. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what “so” was supposed to mean. (At that moment, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what my name was.) Sweat started to burst out in tiny beads on my forehead.
She leaned in (I’d like to say “up” but the truth is, I haven’t had the growth spurt I keep hearing about) closing her eyes and puckering her lips.
My brain slow-processed this information and sent out the message that she was inviting me to kiss her — but something had paralyzed me. (As in, fear.) I stood there, as stiff as a statue.
I’m almost positive I’d have regained the ability to move if we’d made contact — like the Tin Man when he’s given oil in The Wizard of Oz, but that didn’t happen so I’ll never know for sure.
After a long moment she opened her eyes, drew back and looked at me. Then she burst out laughing.
“You’re hilarious,” she said between gasps of glee.
This observation did nothing to improve my comprehension of what was happening. But it was also the exact second I realized something that hadn’t registered during my panic the moment before.
Tamrah had been holding up her phone, snapping selfies as she’d stood there, poised and waiting to be kissed.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“They’re for Strandz,” she said, turning her phone toward me.
What she was showing me was a page on a website some techies from the high school built last year. Its official name is Breval Strandz, but everyone just calls it Strandz. It features local happenings — the stranger the better as long as they’re not actually mean or offensive. The administrators have it set up to protect stuff from being shared outside the site, and you need to be registered and approved to gain access, so it’s generally parent-approved.
The page I found myself staring at featured the photobomb of me on the stairs posted next to the picture of me with Luna Amatulli. (Steve had been cropped out.) Underneath these images were these words: Did the Luna kiss really happen? Sources say no. Now we’re looking for a legit photo of Derek giving his first kiss!
Tamrah giggled and I managed to force out a weak laugh. My head reeled with what I’d just seen.
Her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. You already saw this, right?”
“Um, why?” I said uneasily.
“Because if you didn’t know, that means you actually didn’t want to kiss me,” she said. “So, which was it?”
“Well, I, uh—”
But Tamrah’s attention had shifted again, relieving me of the need to answer. Her thumb was on the screen of her phone and she was flicking back and forth through a half dozen pictures — the ones she’d taken just seconds before.
“Okay, you’re in the clear,” she announced. “And these are amazing!”
I was having a bit of trouble keeping up.
“Look at this! You obviously knew!” she said, smiling widely as she turned the phone around and showed one of the images to me.
And there we were, Tamrah’s mouth a whisper away from mine while I stood with my face contorted and my eyes wide and terrified. It looked exactly as if I was doing it on purpose.
Photo fluke
number three.
CHAPTER NINE
“Would you stop punching me!”
“Sorry, man.” Steve dropped his fist to his side. “It’s just that this is all so unbelievable.”
“I don’t see how pounding my shoulder and calling me ‘dawg’ makes it easier to believe.”
I edged to the far right of the sidewalk, rubbing my upper arm and watching warily for any sign that he might strike again. We were headed home after leaving Tamrah’s place and had barely turned the corner when the first blow landed.
“You’re missing the point,” I said, although I couldn’t help feeling just a little smug that the girl who’d inspired my buddy to use the word “luscious” had been willing to let me kiss her.
“Yeah? And exactly what point am I missing?”
“She was only doing it because of that dumb website.”
Steve snickered. “So what?” he said. “You think gorgeous girls are ever going to want you to kiss them again?”
He made a weird puckering face, licked his lips and shoved his face toward me. I moved a little further away because some things make you nervous even when you’re a hundred percent sure they won’t really happen.
“One girl,” I said.
“One girl so far,” he said. “That challenge is still out there, bro.”
A hunk of lead landed in the pit of my stomach as that thought sank in. Until this thing was over, I’d have to view any girl being friendly to me with suspicion.
It didn’t exactly make me feel great.
SOMETIMES IT’S HARD to decide which one of my sisters is the biggest pain, but Paige is definitely in the lead at the moment.
The thing that bothers me the most is how interested she is in my life. The whole idea of that — start to finish — is a complete mystery to me.
Also, it’s totally one-sided. Do I bother her? Keep track of what she’s up to?
No, I do not. Because I couldn’t care less.
But Paige seems to have an insane need to stay informed up-to-the-minute on every last thing I’m doing. She noses around until she finds things out and then, believe it or not, she asks me about them. Like, I might think, hey, my sister is snooping into my affairs — obviously the smart thing for me to do is help her out, make sure she’s got all the information she’ll need later on when she’s making my life miserable, or ratting me out to my folks, or finding new ways to publicly embarrass me.
At times, it seems like her private mission — her reason for getting up in the morning. So it was no big surprise when she brought up the kiss challenge on Saturday morning.
“Anyone trick you into kissing them yet, or is your homely face enough to keep them away?”
I ignored her, because that strategy might actually work someday.
Kim glanced up from admiring her toenails, which she’d painted bright blue a few minutes earlier.
I opted to slink out of the TV room instead of answering. They followed me to the kitchen.
“So? Did you kiss anyone?” Kim asked.
“If you’ve been on Strandz, you should be able to figure it out yourself, genius,” I said. I scooped some ice cream into a dish, smashed up a couple of Oreos and sprinkled them on top.
“Only one picture has been sent in so far,” Paige said, turning her phone toward Kim to show her the photo Tamrah had submitted, in spite of its lack of a kiss. “It’s some girl puckered up, but Derek is messing with her.”
“Is that Jacob Kingston’s sister?” Kim asked, peering at the picture.
“Yeah,” I said, because there are some things a person doesn’t mind admitting.
“Where’d this happen?”
“Her place.”
“I heard there was a party there last night. Is that when she took this?”
Uh oh.
I shrugged, like talking about the details was starting to bore me. But it was too late.
“I heard you tell Mom you were going to Steve’s last night!” Paige said. Her face lit up with joy at the thought that she had something on me.
“So what? Maybe we decided to go to Tamrah’s place later.”
“If that’s even true, I bet you didn’t phone to let anyone know,” Paige said.
We both knew I’d be grounded if I got caught lying, or not keeping Mom posted on where I’d been. She doesn’t freak about too many things, but those are big rules at our place.
“Are you actually so bored that you have nothing better to do than bother me?”
Paige smiled her evil sister smile — a natural pose for her. “What’s that you’re making?” she asked, pointing at my ice cream and cookie combo.
I’d just finished stirring it into a smooth mixture and it looked perfect. Since the look on her face told me what was coming next, I gave the spoon a good lick and stuck it into the middle of the bowl.
“Ice cream with Oreos,” I told her. “Want some?”
She gave me a disgusted look and flounced out of the room and down the hall, leaving just Kim and me there.
“Sorry,” Kim said.
“For what?” I asked cautiously. An apology that isn’t being forced out of her by a parent is a bit rare for Kim.
“I didn’t know you snuck to the party. I wouldn’t have said anything in front of Miss Blabbermouth.”
Unlike the family blackmailer whose silence can be bought, Paige was the type who might get in some minor bit of trouble and rat me out to take the pressure off herself.
All I could do was hope for the best. Not that I had a lot of options. Besides, there were a few things I needed to get done before meeting up with Steve.
We’d decided to check out the animal shelter after lunch. And considering what happened yesterday, I thought the sooner we did that, the better. With any luck and the cooperation of a few kittens, we’d have some new photos in no time.
CHAPTER TEN
The woman behind the desk at the animal shelter looked at me and Steve like we were covered in fleas and had dropped in to spread them to the animals. Even Steve seemed a bit unnerved as he stepped up to a ledge that looked into her office.
She rolled her chair back, stood up and came over.
“What can I do for you boys?”
Her voice was a surprise. It was warm and friendly, and it was followed by a smile that transformed her completely.
“I called the other day,” Steve said. “About the animals.”
“Yes?”
“Are you the person I was talking to?” Steve asked.
“Possibly,” she said, now looking amused. “We get a lot of calls — about the animals. Were you interested in adopting?”
“Uh, no. We just wanted to spend some time with them. The lady I was talking to said we needed to fill in a form.”
“For volunteering, then,” she said. She looked back and forth between me and Steve. “You both want to volunteer?”
We nodded and she produced two copies of a form from a filing cabinet and pushed them toward us, along with a couple of pens.
“There’s a visitor’s room around the corner if you’d like to sit down to fill those in.”
“This place smells bad,” I hissed under my breath as we slid into chairs in the visitor’s room.
“It’s all the animal poop,” Steve said.
“Oh, thanks. I’d never have figured that out on my own.”
We got busy filling in the forms, which had questions on both sides of the page. I was thinking it was kind of a bother for the sake of a few pictures, especially since we wouldn’t be coming back after that.
Then a chocolate brown puppy ran skidding and tumbling into the room, followed by a couple of giggling girls. I recognized them as Sharon and Denise, who are in our grade at school.
“Oh!” Sharon said, stopping short when she saw that the room wasn’t empt
y.“Steve, right? And the famous Derek Cowell, of course.”
I couldn’t help feeling a bit of an ego surge. People who used to call me Darren or Rick or other names that aren’t mine, now knew I was Derek Cowell. From “invisible” to “famous” just like that. Not that I took the famous part seriously.
“Hey! Come here, you,” Denise said.
I cringed. Not another girl trying to lure me over to kiss her! Then I realized she was talking to the puppy. She scooped it into her arms where it wriggled and squirmed and began licking her face madly.
“Dunlop!” she scolded cheerfully. “You behave yourself.”
Dunlop paused, yawned widely, and kept right on doing puppy things.
“Cute dog,” Steve said. “Are you adopting him?”
“I wish!” Denise answered. “My sister is allergic, but I get my furry fix volunteering here every weekend.”
“Is that why you guys are here?” Sharon asked. “To volunteer?”
The question wasn’t really necessary since she was gawking at the papers on the table, but Steve never misses a chance to impress girls.
“We sure are,” he said. “We hope to make these helpless creatures’ lives a little better.”
“If we’d known that, we would have saved some of the boring jobs for you,” Denise said.
“Such as?”
“Cleaning, laundry, sorting food donations — that kind of thing.”
“Actually, we’re just here to play with kittens,” I said. Steve elbowed me, nearly shoving me off the chair.
“Always the jokester,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “We’ll do whatever we can to help.”
“True animal lovers,” Denise said with a happy sigh.
“That pretty much describes us,” Steve agreed.
“Well, we’d better let you get back to your paperwork, or you might not have time for your interviews today,” Sharon said.
The Rise and Fall of Derek Cowell Page 4
