Raisin Rodriguez & the Big-Time Smooch (10 page)

“Mom, I'm not lying. I never kissed a boy. The closest I've come to kissing a boy who's not a relative is when Countess licks my mouth after dinner.”

“Then why did you say you had? You don't have to pretend for me. I'm proud that you're not rushing into things. It means you have self-worth. It means you know that you're not ready. You do know you're not ready, right? Because you aren't. You're just a child. But now that you have your period, you are physically ready to have a baby. You know that, right? I must have explained that part to you when I got pregnant with Lola. At least I hope it was me who explained that to you, and not that nasty little boy who showed you the dirty magazines when you were in kindergarten. What was his name again? Joshy? Every one is in such a rush these days to—”

“Mom!”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why are you getting so upset?”

“I'm not up-se-he-he . . .” That's when the tears started streaming down her face. “It's just that you're not a baby anymo-oh-oh.”

She was all over the place. Not making a bit of sense. She takes me out to a fancy restaurant to make sure I know I'm still a child, then she burst into tears because I'm not a baby. She goes out of her way to make sure I know that getting my period means that now I could get pregnant; meanwhile, she's suffering from the world's worse case of PMS-itis and doesn't even realize it.

Get it together, woman!

“Yes, but I haven't been a baby for twelve years; why are you crying now?”

“I guess I might as well tell you what's going on. Samantha's been seeing a college boy and spending time alone with him in her room. Horace and I both think she's too young for that kind of behavior, and we've asked her not to let it happen again. But we also know that you look up to her and that sometimes when a young girl looks up to a teenager, the young girl will mimic the older one's behavior. So I wanted to have this talk with you before it was too late. It's not too late, right, honey? Please tell me it's not too late.”

I assured her for the millionth time that it wasn't too late. She seemed really relieved and grateful. I just hope she holds on to that feeling for a while. So that one day, hopefully soon, when she does find me alone in my room with CJ, she'll remember how grateful she felt toward me for not doing it sooner and go easy on me.

BECAUSE IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE CJ REALIZES HIS LOVE FOR ME, AND I REFUSE TO STAY INEXPERIENCED FOREVER!

PS—Reputation remains intact.

PPS—I wonder how they found out about Sam?

 
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Logged in at 9:59 PM, EST

What's new, Pussycats?

Poor Sam. We just crossed paths in the bathroom and boy, is she upseterino. She won't even look me in the eye. My mom and stepdad went completely ape poop on her. She's not allowed to be alone in her room with Sid and they're making her take “a more active role” as a member of the family by making her drive me to after-school events. I guess they figure that the busier she is, the less time she'll have with Sid. That or the more time she has to spend with me, the more she'll realize how awful children are and the more careful she'll be about not making one with Sid. Though if that's the case, they really should have put her in charge of Lola.

I hope she's not angry at me about having to drive me around.

Speaking of Sam, I've decided to wear her green velvet dress again. There's no way CJ will be able to resist me in it. I doubt he'll recognize it from Saturday. After all, his eyes were kind of buried in She Who Shall Remain Nameless's Face.

Gotta go.

Love,

The future ex-Miss Priss. Soon to be known as the future Ms. Raisin Rodriguez-Mullen.

Foiled again.

When I got to school today, CJ was waiting for me at my locker.

“I don't think I can get together with you tonight,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked, rushing to get my coat off so he could see my outfit.

“Jeremy didn't like my strip. He wants me to do it over,” CJ told me.

“Does it have to be tonight?”

“He wants it as soon as possible so he can leave time for last-minute changes.”

CJ looked so sad. I really wanted to give Jeremy a piece of my mind. And on that piece of my mind, I would have written the following: Why are you ruining my life?

“I wish Lynn's orthodontist would hurry up and finish putting on her braces so she would come back to the zine,” I said. “She never would have made you redo your strip.”

“Maybe she would have.”

“I don't think so,” I said, struggling with the end of my zipper.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because . . . I don't.” It was hard to think of a reason with my coat attacking me.

“But why not?”

“Because . . . because . . .” I needed CJ to see my outfit. But there was no getting my coat to open. So I stepped out of it the way you step out of a skirt or a hula hoop. Which I thought was genius.

Until finally my foot got caught in the material and I tripped over it. “Because . . . I don't,“ I yelled to CJ from the ground.

“Okay, Raisin,” CJ whispered, almost like he was shushing me, but not really, because he's too sweet. He offered me his hand and I grabbed it, which was kind of nice.

Except that as soon as I was on my feet, he spit out a quick goodbye and was off. I wonder if he noticed I was acting weird?

Before I could even gather my thoughts, Sparkles appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Listen, NG, we've all been there. Sometimes I find it helps to write down my outfits on a calendar. That way I avoid wearing the same outfit twice within too short a time.”

At that point I wasn't sure if admitting that I‘d repeated the outfit on purpose made me more or less pathetic. So I just thanked Sparkles for his advice.

 
12:25 PM, EST

What if CJ was using the strip as an excuse? What if the truth is that he doesn't want anything to do with me because he heard that I'm a priss?

(What if the truth is that he doesn't want anything to do with me because I repeated my outfit twice in one week?)

 
12:27 PM, EST

I guess I could ask Jeremy if he really asked CJ to redo the strip.

 
12:28 PM, EST

But then I'll have to speak with him in private. And I don't know if there's a room big enough for me and his head.

 
12:30 PM, EST

Not to mention his voice.

 
12:31 PM, EST

Or his . . . I won't even mention the obvious.

 
12:33 PM, EST

But I'll give you a hint: It begins with freckl, and it ends with es.

 
12:35 PM, EST

Why does Jeremy have to be such a big-headed, loud-voiced, freckle-faced freckle face? Instead of a nice friend who answers my questions and promises me that CJ's telling the truth (using his inside voice so as not to call attention to my late-stage desperation disorder) and doesn't act like he's cooler than me because he drinks Red Bull. Huh?

 
12:41 PM, EST

Okay, I've decided CJ was definitely using the strip as an excuse.

How do I know? They say a woman just knows. And I—having experienced the joys of menstruation—am a woman. So I know.

 
12:53 PM, EST

Three things I'm tired of:

1. Peeing

This one is two-pronged:

I've already done it 38,o76 times in life. I'm ready for something new.

There are too many steps.

Nine, depending on how many layers you're wearing. By the time I've finished with all the steps, it's almost time to go again. I probably don't give her enough credit for it, but Lola really had the right idea when she wore those diaper things. It's one of the things I admire most about her.

2. My reputation (I'm sorry, but if you don't know why I feel this way by now, then you obviously haven't been paying attention.)

3. This outfit

Fiona just said something about it to me at lunch. It was one thing when Sparkles mentioned it. He was coming from a place of love. But it's different with Fiona. She comes from a place of disdain.

“I see you're wearing the outfit from Saturday,” she said, passing me on the way to her table. “I know I said I liked it, but it's okay to take it off.”

I mean, I don't know who she thinks she is. I thought the two of us could finally live democratically now that we'd established our respective territories on the social map. Me as the quirky clown who hangs out with the alt kids and she as the reigning queen of the popular girls whose approval is sought out by all.

I guess one person's democracy is another person's dictatorship.

Oh, well. I have much bigger problems than Fiona Small. Like the fact that CJ “Make-Out King” Mullen wants nothing to do with me.

It's really a shame. And such unfortunate timing too. With Dylan out and all.

 
Logged in at 7:11 PM, EST

What's the story, Morning Meow Meows?

I'm so lucky to have such intelligent friends as the two of you.

Pia, I couldn't agree with you more. Trust is a beautiful thing. Unfortunately, trust requires trust. I need a plan that's a little more reliable.

Now, Claud, my dear, you'll be happy to know I'm moving ahead with Operation Reputation Removal.

I've given it lots of thought and I've come up with the perfect plan. I'm going to give myself a hickey.

Be right back.

 
7:06 AM, EST

FAQs about the self-given hickey:

Q: Is it really possible to give yourself a hickey?

A: Good question! Yes, it is possible to give yourself a hickey.

 
Q: How do you give yourself a hickey?

A: Another really good question. There are different schools of thought on this one. Some people recommend holding a vacuum cleaner hose up to your skin for a few seconds. Frankly, this sounds painful and hot. Also, unless you regularly run a vacuum, the noise might arouse suspicion in parents. If you're fortunate enough not to be living with your parents, this might not apply to you. In this case, however, you're probably too old to be giving yourself a hickey.

 
Q: Okay, then which method do you recommend?

A: Wow! These questions keep getting better and better. I recommend the old-fashioned method: using the mouth and sucking in. The upside is that this method is relatively painless. The downside is that most people can't reach their own necks with their mouths.

 
Q: If you can't give yourself a hickey on your neck, then where?

A: That all depends on how flexible you are. Anyplace you can reach.

Q: Have you ever given yourself a hickey?

A: Funny you should ask. As a matter of fact, I just gave myself a hickey today. On my upper arm. Sure, it's a little untraditional, but a hickey's a hickey, right? Maybe the boy who gave it to me has bad aim. Doesn't make me any more of a priss, now, does it?

 
Q: Is there anything else I should know about giving myself a hickey?

A: Well, you might feel a little stupid doing it, but keep in mind, it's for a good cause. Also, you definitely don't want CJ to think you have another boyfriend, so make sure people know the hickey came from a party game.

 
12:27 PM, EST

Okay. This is going to be a little harder than I thought.

During homeroom I was going over my math homework, when I saw Jeremy standing by the blackboard. Perfect! I thought as I got up from my desk and made my way over to him. Who better than Jeremy Craine, chronic loudyitis sufferer, to spread my “news” like wildfire? He'll really be doing himself a service as well. From what I understand, loudyitis sufferers love that kind of responsibility. It makes them feel useful.

But leave it to Jeremy to be the exception to every rule. As I got closer to him, I noticed a little red mark on his lip. Like some jelly left over from breakfast.

“You have something on your lip,” I told him.

“No big deal,” he said.

Just then, Lynn joined us. “Hey,” she said to Jeremy. “Your lip is bleeding. You should go clean it up.”

“Oh. I already tol—” I tried to reassure her, but Jeremy interrupted me.

“I guess I should go check on it,” he said, touching his lip. “I'll be right back.”

And he was out the door, just like that. I wonder why he listened to Lynn and not to me. Maybe because she's his boss at the 'zine.

With Jeremy gone, I decided to show my hickey to Lynn. I took off the pink leopard-print cardigan I was wearing to reveal the green camisole underneath.