says, referring to the party. “I’ve got better things to do.”
“You wish,” Siobhan mutters.
“I think we should make an attempt,” Justine Kalinsky says. “I’ve got a piano accordion recital, but it’ll be over by eight.”
“Don’t say that too loud,” Siobhan tells her.
“Making fun of the piano accordion thing is a bit passé now, Siobhan,” Tara Finke tells her.
“So are you, Tara.”
Oh, what a united group we are!
“I’ll pick you up, but after that you’re on your own,” I tell Siobhan. “I’m not spending the night looking for you.”
By the time we arrive, everyone is paralytic. Even Will Trombal.
The guy throwing the party is handing out vodka Jell-O shots, and after a couple the sensation is strange.
On the dance floor, Eva Rodriguez is surrounded by a bunch of guys. Her parents are from the Philippines, with the usual Spanish-and-Filipino mix of caramelized skin and almond-shaped eyes. Most of the guys think she’s gorgeous, but the Filipino guys adore her. I watch them move. Their bodies are like liquid as they dance. When they walk, dance, play basketball, they all seem to glide to a tempo that the rest of us can’t hear or respond to.
Will Trombal sees me from the other side of the room and he grins and he makes a beeline for me and my mind is buzzing with the best opening.
Hi.
Hey.
How’s it going?
Great party.
Love your shirt.
Great music.
Crap music.
And he’s coming closer and closer and the way he’s looking at me makes me think that I’m going to have the most romantic night in the history of my life. I open my mouth to say something and he sticks his tongue down my throat.
We’re in a corner, pashing, and I don’t even know what’s got me to this point. A look in the corridor? A flirt outside my nonna’s house? All I know is that no one exists around us. I don’t know whether we’re kissing for five minutes or five hours and my mouth feels bruised, but I can’t let go. Because it feels so good to be held by someone other than Luca. Will’s arms tremble as they hold me and his heart beats hard against me and I know that whatever I’m feeling is mutual. For a moment I taste the alcohol on his breath, and it brings me back to reality.
“Do that sober and I’ll be impressed,” I say before walking away.
Justine Kalinsky is a wallflower all night. I can tell she’s itching to dance, but she just stands there and there’s a worried, pinched look on her face.
“Siobhan’s gone into the bedroom with that Year Twelve guy who’s in charge of the microphones, you know, at assembly,” she tells me. “They’re really drunk.”
“Siobhan’s a big girl.”
“With bad taste in guys.”
“Not our problem.”
Over the weekend, I think of Will one thousand times a day. I think, what if he doesn’t speak to me on Monday? What if he doesn’t ask me out? What if my heart beats at this rate for the rest of my life until he does? Why isn’t he ringing? He knows I’m at my nonna’s place. His nonna would have the phone number.
Oh, ring, ring, why doesn’t he give me a call?
And then it hits me. I’m going to ask him out. Except I’ve never asked a guy out before. Should I wait for him to ring me? He’s made it obvious that he’s interested, even if he was drunk, so why wouldn’t he ring? You don’t kiss me the way he kissed me and not mean business. Do guys shake like that with every kiss? I change my mind one hundred times in a minute. Michaela would wait. Natalia would say, “Let him ring you.” But I feel as if I’ve spent my life waiting. For phone calls from my Stella friends. For Mia to be okay. For someone else to decide that it’s right for Luca and me to go home.
I’m going to ask Will Trombal out! And for the first time in a month, I can see beyond the next five minutes and what I see doesn’t seem so bad.
There’s a lot of awkwardness on Monday. Not a lot of eye contact between the sexes. There’s a bit of
“You wish,” Siobhan mutters.
“I think we should make an attempt,” Justine Kalinsky says. “I’ve got a piano accordion recital, but it’ll be over by eight.”
“Don’t say that too loud,” Siobhan tells her.
“Making fun of the piano accordion thing is a bit passé now, Siobhan,” Tara Finke tells her.
“So are you, Tara.”
Oh, what a united group we are!
“I’ll pick you up, but after that you’re on your own,” I tell Siobhan. “I’m not spending the night looking for you.”
By the time we arrive, everyone is paralytic. Even Will Trombal.
The guy throwing the party is handing out vodka Jell-O shots, and after a couple the sensation is strange.
On the dance floor, Eva Rodriguez is surrounded by a bunch of guys. Her parents are from the Philippines, with the usual Spanish-and-Filipino mix of caramelized skin and almond-shaped eyes. Most of the guys think she’s gorgeous, but the Filipino guys adore her. I watch them move. Their bodies are like liquid as they dance. When they walk, dance, play basketball, they all seem to glide to a tempo that the rest of us can’t hear or respond to.
Will Trombal sees me from the other side of the room and he grins and he makes a beeline for me and my mind is buzzing with the best opening.
Hi.
Hey.
How’s it going?
Great party.
Love your shirt.
Great music.
Crap music.
And he’s coming closer and closer and the way he’s looking at me makes me think that I’m going to have the most romantic night in the history of my life. I open my mouth to say something and he sticks his tongue down my throat.
We’re in a corner, pashing, and I don’t even know what’s got me to this point. A look in the corridor? A flirt outside my nonna’s house? All I know is that no one exists around us. I don’t know whether we’re kissing for five minutes or five hours and my mouth feels bruised, but I can’t let go. Because it feels so good to be held by someone other than Luca. Will’s arms tremble as they hold me and his heart beats hard against me and I know that whatever I’m feeling is mutual. For a moment I taste the alcohol on his breath, and it brings me back to reality.
“Do that sober and I’ll be impressed,” I say before walking away.
Justine Kalinsky is a wallflower all night. I can tell she’s itching to dance, but she just stands there and there’s a worried, pinched look on her face.
“Siobhan’s gone into the bedroom with that Year Twelve guy who’s in charge of the microphones, you know, at assembly,” she tells me. “They’re really drunk.”
“Siobhan’s a big girl.”
“With bad taste in guys.”
“Not our problem.”
Over the weekend, I think of Will one thousand times a day. I think, what if he doesn’t speak to me on Monday? What if he doesn’t ask me out? What if my heart beats at this rate for the rest of my life until he does? Why isn’t he ringing? He knows I’m at my nonna’s place. His nonna would have the phone number.
Oh, ring, ring, why doesn’t he give me a call?
And then it hits me. I’m going to ask him out. Except I’ve never asked a guy out before. Should I wait for him to ring me? He’s made it obvious that he’s interested, even if he was drunk, so why wouldn’t he ring? You don’t kiss me the way he kissed me and not mean business. Do guys shake like that with every kiss? I change my mind one hundred times in a minute. Michaela would wait. Natalia would say, “Let him ring you.” But I feel as if I’ve spent my life waiting. For phone calls from my Stella friends. For Mia to be okay. For someone else to decide that it’s right for Luca and me to go home.
I’m going to ask Will Trombal out! And for the first time in a month, I can see beyond the next five minutes and what I see doesn’t seem so bad.
There’s a lot of awkwardness on Monday. Not a lot of eye contact between the sexes. There’s a bit of
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