A Kiss for Emily (Emily Stokes Series)

by J. P. Galuska

  “Yes!” The word ended in a hiss. “I think Alex will ask me.” He had to ask.

  “Why don’t you just ask him?” Bailey scoffed.

  I stopped walking and faced them all. “Because that doesn’t count. If I ask, we’re still just friends. But if he asks, I’ll get a kiss at the end of the night.” I turned and stomped off for the door without them. “I want a kiss!” I yelled back.

  With my good mood squelched yet again, I knew it would take every last ounce of energy I had to get through this day. As I drew near the school building, even the simple brick design annoyed me and I wondered when architectural flair went out of style? Why couldn’t Dad have picked a new house next to Topeka High? At least they got to enter through a majestic entryway every day.

  Find the good, Mom’s words rang in my head.

  “Okay, Mom,” I murmured to myself. They get a spectacular building, but T-West has “the best band in the land,” and I was part of it.

  “See you later, Emily,” one of my friends called from behind.

  “At lunch,” I mumbled, still irritated.

  As I hurried down the hall, the day’s priorities and events tumbled into order. I liked starting the day with band; our teacher was great. He actually seemed excited whenever I asked permission to add yet another woodwind to my repertoire. I suppose my gratitude should belong to my ex-hero father who never tired of buying me instruments, including my real passion, the guitar.

  Life wrecker.

  I never looked forward to second hour, trigonometry. Insider information claimed that all higher mathematics were created by the Devil himself, but then I knew not to believe everything I heard. Other rumors had my third hour teacher dating the math teacher, which may explain why she always showed a movie on days following really hard math tests. Unfortunately, she had a movie scheduled for today.

  Up until this past Friday, Spanish had been my favorite class. It had been a goal of mine to convince Mrs. Linz to approach the school board and suggest the course be turned into a cultural-language class that focused on the impact Spain and Mexico have had on our nation’s history with a mandatory trip to Spain!

  But, starting today, the newest reason why I liked third hour was because it came directly before the only truly important class of the day: English. With Alex Hibbs! And today, that’s what mattered most.

  Entering the door to my first class, I checked the clock on the wall and then my pocket to make sure I had a piece of gum so my breath would be fresh when fourth hour came.

  7:40 am. Have gum.

  C-sharp-not-B-flat-8:11 am…8:22 am…Bell-has-rung-time-for-next-class-8:35 am…Pain-of-death-math-test-8:51 am…8:55 am…9:01 am…9:03 am…9:04 am…9:20 am…Thank-God-that-is-over-9:37 am…This-movie-is-boring-10:06 am…10:15 am…10:17 am…

  Finally! 10:35 am. Time for English!

  Even though I sat by Alex every day, today I had butterflies. He was already sitting in his chair when I walked into the room. I popped the gum into my mouth.

  Please, let the plan work.

  “Hi,” I said, a bit overzealously as I took my seat next to him.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” It sounded more like a statement than a question. He was messing with his cell phone, but shook his head, briefly exposing his steel blue eyes that were usually hidden beneath his thick black hair.

  “We get to start on our project today.” I leaned in towards him, trying to appear irresistible.

  “Yeah, this should be good,” he replied without looking up.

  Hello! Girl trying to flirt.

  Mrs. Stoffer began distributing the project outline before the bell rang. “If you are not already sitting by your partner, please do so now.”

  He put his phone in his pocket and looked at me.

  I smiled what I hoped to be a sexy smile. Butterflies fluttered through my stomach a second time.

  “Is your cell broken?” he asked.

  What? The butterflies turned into lead. I can’t believe I didn’t even look at my cell phone over the weekend…he looks mad. “I’m sorry. Family stuff came up. You know how it goes,” I said.

  “I suppose,” Alex replied, not appearing completely convinced.

  “The final project for the year will be a documentary based upon the characters you and your partner create. It can be presented in either written or video form, as described in the outline,” Mrs. Stoffer continued.

  “What would you like to do?” Alex whispered close to my ear resulting in an involuntary shiver and an image of him and me locked in a steamy first kiss.

  My thoughts felt exposed as Mrs. Stoffer slapped the outline down on my desk, making both Alex and me jerk back against our chairs.

  I couldn’t very well tell him what I was honestly thinking, so using my best flirtatious luscious-lip-lick, I said, “Wouldn’t it be great to make a movie?” instead.

  He smiled. “I knew I hung around you for a reason. You’re a lot of fun.”

  Well, that made four things going for me: shiny hair, being a member of the best band in the entire state of Kansas, sitting next to Alex, and him thinking I was fun.

  “So, what should the movie be about?” he asked.

  I glanced over the paper Mrs. Stoffer gave us. “It says we need a minimum of two characters in our story.”

  “Well, we have a male and a female.” His hand motioned between us.

  “How about pre-dating jitters?” I regretted my words as soon as they were out.

  Alex’s face went flat.

  “Or not.” I winced.

  “But a boy-girl meeting seems to be a logical direction,” he said.

  As we created the characters for our plot, I found myself thinking about other things—like his hair, his secretive blue eyes, going to a movie together, holding hands… him leaning over and kissing me.

  “Why are you being so resistant!” What just came out of my mouth?

  Stunned, Alex stared. “Excuse me?”

  I gawked back. Oh crap!

  “Something about resistance?” His eyebrow curved as he tapped his pencil on the desk.

  I had to think of something fast. “Ahh…The Renaissance. You know, they could meet…never mind. Dumb idea.”

  “Blondes,” Alex sneered, smacking his elbows on the desk to create a doubled-fisted platform for his chin.

  Thankful I didn’t blow my plan before I had the chance to implement it, I stuck to the assignment from here on out. Our story evolved into the plot of a self-made documentary made by a serial killer. Alex would star as the psycho killer and I would be one of his tortured victims. It was deliciously bad. We laughed so hard at our tasteless project I was surprised the teacher didn’t kick us out.

  Then all too soon, the bell rang, eliciting the entire class to their feet like a group of Pavlov’s dogs.

  Alex’s expression turned serious. “We should get together and work on this after school.” His tone of voice turned somber, quite different from our hysterical laughter. Then he reached for my hand and turned it palm side up, drawing in a smiley face with his finger.

  “Oh.” Not expecting the question or the hand holding, my knees became a bit wobbly. I could tell that this was different from the other times he asked me to hang out. “I have plans tonight, but, I could change them. You could stay for dinner.” The butterflies went crazy in my stomach.

  “That’s okay. Keep your plans, but I work tomorrow so how about Wednesday?”

  “Play practice. Thursday?” I was sure my heart was thumping so hard he’d be able to hear it.

  His lips curved to a grin. “That will work.” Then he patted his stomach. “Is dinner still in the offer? I love your mom’s cooking.”

  “Sure is,” I said, hoping he was more eager to see me than to eat my mom’s food.

  “We’ll just keep working on the story plot in class until then.” Scooping his books up off the desk he said, “I don’t want to be late for my next class. See you later, Em.”

  Alex left me standi
ng on cloud nine with dreams of a happily-ever-after fairytale. Watching him walk away, I was curious what it must be like for a guy who was interested in a girl. Did they ever get butterflies or weak in the knees? Or was it limited to the boner inside their pants? And if so, did he ever get one for me?

  Shame on me! At any rate, the plan seemed to be working and it was going to be outrageously fun. I had to get to the cafeteria to fill in my buds—he held my hand!

  Chapter Three

  THE DRESS

  “HOW DID YOUR DAY GO, EM?”

  Mom asked as she handed me a china bowl of steaming mashed potatoes. Mom was big into family dinnertime, too.

  “Lovely,” I cooed, taking the beautiful bowl from my mother’s hands and twirled toward the dining table, feeling my long hair flow with me. Magically, over the course of the school day, my shell-shocked daze had been transformed into a ballet dance performed to the melody heard only in my head.

  “Lovely, huh? Do please tell, what makes a school day ‘lovely?’”

  Returning to the kitchen, I distinctly recalled drawing hearts on notebook paper that surrounded the initials E.S. + A.H. during the last two class periods. “I’m doing a fun project in English, that’s all.”

  “That’s all?” Mom stopped whisking the gravy and looked up. “Strange, I’ve never heard you describe English in such a way before.”

  “I was right, Mom. He likes me.”

  “Alex?”

  The words blurted out, “He held my hand today in class.”

  “In class?” Dad repeated, walking into the kitchen, just in time to interrupt. “That Alex kid? And you let him?”

  I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

  “You sure know how to ruin a moment.” Mom scowled at Dad, then looked at me. “Having a date for prom is looking a little more promising.” She went to check the calendar hanging on the side of the fridge. “Let’s see, he has about three weeks to ask?”

  “I hope he asks sooner than later. I don’t want to be stuck with an ugly dress.”

  “Don’t worry! Now if your hands are washed, please sit down. Someone call Kathryn first.”

  “I think it’s important to finish the last few weeks of the school year with all the enthusiasm as we normally would,” Mom proclaimed as she passed another china bowl filled with fresh green beans laced with sliced almonds.

  She was no doubt referring to Kat’s track and field season and my regularly over-booked schedule of band concerts, art club, year book committee meetings, and the upcoming school rendition of Prelude to a Kiss.

  And don’t forget about prom (with Alex Hibbs).

  “What’s the play about?” Kat asked, and then applied another layer of milk-mustache.

  “It’s about an old man who kisses a bride-to-be and they swap souls in the process.”

  “Creepy.” Kat crinkled her nose.

  “And disturbing. But it’s still been a lot of fun.”

  “I can’t wait to hear the band concert.” Dad smiled and reached out to touch my arm.

  I pulled it away, pretending to have something in my eye. My ex-hero father went back to eating his mashed potatoes dripping with excessive gravy. He made me nauseous.

  “After I kick butt at McCarter this year, I’m gonna kick some more at the new school next year!” Kat blurted.

  Obviously she was okay with country living.

  Dad found a new smile. “That’s my girl,” he cheered.

  I sat and wondered if it was more of a self-serving cheer than for her athletic ability. And what about Kat? She seemed not to care at all about moving. How could she not be sad? Wouldn’t she miss her friends, too? Perhaps she was just too young and couldn’t fully understand the impending loss. Stirring the chocolate powder into my milk, I thought to ponder this later. I really didn’t want to spoil my good mood.

  “What’s on for tonight?” Mom asked as we cleared the table of dirty dinner plates and empty serving dishes.

  “We’re going to West Ridge Mall to look for dresses.” I didn’t have to tell her that the individuals included in “we” were Rayyan, Bailey, Clair, and of course, me. “I’m not going to get a dress just yet,” I pouted, “but I do want to be prepared.”

  Mom kindly withheld the judgment I saw in her eyes, and tried to cover it up with a smile of endearment.

  I grabbed my purse and reached in for the car keys. I loved my car. That was another positive thing in my life. It was a blue VW Love Bug with green flames painted on the front. Dad even sprang for a customized license plate that read ONFIRE. I got it for my seventeenth birthday present, a reward for being an accident-free driver. That was about the only perk of having a November birthday—I got my license earlier than most other kids in my grade.

  Just as I was ready to slip the gearshift in reverse to back out of my spot along side the house, Kat came bounding out through the door yelling and waving her arms.

  “Wait!” she screamed, running to the driver’s side window. Poking her head inside, she asked, “Can I come?”

  I took a deep breath and held it. I looked at her cute little face and her cute little eyes and her cute pouting lower lip quivering in exaggeration. Little sisters were so annoying. “Get in, Kitty.” I said, pointing to the back seat with my thumb.

  “Yesss.” She smiled, clenching her fist and pulling it in toward her belly. “I gotta tell Mom. Don’t leave.” She darted back inside the house, with her hair still appearing uncombed.

  She returned moments later accompanied by Mom clutching her gardening supplies. I blew Mom a kiss which she quickly snatched out of the sky and planted on her lips.

  Shopping for the perfect dress with my three best friends became quite the adventure. With our arms loaded down with a heap of dresses, the fitting room became a fashion runway. We tried on long and sleek, short and frilly, bold and pleated, beaded and scratchy. My favorite worst dress was the very short, super ruffle-y dress Bailey tried on.

  “I look like the frickin’ tooth fairy,” Bailey piped. “Somebody get me a magic wand.”

  “You have to get it,” Clair exclaimed. “I’ll pay you fifty dollars if you wear it.”

  “I have sparkly wings you could borrow,” Kat added.

  Although the dress was way too short, I had to admit Bailey looked…like the tooth fairy. And no one wants to look like an elf at a school dance.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed so hard or had this much fun. Even Kat had a blast pretending to be a famous know-it-all fashion critique as she announced each dress as we walked down the imaginary runway. I’d have to thank her later.

  As the mall announced it was closing in ten minutes, time became relevant. Bailey and Rayyan each purchased a dress from J.C. Penney. Clair decided to go back to Sylvester’s Boutique to compare. We laughed some more on our way through the parking lot as we relived the trial and error process of trying on nearly every dress in every single store. Mom would kill me if she knew what a mess we left behind in the dressing rooms.

  Rayyan tossed her purse into the passenger’s front seat of Bailey’s car. They lived close to each other so often shared a ride. A heated wisp of envy dashed through me as I watched them carefully pack their bags containing brand new shoes and jewelry that perfectly matched their brand new evening dresses.

  “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Clair reached out to begin the exchange of hugs. Kat looked up and did her pouting lip thing. My friends hugged her, too.

  “Let’s get home, Kitty.” I grabbed her hand and walked towards my fiery painted Bug. Clair turned and went the other way. Then the sickening pains of moving jarred me again. I was going to miss the convenience of the city. We were just minutes away from everything, living on a cul-de-sac just off Fairlawn. Both our schools were just south of our house, off Fairlawn. The shopping malls were just off Fairlawn. Everything that mattered was just off Fairlawn.

  Although it seemed like forever, it had only been six days since Dad had informed us we’d be
moving. While it was my intent to embrace the move, I was failing miserably and my scheme to cope with life was seriously malfunctioning. The part of my plan that included “denial” kept faltering and I never knew when another round of random tears would break through. Not even play practice stopped the tears today. Then there was the other part of my diabolical plan that involved Alex, which was not working as I had hoped, either. In fact, it didn’t seem to be working at all. Desperation was setting in.

  I was sitting at the kitchen table eating chocolate chip cookies and feeling the need to succumb to childish ploys that involved my friends asking Alex seemingly innocent questions about topics like prom, when Mom came home from work, disrupting my thoughts. She was holding a very long bag over her arm.

  My mouth dropped open in surprise. Knowing exactly what it was, I grabbed it out of her arms asking, “What is it?”

  “Kat told me about it,” Mom began. “She was all worried about it being the dress you admired the most and the only one in existence.”

  “Where is Kitty anyway?” The nickname began as a taunt but now it just seemed to fit.

  “Dad took some time off and the two are practicing the softball throw.”

  Hearing his name, I realized I was still mad at him. Home wrecker. But that didn’t matter now. I refocused on the very long plastic bag and held it up just as if I could see the dress that was hidden underneath. “You’re the best!”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mom. Thanks.” I bounded off to my room for the unveiling.

  To prolong the anticipation, I removed the plastic covering a little slower than necessary. As I untied the bottom of the bag, soft white silk began to spill out like a graceful waterfall. The intricate beaded flowers decorated the front of the dress, starting at knee length and bloomed lavishly up the bodice. It was not gaudy in the least. It was just as delicate and beautiful as I remembered. Thin spaghetti straps held the masterpiece on the hanger. I had to try it on again to make sure it still looked the same.

  The day’s clothes were in a pile on the floor. The room felt warm as I stood there in my undies. After pulling down the zipper, I lowered the dress to step in. The cool silk warmed up quickly as it glided across my skin. I couldn’t quite reach the top end of the zipper to fully close the back of the dress but that didn’t matter all that much right now. I stepped in front of the mirror to rate my reflection. This dress…this amazing dress! For the first time ever, I thought of myself as beautiful.