Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories by Pat Flynn Page A

was sleeping and then scratched his nose with a feather. It was hilarious. I don’t remember what he did to deserve it, but I’m sure he did something.
    This time I’ve got the evidence in my hands. And it stinks.
    He’s playing Xbox, so I sneak up behind him and wrap the pillow around his face.
    â€˜You think I like sleeping on that? Do ya? Huh. Do ya?’
    He can’t really answer because I’ve got the pillow stuffed against his mouth. Eventually, he frees himself.
    â€˜It wasn’t me!’ He smacks me in the stomach with the controller. It doesn’t hurt. Well, maybe a bit. ‘Smell it properly!’
    I’d rather not, but I have a quick whiff to see if he’s telling the truth.
    â€˜It’s girl gas, you moron,’ he says.
    I have another whiff, to make sure. I hate to admit it but he’s right.
    I punch him in the shoulder. ‘Don’t call me a moron, moron.’
    â€˜I’ll get you for this,’ he says as I walk away.
    On my way to the study, I wonder what I did to Belinda to make her want to get me back. My big sis doesn’t normally resort to low tricks unless I’ve done something really bad, like the time I stole her diary and put some of it up on the internet.
    She’s reading the computer screen, an email titled ‘How to Write a Love Letter’. Belinda and her friends are always sending each other junk like that.
    â€˜Why’d you do it?’ I say, taking the firm approach.
    She doesn’t look up. ‘Do what?’
    â€˜Stink up my pillow.’
    â€˜What are you talking about? I’m not a barbarian like my brothers.’
    A barbarian, hey? I don’t know what it means but it sounds cool. I thrust the pillow near her face, testing her. I figure if she did do it she won’t react. People don’t mind the smell of themselves, no matter what part of the body it comes from.
    She shrieks and slaps me across the chest. It doesn’t hurt. Well, maybe a bit. Actually, a lot. My rock-hard chest feels like it’s been whacked with a cricket bat.
    â€˜That’s disgusting!’ she says.
    Either she’s an excellent actor, or she didn’t do it.
    â€˜That smells like … No, it couldn’t be.’
    â€˜Couldn’t be what?’ I say.
    â€˜Nothing. Look, it wasn’t me, okay? Now go away. I’m busy.’
    I suddenly get a brilliant idea. ‘I’ll leave on one condition.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Print me a copy.’ I nod at the screen.
    She crosses her arms. ‘You shouldn’t be reading my personal emails!’
    â€˜Don’t get your knickers in a knot. I just want that bit,’ I say, pointing.
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Just … because.’
    She looks at me, smiling. ‘You want to write a love letter, don’t you? To that Ashleigh girl.’
    I don’t answer.
    She continues, more enthusiastic-like. ‘You should let me help you, T one. I’m really good at that sort of thing.’
    I hesitate for a second, only ’cause she’s right. Belinda’s had more boyfriends than I’ve had underpants.
    â€˜Nah,’ I decide. ‘You don’t know Ashleigh like I do. Besides, you’ll do it like a girl. It’ll sound nothing like me.’
    She raises a waxed eyebrow. ‘And that’s a bad thing?’
    I hold the pillow close to her face. ‘Just print it out.’
    She does.
    In the hallway, Mum bails me up. ‘Have you cleaned your room yet?’
    â€˜Umm. I’ve started. See?’ I hold up the pillow as evidence.
    â€˜What did I say would happen if you didn’t clean your room?’
    I think for a bit. ‘Something bad?’
    â€˜No, that was two weeks ago. Last week I said something very bad would happen, and this week you’re up to something very , very bad.’
    She’s standing in front of me with her hands on her hips. Those hips have given birth to