Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories

by Pat Flynn

  ‘But I won’t do that,’ he says.

  Darn! ‘Why not?’ I ask.

  ‘Because I value her, man. Even though the best man lost, I’m going to respect her wishes and make sure she gets everything she wants.’

  ‘Oh.’ My stomach sinks. Why did I have to get the ex-boyfriend with a bleeding heart? Talk about a rip-off.

  ‘So, here’s the deal.’ He squeezes my shoulder again. This time it doesn’t hurt. It kills. ‘If you hurt her, I’ll hurt you. Comprende?’

  I don’t know what ‘comprende’ means but I understand him perfectly. And I don’t like it. ‘Yeah, yeah, I get it, Devo. Let go, will ya?’

  ‘Treat her right, or else.’ He pushes me towards the trough and I reach out to stop myself from falling. Now my hands are all wet and slimy, too. Gross!

  He leaves and I zip up my pants. Time for a change of plan.

  *

  Ash has saved me a seat so I slip into it and glance around the room. There are about ten girls and only two other boys.

  One is super-nerd Kevin ‘Brains’ McMahon. His idea of fun is a Friday night in front of an open book.

  The other boy is … Kane!

  What’s he doing here? Last time I checked this wasn’t the detention room. I should know, the detention room is practically my second home.

  I make a face at him. He returns the favour. The librarian gets the ball rolling.

  ‘Welcome to the reading and writing group. I’m Mrs Randall and it’s great to see some new faces in here today. Let’s make them feel welcome.’

  Everyone claps.

  I smile, Ashleigh goes bright red, and Kane stands and bows. Typical.

  ‘We always like to ask our new members to tell us what their favourite books or authors are. Would you start please, Ashleigh?’

  ‘Ummm … My favourite author is Isobelle Carmody, and I love The Hunger Games books and Chinese Cinderella.’

  She may as well have been speaking Chinese to me, but the other girls must know what she’s on about because they murmur their approval.

  ‘Kane?’

  This should be interesting.

  ‘Well, I like a lot of books,’ he says. ‘But you probably wouldn’t have heard of them.’

  ‘Why don’t you try me? I am a librarian so I know a lot about literature,’ she says, giving her shoulders a cocky little waggle.

  ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’d have to say Ben Dover, Drew Blood and Joe King are my all-time favourite authors. They’re awesome.’

  I snigger.

  Mrs Randall looks puzzled. ‘Hmmm. You’re right. I haven’t heard of any of those writers.’

  She looks at me. ‘And you, young man … What’s your name again?’

  ‘Tony,’ I answer.

  ‘Sorry. It’s just that I can’t remember seeing you in the library.’

  She’s right. I avoid the library as much as possible. Too many books.

  ‘Favourite authors?’

  ‘Yeah, well …’ I pause. ‘For me, the best book writers are Holden Yabutt, Harry Beard, Paige Turner and Ivana Killya.’

  The librarian shakes her head. ‘Gee whiz. I’ll have to brush up on my reading. There are obviously lots of writers for teenage boys that I don’t know about.’

  Kane and I smirk at each other and I let him know the score with my fingers. I beat him four funny names to three.

  ‘All right, let’s get started,’ says Mrs Randall. ‘I have some very exciting news.’

  A ripple goes around the room.

  I wonder what it is? Perhaps we’re going to have a bonfire party in the library.

  She continues. ‘Today we’re launching … the school poetry competition!’

  A couple of girls say, ‘Coooool!’ and Brains pumps his fist like he’s Lleyton Hewitt.

  ‘This year’s theme is “denial” and you can choose to write in any form.’

  I didn’t know poetry had form. Sounds like a football team.

  ‘We also have a well-known poet coming in to run a workshop with you, which means this group will have an advantage over the other students.’

  A hand shoots up. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Well – and this is very exciting – our guest poet is going to be Christine Bateson!’

  ‘Aww, excellent!’ someone says.

  A few other kids clap.

  I whisper to Ashleigh, ‘Christine who?’

  She shakes her head at me. ‘She’s a well-known author who’s won the Children’s Book Award.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ I didn’t even know there was a children’s book award.

  ‘All right,’ says Mrs Randall. ‘I know you’re all excited but quieten down, please.’

  I’m excited all right. Even though I can’t see it, I can smell pizza.

  ‘To get us in the mood,’ the librarian continues, ‘I’m going to read one of the most famous poems in the world. Hopefully, it will inspire your own writing.’

  No.

  ‘But first, courtesy of last term’s fundraiser, we’re going to have a free lunch.’

  Yes!

  A library monitor comes through the door carrying six boxes of pizza.

  Mrs Randall looks at me. ‘One of the perks of being in this group is that we’re allowed to eat in the library. Just try not to make a mess.’

  I don’t try. It comes naturally. There’s supreme, Hawaiian and meatlovers. I decide to go with all three. While I eat as much as I can as fast I can, I get the low-down from Kane.

  ‘Thought you were on detention for writing in the girls’ toilets?’ I say.

  ‘Just a vicious rumour,’ he replies.

  ‘Well, what are you doing here?’

  He leans in close. ‘Notice how many girls are in this group? And the best thing is, not one of them has gone out with me.’

  I have a chuckle as I pick off the olives. So that’s what he’s up to.

  Since Kane burst through the puberty gate like a bull, he’s been popular with the popular chicks. In fact, he’s already gone out with most of them once, and some of them more than once. Now he wants to date a girl who doesn’t know first-hand how sneaky and sly he really is.

  It’s smart thinking. But I don’t think it’s going to work.

  ‘They’re nerds, Kane. They’re not interested in blokes. Not ones like me and you, anyway.’

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Speak for yourself, Rossy. Sometimes nerds are the wildest ones. You’ve just got to get them to take off their glasses.’

  I wonder if he’s right.

  A grin jumps onto my face as I realise something. ‘Hey, you spread that detention rumour yourself, didn’t you? So people wouldn’t know you’re hanging out in the library.’

  He smirks. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rossy.’

  ‘All right, sit down, everybody,’ Mrs Randall says.

  There’s no pizza left, except for the toppings I spilt on the floor.

  ‘Close your eyes, please,’ says Mrs Randall, ‘and try to picture the word images as I read them.’ I peek at Kane. He’s peeking at the girl sitting next to him. I think her name is Astroid or something. Besides Brains, she’s the smartest kid in Year Eight, but apart from that turn-off, she is pretty hot – even if she does wear glasses.

  The librarian clears her throat and begins:

  ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

  Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

  Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

  And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:’

  I look at Kane again and now he’s got his elbow on the built-in desk and his chin resting in his hand. This means his head is so close to Astroid’s shoulder he’s nearly touching her.

  By the time I get back to listening to the
poem, it’s almost over.

  ‘So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

  So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.’

  Mrs Randall stops and closes the book. ‘Who can tell me the author?’

  Brains goes, ‘Pfft. Too easy. Shakespeare.’

  Shake Spear, hey? He sounds like one scary dude, although not as bad as his brother, Chuck. Chuck Spear.

  ‘That’s right, Kevin,’ says the librarian. ‘Can anyone tell me what’s so amazing about his writing?’

  ‘The use of metaphor is exceptional,’ says Astroid.

  ‘I totally agree,’ Kane pipes up. ‘It’s very metaphorical.’

  Astroid looks at Kane and he gives her a wink. She turns away.

  The librarian nods. ‘Good work, Astrid and Kane.’

  Astrid, huh? Missed it by one letter.

  ‘Anyone else?’

  Ashleigh raises her hand. ‘It’s kinda cool how he’s making this lady, like, stay beautiful forever, just by writing about her. I love it.’

  ‘Very well spoken, Ashleigh,’ says the librarian.

  ‘Anyone else?’

  Brains says some more stuff but I don’t listen. I’m too busy looking out the window. A group of Year Seven boys are playing human pinball, running into each other and bouncing off. It looks like fun.

  Analysing poetry at lunchtime isn’t.

  For a few seconds I get depressed, until a great idea bounces into my brain. I think I know how I can get out of these meetings forever, and out of my relationship with Ashleigh without Devo beating the guts out of me.

  ‘Any last comments before we finish?’ says Mrs Randall.

  ‘Yeah, I got a few,’ I say.

  ‘Good. Go ahead, Tony.’

  ‘Well, I can describe that poem in two words.’ I pause to build up the tension. ‘Total crapola.’

  A buzz goes through the group. Ashleigh swivels her head to look at me.

  I keep going. ‘Like, he goes on about a summer’s day and then the next minute he’s talking about May, just so it rhymes. Any fool knows summer’s not in May, it’s in January!’

  Brains cuts in. ‘He lives in England, Rossy. Their seasons are the opposite of ours.’

  ‘Oh. Well, he should say that then.’ I raise my finger to let everybody know I’m not finished. ‘Also, the bloke kept going on about “thou” and “thee”. It’s like he doesn’t even know English properly.’

  Brains laughs. ‘What are you talking about, Rossy? Shakespeare practically invented English.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Brains. Then his last name wouldn’t be Spear, would it? It’d be English.’

  Now a lot of people laugh. Kane says, ‘Hey, Rossy. Can you give me some poetry lessons before the comp? I need to learn some gooder English.’

  The group cracks up. Before I can beat Kane with a comeback line, the bell rings.

  ‘All right, everyone. We don’t want to be late for class,’ says Mrs Randall. ‘See you all next week.’

  As we file out, Ashleigh whispers in my ear, ‘We need to talk.’

  She doesn’t sound happy, which makes me happy. Taking my arm, she leads me over to the non-fiction section. I can never remember if non-fiction means truth or lies.

  Her jaw is tense and she looks squarely at me. ‘What were you thinking in there?’ she asks.

  What I’m thinking now is how cute she looks when she’s mad, but I can’t tell her that. I need to stay focused. ‘Just … stating my view.’

  She shakes her head. ‘When you disagreed with me like that it made me feel …’ She stops, searching for the right word. ‘I’ll have to show you. Close your eyes.’

  I do, tensing my cheeks. My face cheeks, that is.

  It seems to take forever. Waiting to get hit is the worst part. Whenever Mum takes down the wooden spoon I try to say something rude so she’ll whack me straightaway.

  Finally, it comes – pushing hard against my mouth. It’s wet and squishy.

  Hang on, I’m not being slapped. I’m being kissed!

  After a few seconds, Ashleigh pulls away. ‘I’m so glad you’re strong enough to have your own opinions. That makes me like you even more.’

  Darn!

  She leans in and gives me another kiss. This time it’s longer and more intense. I can taste her spit.

  Hot darn! I never want to break up with her again. Ever.

  The kiss finishes and we walk to class, my head still spinning.

  ‘But Tony,’ she says, ‘don’t ever disagree with me again. Once is hot, two is not. Understand?’

  You bet I do. I’ll never disagree with another thing she says. I’m sure of it.

  The Wrong Environment

  It’s Saturday arvo and Ash and I are babysitting the O’Connors’ kid while Mr and Mrs visit an art gallery. If I were them I woulda gone to the footy, but I suppose someone has to pretend they like art.

  The kid is having a nap and we’re on the couch watching a French movie. I can’t be bothered reading the bottom of the screen so I don’t know what’s going on, but every now and then it becomes interesting when someone takes off their clothes.

  Things get even more interesting when Ash rests her head on my shoulder. I can’t help myself. I reach down and kiss her hair. It tastes like shampoo.

  She tilts her head and gives me a smile and pretty soon we’re trying to suck each other’s faces off. It’s fun.

  If there’s one thing Ash and I have in common, it’s kissing. When we’re joined at the lip it doesn’t matter that I love death metal, monster trucks and hamburgers, and she loves crappy folk pop, boring foreign movies and tofu salad. Our differences get swallowed up like the spit we swap.

  But we haven’t even had time to swap spit when she yanks her head away.

  Uh-oh. I hope it’s not the tuna and banana sandwich I had for lunch.

  ‘Tony, I’ve got it!’ she says.

  ‘Got what?’

  ‘I know exactly how I can win the poetry competition!’

  What? How could she think about poetry while she’s kissing me? I think about good stuff like Xtreme air-racing.

  She continues. ‘The theme is “denial”, right?’

  ‘Right.’ I don’t even know what ‘denial’ means but I’m not going to tell her that.

  ‘Well, what I’m going to do is deny myself all pleasure for the next month and then write about what it feels like.’

  ‘Okay. Cool bananas,’ I say.

  I wait a second, then I lean in with my mouth semi-open.

  She slaps my cheek.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Didn’t you listen to a word I said?’ Ash says. ‘Denial. That means no chocolate, no Facebook and no kissing.’

  I don’t think I heard right. ‘But we can still kiss, can’t we?’ I edge closer.

  She slaps me again. ‘No! I need to feel my insides ache with desire. It’s the only way I’ll be able to write a great poem.’

  Why would anyone give up something they like? Talk about stupid. I’m about to tell her this, then I hesitate. Ash slaps hard, dude.

  ‘Besides,’ she adds, ‘it will be good for our relationship. It’ll show whether or not we have more than just a physical connection.’

  I already know the answer to that one.

  ‘Come on, Ash,’ I say. ‘Don’t you think you’re taking this poetry thing a bit too far? Why don’t you just imagine what it’s like not to kiss me and write about that?’

  She gives me a glare. At least it’s better than a slap. ‘It’s not the same, Tony. I have to make a real sacrifice for my art. It’s the only way.’

  ‘But you’re not doing art. You’re doing poetry.’

  I get slapped a third time.

  ‘Hey! That hurts, Ash!’

  ‘Well, shut up, th
en. I need your support in this decision, Tone. It’s not easy for me either, you know.’

  If it’s not easy, don’t do it, I feel like saying. But instead I take her advice and zip up my lips. We turn back to the TV. The two movie stars say some stuff, look into each other’s eyes, and then give each other mouth-to-mouth, their tongues wriggling like snakes.

  It’s going to be a long afternoon.

  *

  I don’t even get a goodbye kiss. Just a hug. Talk about a rip-off.

  By the time I get home I’m as frustrated as a dwarf playing basketball, so I go to my little bro’s room to let off some steam. I’m planning on starting a fight so I bring a pillow.

  But when I fling open the door, my jaw almost hits the ground. My brother is lying on his bedroom floor beside a girl. And not just any girl.

  Lacey looks up at me. ‘Oh. Hi, Rossy. How was your date?’

  I don’t answer.

  ‘I think it’s going okay but I’ll tell you for sure later,’ Simon pipes up, and the two of them laugh.

  ‘I was talking about big Rossy.’ She jerks her thumb at me. ‘Not little Rossy.’

  ‘You obviously aren’t referring to our brain sizes,’ says Simon.

  I squeeze my pillow. If Lacey wasn’t here he’d be dead.

  Lacey giggles. ‘Your brother is sooo funny,’ she says to me. ‘Just like you.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask Lacey.

  She points to a pile of books on the floor.

  ‘We’ve got this big English project, and Simon and I are partners.’

  I let out a throatful of air. So that explains it. For a moment I thought … No. Of course not. My little bro still plays with Barbie dolls.

  ‘I’ll leave you two study buddies alone,’ I say.

  Lacey gives me a wink. ‘See ya later, Rossy.’

  ‘Where am I going?’ asks Simon.

  I back out of the room to the sound of laughter. I didn’t know studying could be so much fun.

  I’m lying on my bed with a comic book over my head – dreaming about being a super-villain about to achieve girl domination – when a knock on the door knocks me into reality.

  I get my pillow ready in case it’s Simon. The door opens a crack.