Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“You’ve kissed a guy before, right?” Kayla asks, staring at her reflection in the mirror and combing her eyebrows.
“Not exactly,” I mumble, rubbing my lips together. The glossy color feels sticky now and I’d love to wipe it off.
“Shit.” Kayla goes still, her hand pausing mid-air, her eyes shifting to me. “You never been kissed, Tru?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, defensive. “Lots of girls in eighth grade haven’t.”
“Have you, Mona?” Kayla asks.
“Yeah, last year.” Mona slides an apologetic look my way and shrugs. “Sorry.”
“So this Jeremy will want to kiss you,” Kayla says. “Let me show you the basics.”
My sister instructs me on French kissing using her hand, doing weird things with her tongue, moaning and closing her eyes in fake rapture. I just stare at her, confused and slightly alarmed and probably traumatized.
Fast tail.
The doorbell saves me from more fake French kisses.
“That’s probably Ez,” I say. “Lemme go put my dress on.”
I leave the bathroom and dash to my bedroom.
“I always thought Ezra would be her first boyfriend,” I hear Kayla telling Mona.
A scene plays in technicolor through my memory. Ezra and me in his backyard when we were six years old. He’d been to a wedding the week before and decided we should get married. Being Ezra, he had memorized all aspects of a Jewish wedding, and we reenacted them under his elm tree. When we got to the part where the groom could kiss the bride, he pecked me on the lips and we both giggled. My heart aches a little for that day. We’re only thirteen and I know there is a lot more innocence to lose, but somehow, I, too, thought we’d save all our firsts for each other. I blink back hot tears thinking of him kissing Hannah tonight with her freckles and long, curly hair. I run a careful finger under my eyes so I won’t mess up Kayla’s hard work and head downstairs.
“Forget you, Ezra Stern.”
Chapter Six
Ezra
This is the worst night of my life.
I take that back. The night they called to say Bubbe died—that was the worst. We knew her time was near, and Mama wanted to go to New York right away, but Dad had a meeting and asked if we could wait one more day. Through the wall, I heard Mama crying, yelling it was his fault she didn’t see Bubbe one last time. I know she was just lashing out, but I know it hurt Dad, and after a few minutes of her shouting at him, he started shouting back.
Yeah, that night was definitely worse, but this one’s bad, too. Neon strobe lights illuminate the dark school gymnasium, and inflated rainbows dangle from the rafters. I guess there’s a theme, but I wasn’t exactly on the decorating committee so I have no idea what they were going for.
Tacky teenage?
Nailed it.
Chaperones and tables of punch line the edges of the room. I press my shoulders harder into the wall at my back, unable to tear my eyes away from the dance floor.
From them.
Mona settles on the wall beside me. “They look good together, right?”
Dragging my gaze from Jeremy dancing with Kimba, his hands resting low on her hips, I shrug. Arms folded across my chest, I pull one knee up and dig my heel into the wall. I sat in the front seat with Kayla when she drove us here, and Mona sat in the back with Kimba. Maybe I’m wearing my invisibility cape over this stupid shirt and tie because they definitely forgot I was in the car. They coached Kimba the whole ride here on how to kiss Jeremy. I dropped my forehead to the cool car window and tried to block out phrases like “his tongue in your mouth” and “just suck on it.”
I glance over at Mona and notice for the first time she’s got one of those weird haircuts that’s longer on one side than the other.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, a knitting between her pencil-darkened brows. Why do they always think layers of paint and stuff make them look better? I do have to admit Kimba looks really pretty tonight, though I like her lips without the red stuff. They’re naturally this brownish-pink color. I stare at them all the time.
“I’m not looking at you any kind of way,” I lie.
“I got lipstick on my teeth?” she asks, running her tongue over them.
“No.”
I can’t not look any longer, so I find Jeremy and Kimba on the dance floor again, still swaying back and forth. If I’m not mistaken, his hands are a little closer to her butt now.
“Ooooooh.” Mona nudges me, her sharp little elbow punching my ribs. “Kyle is over there all by himself.”
She pats the longer side of her hair and tugs at the hem of her short dress. “I’m going to ask him to dance.”