at Tess. Sometimes you have to feel sorry for boys. They do not know what they’re up against. I jutted my hips to the side. I was in this thing, this something, this teasing of a boy, with Tess. I was powerful and beyond him, up to something. We had done this to boys before, for years. At least it was familiar territory.
“Um, because,” said Kevin. “Is, I was wondering . . .”
I sank down, against the wall, to the floor. “Yeah?”
I heard him breathing. “Is your . . .”
I closed my eyes.
“What did he say?” Tess whispered. I looked up at her, her chin cupped in her hand, all excited and happy. “What does he want?”
I tried to smile back, and into the phone I said, “Did you call to talk to Tess?” My voice had lost some of its jauntiness, but I was trying.
Tess apparently failed to notice. She opened her mouth wide, still having fun, and flung her shoe at me. It just missed my head and left a mark on the wall.
“No,” said Kevin. “Why?”
I closed my eyes. The smile I was faking was wearing me out. “Well, you tracked her down.”
“Oh,” said Kevin.
“You want to talk to her?”
“Um,” he said, and I handed the phone up to Tess. I listened, sort of, with my head between my knees and my arms wrapped around them. Tess was laughing at something Kevin said. I love her wicked laugh. I didn’t lift my head again until she said bye and hung up.
“That was weird,” she said as we washed the dishes. “Want to see what’s on TV?”
I nodded and followed her into the living room. We flopped together onto the couch and watched TV, head to toe. With my feet burrowed under her, I thought about Tess’s boyfriend and wondered why he had called me. Any time I glanced at Tess I had to think, she has no idea what a bad friend I am, keeping secrets from her, flirting with her boyfriend. I decided right then and there to put a stop to it: no more flirting, no more liking him. If he wants to break up with Tess and then, many weeks later, ask me out, I’ll consider it. The double life is too horrible and stressful for me. Good-bye, Kevin, I thought. This is the last hour I will ever spend imagining kissing you again.
The TV blared, Tess dozed, I imagined. We barely moved until Mom came home.
twelve
MOM WAS ALL fake-surprised to find us awake on the couch and, I noticed sadly, lip-gloss-free. She hustled us upstairs to bed. While we were brushing our teeth, Tess whispered, “She sure has F.K.G., huh?”
“Who has what?” I asked, thinking she was talking about fried chicken.
“Your mom,” Tess said. “F.K.G.—Freshly Kissed Glow.”
“Please don’t make me vomit in front of you,” I said, and sat on the rim of the bathtub. I had a mouthful of toothpaste but visions of my mother kissing Kevin’s father made me too woozy to stand, so I had to spit into the tub.
Tess rinsed her mouth the standard way.
“Charlie!” Tess said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Yeah, I’m fine. I am. I just sometimes like to spit my toothpaste in the tub. For fun! And, but, with my mom? The thing is, she just is not great at, she doesn’t wear lip gloss, you know, enough to know you have to reapply it after you drink a cup of . . .”
“Oh, Charlie.” She sat down beside me on the rim, with her arm around me. I rested my head on her shoulder. “You know what we’re gonna do?”
I could so not handle a Tess scheme right then, especially if it related to my mother’s love life or, even worse, kissing life. “Tess . . .”
“What we’re going to do,” interrupted Tess, “is we are not going to talk about it. Discussing other people’s F.K.G. is gross, especially grown-ups’, and especially especially parents’. Right?”
“Right.” I wiped my nose on my sweatshirt sleeve exactly the way that drives my father nuts—up, so it gives me a crease in my nose. But right then I just didn’t care.
“I mean, I couldn’t discuss my parents getting F.K.G. They never
“Um, because,” said Kevin. “Is, I was wondering . . .”
I sank down, against the wall, to the floor. “Yeah?”
I heard him breathing. “Is your . . .”
I closed my eyes.
“What did he say?” Tess whispered. I looked up at her, her chin cupped in her hand, all excited and happy. “What does he want?”
I tried to smile back, and into the phone I said, “Did you call to talk to Tess?” My voice had lost some of its jauntiness, but I was trying.
Tess apparently failed to notice. She opened her mouth wide, still having fun, and flung her shoe at me. It just missed my head and left a mark on the wall.
“No,” said Kevin. “Why?”
I closed my eyes. The smile I was faking was wearing me out. “Well, you tracked her down.”
“Oh,” said Kevin.
“You want to talk to her?”
“Um,” he said, and I handed the phone up to Tess. I listened, sort of, with my head between my knees and my arms wrapped around them. Tess was laughing at something Kevin said. I love her wicked laugh. I didn’t lift my head again until she said bye and hung up.
“That was weird,” she said as we washed the dishes. “Want to see what’s on TV?”
I nodded and followed her into the living room. We flopped together onto the couch and watched TV, head to toe. With my feet burrowed under her, I thought about Tess’s boyfriend and wondered why he had called me. Any time I glanced at Tess I had to think, she has no idea what a bad friend I am, keeping secrets from her, flirting with her boyfriend. I decided right then and there to put a stop to it: no more flirting, no more liking him. If he wants to break up with Tess and then, many weeks later, ask me out, I’ll consider it. The double life is too horrible and stressful for me. Good-bye, Kevin, I thought. This is the last hour I will ever spend imagining kissing you again.
The TV blared, Tess dozed, I imagined. We barely moved until Mom came home.
twelve
MOM WAS ALL fake-surprised to find us awake on the couch and, I noticed sadly, lip-gloss-free. She hustled us upstairs to bed. While we were brushing our teeth, Tess whispered, “She sure has F.K.G., huh?”
“Who has what?” I asked, thinking she was talking about fried chicken.
“Your mom,” Tess said. “F.K.G.—Freshly Kissed Glow.”
“Please don’t make me vomit in front of you,” I said, and sat on the rim of the bathtub. I had a mouthful of toothpaste but visions of my mother kissing Kevin’s father made me too woozy to stand, so I had to spit into the tub.
Tess rinsed her mouth the standard way.
“Charlie!” Tess said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Yeah, I’m fine. I am. I just sometimes like to spit my toothpaste in the tub. For fun! And, but, with my mom? The thing is, she just is not great at, she doesn’t wear lip gloss, you know, enough to know you have to reapply it after you drink a cup of . . .”
“Oh, Charlie.” She sat down beside me on the rim, with her arm around me. I rested my head on her shoulder. “You know what we’re gonna do?”
I could so not handle a Tess scheme right then, especially if it related to my mother’s love life or, even worse, kissing life. “Tess . . .”
“What we’re going to do,” interrupted Tess, “is we are not going to talk about it. Discussing other people’s F.K.G. is gross, especially grown-ups’, and especially especially parents’. Right?”
“Right.” I wiped my nose on my sweatshirt sleeve exactly the way that drives my father nuts—up, so it gives me a crease in my nose. But right then I just didn’t care.
“I mean, I couldn’t discuss my parents getting F.K.G. They never
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