Touch of Eternity(4)

“Wow,” I exclaimed, although I didn’t think there was that much for her to be excited about, to be honest.

Hardly listening as she gushed on and on, I went back to my geography homework. I was trying to be a good friend, though, so at regular intervals I’d let out an affirmative mumble or an astonished “Really?” followed by a breathless “Unbelievable!”

For Kim, every day was evaluated in terms of being a good day or a bad day on the Ryan Scale. This was definitely a good day for Kim.

As for me, I tended to avoid Ryan entirely. I’d made a fool of myself in front of him—and half the school—two years before at my friend Grace’s birthday party. Her parents weren’t home, the party was going full speed, and we had decided to play spin the bottle. On Ryan’s spin, everyone held their breath as the bottle wobbled around, telepathically trying to get the bottle to stop in front of them. Everyone was laughing and clapping when the bottle slowed and pointed at me. Ryan had an amused look on his face as he crawled over to where I was sitting. My heart almost stopped beating, and I turned bright red. Then Lisa, of course, had to ruin everything.

“I heard that our little Sam has never been kissed,” she said tauntingly. “So Ryan, honey—do your best to give her something to dream about for the next twenty years.”

Lisa flounced to the side, laughing away in her size-two jeans. I’d always hated that blonde perfectly perfect daughter of a plastic surgeon, and I sure as hell hated her more at that moment.

“So what?” I shouted defiantly.

Ryan pulled me over to give me the first kiss of my life, but I pushed him aside, scrambled up, and ran away. Tears of humiliation ran down my face as I tore through the living room and out the front door. The whole way home, I muttered dark curses to myself, all along the same lines: what a horrible, mean person Lisa was. Naturally, she’d probably kissed hundreds of boys.

Ever since that night, I’d been avoiding Ryan. I’d hide if I saw him in the grocery store, and I’d duck into another classroom if I saw him coming down the hall at school. I certainly wasn’t going to talk to him, much less look him in the eye. Frankly, I thought Kim was getting her hopes a little high by crushing on him. Ryan was the kind of guy who preferred to be seen with the popular cheerleaders, not the whip-smart editor of the school paper.

“Kim”—I interrupted our one-sided chat—“my mom just called me to dinner. We can talk tomorrow, OK?”

“Oh, sure. But think about it, because the beach party this weekend is going to be incredible. And I definitely can’t go alone. Please, please, please, if you’re my friend, come with me!”

“I’m sorry, Kim. I really don’t want to hang out with Lisa and her crowd.”

“Please… Please…” She made whiny little puppy noises. It was unbearable.

“OK, OK. I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

“I said I wasn’t promising anything.”

“I know. But I know you’ll come!” I heard her giggle as I hung up the phone.

I sighed and hoped the beach party didn’t involve swimsuits. I mean, I’m fine with my body. I’ve always liked that I’m thin, but I don’t have much to offer on top. And being compared with Lisa and company, well, I bet even someone like Jennifer Lawrence would feel intimidated. But, I thought, if we had to wear swimsuits, I could always wrap myself in a brown towel and try to blend into the shoreline.

At school the next day, Mr. Schneider wanted to see my geography homework. And just as I had feared, he wasn’t happy with the poorly done map I’d drawn of the subregions of Europe and he gave me a C. Wonderful. There was only one month left in the semester to improve my grade. Frustrated, I banged my locker shut.

I looked up and saw Kim barreling down the hallway. Jeez, she practically shoved a ninth-grader out of her path to get to me.

Kim’s black pixie cut and her chunky black-rimmed glasses suited her journalist-wannabe image. Actually, she was well on her way to her dream, with all the reporting and editing she’d been doing for the student paper.

“So,” she said conspiratorially, “I’m on my way to the field to interview some of the football players about healthy food. Want to come with me?”

Although it was spring, the football team still had practice. In the off-season, they’d run sprints, lift weights, and basically just act manly. It was kind of gross, if you asked me, even if their year-round dedication had helped make them the state champions for several years in a row.