FicWad

CHAPTER ELEVEN





"So, two weeks of detention and--" I was talking to Julia via telephone, after my embarrassing shift at the B&N. She had jut endured two painful hours of harsh lecturing. We were discussing her punishment.

"Um, no friend stuff, you know going out, seeing movies, that sort of thing, because they took my car away for a month. BUt i can still go to the carnival, since i am working the fortune telling booth," Julia was telling me.

"Oh, at least you get that. I thought it would've been much worse. Besides, we haven't been hanging out that much since... well," I didn't want to say, since Scott moved here...but it was true, and I didn't have to say it either. Julia knew exactly what I was talking about.

"I think he really likes you," she said genuinely.


"I...I don't know, "talking about this made me sort of uncomfortable, "We're just friends." It seemed like this was the only thing that came out of my mouth these days. We're just friends.

"For now," Julia said.

I said good-bye and hung up the phone. Brushing my teeth, I started thinking about Scott and me. If only he did like me more, if only we could be more than just friends.

As I got into bed, I knew that for now, as Julia had said, we were friends. I had a feeling that I wouldn't stop saying we're just friends any time soon. For now.






"That's right, it's that time of year again, time for the annual Spring Carnival," Principal Turnery announced in his booming voice on the morning announcements a few days later. "Nominate someone or yourself to run a booth, voting will take place tomorrow. Remember this is for a good cause so don't turn this opportunity down!"

Ahh. The good old Spring Carnival. This year we'd be sponsoring the Local Lost Kitty Society (LLKS). Every year students at Bridgeview High would nominate one another to run different booths. Some booths were less popular, like the boring pamphlet giving-out booths, which most people nominated themselves for. Then there were the fun booths, like the elephant ear booth, the dunk tank booth, and the most popular for girls; the kissing booth.

Every year it was the same, Donnie Jacobs, quarterback, would be voted as the kissing booth kisser. And every year it would be some slutty cheerleader to vote him in. Donnie was a senior and he was the type of guy girls go gaga over in Seventeen. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and rumor was, very well proportioned, (if you get my drift). He was a senior and had been the kisser since his freshman days. Julia had even kissed Donnie Jacobs.
Okay, so it was on a bet, but she was still proud that she had worked up the nerve to do it. Every year since seventh grade Julia and I had made a bet on how many hotdogs Gary Michaels could eat in three minutes, since he ran the hotdog booth almost every year while simultaneously trying to beat the world record of most hotdogs eaten in a short period of time. I won every year. When Julia and I made the bet, the winner never actually won anything; it was the loser that was all important. Whoever lost would have to kiss whoever was well, the kisser, and we both dreaded it. I know, gosh that sucks, having to kiss one of the hottest guys you have ever seen, but Julia and I are shyer and less outgoing than some of the more popular girls. So far Julia had kissed some of the hottest guys around.


So, after everything that was supposed to happen, it was kind of scary for everything to be out of place.

First, was the person Kristine Blake had nominated. Like last year, it seemed as though everyone at Bridgeview High was expecting her to nominate Donnie Jacobs. It was so simple, it seemed like mathematical science. Kristine/slutty cheerleader + nomination for Donnie Jacobs=what everyone expects. So when Kristine didn't nominate Donnie Jacobs, the only reason I could think of as to why, was because there had been a major shift in the time space continuum.

Julia, Scott, and I were eating lunch when it happened. First, when Kristine had gone up to the table where two nerdy looking freshmen were taking nominations, no one had paid any particular attention. After she had nominated a kisser and people went up to nominate or whatever, word got out about this shocking news.
When it got to the three of us, Scott just rolled his eyes.

"Why the heck does anyone care so much?" he asked to no one in particular, "It's always about her, like oh my god she cut her bangs, or oh my god she dropped a pencil!"
I laughed at his impression of Kristine's zombie-like followers.

"Actually," I added, "it can be useful. It lets people bond easily. Gives you something to talk about."

"I'm kind of curious who she picked." Julia said, "You wanna go see?" she was asking both of us.

I nodded my head and stood up, but Scott gave me a look that clearly stated he was above this, like puh-leeze.

"Fine. You don't have to come."
Julia and I began to walk away, until-

"Wait! I'm coming!" I died laughing.

"Can't stand to be alone can you?" Julia said.

"Well you two rebels could get into all sorts of trouble; I thought I should be the one to back up your alibi when you were accused of assassinating the president."

"Well thanks," I said sarcastically.
We had reached the table. On the list under KISSING BOOTH: MEN ONLY there were five names and there nominators underneath.


1. Tyler Florence (Maggie Sam)
2. Ryan Tracy (Katie Williams)
3. Larry Bind (Larry Bind)
4. Donnie Jacobs (Kim MacAfee)
5. Scott Harrison (Kristine Blake)


I was...speechless. How could this have happened? He's my friend. Scott is mine. No one else can have him. Crap. Oh forget it. Shit. Shit. Shit. What does she want from him? I winced, knowing there was only one answer to that question. He is my friend. I hate Kristine Blake. I hate Kristine Blake. I HATE KRISTINE
BLAKE!!!

"Well then," Julia started to say, "At least Donnie still has a chance."

"Huh, yah," I grunted, in an angry trance. Scott didn't say anything. Like me, he was speechless.

"The conversations you two must have! Both so talkative, I'm surprised you can even get a word in!"
No response. Just more disbelieving quiet. Julia was getting restless. She gave up with trying casually to get us to talk, and started to wave her hand directly in front of my face, saying

"Hello? Anybody in there?"

"Hmm?" I responded to her annoying hand waving immediately.

"She speaks! What's the matter with you Jemma?" Julia asked.

"Oh..." I had to think of a lie, and fast. I wasn't going to let Scott know how upset I was, because he may start thinking, and one thing would lead to another and pretty soon, he would be sprinting as far away as possible because one of his friends is madly and incurably in love with him. Which I can understand, because I'm a freak. Lie, lie, lie. Hmmm. Idea! "It's just; I'm trying to figure out why Katie Williams would nominate Ryan Tracy. They're not even going out."

"Um, yes they are," Julia said, seeing straight through my lie.

"Oh, um, never mind then." I said quietly.

"Alright, Scott, how are you taking the nomination?" Julia was pretending to be a reporter, aiming her mike at Scott.

"Um," he looked at Julia, "I didn't expect it."

"Strong answer, now, will you accept your duties as Kissing Booth Kisser?"

"I suppose so. After all, it is for the good of the people."
"Actually, for the good of the lost kitties." I added. Scott laughed.
"And what exactly will my Kissing Booth Kisser duties be, if I get voted in?"
"Why Mr. Harrison, I'm so glad you asked!" Julia went on, "and for the answer to that question, I'm going to turn the mike over to Miss Jemma Summers. Jemma?"
I smiled, grabbing the imaginary microphone. "In keeping with the twists and turns that Bridgeview High is all about, the kissing booth isn't a booth at all. It's actually a dressing tent. Like the ones they use to change into your swimsuit at a beach. Inside, the potential kisser awaits his next victim, if you will. There is a chaperone outside that makes sure that no guys enter the tent, keeps track of how much time the kisser kisses, (you have up to one minute), and the chaperone also hands out blindfolds."
"Blindfolds?" Scott asked incredulously. He wasn't doing the reporter thing anymore and I followed suit.
"Yah, actually, that's another weird thing about how Bridgeview runs the booth. Only the Kisser can know who he is kissing. The, um, victim is blindfolded. It adds an element of surprise. Then, like when, they have totaled up how much money the carnival brought in, which takes pretty much forever, they announce who the kisser is. The kisser is also told that he can't reveal his identity."
"Wow. I never knew something like a simple kissing booth could be so complex!"
"Yah, well, that's Bridgeview for you," Julia said.
"We should get our stuff, the bell is going to ring any minute now." I ended the informative conversation.

Spring Carnival Saturday sprung up like a Jack-in-the-Box on crack. Okay, bad simile, but still, time went by quickly, the days slipping away like dirt on a floor that was being mopped. (How's that for a simile?) Voting for the booths had taken place two days after nominations were made, and then the staff was given two more weeks, to count the votes and notify the winners. (The Kisser was notified in secret, of course.) I had voted for Larry Bind(nerd of all nerds), as a joke, because I thought it would simply be hilarious if Julia had to kiss him, seeing that she was going to lose the bet, as always.
It was an unusually warm spring day, so instead of the jeans I had been planning on; I dug through my closet and came up with an old kind of flowy hippie dippie skirt that came just above my knee. Paired with a light green tank-top and a pair of flip-flops, I was prepared to kick Julia's butt. (Oh, and by the way, if you thought I was dressing for a certain poetry liking, non-sucky guy, you were thinking wrong. He said he wasn't even sure he could come.)
At about ten, Julia honked her car horn three times Morse-code style, my signal that it was her. Getting into her car I heaved a fake sigh. Julia looked at me questioningly.
"It's just; my life is so predictable these days. I wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and I'm gonna kick your butt in hotdog bets today. It's all gotten so boring." I teased, and Julia raised her eyebrow.
"Girl, you better pucker up, 'cause I've got a plan."
"You do do you? And what might that plan be?"
"A winner never tells," Julia smirked.
"So cocky, aren't we? Well, when you lose doesn't come crying to me, I'll have no sympathy. You are just setting yourself up for disaster." I said in a sing-songy tone. There was a moment of silence and then we both burst out laughing.

"ONE!" The contest had begun, Gary racing to eat and swallow as many hotdogs as he could. Last year he had made it to nine in three minutes, so I had bet ten this year. Julia, don't ask me why, had bet only three. I don't know why she would be so, um, unsmart (dumb) because the lowest Gary had ever achieved was like seven. Though, as the contest progressed, I was becoming worried. Apparently that morning, before the contest, someone told Gary exactly what was in a hotdog, and due to that, he hadn't had much of appetite for them at the contest.
"TWO!" the crowd cheered. By the time two minutes had passed, Gary had downed only two hotdogs. Last year, after two minutes, Gary had five hotdogs down.
"Come on Gary! Only seven more! You can do it!" I cheered him on, a desperate attempt for me to win the bet, and not be forced to kiss someone like Donnie Jacobs, "This is Jemma, you liked me in third grade, we'll here I am, you can have me if you just get seven more dogs down!" Unfortunately, he couldn't hear me, because he was too forgone in hotdog-land. Sigh.
"THREE!" screamed the mob of rooters. And-
TIME. Julia had won, and it now occurred to me that she was probably the person who had told him what was in a hotdog. Somebody hates me, I swear with the fighting over my friends, the Kristine incident and now this, being forced to kiss some creepy groper senior. Ugh. No way was I going to kiss Donnie Jacobs.
"So, you got lipgloss? You can borrow some of mine if you need it," it was Julia, with a wide smile, "God, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this day."
"Well hardy har-har," I said. We began making our way over to a bench to sit.
"Now, let me pass some of my wisdom down to you. Assuming its Donnie, which I would be kind of surprised if it wasn't, there are a few things you should be aware of. First, Donnie is, erm, rough. He'll kind of come at you, so be prepared. He starts off all the way, tongue is his language, and he's very fluent. He kind slobbers all over you."
"Eww," that was gross.
"I know. If you want to stop him, you just have to bite his tongue."
"With my teeth?"
"No with your dog's teeth. Yes your teeth! THIS IS KISSING! Something that at sometime in your life, you will have to face."
"Okay, okay, keep talking."
"Thank you. There's one more thing about Donnie. He will, no matter who you are, what race, size or the color of your hair, try to, um, grope you. He's all for the touchy-touchy."
"Perv," I exclaimed.
"Tell me about. To keep his hands from, well, let's face it, wandering, you should hold them back some how. Not to hard, though, because he may start t fight you. Bad eighth grade slip," Julia shuddered.
Based on the way she was describing the world of lips, it didn't seem as fantastic as I had heard before. Not the unbelievably romantic moments in all those Hallmark movies, but a gross universe of biting tongues and rough kissers. However, Julia has only kissed anyone for three minutes in her life. And that was for the past three years at the kissing booth. In reality, she didn't have much experience.
Julia, because she can read my mind, could sense my caution with her tips.
"Don't be thinking I don't have any experience with kissing. You don't know everything about me, you know." She said, standing up.
"Well then, I suppose I should go meet my destiny," I said, much as I didn't want too.
"Good Luck, and remember, your teeth are your friend!"
"Gross!"

The booth was across the carnival, so I had time to collect my thoughts. I was embarrassed by it, but my last kiss had been in eighth grade, at a weak game of Spin the Bottle. It had been with Cory Fletcher, a nerdy guy who loved rap and was planning to major in marine biology at Harvard. He was a VERY bad kisser, not that I had anyone to compare him too. It was kind of like kissing a wall for a few seconds. His breath smelled like boogers and Cheetos, not a very pleasant combination, let me tell you. Not that I was much better. I pretty much moved my lips up and down for as long as the kiss lasted. I think I would actually rather kiss Cory again than Donnie.
Unfortunately, it seemed like Julia's tips would be coming in handy. A LONG line of girls were waiting for their turn for at least one minute of making out. It seem that, as I watched about five girls go in for there turn over the next few minutes, that whoever was kissing wasn't taking up the whole sixty seconds. Most girls got ten, twenty seconds, if they were lucky. At least I won't have to be in their long, I thought. Still, my stomach churned harder as the line progressed. Donnie could still act quickly, and I would have to be on my guard.
There were about three girls in front of me now, one blonde, one wearing a REALLY short miniskirt who was applying frosty pink lipgloss vigorously, and in front of the line, was Kristine. I'd heard during my wait that this would be her third time going in. She paid her money, tied the blindfold, and stepped inside the tent. Not fifteen seconds later, she came out, ripped off the blindfold and smiled really big, with like all 32 teeth showing. Clearly she had enjoyed herself. The blonde and the mini skirt girl came out with the same expression of grand pleasure.
And then it was my turn.
My stomach was about to burst into flames, as I paid the two bucks and was blindfolded, I was trying hard to remember the advice Julia had given me, but nothing was coming to my mind. I was dead.
The chaperone pushed me into the tent, and I stumbled and almost fell over, until a pair of warm hands caught me around my waist, righting me. Then there was a moment of silence, where I guess whoever this guy was, was looking at me. And then he pounced.
But in a really good way. More like passionate pouncing, out of love, more than sick pouncing. He was kissing me hard, and it wasn't anything like Julia had described. No groping, no biting, it was wonderful. The kisser had his hands on my waist, tastefully away from any, er, gropable parts. I didn't have to bite because there was no tongue until the kiss deepened, but it wasn't gross. I extended one of my hands on to his neck, bringing us even closer together. Like all things, it had to end, but I gotten more time than anyone else had gotten the whole day. In fact, we lost track of time, and the chaperone had to step in and let us know that there were other girls waiting. So the kiss ended, much to my displeasure, and I walked out of the tent, and just like the other girls, I had a bright Crest toothpaste commercial worthy smile on my face. I only cared about one thing at that moment. Who had I just kissed?