Kiss Me

PART I, chapter 1

STEPHANIE

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August – October

- I -

August 23, 2004

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I hated this place already. I felt like one of those new kids who immediately feel that they don't belong in a high school, even though they are very cool. The sad part was that I wasn't even a new kid. I knew some people here; I grew up in this town. The problem was that I was home-schooled until this year. For some strange reason, my parents decided that I needed to go to a public school for my junior and senior years. Apparently, it just dawned on my mother that I lacked communication skills, and she was pestering my Dad until he gave up and agreed with her, thus putting me in the constant miserable anxiety.

I always hated the crowds, and my ideal Saturday night would always include a book or a movie at my house by myself. I've never gotten along with people easily. I would never know what to say and what to do with my hands; I would always shift my eyes, because I couldn't stand looking into someone's face. Until I was almost eight, my parents were positive that I was autistic, but then after countless doctors' visits and humiliating tests, they accepted the idea that I was just a loner. My mother decided to socialize me by constantly dragging me along on her weekly trips to the mall. She called it our 'Fun Time.' I called it 'Spanish Inquisition of the Twenty First Century.' For some strange reason, my mother was convinced that I enjoyed our trips to the mall, and that I acted miserably just because I was a teenager and this is my way of acting out. I tried to talk to my Dad about it, but the minute he heard the word 'mall,' he immediately remembered that he had a very urgent project to work on. Finally, I just gave up and followed my mother silently, pretending that I was just a pack mule for her, which was actually true.

I begged my parents to just let me stay home-schooled until graduation, and then I would go to college, and my communication skills would be just fine. My mother didn't even listen to me; she just dismissively waved her hand, and said that everything was settled already, and that I would thank her later. My Dad didn't even say anything except for his usual, "Listen to your mother." So here I was, first day of my two-year long imprisonment amongst people.

I was walking slowly, clutching my bag to my side, as if I was afraid that someone was going to snatch it any minute. I memorized my schedule a week ago, just so I didn't have to look at it in front of everybody. I felt sick. My heart was beating way too fast, and my mouth was dry. I was trying to remember where the math class took place, when I heard someone call my name. I slowly turned around and raised my head.

"Hey, Steph! I am so happy you are finally here!"

It was Trisha, the closest thing to the best friend I've ever had. I felt myself relax a little.

"Hey, Trisha," I said and gave her a weak smile.

"Finally, we are going to the same school!" Trisha was chattering. "I bet home school is so boring! You, like, never see anybody and never talk to anybody..."

"Yeah," I agreed, thinking how much I missed that.

"You'll love it here!" Trisha was the kind of person who couldn't spend longer than an hour alone. She had an enormous amount of friends, and sometimes, I thought of her as a salamander that was bathing in the fire and enjoyed every second of it. Friends and neighbors were Trisha's fire.

"Yeah, I will," I said in what I thought was a cheerful tone.

She looked at me and laughed.

"You'll be fine," she said lightly. "Plus, it's not like you don't know anyone here..." she added. "See that guy?"

I looked at the guy she was pointing at.

"I think I know him," I said uncertainly.

"It's Danny," Trisha said. "He used to be home-schooled too."

"Oh, that's right," I remembered him now. He used to trim our front lawn.

"Yeah, so he is here now, and I think he loves it... He is a senior though," she wrinkled her nose as if seniors were different species. "He is cool," she leaned towards me with a conspirative look. "If you ever need some pick-me-up, he is the guy to talk to..." and she winked at me.

"Pick-me-up?" I was confused. "He gives people rides or something?"

Trisha stared at me in disbelief.

"No," she said slowly. "Not the rides.... He can get stuff, you know?"

I just blinked at her, and she sighed and shook her head.

"Oh, boy," she laughed softly. "You are something, Steph... Recreational usage, you know? For fun?"

"Recreational..." I muttered, and then it finally dawned on me. "He is selling drugs?!"

"Shhh!" Trisha's eyes nervously darted around. "Don't yell! Seriously, home-schooled doesn't mean ignorant!"

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking at Danny who was high-fiving some kids.

"Plus, it's not like that," Trisha said. "He is not a pusher or anything... It's just if somebody needs something, Danny is the guy they are gonna talk to. Just thought I'd let you know," she shrugged.

"Thanks," I said quickly. "But I don't think I'll ever ask him for anything."

Trisha laughed.

"Okay," she said. "Whatever... What's your first class?"

"Math," I said, feeling relieved.

"Mine too," she nodded. "Let's go!" and she dragged me towards the doors.

I always liked math. Numbers made me feel safe. I knew how to communicate with numbers, and it was a lot easier than trying to communicate with people. Sometimes, I could just sit at my desk, putting together some random math problems that I thought up, and it made me feel almost happy. When we got to class, Trisha pulled me towards her desk.

"You are going to sit with me," she said and pushed someone's bag off the chair.

"Hey!" A tall skinny boy picked up his bag and looked at her with anger. "What the hell, Maxwell?"

"Sorry, Andy," Trisha smiled at him and planted a light kiss on his cheek. "This is, like, my best friend, and it's her first day, so she'll sit with me."

"Could've asked," Andy muttered, clearly enjoying her kiss.

"I owe you one, Andy!" Trisha smiled again and pulled me down. "Sit, Steph!"

I sat down, feeling awfully uncomfortable.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked Trisha quietly, and she just shrugged.

"It's Andy," she said, pulling her book out of her backpack. "He'll be fine. Plus, you know what they say..."

"What?" I asked when she fell silent.

"The worse you treat the boy, the more he likes you," Trisha grinned.

"He likes you?" I asked, glancing at Andy who was setting his books on the desk next to ours.

Trisha snorted.

"Like, duh! Can't you tell?"

"I guess," I shrugged, thinking that in my case, home-schooled totally meant ignorant. I had no clue on how to act around these people. Some were indifferent, but some were clearly staring at me, trying to figure out who I was. The bell rang and I felt enormously relieved.

"Good morning, mathematicians," a short, pudgy man said cheerfully, walking into the classroom.

"Morning, Mr. B," some of the girls sang almost in unison.

He looked at the class and his brown eyes immediately stopped on me.

"We have a newcomer, I see," he said, and I silently moaned. "What's your name, young lady?"

I rose from my chair, feeling like I was going to die. The entire classroom of people was staring at me.

"Umm..." I coughed. "My name is Stephanie Palmer," I said slowly. "This is my first day..."

"Where are you from?" Mr. B asked me, squeezing his pudgy form behind the desk.

"I ummm... I was home-schooled," I said, wishing for the earth to swallow me whole right about now.

"Oh, I see," Mr. B nodded energetically. "A smart kid finally!"

There were a couple of 'Boos' at that, and the teacher laughed.

"Just kidding," he said. "Welcome, Stephanie!"

I nodded awkwardly, and sat down so quickly that my knee hit the desk.

"My name is Mr. Bellington, but as you've noticed, everyone calls me Mr. B," he continued. "And that's just fine. Now, to prove that I think everyone here is equally smart..." He paused theatrically and pulled a stack of papers out of his case. "A quiz!"

Everyone groaned. Mr. B nodded with a satisfied smile.

"Yes," he said, quickly passing the papers around. "I thought you'd enjoy this!"

"It's the first day of school," Trisha pouted.

"I know, Miss Maxwell," the teacher nodded. "I would simply like to make sure that all of you still remember that two plus two is indeed equal five..."

Everyone chuckled at that.

"All right!" Mr. B finished passing the papers and clapped his hands loudly. "You have twenty minutes. Go!"

I quickly scanned the paper with my eyes, and was relieved to see that the quiz was really easy. I wrote my name on the top of the paper, and was done with the whole thing in less than ten minutes. Trisha threw me a dirty look.

"Show-off..." she muttered, and I smiled at her.

Soon enough, Mr. B clapped his hands again.

"Time's up!" he exclaimed energetically. "Give the papers back... Come on, come on..." He quickly walked between the rows, collecting papers. "Now, this quiz will not reflect on your final grade..."

Several relieved sighs made him laugh.

"But it's just this quiz, ladies and gents! All the other surprise quizzes will reflect on your future with the high profile corporations that require high scores within mathematics field... Now, open up your books and let's get this show on the road!"

The rest of the hour flew by very quickly. I could see why pudgy Mr. B was so popular amongst my classmates. He moved around with great energy, his little hands gesturing wildly, his voice excited. He made up funny stories and strange comparatives that often made everyone laugh. Right before the bell rang, he loudly shut his book and said:

"Okay, everyone! Pray to God that you remember everything you've learned today and everything you've learned before summer break! Off you go!"

Trisha sighed and shoved her book in her backpack.

"God..." she muttered. "I hate math," she threw her backpack on her shoulder. "I love Mr. B, but I hate math!"

"I like math," I shrugged, and Trisha made a small 'pfft' sound. "Math is easy for me," I said apologetically. "I am not that great with literature or music, but I love math."

"Lit is easy here," Trisha said in her usual cheerful voice. "And music is optional."

"Is the gym optional?" I asked gloomily, and Trisha grimaced.

"Ugh, I wish!" she said. "Our gym teacher is a psycho B from hell, by the way!"

"Oh, great," I said bitterly. "I'll be her favorite then..."

Our next class was English Lit and I was bored to tears. The teacher – Mrs. Jenkins – was a middle-aged thin woman, with bloody-red fingernail polish and thin lips. She wore her grey hair in a very tight bun on top of her head, and she was the most boring teacher I could imagine. Her voice wasn't unpleasant, but somehow, it lacked any intonation, and I almost dozed off when she was droning on and on about something I lost interest to a while ago. I was thankful to Trisha who kept poking me every time my eyes were about to close.

"Is she always like this?" I asked when we were walking towards the cafeteria.

"Yeah," Trisha nodded solemnly. "You get used to her though."

We got into the cafeteria line, and I realized that I was starving. I glanced at Trisha's tray and was surprised to see that it contained a cup of plain yogurt and an apple.

"That's your lunch?" I asked her in bewilderment.

"Well, yeah," she said, her eyes wide. "I need to get back to my size two if I want to have social life, you know... I gained, like, five pounds over the summer! I look like a cow!"

I looked at her skinny frame and winced. Size two? I always thought that my size six was an indication of good shape, but now I wasn't so sure. I sighed, put my pizza away, and grabbed two apples instead. I really hoped that my stomach wouldn't start growling in the middle of the next class – that would be disastrous.

Trisha and I walked to our table when I saw him for the first time. I stopped dead in my tracks and just looked at him.

"Come on, Steph," Trisha slightly pushed me. "We are, like, in the middle of the way..."

I slowly set the tray on the empty table and lowered myself on the chair.

"What was that?" Trisha looked at me with curiosity.

"Who is that?" I asked her quietly without taking my eyes off him. Trisha followed my gaze and snorted.

"That's Tyler Blake," she grimaced. "He is a local celebrity," she pulled the lid off her yogurt cup and grabbed a spoonful. "Everyone knows him..." she swallowed her yogurt. "Guys wanna be like him, and girls wanna be with him."

"Is he a senior?" I asked slowly, still unable to look away from him.

"Yeah," Trisha nodded. She looked at me intently. "Don't get any ideas about him," she said, and I blinked.

"What are you talking about?" I said casually, and furiously bit into my apple.

"Right," Trisha laughed. "Every single girl in this school has a huge crush on him, and he knows that too..." She paused and finished her yogurt. "Believe me, everyone has the same reaction as yours when they see Tyler for the first time..."

I shook my head, feeling that my face was getting redder and redder every second. Trisha shrugged.

"Don't feel stupid or anything," she said. "As I said, everybody has the same reaction to him..."

I looked at him again. He was tall and lean, his hair was blond, and somehow, very luminous. His haircut was short and spiky in the back, but with long strands on the front. He was wearing pale blue jeans and a short leather jacket that hugged his wide shoulders in such fashion, that it made me wonder if I could trade places with that jacket. He was wearing narrow black Ray Bans that made him look like a real celebrity.

"Steph," Trisha said quietly. "Tyler is off limits for everyone..."

"What...?" I muttered.

"He is ridiculously faithful to his girlfriend," Trisha said with regret.

"His girlfriend..." I repeated, dumbfounded.

"Well, duh," Trisha delicately bit into her apple. "You didn't think that someone like him would be single, did you...? He's been dating Laurie Drey for, like, ever... And she is amazingly hot too..." Trisha sighed. "Some people just get it all," she muttered. "Great body, beautiful face, rich parents, and boyfriends like Tyler..."

"Which one is Laurie?" I asked, looking around.

"She is not here," Trisha said. "You'll see her soon enough though... These two are, like, the most beautiful couple in the whole school," she added. "I think he will just marry her after graduation."

"Marry her?" I repeated. "Isn't he too young to get married?"

Trisha shrugged.

"They are both almost eighteen," she said. "It's totally legal."

I shook my head and finished my apple. Somehow, I wasn't hungry anymore. I kept watching Tyler as he grabbed a tray of food and sat down next to Danny who immediately high-fived him. I watched them talk about something, and suddenly, I remembered Trisha's words about Danny.

"Is he buying drugs from Danny?" I asked her quietly.

"He might," she shrugged indifferently. "Danny can get anything..." she glanced at Tyler. "He is probably trying to get some pot, that's all... Tyler doesn't do drugs. He smokes and does pot once in a while, but who doesn't, right?"

"Right," I muttered, thinking that my first day amongst people turned out to be more educational than I thought it would.

The rest of the day was pretty dull, and I had troubles concentrating on the subject of political science, since the only thing I could think about was Tyler's face. I slowly walked home, thinking about mysterious Laurie Drey, and how lucky she was. I almost made it to my house when a thought struck me. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and just stood there with my mouth slightly open. I just realized that today was the opening of my Cinderella story.

Let me explain about the Cinderella story. You see, I am a firm believer that it's inner beauty that counts. I was always a fan of all those movies and books that tell you about this one girl, who is dorky and plain, and the guy, who is unbelievably handsome and super-popular; and he has a girlfriend, who is so pretty that it could make Miss Universe weep with jealousy. And the plain girl always falls in love with the handsome guy; and his girlfriend is a total b***h, so she makes the plain girl's life really miserable. But the end is always the same – the handsome guy realizes that his girlfriend is a mean, empty shell, and that she has nothing except her beauty; and he realizes that the plain girl is not that plain at all, and he can finally see her for what she really is, and he falls in love with her. Then there will be a prom or some other big event; and a plain girl will get a total makeover, and she'll look so stunning that the mean girlfriend – who is dumped by this point – looks totally lame next to her. And then the handsome guy and the not-so-plain-anymore girl are dancing together, and he kisses her, and then the movie – or a book – ends, and everybody knows that those two will be together for the rest of their lives. I always believed those stories were true, because it is the inner beauty that counts! And now, I just realized that it was the beginning of my story, and if I just followed the script in my head, everything would turn out exactly as I believed it would. This thought made me so insanely happy that for a few minutes, I became lightheaded.

I finally started walking again, and by the time I walked through the front door of my house, my mind was completely made up. I am not going to wait until the end of the story with my makeover. I mean, clothes, haircut, and makeup can wait; but if I want to look my best for the prom – or whatever event it'll be when we dance – I have to start losing weight right now. Size six is not going to cut it anymore. I have to be at least a size three. If I set my goal at size two... No, make it one. So, my goal is size one, but if I go down to at least three, it'll make me happy.