“Shh!” I say, looking around. “Not so loud.”
She shrugs, twirling her hair. I mull over her idea. I have wanted to test this power more, to see what it’s about. Maybe experimenting with this kissing thing would take some of the scariness out of it. It would be nice to find a boyfriend. I haven’t really dated, just gone out here or there with guys as friends, if you don’t count that disastrous date with Ethan at the movie theater.
I was invited to the homecoming dance freshman year a few years back by a guy named Jason Brackmeyer, unaffectionately known as “Stumblemeyer,” but I politely declined. He was a nice enough dude, but I couldn’t get over the fact I’d seen him trip and do a face-plant in a vat of ranch dressing in the cafeteria. His head literally went ker-plat! when it hit the pasty white liquid. The dressing splashed all over him and the floor, and then he slipped and fell just like one of those movie nerds. How does someone do that? Only gangly Stumblemeyer, known as the clumsiest kid in school before he moved away, could find a way to end up with his coke-bottle glasses smeared with salad dressing while reaching for the carrots.
Even though I’d felt bad for turning Stumblemeyer down, I knew I’d made the right decision when I heard he’d stepped on his date’s size-fourteen dress on the dance floor in such a way that it had ripped clean off, exposing her granny undies and faded leopard push-up bra while everyone shrieked with laughter.
No, a dude like Brackmeyer wasn’t—and isn’t—my type. Neither is a guy like Ethan from the mall whose ego is taller than he is. There’s got to be the right guy for me out there. The trick is finding him.
Maybe Miranda is right. I should try and have fun with my new psychic ability. That would mean more kissing, but what’s wrong with that? Besides, it’s nice to bond with Miranda over my power. Because she’s so excited, I feel less alone. She sees its fun potential when all I can see is that it’s changed my life in a weird, scary way. I’m glad I have a friend to share it with.
We finish registering, and Miranda suggests we go get burgers at Fast Thru.
“There’s a guy there I want you to meet,” she says. “He’d be perfect for you. He’s tall and really sweet.”
“Okay,” I say gamely.
As we drive to the burger place, I consider what I want in a boyfriend. Someone who can walk without falling would be a start. Someone who is kind and normal and has a nice smile. A guy I can laugh with. Someone who’s in it for more than a one night fondle, who likes me for me even if I have a bubble-ass or frizzy hair when it rains. A guy who has a romantic side and gives me a flower once in a while.
Most of all, I want a guy who doesn’t mind if I’m able to see his every thought, feeling, memory, hope, dream, fantasy, and life moment when we kiss.
Is that too much to ask?
Who knows, maybe he’s at Fast Thru and I can order him up like a burger. A girl can hope, anyway.
Inside Fast Thru, there’s a short line for once. As we read the wall menu, Miranda nudges me.
“There he is,” she whispers. “The cute guy I was telling you about.”
Behind the register pouring soft drinks is a tall, black-haired boy with olive skin. He glances over at us and smiles with dazzling white teeth and two deep dimples. He’s adorable.
“He’s got good teeth,” Miranda whispers, snickering. She knows I have a thing about teeth, and she’s always ribbing me about it. “No fillings or chipped bicuspids as far as I can tell.”
“Come on, I’m not that bad.”
We place our order then wait for the cute dark guy to fill our Cokes.
“Hi, Miranda,” he says in a shy way.
“Hi, Victor,” says Miranda. “This is my friend, Winter.”
“Hi,” he says to me. “Cool name.”
“Thanks. I had nothing to do with it.”
We smile at each other.
“What time do you get off?” asks Miranda.
I nudge her. She’s being so forward! How embarrassing.
“Not for a while. But I have a break in about five minutes.”
“Want to come sit with us?” asks Miranda.
“Sure,” says Victor. He pushes our sodas toward us. “I’ll see you in a sec.”
Miranda and I go find a spot among the hordes of people sitting in plastic turquoise chairs around bright orange tables. The room is abuzz with lunchtime noise. Babies squawk, teenagers horse around, and business people shout into their cell phones. We love this place, this chaotic den of frying burgers, greasy grilled onions, and madly chowing people.
“What do you think of Victor?” Miranda asks.
“He’s cute,” I reply.
“Why don’t you kiss him to see if he’s worth going out with?”
“Are you crazy?”
Miranda’s eyes have their usual mischievous glint.
“Why not? I dare you. I’ll dare him, too. It won’t be too weird. It’ll be crazy and fun. Trust me.”
Whenever Miranda dares me to do something, I find her excitement contagious. An impulsive bubble rises up inside me that says, “What have you got to lose? Life is short. Have fun. Just do it.” With Miranda, anything seems possible.
I consider taking her dare and kissing this cute Victor guy. I know it’ll be weird because we just met. But this is my chance to practice using my power again. It would be interesting to know his character. Right away, I’ll find out what type of guy he is without all of the masks and pretenses that people always have when they first meet each other. I won’t need to waste my time getting to know him if I discover he’s already a jerk. I’m realizing what a great tool this can be. I’ve got nothing to lose but a little pride.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I say. I’m nervous but override it. “But you have to make it silly, and I’ll protest at first. I don’t want him to think I’m desperate.”
Miranda smiles jubilantly. “This is so much fun, I can’t even tell you!” She puts her large bag next to her in a way that disinvites anyone from sitting there.
Victor makes his way to our table with a tray of cheese fries. He places it on the table and pauses a moment before sitting down next to me.
“Your burgers should be ready soon,” he says.
“Good, I’m starving,” says Miranda. “So is Winter.” She winks at me and pops a fry in her mouth.
Victor’s arm grazes mine. He’s sitting very close, almost too close. I glance over to see him staring at Miranda. He has an expression of utmost longing. Weird. Maybe he’s hungry for her fries. I’m surprised Miranda doesn’t notice, but she’s looking at me. Victor follows her gaze and glances at me too.
“So what do you like to do, Winter?” he asks, blatantly aiming to make small talk. Wow, talk about awkward. Maybe Miranda has already mentioned me to him and now he feels put on the spot. It’s hard to tell.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just hang out, I guess. I like the beach.” I pull a long strand of cheese off a fry.
“I tried surfing once,” he replies. “It’s harder than it looks.”
“Yeah.”
An uncomfortable silence ensues. I shift in my seat, picking at my fries. I don’t know much what else to say. It’s hard to flirt with my friend sitting right across from me. Miranda looks at us with raised eyebrows.
“Winter and I have been having fun today,” she says.
“What have you guys been up to?” asks Victor.
“We’ve been daring each other to do things,” Miranda says. “Like just now, before you came to sit down with us, I dared her to give you a little kiss.”
Victor looks at me, and I look at him. He gives a nervous laugh. “That would be weird,” he says. “I don’t even know you.”
“Yeah, I agree.” I attempt a chuckle.
“I dared her so she has to do it,” says Miranda. “Or she’ll have to do a double-dare, like go eat that lady’s onion rings over there. You don’t want to put Winter through that, do you? That lady looks like she could bite a hand off. Come on, do it. Just for fun.”
Victor looks at me and shrugs. I smile. I’m nervous but also curious. What is he really thinking behind that big dimply smile? After my last few mind readings, I’m beginning to see that everyone is much different on the inside from how they present themselves to the world. Thoughts are very private things. No one thinks a stranger is going to have access to them, so they’re able to run free, unfiltered and unrestrained. I would love to know the truth behind that huge bright smile of Victor’s and if he’s really as happy-go-lucky as he seems.
And who knows? Maybe he’s boyfriend material.
“Okay, I will if you will,” I say, intrigue overcoming my discomfort. “It’s just a silly dare.”
“Okay, whatever. If Miranda wants me to,” Victor says. He seems game enough. He leans toward me. Our lips brush. Victor’s thoughts are strong and immediate, a blast from his mind to mine:
Why is Miranda doing this? She knows how much I like her. I wish she would go out with me instead of lame-ass Billy. I’m completely into her and she knows it. She must feel something for me too or she wouldn’t visit me all the time or call my cell to talk for hours. She’s torturing me by making me kiss her friend. This Winter chick is cute but she’s not Miranda. But if this is what Miranda wants, then fine, whatever. She knows I’ll do anything for her. But she’s playing me and we both know it. I hate her for it. I love her. No, I hate her.
I snap my head back. I’ve just overheard something I shouldn’t have.
“Sorry,” I say. “We shouldn’t have done that. It didn’t feel right.”
“No, it didn’t,” he says. “But it’s cool, whatever. Dares are fun sometimes. No big deal.” He gazes at Miranda with the most troubled, love-stricken look I’ve ever seen. It flashes over his face as clear as a glass-bottomed boat then is quickly gone, masked behind dimples and a friendly smile.
I’m fuming. How dare Miranda put me in this situation?
“I need to go to the bathroom. Miranda, I need to borrow your lipstick. Can you come with me?”
“But you never wear my lipstick,” Miranda replies.
“Now!”
Miranda jumps up.
“Victor, will you excuse us?” I ask. He nods. I drag Miranda into the ladies room.
The bathroom smells musty and pungent, the way public restrooms do. The blue and orange tiles on the bathroom walls give it a garish look, as though we’re standing inside of a Halloween fun ride. A soap dispenser dangles off the wall, empty, above a sign that reads, “Employees, Wash Your Hands/Lavarse Las Manos.”
I cross my arms and glare at Miranda.
“What?” she cries. “Did he think something strange or awful?”
“I think you know exactly what’s on his mind.”
She looks away shiftily. “No, I don’t. Why would I?”
“Yes, you do. You know how much he likes you.”
Her face lights up. “He does?”
“Miranda.” Exasperation floods through me. “You know he does. You talk to him all the time. You come visit him here. You call him! Why didn’t you tell me?”
She looks sheepish. “He said all that in his thoughts?”
“Yes. And he’s in love with you.”
“Really?” She’s giddy. “He is?”
I’m fuming. “What kind of game are you playing?” My voice rises, echoing off the bathroom walls. “I could kill you!”
An older, well-coiffed woman opens the bathroom stall and exits quickly, nervously. She glances at the sink but I’m blocking it. I’m too furious to move. She rushes out without rinsing her hands.
“How could you use me like that?” I shout.
“Shh, Winter, you’re screaming.”
“I don’t care! It’s not right what you did. You wanted to hear if Victor liked you, just to get an ego boost, when you knew all along he did. You used me and confused him.” I am tempted to shake her. “And what about Billy? If you like Victor so much, then you should break up with Billy. How long have you known this Victor guy? What is going on?”
Miranda’s brow crumples like a Shar-Pei’s. “I’m sorry. I really am. I was just curious to know if I was reading him right. I had no idea he’s in love with me, though.”
“Yeah, you were reading him right. But you probably blew it by having him kiss me. And what is up with you and Billy?” I drop my voice to a whisper. “You just had sex with him. I thought you were in love with him.”
“Yes, shh. But Billy confuses me sometimes. What’s wrong with talking to Victor and asking his advice? I need a guy’s opinion. He helps me a lot. Victor’s just a friend, that’s all.”
I shake my head. “You can’t play with people like this. You’re using Victor. He really cares about you. It was in his thoughts. I didn’t just hear it. I felt it. And it hurt.”
Miranda appears to contemplate this. “I won’t do it again, all right?” she says in a hangdog way. “I’m sorry.”
“You can’t use our friendship like that. We can have fun with my power but I draw the line at hurting people. And Victor’s out there hurting.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. I said it won’t happen again.” She sounds petulant, like a child who has been over-scolded.
“You’d better figure out what to do with Billy because you can’t play both guys. It will blow up in your face.” I sound like a teacher or something. Or worse, my mother. But someone needs to have common sense in this situation, and it’s pretty clear Miranda isn’t that someone.
“I know, I know!” Miranda replies. “Just stop, okay? You’ve stressed me out so much that I gotta pee.”
My own walnut-sized bladder is ready to burst so I follow her to the toilets, banging the metal door behind me louder than I intend. As we tinkle next to each other, sitting silently in our separate stalls, it crosses my mind—and not for the first time—that Miranda is a very spoiled girl. She’s used to getting what she wants in life, and getting it too easily. I suspect that one of the reasons she’s so obsessed with Billy is because he’s always emotionally holding out on her. Sometimes the people who have the most in life are the ones fixated on what they can’t have. And here she’s got two guys after her when I can’t even find one.
I rinse my hands, my eyes meeting Miranda’s in the mirror. She wrinkles her forehead at me again. “I’m not interested in Victor except as a friend. But it’s great to know he likes me. It’s flattering, you know?”
I roll my eyes, grabbing a hand towel to open the door with. “You’re so vain.”
Victor is back working the soda machine. He glances up and waves as we pass. We wave back. Our burgers are waiting for us. Beside Miranda’s food is a note that says, “Call me tonight. We need to talk. V.”
“Uh oh,” she says, and I shake my head at her. Her cell phone rings. It’s Billy. She’s immediately engrossed in conversation with him, giggling and trading jokes, her face lit up. Victor watches her. By his pained expression, it’s clear he knows who she’s talking to. When Miranda hangs up, she sighs. “Billy, Billy, what am I going to do with him?”
“You should be asking yourself what you’re going to do with Victor,” I say flatly.
“Not call him anymore,” she replies, tossing her hair in nonchalance. “You’re right; it’s not good to lead him on. Billy’s being nice again.”
I’m not hungry for my burger anymore. It’s cold and my stomach is in knots. It strikes me that maybe I really am on my own with this kissing power. Maybe Miranda isn’t the friend I thought she was.
Maybe I’m alone in a big way.
I toss the burger in the trash while Miranda gathers her things. As we walk toward the door, Miranda waves goodbye to Victor. He flashes a hopeful, high-wattage smile.
My heart hurts.
5
School has started, and Miranda and I are at the track field, warming up with the rest of the team. I’m still a little annoyed with her for what she pulled with Victor but have decided to cut her some slack for the sake of our friendship. She’s a long-tim
e friend, after all, and we’re both learning how to deal with this new ability of mine. It’s not like it’s the easiest thing to figure out how to handle.
“Stretch!” barks Coach Ted as we sit on the grass with our legs splayed, leaning toward one knee then the other, our tight muscles protesting.
Everywhere I look, there’s a sea of white running shorts and matching maroon polyester tanks, our lovely sweat-trapping P.E. uniform. I recognize most of the kids from last year. Everyone has changed, grown up a little over the summer. There are new haircuts, more facial hair, and fewer pimples. A lot of the guys are cuter than last year, and I wonder if there’s any boyfriend material out here. There are some new people, too, including a girl I’ve never seen before. She has white-blonde hair, pale skin, and large dark eyes. Her legs are skinny and shorts too small. She looks around nervously, fidgeting with her hair and acting like a fish out of water.
“Who’s the new girl?” I ask Miranda who stretches beside me with her eyes closed in a Zen-like trance.
“I think her name is Annika,” Miranda murmurs. “Her parents are from Switzerland or Sweden or someplace like that.”
“Poor thing looks shy.”
Billy walks up grumbling about the stupid warm-up exercises, and flops down next to Miranda. He attempts to touch his toes but looks like a stiff old man trying to bend at the waist.
“This sucks,” Billy mutters. He hates track but joined because he figured it would be an easy credit. Besides, he wants to keep an eye on Miranda. There are lots of cute guys in track, including Kirby Cahill, the most popular guy in school and captain of the team. Billy, for all of his seeming disinterest in Miranda, is a jealous and possessive boyfriend.
“It’s great exercise,” says Miranda. “You’ll learn to like it.”
“Fucking doubt it,” says Billy, grunting.
“Shh,” I say. Kirby Cahill is walking around among the students, checking on their form while the coach calls out stretching exercises. I don’t want us to get in trouble.
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