by Sarah Webb
OK, so there’s a guy you like. If he seems nice and the thought of getting closer to him makes you nervous but excited, you are probably ready for your first kiss.
So you feel ready for your first kiss. What next? I’m a big fan of getting to know the boy first. That way your first kiss will be special, and not just a few minutes spent locking lips with some randomer.
Some people have their first kiss at a party, others have a boyfriend for a little while before kissing him, or have a boyfriend who they never kiss. Every single person in the world is different and every first kiss is different.
So you’ve found a boy you like? How do you know if that boy wants to kiss you? Unfortunately, there’s no secret signal! He might make it obvious by asking if he can kiss you, or he might not.
Generally if you are sitting together, just the two of you, and he’s smiling, laughing, or holding your hand — flirting basically — chances are he might like to kiss you. You can encourage him by smiling and laughing back. Then he will probably lean toward you or stroke your hair and then your lips will touch for the first time.
I have to stop typing because Mills is squealing. “Can you really write that, Ames? About lips touching?” Her cheeks are bright pink.
“Mills, hasn’t the penny dropped yet? We’re writing a proper guide to kissing — with all the juicy details!”
She giggles nervously. “OK, but it’s still a bit weird to talk about lips touching.”
I smile. Mills has always been funny about things like boys and kissing. She takes it all way too seriously.
I continue:
OK, so your lips have touched, now what? Then you press your lips against his and kiss him back, keeping your lips firm and active, not floppy.
“Floppy?” Mills giggles again, but I just roll my eyes at her.
And here’s a tip — most boys don’t have a clue how to kiss the first time either. Here are some of the worst kind of offenders:
* Washing-machine boys — their tongues go around and around, and their kisses are wet!
* Lizard boys — their tongues flick in and out, in and out. Unpleasant!
* Dead tongue — they flop it into your mouth and leave it there. Yuck!
Mills is shrieking and holding her flaming cheeks in her hands now, and I’m chuckling away at her embarrassment.
“Mills, how did you ever kiss Bailey if you find the whole smooching business so mortifying?”
“It’s different with Bailey. It seems natural. You know like you — ” She had been about to say “you and Seth” before she stopped herself. “Sorry,” she says.
“It’s OK.” I try to shrug off my sadness and finish the article.
How long should a kiss last? A few seconds, a few minutes — there’s no set time as long as it’s fun. You’re not trying to set a Guinness World Record. And remember to breathe!
What happens if I do something daft, like knock his teeth with mine?
Yep, this is based on my own experience with Seth at Sophie’s end-of-term party almost a year ago. But it might just help someone who is in the same awkward position. I ran off and hid in the bathroom after it happened to me, but that probably wasn’t the best way to deal with it. I have a much better solution for the Goss readers:
Laugh it off and try again.
And here’s the important bit: never do anything that makes you feel awkward or that you don’t like. Ever!
Try to kiss with confidence. Pretend you know what you are doing even if you don’t. And with a bit of fun practice, it will all click into place. But the truth is: The best kisses of all are kisses with a boy you really, really like and who likes you back. With the right boy, kissing can make your heart sing!
“I miss Seth,” I say simply.
“I know, Ames,” Mill says, giving me a hug. “And I’m so sorry.” She doesn’t tell me that it’ll be OK or that I’ll forget about him soon, and I love her for it. Because it won’t be OK and I won’t forget him, ever.
Mills and I get the train to school as usual on Tuesday (Monday was a holiday), and neither of us mentions the elephant in the car — the fact that Seth and Bailey have obviously taken a different train to avoid us, or me, to be more exact. Instead we talk about the Saint Patrick’s Day parade, the Boston Twirlers (Mills says they were amazing), and me going wedding-dress shopping with Mum on Thursday evening. Clover and I are taking Mum to a swish wedding boutique called Butterfly Bridal. In fact, we talk about everything except what’s really on my mind — seeing Seth again.
The first time I see him is in the corridor just outside classics. He’s sitting staring down at the screen of his mobile, with his back against the wall and his head dipped. From the way his index finger is moving, I’d say he’s playing a game.
Feeling my gaze, he looks up. Our eyes lock. My stomach clenches anxiously and a lump forms in my throat. He gives me a gentle smile.
“Hi, Seth,” I say, just about able to get the words out.
“Hiya,” he says back.
It all feels really awkward. But I miss him so much, and I desperately want to talk to him. Even just for a second. I’m about to ask him how Polly’s been feeling the last few days, when Annabelle says, “Are you going inside or what, Green? You’re blocking the door.”
“Better go in,” I tell him, ignoring Annabelle.
“See you later,” he says. He doesn’t get up, which implies that he has no intention of joining me, so I walk into the classroom on my own, trying to concentrate on where to sit instead of feeling sad. Normally I head for the back row beside Seth, but today is different. I don’t want to spend the whole class wondering how he’s feeling, desperately wanting to talk to him about Polly, about us, about anything, wanting to connect with him but knowing that I can’t, that being “friends” will hurt too much. If he even wants to be friends, that is.
We’re not together anymore and I have to get my head around it. Starting right now. I need to find somewhere else to sit, somewhere away from Seth Stone.
There’s a spare seat in the middle row to the left of Nora-May. I drop my bag under the table and plunk myself down at it. Nora-May only started at Saint John’s in November, and I don’t know her all that well, but she seems nice. It turns out she is nice — she gives me a friendly smile.
“Hiya, Amy,” she says in her strong Boston accent. “How’s it going with the All Saints? Has Annabelle tried to kill you yet?”
I smile. “Not exactly. But it’s only a matter of time. How’s the ankle?”
“Pretty good.” She sticks her right leg out and wiggles her bandaged foot up and down. “Almost back to normal. I’m off the crutches and I should be back at practice tomorrow.”
I give a happy sigh. “That’s a huge relief. I’m not cut out for cheering.”
“Really? Miss Mallard says you’re doing great.”
“I think she’s just being kind.”
Nora-May laughs. “Think about staying on the squad anyway. If we could just get rid of Annabelle, I’m positive a lotta girls would sign up again. It’s awesome fun.” She lowers her voice. “You know my accident was Annabelle’s fault. She was supposed to catch me, but she wasn’t paying attention. She’s poison, seriously.”
Miss Sketchberry walks in and asks us to quiet down. It’s torture sitting in class, knowing Seth is just behind me. I’m sure I can feel his eyes on my back. I force myself not to turn around to check, and I try to concentrate on what Miss Sketchberry’s saying about the Elgin Marbles instead.
The week crawls by. Seth always says hi to me if we bump into each other in the corridor or outside class, but we still haven’t had a proper conversation. He seems distracted in class, and I know it must be because of Polly.
Luckily the D4s are so self-obsessed that they haven’t noticed we’re not together anymore or they’d be picking on me like crazy. They love it when someone is feeling miserable. Maybe it’s a good thing that we never held hands or smooched in school. It means our breakup is less ob
vious.
Mills is being sweet, hanging out with me at lunchtime and checking that I’m OK. I’m sure she’d much rather be with Bailey, especially as I’m finding it hard to laugh or even smile at the moment. But Bailey is spending a lot of time with Seth, and I don’t feel comfortable hanging out with him yet. I’m not sure if Seth would even want me around anyway. I have no idea how he feels about me now. I still don’t know if he even wants to be friends. Maybe he wants to forget all about me and pretend that our relationship never happened. It’s all so confusing. I’m exhausted thinking about it.
I’ve arranged something for Mills (with Nora-May’s help) to say thank you for being such an amazing friend. I got chatting to Nora-May after class yesterday, and it turns out that her cousin from the Boston Twirlers — Mindy — is still in Dublin, staying with Nora-May’s family after the Saint Patrick’s Day performance. Nora-May’s asked Mindy to come along to practice today to give us some tips. I’ve helped to arrange it with Miss Mallard.
Mills is going to be so thrilled. All week she’s been talking about the Boston Twirlers and how amazing they were at the parade. I can’t wait to see her face!
“I know you’re up to something, Amy Green,” Mills says as we walk out of the changing rooms that afternoon for All Saints practice.
“Moi? How could you think such a thing?” I pretend to look innocent.
We make our way into the gym, where Miss Mallard is standing with Annabelle, Sophie, Nina, and Nora-May. “There you are, girls,” she says. “Now, Amy, would you like to tell the squad what you and Nora-May have lined up for them today?”
“I’d love to. Nora-May’s cousin, Mindy, is in the Boston Twirlers and she’s coming along to give us some pointers.”
“She sure is,” Nora-May adds with a grin.
“Really?” Mills squeals. “I can’t believe it! Us, trained by one of the Boston Twirlers!” She starts fiddling with her high ponytail and smoothing back her hair.
“No one from the Boston Twirlers is going to be interested in you, Mills,” Annabelle says. “Get a grip. And it’s only one cheerleader, not the whole squad. It’s hardly that exciting.”
“It’s still really something,” Sophie says. “I saw them at the parade on Sunday, and they were awesome.”
“Awesome?” Annabelle sneers. “Since when is anything awesome, Sophie? We’re not in Boston, which is a dump of a city, by the way. It’s not a trendy place to live, like New York or San Francisco.”
“Annabelle, just shut it. Boston is so not a dump. You’ve obviously never been there.” Nora-May isn’t impressed. I’m not surprised. I’d be pretty annoyed if Annabelle was slagging off my hometown.
Miss Mallard claps her hands together. “Girls, girls, let’s stop the chattering and start warming up. Mindy will be here any minute. And do me proud, girls. Remember to punch out those movements. And nice tight swirlies.”
We’re busy warming up when a tall, dark-haired girl who looks just like Nora-May walks into the gym. I’d recognize her from the YouTube clips even if she wasn’t wearing a Boston Twirlers red-and-white tracksuit.
Mindy waves over at Nora-May, who smiles and waves back.
“Hey, everyone,” Mindy says. “I guess you’re the All Saints, right?”
Miss Mallard steps forward and puts out her hand. “Correct. And I’m Miss Mallard, the girls’ coach. We’re so delighted you could make it to our practice, Mindy. Nora-May’s been telling me all about your squad, and some of the girls saw you in action at the Saint Patrick’s Day parade.”
“Delighted to be here,” Mindy says with a grin. “Thanks for having me along. It’s good to finally meet my cousin’s squad. She’s told me all about you guys. I’m psyched to see what you can do.” I wonder if Nora-May’s told her cousin that what happened to her ankle wasn’t exactly an accident. I’d say she has from the way Mindy’s checking each of us out. She’s clearly trying to work out which one of us is Annabelle. I’m proved right when Miss Mallard introduces us and Mindy’s eyes linger on Annabelle.
“That girl can’t be your cousin,” Annabelle hisses at Nora-May while Mindy is asking Miss Mallard some questions about our training routine. “She’s white.”
“My dad’s Chinese–American, but my mom’s Irish–American. And so is her brother, Mindy’s dad. Is my ethnic background a problem for you?” Nora-May snaps. “Because this is an international school, and it has a strict policy on things like that.”
Annabelle scowls. “No! Of course not. I was just saying — ”
“Girls, please stop the whispering,” Miss Mallard interrupts. “Mindy’s here to give us some help.” She claps her hands together. “Let’s show her what we’ve got. We’ll start with a couple of cheers, girls, and then a Full-up Liberty. We’d be very grateful for any pointers, Mindy.”
“Sure thing,” Mindy says easily.
After lining up, we break into a round of “Hey, hey, Saint John’s fans, yell it out and rock the stands” followed by “Don’t Mess with the Best.”
“That was awesome, girls,” Mindy says, when we’ve finished our cheers. “Nice work. But remember to keep those motions nice and sharp. And, girl in the middle, with the curly blond hair — Annabelle, yes?”
Annabelle stands up straighter and smiles. She’s obviously been expecting the praise. “Yes. Annabelle Hamilton. Head cheerleader.”
“With Mills,” I point out, but Annabelle just ignores me.
“Right, Annabelle,” Mindy says, “you gotta watch those elbows. They’re dropping. Keep ’em nice and high. Big toothy smile, though. Must have cost ya.”
Annabelle beams at the comment on her smile. “Thanks.” She has annoyingly perfect teeth. I don’t think Mindy meant it as a compliment.
“OK, let’s see your Full-up Liberty,” Mindy continues. “Impress me, girls.”
Miss Mallard nods. “OK, All Saints, get into position for a Full-up Liberty, please. And Annabelle, do try to focus this time. We don’t want any more accidents.”
“That wasn’t my fault, miss,” Annabelle says. “Nora-May’s too heavy to be flier. Mills is too. I think you should pick someone lighter — like me, for example.”
“What do you think, Mindy?” Miss Mallard asks her. “Is weight an important factor?”
Mindy shrugs. “Sure, but it’s mainly about balance. Maybe each of the girls should try out the different roles and see which one suits them best. Not everyone’s cut out for flier.”
“I definitely am,” Annabelle says. “I’m the most experienced cheerleader here.”
“Apart from Nora-May,” I point out.
Nora-May smiles at me gratefully.
“My cousin is pretty talented, all right,” Mindy says, winking at Nora-May. “And she has been cheering for years. But you go for it, Annabelle. Nothing wrong with a bit of confidence. As long as you have the talent to back it up. I hope you have a good backstop, though. Don’t want any accidents today, do we?”
There’s an edge to her voice. I don’t think Mindy likes Annabelle very much. And after what she did to Nora-May, I don’t blame her.
Annabelle goes red. “No . . . of course not,” she says.
Mills is biting her lip. I can tell she’s disappointed. I know how much she wants to be flier. But as usual, Annabelle gets her way. Maybe Mills will get a chance later when we swap positions.
Miss Mallard claps her hands again. “Into formation, please. And Annabelle, as Mindy has suggested it, you can try flier first. Mills, backstop, please — I know I can trust you.”
“But, miss!” Annabelle protests. “Mills has never done backstop.”
Miss Mallard looks at her. “Would you prefer to swap?”
“No, it’s fine,” Annabelle mutters.
“Amy, Nina, and Sophie, you girls are on base,” Miss Mallard adds.
“Nora-May can take my place, miss,” I say quickly. “I don’t mind. Her ankle’s almost better now.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right, Nora-May?�
�� Miss Mallard asks.
“Yes, miss.” Nora-May nods eagerly. “My ankle’s completely healed. Thanks, Amy.”
“Oh, my pleasure,” I say, meaning every word. I am more than happy just to watch — forever. Now that Nora-May is back, I’m hoping this practice will be my very last brush with cheerleading.
Nora-May forms a triangle with Nina and Sophie by putting her arms around their shoulders. Then they all bend their legs. They hold their hands palms up so that Annabelle can step onto them. Then once Annabelle is in position, they straighten their legs and backs until she is level with their waists.
“You’re much heavier than Mills or Nora-May, Annabelle,” Sophie says. “I hope we don’t drop you.”
“You’d better not,” Annabelle snaps. “Get on with it. And make me look good in front of Mindy, understand?”
Next comes the hard bit. The three girls will have to push Annabelle up into the air using their arms. She’s already wobbling around a lot. Mills is standing behind the group, watching her carefully. If she falls, it’s Mills’s job to catch her.
“Lock those legs, Annabelle,” Miss Mallard says. “Concentrate and stay still, for heaven’s sake. Keep your balance. OK, on three, girls, lift Annabelle. One, two, three . . .”
“Nice, girls,” Mindy says. “Now, keep your base strong and steady for Annabelle.”
They raise her beautifully into the air, and for a split second, Annabelle stands aloft, looking annoyingly smug, her arms in a perfect High V. But then she lurches sideways. “Help!” she yells as she completely loses her balance and falls backward.
Luckily Mills is prepared. She puts her arms out. Annabelle hits Mills in the chest. Mills gives a loud “oof!” then bends her knees to take the strain. She holds on tightly, though, and brings Annabelle safely to the ground.
“Good catch,” Mindy says.
