by Pat Flynn
Slowly, but surely, my hand creeps upwards until I strike gold. It’s a shirt, with skin underneath! I barely touch it and look out of the corner of my eye to gauge Ashleigh’s reaction, but she’s playing it cool. Just relaxing and enjoying the movie, which is exactly what I was hoping for.
Slowly, I wiggle my finger, giving her a little rub. Ash uncrosses her arms and legs and smiles, which to anyone else could seem like it’s because the movie star has just made a joke, but I know it’s really because she likes the Tony Ross style.
Yes! Finally, something is going right tonight.
After a few minutes of stroking, I hear an irritating frog-ringing noise. I can’t believe someone forgot to turn off their phone. I’d definitely remember to do that, if I actually had a mobile, that is.
‘Oops,’ says Ashleigh. ‘It’s mine.’
She bends down, opens the pink handbag at her feet, and switches the phone off.
It’s then I realise something is very wrong. I’m still stroking something! I look across and see that my hand has reached too far, onto the left shoulder of the person sitting next to Ashleigh. Darn these skinny movie seats!
The person must notice me looking because she tilts her head and catches my eye. I wonder why she didn’t do anything when I started feeling up her shoulder. Maybe she was embarrassed, or maybe she got a look at me when I walked in and liked what she saw.
She’s got long brown hair, a diamond earring and … a moustache!
Holy guacamole! It’s not a she, it’s a he!
The bloke gives me a wink and I take my hand away faster than a pickpocket.
Far out!
When Ashleigh sits back up, it’s all over in the blink of an eye. The goodie throws the baddie out of a plane, jumps into the pilot’s seat, lands on ice, kisses the girl and the credits roll to a rap song playing in the background.
‘What an awesome movie,’ Ashleigh says to me as we walk up the aisle.
‘Yeah, great,’ I reply.
She has to go to the toilet again so I slump in a couch and wait for her. I try to think positively. Maybe I can still make my move in the car park?
‘You shouldn’t sit there,’ a kid beside me says.
‘Why not?’
He points at my seat. ‘Someone left a surprise.’
I stand up and see half a melted Malteser smudged into the cushion. Twisting my head, I see that the other half is caked onto the back of my jeans.
‘You have a brown stain,’ says the kid. ‘It looks funny.’
‘Your face looks funny,’ I reply, and it’s like my words are waterbombs because tears well up in his eyes.
I quickly walk off.
Ashleigh comes out and we stroll to the front of the cinemas, me staying half a step behind so she won’t see the brown stain.
‘Are you tired?’ she asks. ‘You’re walking really slow.’
‘Nah. I’m just trying to enjoy every last moment of tonight.’
‘Oh, that’s so sweet. And you know what else is sweet? How you were with your mum. You weren’t ashamed of her, like some guys would be.’
‘That’s me. Unashamed.’
We wait in the car park and directly across from us are Kane and Lacey. Darn! How am I supposed to make a move with them watching?
Just as I’m building up the courage to say that I’m feeling dizzy and I need to lean on her shoulder for a minute, Ashleigh turns to me.
‘You know, Tony, most guys would have tried to hit on me in the movie. You’re not like most guys, are you?’
‘Well …’
‘I really like that,’ she continues.
‘You do?’
‘The world is full of guys who like me just for one thing. I want to go out with someone different.’
While I’m trying to figure out what the ‘one thing’ she’s talking about is, Ashleigh takes me by the shoulders and kisses me on the lips. It’s soft and slow, and she tastes like a mixture of frozen Coke, popcorn, carpet and girl. My head goes all light like it did at Simon’s birthday party when I sucked in way too much helium. It feels like I’m acting in my own movie and for once I’m not the stuntman or the weird-looking funny guy. I’m the star.
Her mum pulls up.
‘See you on Monday, Tone.’
A smile lights up her face and my insides.
‘Yeah, see ya.’
I look over at Kane, hoping he saw what just happened. I need a witness because I can hardly believe it myself. He wanders over.
‘You see that?’ I say.
‘See what?’
‘Me and Ashleigh. Kissing.’
‘Think you’re dreaming, Ross.’
‘No, we did! She reached over and …’
Kane smiles. ‘Yeah, I saw it. It’s about time, too. I’ve been pashing girls for ages.’
I remember something. ‘Hey. Why’d you throw those Maltesers at me?’
‘I didn’t. It was Lacey. I think she’s jealous.’
‘Really? Lacey likes me?’
I look in her direction. Lacey may be Kane’s little sister but she’s pretty cute. She’s also good at throwing things.
‘Yeah,’ says Kane. ‘She wants to kissy kissy you.’ He smooches the air and chuckles. Lacey gives us the evil eye. ‘Talking about kissing,’ says Kane, ‘I remember pashing Ash last Friday night in this very spot. Just think, when you kiss her, it’s like you’re kissing me as well.’
‘That’s disgusting.’
‘Not for me ’cause I got in first. But it is for you.’
I know he’s just trying to mess with my head, but the thing is, it’s working. The last thing I need running through my mind while I’m kissing Ashleigh is the thought that I’m kissing some bloke, especially after the movie incident.
I need to do something about this right now or I’ll never be able to kiss Ash again, and that would be a tragedy worse than Romeo and Juliana.
I reach over and smack Kane right on the kisser.
Not with my fist. With my lips.
He’s shocked for a second, then chucks me hard to the ground. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
I force myself to my feet. ‘Just getting even.’
Actually, I was just following my favourite rule. As a matter of fact, it’s my only rule besides ‘when in trouble, get amnesia’. The only way to make myself stop thinking about something disgusting is to go ahead and do it. It’s a lesson I learnt when I kept having nightmares about wetting my pants in primary school. After I tried it, the nightmares stopped.
Kane squints at me for a second and I think he’s gonna pop me one. I’ve seen that look on his face a few times and it’s as scary as a dark alley.
‘I should kill you,’ he snarls. ‘But ’cause we go way back, I’m only gonna hurt you. Where do you want it? Face or gut.’
I wipe Kane’s filthy germs off my mouth. ‘Gut.’
Ash mightn’t like me as much with a mangled head.
He gives me his best shot and I sink to one knee, coughing up something dark and green. It looks like a frog that’s been through a blender. My stomach feels like it has, too.
He walks off, then turns. ‘I still want that five bucks, you know.’
I look up but don’t say anything. Can’t. We both know I’m not going to give it to him, anyway.
Mum pulls up and I fall into the front seat.
‘How was your night?’ she asks.
‘Awesome,’ I groan.
‘That’s nice, dear.’
We drive off and I close my eyes. I want to forget the pain by replaying every little detail of my night with Ashleigh.
So here goes …
My first date is less than 24 hours away, and I’m as nervous as a kitten walking past a dog kennel. The thing is …
(Turn to page 83.)
(Go on. Do it!)
(Else I’ll kiss you.)
Don’t Kiss Girls
My favourite sport used to be cricket, now it’s pashing my new girlfriend, Ashleigh. Her lips are softer than Kleenex and redder than Mr Relf’s face when he’s skitzing. We kiss in the back row of the movies and the back seat of my car. But only when Dad’s driving ’cause he never looks in the rear-view mirror.
The toughest part is finding some privacy, so I can’t wait for tonight ’cause we’re babysitting together while Mr and Mrs O’Connor go to the opera. Ashleigh says that the opera lasts a really long time ’cause people clap so much. I’m bringing a DVD, though I don’t think we’ll get to watch much, if you know what I mean. The O’Connors have got this real comfy couch and we’ll snuggle into it once we’ve put the kid to bed early. We don’t want no baby sitting beside us all night.
When I meet Ashleigh out the front of the O’Connors’ place, she looks different. She flashes a smile and I notice that her teeth are blue. I’m sure they weren’t blue last time we kissed, which was yesterday. ‘Like my braces?’ she says.
‘Not bad,’ I reply. And it’s true. Ash’d look good in a gorilla suit.
We shove the kid in bed with a quick story and a carton of flavoured milk, head back to the couch and put the movie on. We don’t even make it to the end of the opening credits. Our lips entwine and I get ready for the sweet, sweet taste of Ashleigh.
Instead, I’m hit with something that tastes worse than brussel sprouts. It’s like kissing a fish that smokes.
I pull away and say I have to check on the kid because I think I can hear it crying. In the kid’s room I steal some chocolate milk and the kid almost does start crying. I try to figure out what to do.
‘Tone?’ Ash calls. ‘What are you doing?’
What I’m doing is panting, trying to blow the bad taste out.
‘My lips miss you,’ she says.
I can’t think of anything to say, and I can’t go back out there. Not unless I’m wearing an oxygen mask and I don’t think there’s one in the kid’s room. I’ve already checked.
I take a peek out the window. I’m on the second floor and it’s a long way down.
‘Tone? You there?’
‘Just a second,’ I say.
Maybe I can make the kid go nuts? Then we’ll have to phone the O’Connors and they can come home and save me. I start pulling faces, the sort I make at Belinda when she’s talking to her boyfriend on the phone. I reach under my arms and start scratching, like a monkey. ‘Ooh, ooh, ooh!’
The kid smiles.
I change into a tiger, pretending to eat him. ‘Raahh!’
Now the kid giggles. This is not working.
I take another look out the window. Maybe I can lower the kid out and we can spend the rest of the night chasing it?
‘Tone, can you get me a drink?’ Ashleigh calls out.
Then it hits me. The perfect plan. I go into the bathroom and find what I’m looking for – bright green mouthwash. In the kitchen I open the pantry and spot a bottle of lemon cordial. I mix them – two parts cordial, one part mouthwash – like I learnt in science class, right before I spilled acid on Vanessa Lowry’s dress.
‘Here you go.’ I give the glass to Ashleigh.
She pats the couch and I sit. ‘What is it?’ she asks, nodding at the drink.
‘Lemon, lime and, umm, bitters.’
‘Interesting.’ She holds the glass up to the light, and then puts it on the coffee table without taking a sip. ‘I feel like some dessert first.’
‘I’ll get it,’ I say, standing up.
She grabs my arm and pulls me down. ‘You are dessert.’
We kiss and I do well not to puke. Ashleigh tastes worse than ever. I count to 50 to take my mind off the flavour. At 32 I can’t stand it any longer so I fake a coughing fit.
‘Are you all right?’ she asks, patting me on the back.
‘I just need a drink.’
She hands me the glass and I take a mouthful – swirling it around and around – washing the bad taste away. I pretend to have a second mouthful but carefully backwash the first mouthful into the glass. Hey, I want to save it all for Ashleigh. I pass her the drink.
‘Thanks, lover.’ She has a sip. ‘Mmm. This is good. Very minty.’ She takes another swig, and then skols the whole cup! ‘Now, where were we?’
We kiss again and I get ready for the worst. But she tastes better. Heaps better. The mouthwash has blocked all the bad germs; it’s like I’m pashing a piece of chewing gum.
I hear something but don’t take much notice. I’m having too much fun.
Brrrbbb.
That’s weird, I think. It sounds a bit like my stomach after too much of Mum’s curry, except I didn’t have any curry tonight.
Blaaahhhh!
Something rushes into my mouth. Something hot and wet, and it’s not Ashleigh’s tongue.
‘Oh my God!’ she says. She jumps up and runs out of the room, a hand covering her face.
No, it couldn’t be … I swish some around, like one of those wine-tasting dudes.
OH
MY
GOD!
Ashleigh’s just spewed in my mouth.
I get up and run, looking for somewhere – anywhere – to spit out her spew. The door to the bathroom is closed; Ashleigh must be in there. I turn around and see a fishbowl. No, that’s no good. It’s too far away.
I run into the kid’s room and head straight for the window. I try to yank it open. It doesn’t budge. I try again but it’s stuck. Then I see why. There’s a switch that says ‘Child Lock’.
I’d swear, but my mouth’s full of vomit. This is one time I’d gladly take my mum’s advice and wash my mouth out with soap. I do my best to flick the child lock switch but I can’t figure it out. When I turn around the kid’s looking at me, smiling. I run towards him.
Blaaahhhh!
The kid’s white sheets have just turned green. For a second his eyes go big, like flying saucers.
And then he starts laughing.
*
Ashleigh and I sit on the couch. For the first time since we became a couple, none of our body parts are touching.
I put on my most sensitive voice. ‘It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not ready for a girl like you. I think you’re too good.’
Her eyes narrow into slits. ‘And it has nothing to do with my new braces?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Or the fact that I … threw up in your mouth?’
‘No, no, no,’ I say. ‘How could you even think such a thing? It’s just not working out between us, babe. I’m sorry.’
I put on my sad face, the same one I use during meetings between me, my mum and the deputy principal.
Ashleigh gives me a piercing look. ‘What did you put in that drink, anyway?’
Before I can think up a good lie, the front door swings open.
‘Have a good night?’ asks Mr O’Connor. Ashleigh and I don’t answer.
Mrs O’Connor goes straight in to check on the kid.
‘I’m sure it was better than ours,’ Mr O’Connor continues. ‘The singing was terrible and the wine tasted like vomit.’
Mrs O’Connor comes out. ‘Joshua seems okay, although there’s green stuff all over his bed. Was he sick?’
‘Umm. We didn’t notice,’ I say. ‘He didn’t yell out or anything.’
She stares at us for a moment, then her face softens. ‘It’s okay, he’s fine now. Perhaps you sweethearts were too busy kissing.’
She gives us a smile. I don’t smile back.
Mrs O’Connor hands Ashleigh some money, and Mr O’Connor takes us home. Ashleigh and I sit in the back seat but we don’t hold hands. We don’t kiss goodnight, either.
&nbs
p; I don’t sleep too well. Although I keep drinking like a camel, I can’t get the taste of Ashleigh out of my throat. I also have to keep getting up to go to the toilet.
When I finally make it to la la land, someone starts shaking my shoulder. ‘Tony.’
I roll over.
‘Tony!’ It’s Mum, and now she’s shaking me like we’re in an earthquake. ‘We’re running late.’
I must be dreaming. ‘What for, Mum? It’s Saturday.’
‘I know. But you’ve got an appointment. I forgot to tell you.’
‘With who? Hollywood?’
Even when I’m half asleep I’m still funny.
‘No,’ she says. ‘The orthodontist.’
I sit bolt upright.
How to Get a Job and Lose It in One Day
‘Come in, Terry.’
‘Tony,’ I say.
The man looks down at his clipboard. ‘Oh, yes. Tony. Tony Ross.’
‘That’s me,’ I say, squeezing the bloke’s hand.
His grip is weak, like a dead fish. Straightaway I’m suspicious. Dad always tells me: Never trust a man who doesn’t try to break your hand when he shakes it.
‘Have a seat, please.’
He sits on the super-deluxe office chair while I get the wonky plastic seat. Typical.
‘So, Tony. I’ve been reading through your resumé. Under “Talents” you’ve listed two things: “burping the alphabet song” and “good kisser”.’
I try and hold back a chuckle but I can’t help myself. Geez, I’m funny.
‘Do you see this as some kind of joke, Tony?’
Actually, I do. The school’s paid this fully dressed-up business bloke with a bowl haircut to find everyone in Year Eight a job that goes for one week. Talk about lame.
‘Well?’
‘No,’ I mumble.
‘How do you think those talents will help you get this job?’ he asks.
‘Hmmm.’ I try to think of an answer but all that pops into my head is what my mate Kane wrote down for his talents: telling jokes and making toast. I start chuckling again.
The man stands up. ‘We can end this right now if you want?’
