Double-Dare O’Toole by Constance C. Greene Page B

hard at Fex. “You know how to French kiss?”
    â€œFrench kiss? I don’t even know how to American kiss,” Fex answered.
    â€œO.K. for you, wise guy. Think you’re funny, think it’s a big joke,” Pete said angrily. Fex hadn’t meant to be funny.
    â€œI speak from experience, remember. The best teacher, right?” Pete put on his blue sweater, his face flushed. “You gotta know the ropes before you can swing, kid. Take it from one who knows. You gotta know the ropes before you can swing.”
    He whipped off his blue sweater and changed to his tan one. It’s lucky he only has two sweaters, Fex thought, watching, or he’d never make the dance at all.
    â€œBut where do I start? I mean, how do I start?”
    Pete frowned. “Maybe she’ll do the starting. Maybe she’ll put the moves on you. If she’s hot for your bod, that’s probably what’ll happen. Women’s lib, you know.” Looking very wise, Pete changed back into the blue sweater.
    â€œIt’s all in the timing,” he said, pushing up his sleeves. “If her folks hang around, the little brother wants you to assemble his model airplane, you’ve had it. But if they go off to play bridge, watch the tube, then you’ve got it made.”
    â€œI do?”
    â€œSure.” Satisfied at last with his appearance, Pete made for the door. He left a strong odor of hair tonic, toothpaste, and after-shave in his wake.
    â€œThat’s when you blow in her ear. Put your hand on her leg and blow in her ear. Then see what happens. Well, I’m off. Don’t wait up.” And he was gone.
    Fex sat where he was, pulling himself together. He heard the front door slam, heard Pete whistling as he went down the walk. Then, moving as quietly as a burglar out for the flat silver, Fex went downstairs. His mother and father and Jerry were still in the kitchen. He could hear them talking and laughing. He went to the dictionary to look up French kiss. It said, “See soul kiss.” He looked up soul kiss. If it said, “See French kiss,” he’d have to throw in the towel. But luck was with him. The dictionary defined soul kiss as “An open-mouth kiss in which the tongue of one partner is manipulated in the mouth of the other.” Fortunately, “manipulate” was spelled exactly the way it sounded. It meant, “To handle, manage, or use with skill,” the dictionary said. As he understood it, that meant you put your tongue in the girl’s mouth and then used it with skill. Sort of like a Water Pik, Fex told himself, making a face. Gross. Really gross. Forget it. I’m not getting into any of that stuff.
    â€œFex! Telephone!” his father called.
    â€œThanks, Dad. Hello,” Fex said into the phone.
    â€œHi. Want to come over and watch TV? I’m baby-sitting. There’s going to be a cool program on about the spirit world. Mom says it’s O.K. if you come over for a while.”
    It was Audrey. Asking him to come over and watch TV. Her parents were obviously going out .
    â€œSure,” Fex said after a pause. “I guess so.” He hung up and studied the toe of his sneakers. The left one had a rip in the fabric. If he taped the rip, he could wear the sneaker a lot longer. On the other hand, if the rip got bigger he’d have to buy a new pair. He decided to try the tape. Painstakingly he put three strips of tape over the hole.
    Jerry came in. “I can’t decide whether I want to watch TV or practice,” Jerry said.
    â€œWhy not do both?” Fex asked. Jerry looked puzzled. That’s what I’m doing, Fex thought. “Both!” Fex said aloud. “I’m going to Audrey’s to watch TV, so the joint’s yours.”
    â€œHow can I do both at the same time?” Jerry said. “You’re nuts.”
    Fex didn’t answer. He ran down to tell his mother and father where he was going.