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So instead of saying No, I took a deep breath, and said, “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you, understand? KILL YOU.”
Tina did a strange thing then. She let go of my arm and started jumping up and down in a circle.
“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it,” she said, as she jumped. The
n she stopped jumping and grabbed my arm again. “Oh, Mia, I always thought you two would make the cutest couple. I mean, I like Kenny and all, but he’s, you know.” She wrinkled up her nose. “Not Michael.”
If I had thought it felt strange last night telling my dad the truth about my feelings for Michael, that was nothing—NOTHING—compared to how it felt to be telling someone my own age. The fact that Tina hadn’t burst out laughing or gone, “Yeah, right,” in a sarcastic way meant more to me than I ever would have expected.
And the fact that she seemed to understand—even applaud—my feelings for Michael made me want to fling my arms around her and give her a great big hug.
Only there was no time for that, since the bell was about to ring.
Instead, I gushed, “Really? You really don’t think it’s stupid?”
“Duh,” Tina said. “Michael is hot. And he’s a senior.” Then she looked troubled. “But what about Kenny? And Judith?”
“I know,” I said, my shoulders slumping in a manner that would have caused Grandmère to rap me on the back of the head, if she’d seen them. “Tina, I don’t know what to do.”
Tina’s dark eyebrows furrowed with concentration.
“I think I read a book where this happened once,” she said. “Listen to My Heart, it was called, I think. If I could just remember how they resolved everything—”
But before she could remember, the bell rang. We were both totally late to class.
But if you ask me, it was worth it. Because now, at least, I don’t have to worry alone. I have somebody else worrying with me.
Monday, December 8, G & T
Lunch was a disaster.
Considering that everybody in the entire school seems to know, in the minutest detail, exactly what I’ve been doing—or not doing—with my tongue lately, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. But it was even worse than I could have imagined.
That’s because I ran into Michael at the salad bar. I was creating my usual chickpea-and-pinto-bean pyramid when I saw him headed for the burger grill (despite my best efforts, both Moscovitzes remain stubbornly carnivorous).
Seriously, all I did was say “Fine” when he asked how I was doing. You know, on account of how last time he saw me, I was bleeding out of the mouth (what a nice picture that must have been. I am so glad that I have been able to maintain an appearance of dignity and beauty at all times in front of the man I love).
Anyway, then I asked him, just to be polite, you know, how his dentist appointment went. What happened next was not my fault.
Which was that Michael started telling me about how he’d had to have this cavity filled, and that his lips were still numb from the novocaine. Seeing as how I have experienced a certain amount of sensation-deadening, what with my gouged tongue, I could relate to this, so I just sort of, you know, looked at Michael’s lips while he was talking, which I have never really done before. I mean, I have looked at other parts of Michael’s body (particularly when he comes into the kitchen in the morning with no shirt on, like he does every time I have a sleepover at Lilly’s). But I’ve never really looked at his lips. You know. Up close.
Michael actually has very nice lips. Not thin lips, like mine. I don’t know if you should say this about a boy’s lips, but Michael’s lips look like if you kissed them, they’d be very soft.
It was while I was noticing this about Michael’s lips that the very bad thing happened: I was looking at them, you know, and wondering if they’d be soft to kiss, and as I looked, I sort of actually pictured us kissing, you know, in my head. And right then I got this very warm feeling—the one they talk about in all of Tina’s romance novels—and RIGHT THEN was when Kenny went by on his way to get his usual lunch: Coke and an ice-cream sandwich.
I know Kenny can’t read my mind—if he could, he totally would have broken up with me by now—but maybe he caught some hint as to what I was thinking, and that’s why he didn’t say Hi back, when Michael and I said “Hi” to him.
Well, that and the whole part where I said, “Um, okay,” after he said he loved me.
Kenny must have known something was up, if my face was anywhere near as red-hot as it felt. Maybe that’s why he didn’t say Hi back. Because I was looking so guilty. I’d certainly felt guilty. I mean, there I was, looking at another guy’s lips and wondering what it would be like to kiss them, and my boyfriend goes walking by.
I am so going to bad-girl hell when I die.
You know what I wish? I wish everyone could read my mind. Because then Kenny would never have asked me out. He’d have known I don’t think of him that way. And Lilly wouldn’t make fun of me for not letting Kenny kiss me. She would know the reason I don’t is that I’m in love with someone else.
The bad part is, she’d know who that someone else is.
And that someone probably won’t even speak to me again, because it’s totally uncool for a senior to go out with a freshman. Especially one who can’t go anywhere without a bodyguard.
