Kiss Read online

  'So how long have you k n o w n t h i s boy wonder?' Miranda asked. 'Or do you really know him? You're the girl who reads a lot. Maybe you're making up your own story now.'

  'Yeah, like, as if a boy like t h a t would w a n t to h a n g out with the Titch!' said Alison, another new girl.

  'She does know him,' said Patty Price. 'We were all in the same class in middle school.'

  'So he's only our age,' said Miranda. 'Just a little boy. I never go out with boys my own age, they're so stupid and immature.'

  11

  'Carl isn't stupid,' I said.

  'No, he's, like, ultra-brainy,' said Patty. 'He goes to Kingsmere G r a m m a r now, doesn't he, Titch? He got a special scholarship. He's great at a r t too. He painted one wall back in middle school – this Venice scene with glass-blowers, and it was j u s t like a real artist h a d done it.'

  'He sounds interesting,' said Miranda. 'I want to meet him. Hey, Titch, bring him round to my place tonight.'

  I stared at her. She was surely joking! All the other girls seemed equally amazed.

  'Yeah, right,' I said.

  'No, really. We'll have a party, it'll be great,'

  said Miranda.

  'Oh, can I come, Miranda?'

  'Can I?'

  'I'm coming too!'

  'Hey, hey, I'm asking the Titch, not you lot.

  Sylvie and h e r boyfriend Carl.' Miranda reached out w i t h her pointy boot and gently prodded me with it. Will you come, Sylvie?'

  No one ever called me Sylvie at school a p a r t from t h e teachers. I was so surprised I didn't know w h a t to say.

  I h a d to say no, of course. The very idea of Carl a n d me going to one of Miranda's parties was preposterous. But you didn't j u s t say No thanks to a girl like Miranda.

  'Well, t h a t would be lovely,' I mumbled, ready to s t a r t in on some excuse.

  12

  Miranda didn't give me a chance.

  'Great,' she said, jumping down from the wash basin. 'See you around eight. It's ninety-four L a r k Drive.'

  She was off with a flounce of her short skirt before I could say another word. The others all r a n after her, still begging to come too.

  I was left with my h e a r t thudding, wondering w h a t on e a r t h I was going to do now.

  'Miranda Holbein's invited me to a p a r t y at h e r house tonight,' I told Lucy at t h e s t a r t of afternoon school.

  'Oh yeah, like, really!' said Lucy, b r e a k i n g off a finger of h e r Kit-Kat a n d giving it to me. 'I know it's m e a n to bad-mouth people b u t I truly can't s t a n d t h a t Miranda. She's so posey, such a show-off'

  'I know. But she really has invited me. And she's asked Carl too.'

  'But she doesn't know Carl. She doesn't even know you, Titch.'

  'I know. I don't get it.'

  'Is it a big party? Do you t h i n k she'll invite me?' said Lucy, sounding hopeful.

  'I thought you couldn't stick her.'

  'I can't. And you wouldn't ever catch me going 14

  to one of h e r parties. Honestly, t h e things t h a t go on!'

  'What?'

  'Well, this girl in Year Ten knows her, and her cousin went to a party in the summer, and apparently . . .' Lucy started whispering stuff in my ear.

  'Rubbish!' I said uneasily. 'You're making it up. No one does t h a t anyway, not in real life.'

  'You wouldn't know. You're so innocent, Titch,'

  said Lucy.

  I wanted to hit her even though she was my friend. I could p u t up with Miranda and her pals patronizing me but not Lucy. Her m u m and dad called h e r Lucy Locket and she h a d three Bear Factory bears, Billy, Bobby and Bernie, and she still liked watching h e r old Disney videos.

  'Well, if I go to Miranda's party I won't be innocent much longer,' I said.

  'You're not really going to go, are you?' said Lucy.

  'Of course I am,' I said, though I h a d no intention whatsoever of doing so.

  'And Carl's going?'

  'Yep,' I said, wondering why toads weren't tumbling out of my lips, I was telling so m a n y lies.

  'But you're always saying Carl's so anti-social,' said Lucy.

  This h a s been a kind lie. When I first made friends with Lucy I wanted to show Carl t h a t I'd 15

  m a n a g e d to make a good friend even though I felt so lonely and half a person without him.

  I also wanted to show Lucy j u s t how close Carl and I still were. I suppose I wanted to show off.

  I was m a d enough to invite t h e m both round to tea one Saturday. It was awful.

  Lucy arrived in a dreadful silly-frilly dress and shoes with heels. They seemed too big for her. Maybe they belonged to h e r mother. She wore thick make-up, though she forgot she was wearing it and kept rubbing her eyes so it smeared all over the place a n d made her look like a panda. She spoke in a silly self-conscious way in front of Carl, and whenever he said anything at all, even 'Can you pass me the cakes?'

  she giggled. She practically wet herself she giggled so much. I wanted to die.

  Carl made a bolt for home the moment he'd finished his tea. He barely paused to say goodbye. I didn't want Lucy's feelings to be h u r t so I pretended he was going through a very shy w i t h d r a w n stage and couldn't really cope with company.

  Carl was incredulous t h a t I h a d become so friendly with Lucy. For a long time he used poor Lucy's n a m e whenever he thought anything especially twee, silly or naff.

  'Oh, dear God, switch t h a t programme off, it's too Lucy for words,' or 'What have you got t h a t skirt on for, it's a bit Lucy, isn't it?' or 'You don't look right with lipstick, Sylvie, it makes you look Lucyfied.'

  16

  It wasn't fair. I didn't really like Lucy very much either, but I needed someone to go round with at school.

  'I can't see Carl wanting to go to a party with a whole lot of strangers,' Lucy said now.

  'You're probably right,' I said.

  I w e n t home in a daze. I was sure I wasn't really going to Miranda's. I wanted Carl to refuse, and then I could use him as a convenient excuse.

  When I got home to our semi-detached houses I went down Carl's crazy-paving p a t h instead of my own. I knocked at the front door and Carl's brother J a k e opened it. He j u s t grunted when he saw me and ambled off up the stairs again, leaving the door open so I could come inside.

  He w a s sixteen, in Year Eleven at my school.

  He wasn't as brainy as his brother and hadn't sat for any special scholarships. He didn't look a bit like Carl. He h a d dark untidy hair and very dark eyes so you could barely see his pupils.

  He'd been quite small for his age once but now he was this great lanky guy of at least six foot.

  He was bright enough but he rarely bothered with much homework. The only thing he worked h a r d at was playing his guitar.

  I wondered w h a t Miranda would make of J a k e . I thought he was far more h e r cup of tea, can of lager, whatever. He'd probably go for her too, even though she was only in Year Nine. I h a d a feeling Miranda was already famous throughout the school.

  17

  'Miranda Holbein h a s invited Carl and me to a p a r t y tonight!' I called up t h e stairs after him.

  He paused on the top step. 'Cool!' he said, trying not to sound too impressed. He peered down at me. 'She's invited Carl?' He shook his head. 'He won't go.'

  'I know,' I said. 'Where is he? In his bedroom doing his homework?'

  'Like the nerdy little swot he is,' said Jake, pushing Carl's door open. 'Oh. Not here. His bike was round the back so he must be somewhere.'

  'Don't worry, I'll look for him,' I said.

  I w a s pleased. J a k e hadn't said more t h a n two consecutive words to me for years. J u s t one mention of Miranda Holbein and I seemed to have become cool by association.

  I w e n t looking for Carl. I tried the living room first, t h e looking-glass twin of my own. I liked the Johnsons' so much more. I loved their crimson velvet sofa and bright em