The Kissing Deadline
Copyright 2012 by Emily Evans
Published by Emily Evans
Smashwords Edition
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[1. Fiction. 2. Romance. 3. Young Adult.]
Thanks! You’re awesome: Michelle, Teresa,
Veronica, Jennifer, Stacy, Joellen, Barbie, Brennan, Joseph, Megan,
Mishann, Rachel, Wayne, Darlene, Jeff, Heather, Trevor, Mom &
Dad.
Table of
Contents
Cassie tried not to listen, but she couldn’t
block out the horror of her BFFs’ words. Sierra and Brooke had
vowed to get her kissed before her 16
th
birthday. They’d
made a plan and set a deadline.
Sierra’s gaze skimmed over the jocks at the
center table, lingered on the musicians by the windows, and landed
hard on the geeks standing by the entrance doors. After examining
each guy like he was a menu item behind the sneeze guard, Sierra
said, “You have to kiss one of them.”
Brooke also stared at the choices, assessing
each guy, searching for one who’d do it—someone to kiss Cassie.
Heat flooded Cassie’s cheeks and faded away
with equal speed as she attempted to see her classmates as hot guys
up for grabs. The romantic glare of the fluorescent overhead bulbs
didn’t help. She didn’t want to kiss any of them.
As if reading her mind, Sierra said, “You
have to.” She adjusted her cheetah-print headband and some of her
fiery curls escaped the restraint. She left one curl free.
Cassie knew she wouldn’t be as lucky as that
curl. Her BFFs were going to make her do it. She toed the ketchup
packet by her foot, scooting the white square left and right,
penning it in like a calf at the rodeo.
Brooke’s arm brushed Cassie’s shoulder as she
pointed at the announcement board. Her sleek brunette bob followed
the motion, shifting then falling smoothly back into place. She
didn’t have the same wild hair issues as Sierra, but she had
similar crazy ideas. “Yeah, Cass, did you see the date?”
The announcement board read:
Trallwyn High School Dragon Scoop: Monday,
February 26
Play auditions tomorrow: The Dragon’s
Nest
Interested students sign up with sophomore
journalist Paige Goehl.
Fire drill may or may not occur this
week.
Parking lot C is for staff parking only.
No running, no eating, no PDA.
Sierra snorted. “There will be PDA.” She held
her arms in an upraised dance hold and krumped to an imaginary
beat. “PDA coming your way. Hey”
Brooke nodded as if she too could see the
Public Displays of Affection in their futures. Then she dug a brown
paper bag from her backpack and offered up blueberry mini-muffins.
Sierra waved the offering away, in favor of rising to kick off a
few more extended street dance moves.
“Thanks.” Cassie took one, thrilled to focus
on something other than their kissing plan. Cinnamon and
blueberries joined in a homey fragrance. After peeling the soft,
thin wrapper away from the treat, she took a bite. The muffin was
cupcake-soft and sweet, almost comforting. Yum.
Brooke pointed her own muffin at the board.
“Your birthday’s March 24
th
. Time is running out.
Twenty-six days until you turn sweet sixteen.”
Cassie smashed some of the spongy muffin
between her fingertips and squirmed on the hard plastic seat. The
red lights of the exit sign called her. It was only twenty feet
away. She could make it. She squashed the fleeting thought of
escape and took a larger bite. Her friends weren’t necessarily
wrong. She was about to turn sweet sixteen, and she had never been
kissed.
Sierra puckered her shiny red lips. “Can’t
Get Kissed Cassie.” She krumped out one final move in time with her
words and sat back on the table.
Cassie forced the bite of muffin down her dry
throat so she could spit out the word. “That’s not my nickname.”
She had to shut Sierra down before the name stuck. Sierra excelled
at coming up with nicknames that stuck.
Lizard Larry
and
Ferrari Ryan
were two of her latest sophomore credits.
Cassie didn’t want to be labeled
Can’t Get Kissed
. That
would be worse than her current nickname
Cautious
. She shook
her head so hard her long ponytail hit Sierra’s arm.
Sierra swiped at her arm. Her fingers wound
into the strands of Cassie’s hair like a trick-or-treater caught in
a fake cobweb. “I wonder how you’d look as a brunette.”
Cassie pulled free, ignoring the tug against
her scalp.
“Her mom will never let her dye her hair.”
Brooke jotted something into her notebook under a drawing of two
faces kissing. Next, she drew a line down to the bottom, creating a
column. “There are rules to the kissing plan.”
No surprise there. If a rule existed, then
By the Book Brooke
needed to know it.
“Don’t worry,” Sierra said. “We won’t fail.
We’ll snare a guy for you whether he’s willing or not.”
Cassie’s stomach tightened at the shame. A
quick glance around the room assured her that no one else was
listening or no one cared enough to listen. Thank God.
Sierra pointed to a group near the geeks at
the entrance—the Sewer Six. The Sewer Six displayed various social
transgressions. One chewed with his mouth open. Lizard Larry jetted
his tongue in and out repeatedly. One guy wore a thin silver
antenna. The antenna emerged from the back of his shirt and hovered
a foot over his head. He claimed he needed the antenna for better
reception. Few people had ever asked for more details.
Cassie winced and watched two of them shove
each other with little provocation. She’d truly rather be un-kissed
than pucker up with one of them. “Um, no, the—” A piercing alarm
cut off her refusal.
The antennae guy covered his ears until the
sound stopped.
“It’s a fire drill,” Lizard Larry shouted as
if the alarm was still blaring.
“No,” the antenna guy said in an equally loud
voice. “First period hasn’t started.”
The exit door to their holding pen opened,
and Ryan, the hottest guy in school, strode in. Most sophomores
played on junior varsity teams, but this six feet tall über-treat
starred on varsity everything. Ryan. Her heart rate increased, and
she straightened for a better look. If she had a choice, she’d pick
Ryan for her first kiss. Well, she would if it weren’t for his
girlfriend, Amber. Amber didn’t share.
Amber was head junior varsity cheerleader and
the devil’s spawn. She tore across the room to greet him. After
jumping into his arms, she locked her legs around his waist. His
hands moved to her red spankies, and her talons gripped his brown
hair as she kissed him.
His arms seemed so strong. Amber was a base
not a flyer, so Ryan’s biceps had to be working hard to hold her
up. Cassie wished he’d worn a short-sleeved shirt today, so she
could see his arms. Last week he’d--
Brooke moved in front of Cassie, blocking her
view. She shook her head in firm disapproval of the illicit PDA.
“Whoa, grasshopper, you must walk before you run.”
Cassie looked away, her face heating
worse.
Sierra made a passable imitation of an engine
revving. “Ryan’s a Ferrari.
Vroom, Vroom.
You're looking for
a slightly slower model.” Her hands landed on Cassie’s upper arms
and she turned her toward a table of lower food chain guys. “Try a
four-door sedan.”
Sedans carried books, musical instruments,
and Cassie could easily take one home to meet Mom and Dad.
Sierra made a go-cart puttering sound, then
let go to wipe some spittle off her mouth.
Another siren filled the air and several
students stood to look around.
Cassie started at the sound but Sierra didn’t
seem to care. She raised her voice, speaking loudly enough to be
heard over the noise. “What about an import? Kristnaldo kisses
everyone.”
Kristnaldo, the foreign exchange student in
question, wore a fedora, too tight clothing, and kissed each girl
three times. He alternated cheeks, and, if the girl would let him,
he’d seal the greeting on her mouth. He had an uncanny ability to
do it when the teachers weren’t watching. Most girls didn’t mind
because he was hot. Cassie minded. The thought of the hundreds of
girls he must’ve kissed creeped her out.
Sierra must have seen her grimace. “That's
just the way Italians say hi.” Her words echoed Kristnaldo’s
often-used lame excuse.
Brooke narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t he from
Denmark?” She tilted her head and tapped her notebook. “Anyway,
it’s on the mouth, so the kiss still counts. And he has an
accent.”
Cassie liked accents, but she had a hard
enough time talking to cute guys in English. Throwing in an accent
would be too much.
Sierra’s boyfriend, Mike, appeared in front
of them. “Hey.” He dropped his book bag and greeted Sierra with a
kiss.
Great.
The siren became annoying, a loud chirp
followed by a second quieter beep. Her watch said five minutes
until the bell, but she doubted they’d even hear it with all the
chirping and chatter. She glanced at the doors leading into school.
Both remained closed.
What was that? She leaned forward, her gaze
riveted to the bottom of the doors.
A student screamed.
The screamer must’ve seen the smoke too.
The scream severed Mike and Sierra’s lip
lock. Brooke crammed her notebook in her bag.
As Cassie watched, a puffy blue cloud wafted
under the doors and crept across the linoleum. The unusual burning
chemical odor made people leap into action. One kid bolted for the
front exit. A stampeding herd of students followed him. He made it
out. Several of the faster kids got through too. Leading the next
wave was a surprisingly quick band geek lugging a tuba under his
right arm.
Surely, he wouldn’t?
Drop the tuba,
dude.
Tuba Geek shoved into the doorway. At the
same time a band geek strapped to a drum made his move.
Unclip the straps. Unclip the straps.
Cassie watched the perfect storm. Neither the
tuba player nor the drummer relented. The immobilized duo blocked
the doorway, one high, one low. Impassable. The flow of traffic
shifted. The students were forced to filter toward the single
remaining exit. The tuba player curved into his instrument and the
horn emitted a mournful wail, evoking memories of the Titanic and
the noble musicians who played on while she sank.
