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Authors: Wendelin Van Draanen

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BOOK: Confessions of a Serial Kisser
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25

Faulty Analysis

I
WAS TARDY TO
S
PANISH
. I'm never tardy to anything, but I was way tardy to Spanish. I'd been looking for Adrienne. It was the only thing I could think to do after escaping the Snack Shack. I looked in Ms. Pickney's room but was told she'd already left for her third-period class. So I hurried over to Room 814, the choir classroom.

The first person I ran into was Paxton.

"Where's Adrienne?" I panted.

"She's running an errand for Mr. Vogel." He cocked his head a bit. "You okay? What happened to your clothes? Is that nacho sauce?"

Clarinets were squeaking in the band room next door. Someone was pounding on a bass drum. "I'm late," I said, and ran to class.

Spanish was a blur. So was American lit. I couldn't stop thinking about Justin's cockeyed kiss. And thrashing in trash. And Robbie Marshall asking me out. And Studly doing devilish bunny ears.

I was living a nightmare, not a fantasy!

What did a girl have to do to get a decent kiss?

Could it possibly be worth
this
?

When the lunch bell rang, I was dying to track down Adrienne, but Miss Ryder held me back. "Evangeline! Can I see you a minute?"

Miss Ryder had told us on the first day of school that she was twenty-three and that it was only her second year teaching. "That's why I'm going to be unfailingly strict--I will take no bull from any of you. I am also unfailingly passionate about literature--it's my life, and I'm looking forward to sharing it with you."

True to her word, she's in love with books. Her cheeks flush when she talks about them, and she goes off on these amazingly eloquent jags about the significance of books. Sometimes, though, I think she sees things
because
she's in love, not because it's really there. Case in point: According to her analysis,
The Last of the Mohicans
is a vehicle for conveying great courage, great treachery, and great love.

According to
my
analysis, it's a story about war.

Anyway, when the rest of the class had stampeded out, she analyzed
me
through her narrow, black-framed, rectangular glasses and said, "You've seemed distracted in class lately. Especially today. Are you doing all right?"

What was I? An open book? "I'm fine," I told her, slamming down the cover.

She held my gaze. "You don't seem fine." There was a moment of awkward silence before she looked away and said, "People talk, Evangeline. It's wrong, but that's what they do."

My jaw hit the floor. My
teacher
had heard?

But...exactly
what
had she heard?

"The gossip is really not what's important," she said, looking at me again through those mind-reading lenses. "Just don't do anything
you're
ashamed of--that's my rule of thumb."

"I haven't!" I said, picking my jaw off the floor. "I have done absolutely nothing wrong, or scandalous, or...or even remotely nasty!"

Her hands swept upward. "Well, there you go. So just hold your head high, and get on with your life."

I headed for the door.

"But if you ever need someone to talk to..."

"Thanks," I said, then scrambled out of there to find Adrienne.

I
had
to find Adrienne.

26

Plenty of Mouth to Go Around

I
WENT DIRECTLY TO THE NEWSPAPER PRODUCTION CLASSROOM
, but Adrienne wasn't there. I checked the choir room (it was locked); then I full-on
ran
back toward Ms. Pickney's room. I never run through the halls. It's so un cool. But I had to find Adrienne!

In my hurry, I plowed right into Brody, who was emerging from a room in the science wing.

"Have you seen your sister?" I panted as I untangled myself from him.

He shook his head. "Choir? Newspaper? Quad?"

"No, no, and I don't think so...but I'll check!" I waved and called, "Thanks, Bro!" and hurried toward the quad.

It didn't make sense that she'd be there, because she had so much else going on, but when I rounded the corner and looked at "our" place, there she was.

"Finally!" she said when I approached. "Where have you been?"

"Looking all over for you!"

"What happened with Justin and the trash can? It can't possibly be as bad as people are making it sound!"

"Oh my God, this
school,
" I cried. I zeroed in on her. "How about rabbits? Are they also talking about rabbits?"

"What? No! What
happened
?"

"I went off on Justin for spreading rumors, and he grabbed me and kissed me. Right by the Snack Shack! But he
missed,
and then he wouldn't let go! So I jerked away from him and wound up falling and knocking over a trash can."

She gasped. "Oh, how embarrassing!" Then she squinted at me and said, "He
missed
? How could he miss? He's got plenty of mouth to go around!"

"You can say
that
again! Him and Travis and Blaine all do!"

"Wait...you kissed
them,
too?"

"No! I meant that Travis and Blaine have been mouthing off about last night, too!"

"But..." She squinted harder and shook her head. "Where do
rabbits
come in?"

I put a hand to my forehead. "Last night Justin was late, he startled me, and when he asked why I was so jumpy, out of my brilliant mouth came 'Maybe I'm a rabbit?'"

Adrienne laughed, then put both hands in front of her face and peeked at me over the tops of her fingertips. "No!"

"Yes! And somehow Stu found out and he's been 'hippity-hopping' when he sees me! Which is why I went off on Justin!"

She shook her head, then grabbed me by the arm and said, "I've got a deadline, and you're coming with me. I don't think it's safe to leave you alone anymore."

So I let her lead me toward Ms. Pickney's room. I already felt a lot better, but mostly I felt grateful that Adrienne Willow was my friend.

27

Surrealistic Pillow

A
FTER SCHOOL
I
HOLED UP AT
G
ROOVE
R
ECORDS
. For me, walking through that door is like opening
A Crimson Kiss.
I enter and escape.

Usually I just meander around the store. I read the backs of ancient LPs, listen to some obscure band Izzy's got pumping into every nook of the store, or relax on a thrasher couch reading tattered back issues of
Rolling Stone.

And usually there are at least a couple other people in the store doing the same thing I am, or trying out used guitars in the guitar room, but this time the place seemed deserted. There wasn't even any music playing.

Izzy was near the register, changing the strings of his guitar. "Hey, Bubbles!" he called.

"Hey, Izzy," I called back, then cupped my hand behind my ear and scanned the air. "I can't believe what I'm not hearing!"

He laughed and put down his string-winding tool. "Guess I was preoccupied, sorry! I'll get some music spinnin'."

So I was walking down the corridor between crates of LPs when suddenly it was like someone pushed me from behind.

It
wasn't
a push.

It wasn't even a person.

It was a
voice.

When the truth is found to be lies...and all the joy...within you...dies...don't you want somebody to love? Don't you need somebody to love? Wouldn't you love somebody to love? You better find somebody to love...love.

I moved toward a speaker that was mounted near the ceiling, mesmerized. It was the clearest, strongest female voice I'd ever heard. And as the song went on, I just stood there gaping up at that...
voice.

It was a short song, over way before I wanted it to be. So I hurried up to the counter and asked Izzy, "Who
was
that?"

He looked up from his guitar surgery. "Grace Slick. Jefferson Airplane."

The next song had started, but it wasn't anything like the other one. "Can you play that first song again?"

"Sure," he said, pushing back his glasses. "Your old man never played Jefferson Airplane for you?"

I shook my head.

"I can't believe that." He picked up the needle and carefully placed it back on the LP. "They wimped out when they became Jefferson Starship, but this is untouchable sixties gold."

There was a moment of silence and then that
voice.
No introduction, no warning, just that
voice.

"Wow," I said when it was over. "Is it called 'Somebody to Love'?"

Izzy nodded as he pulled the needle up again. "You'll like this one, too," he said, then grinned at me. "'White Rabbit.'"

"'White
Rabbit
'? No! Don't play anything about rabbits!"

He gave me a funny look. "You've got something against rabbits?"

"Uh...can you just play 'Somebody to Love' again?"

So he did, and when it was over, I asked, "Do you have that on CD?"

"I think I might," he said, and led me over to the used CD section.

It took a while, but eventually he handed over a jewel box.
"Surrealistic Pillow?"
I asked, blinking at the five guys and one girl on the cover.

He nodded and grinned. "Gotta love the sixties."

I followed him back to the register. I didn't care when it was made. I just wanted, no, I
needed
that song.

28

Reflections

T
HE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL
I started lying low, meeting up with Adrienne wherever her commitments required her to be. It felt safe, but after a day and a half I began hating it. Adrienne was so busy, so
involved.
Obsessing over 'Somebody to Love' and
A Crimson Kiss
did not qualify as having a life!

And even though the three kisses I'd gotten hadn't been anywhere near crimson, at least I'd
felt
something in their pursuit. I'd looked forward to school. I'd looked forward to sparks flying. I'd looked forward to the
possibility.

Following Adrienne around everywhere made me feel like I was backsliding. This was her life I was living, not mine. It was a different jacket on the same sad story!

So at lunch while she was typing like mad at the computer to finish a newspaper article, I collected my things and snuck out without her even noticing.

I meandered away from the classrooms toward the quiet outskirts of campus, and when I found a little patch of grass in a remote corner near the 300 wing, I sat down, took a deep breath, then opened my book bag and pulled out
A Crimson Kiss.

I read through some of my favorite passages, but it didn't take long for me to see that Grace Slick was right--I did need somebody to love!

But...how was I going to "find somebody to love"?

Reading a romance novel on the outskirts of campus was sure not doing the trick! And after giving it some thought, I realized that the cure was actually obvious:

I needed to pull myself up by the bootstraps.

I needed to get back on that horse!

I needed to try again.

After all, this was a big school. How could I have given up so easily?

It was time to lube my lips and get back out there!

Crimson kissing might be right around the corner.

BOOK: Confessions of a Serial Kisser
11.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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