Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories (4 page)

Yeah, it wasn't easy, but I've got a natural talent when it comes to tricking people. What makes me the most proud is that I've even fooled Kane, and he's almost as talented a trickster as me.

I
must
be good.

Unfortunately, I haven't got to kiss Ashleigh yet because Miss Mason showed us how actors fool the crowd by just pretending to kiss, missing each other's lips by a few centimetres. I wish she'd just kept quiet.

But then during
our final practice last night things changed. It was called a
dress rehearsal, and I was pretty nervous
about it until I found out that I didn't actually
have to wear a dress. During the kissing scene, I
got so close to Ashleigh's lips that I could smell
her strawberry lip gloss. She didn't seem to mind
either, so afterwards I said to he
r, ‘I reckon we should do a real kiss on
opening night. It will look heaps more convincing.'

She raised an eyebrow and for a second I thought I was going to get slapped by a girl. Again. But then she went, ‘Wow. I didn't know you were such a professional actor, Tony. Are you sure you want to kiss
me
?'

‘Umm. I think I could force myself.'

She thought for a moment, and then she nodded. ‘Okay, why not?'

No wonder I'm not sleeping.

*

Everybody's excited. Miss Mason is running around like a chook with its head cut off, Mr Relf is counting everybody and everything (he is a maths teacher after all), and girls are giggling and doing each other's hair.

I make sure that the MP3 is strapped securely under my flannelette shirt, say ‘no way' to some girls who want to cover my face with make-up, and wait beside Gavin, who's dressed in his best tree outfit.

Ashleigh glides up. She's wearing a short denim skirt and a cowboy hat.

‘You look nice, Gav,' she says. ‘Very green.'

‘Thanks.'

‘And as for you …' She puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘You look sexy. Like a hot country boy.'

It feels like a special force is travelling through her arm and into my brain, making it turn to mush.

But when she lets go and starts walking away, my brain comes alive again.

‘Ashleigh!' I call out.

She turns.

‘Remember the kiss.'

She smiles. ‘I'm looking forward to it.'

Right befor
e show time Kane comes over. I know he's
jealous of the fact that while he only gets a one-verse
solo, I sing two songs on my own plus do a duet
with Ashleigh, but there's nothing he can say
or do that can ruin things for me now. I
can't help it if I'm the more talented one.

‘You look like a country hick,' he says, pulling at my chequered shirt.

I point to the fake axe he's holding. ‘Yeah, well, you look like a woodchopper who can't chop wood.'

‘Say this,' he says. ‘How much wood would a woodchopper chop if a woodchopper could chop wood?'

‘Easy,' I say. ‘How much wood would a chopper chop if a chupachup could chop wood?'

‘Wrong!'

‘Was not.'

We eye each other off for a
moment, and then our faces crack open like a safe. We
always could laugh together.

He puts out his hand and
I reach forward and shake it.

‘Break a leg out there,' he says.

‘Huh?'

‘That's actor talk for “good luck”.'

‘I knew that,' I say.

As he walks off, I check that the MP3 remote is in my pocket. That's all I need to make sure I break a leg. As I'm searching for it, I accidentally press the ‘play' button and the singing starts.
‘I was born a gamblin' man …'
But it's not my normal singing voice, or should I say, it's not Simon's normal singing voice. It sounds more like Britney on some sort of weird drug. Before I can think to turn it off there's a ‘rrrrr' sound, like a sick dog, and then the singing stops.

Kane turns around. ‘Are you right?'

‘Yeah,' I say, patting myself on the chest. ‘Just a few nerves. I might have to visit the dunny can.'

On the way to the loo I hear Miss Mason yell, ‘One minute! One minute to show time!'

I lock myself in a stall and try to fix the MP3 player, but it's no good. It's as dead as my pet guinea pig.

Someone comes in and says, ‘Tony? Are you in here?'

It's Mr Relf.

‘Tony? You need to
hurry.' He's knocking on the door.

I put on my best acting voice. ‘Sir, I'm feeling sick. I can't get up.'

‘Probably just nerves. Just come out, will you?'

I put my hand under my armpit and make some short, sharp sounds. ‘No, I mean I
can't
get up.'

He groans. ‘How long do you
think you'll be? You're not on until the middle
of the first act, but that's not long.'

‘Sir, can you do me a favour? If you get my little brother, Simon, I think I'll feel better soon. He's one of those psycho healers.'

‘You mean psychic?'

‘No, I mean psycho.'

It's not long before Mr Relf and Simon burst into the toilet.

‘Sir, can you wait outside?' I say to Relfy. ‘Simon can't do his healing with other people in the room. Too much mental interference.'

‘Okay, but hurry!' he says. ‘You're on in less than five minutes.'

‘Crawl under the doo
r,' I say to Simon once Relfy leaves.

‘No way. I don't want to see Mum's cooking again. It was bad enough the first time.'

‘I don't have the runs.'

‘What's wrong then?' he says cautiously.

I open the door and pull him into the stall. ‘The MP3's gone weird. Fix it.'

He wriggles around like there are ants in his pants. ‘I can't.'

‘How do you know? You hav
en't even looked at it.' Suddenly
he tries to escape, but I grab hold of his shirt.

‘What's going on?'

‘Nothing,' he says.

‘Did you do this?' I hold up the broken MP3 player.

He looks away. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

Whenever Simon tells a lie he starts blinking. I grab him by the chin so I can see his eyes, but he quickly closes them.

‘You had it planned all along, huh?' I say. ‘You thought I'd get on stage, sing like a strangled cat and look like a fool.'

‘No!'

I squeeze his chin to convince him to open his eyes, and when he does they blink faster than a lighthouse on steroids.

He starts whimpering.
‘It's not fair! Just because you're bigger than me
you think you can order me around.'

I put my arm around his neck. ‘You're right. I am bigger than you. And because of this …' I point to the MP3 player. ‘… I'm gonna prove it every single day of your life.' I squeeze the soft flesh where the shoulder meets the neck and he gives a yelp.

‘It wasn't my idea,' Simon says quickly.

‘What?' I squeeze harder, hoping to extract some more information.

‘It was Kane. He said he'd give me twenty bucks if I could embarrass you.'

I let him go. ‘Kane? But he didn't know—'

‘Of course he did. He knows you can't sing, and he guessed about the MP3.'

‘You're lying!' I say, putting my arm
back around his neck.

‘I'm not. I swear.' He looks at me and his eyes stay wide open.

Mr Relf barges in. There's panic in his voice.

‘Come out right now, Tony! You're on in 46 seconds.'

‘I can't, sir. I'm still sick. But I've got a plan.' I start taking off my shirt.

‘What is it?'

‘Simon's gonna fill in for me.'

‘What?' say Relfy and Simon at the same time.

‘I taught him all of the songs,' I say. ‘And because we're brothers, we sound heaps alike. Almost identical, actually.'

I wrap the shirt around Simon's shoulders. He starts turning green.

‘Well,' says Relfy, ‘this is highly unusual, but I suppose there's no other choice.'

‘You make sure you sing like a rock star,' I hiss at Simon. ‘You gotta make Kane look bad. And tell him I hope he breaks a leg. For real.'

Simon doesn't answer; he also doesn't move. In fact, he's so still he could get a job as a statue.

‘What's wrong?' I whisper.

He doesn't say a word but I can see the answer in his scared, scared eyes. Stage fright. There's only one way to deal with this.

WHACK!

I smack him on the back.

He snaps out of it and immediately starts doing vocal exercises. ‘Fa, fa, fa, fa, faaaaaa.'

I join in. ‘Ting, ting, ting, tingggggg.'

He runs out and I chuckle at the thought of Simon making a fool of himself in front of a bunch of people.

Then I realise what I've done. While I'm sitting on the toilet, Ashleigh will be sitting on my little brother's lap, kissing him instead of me.

Far out!

Love Triangle

In maths I sit next to Gavin Fox. He's not good to copy off because he's dumber than me, but he's good to talk to. He always knows what's going on.

‘… and then Laura told me that Jacob doesn't wear any deodorant, which is why she wouldn't dirty dance with him. He stinks.'

I don't even know who these people are, let alone know how they smell. I need to become part of the loop. As my sometimes friend Kane likes to say, ‘Life is all about contacts.'

‘Who's Laura friends with?' I ask.

‘Jamie Yee, Sally Bliss and that Cathy girl.'

My ears prick up. ‘Cathy Savage?'

‘Yeah.'

Hmm. My mind starts putting two and two together, and I'm not talking about maths. Cathy is friends with Ashleigh Simpkin – who would be the love of my life if she only knew how I felt about her. There must be a way I can use this to my advantage.

I chew on a pencil to help me think. ‘If I told you something to tell Laura, do you reckon she could tell Cathy and then she could pass it on to Ashleigh Simpkin?' I ask Gavin.

He gives me a look. ‘Do you like Ashleigh Simpkin?'

‘Umm. No comment.'

‘What do you want me to say?'

‘Umm.' I chew on my pencil again and accidentally swallow some lead. ‘Tell Laura that … I like Ashleigh Simpkin.'

He laughs.

‘Boys!' says Mr Relf. ‘I hope you've finished exercises one, two
and
three. Your test is on Friday.'

I take a look at my book. I'm up to exercise zero.

‘I'll see what I can do,' Gavin whispers.

For the first time in ages, I reckon I've done something smart. Now all I have to do is sit back and wait for the good news.

*

‘Bad news,' says Gavin.

It's the next day and I'm getting the low-down, after a dressing-down by Mr Relf for not doing my homework.

‘There was a bit of a mix-up.'

‘What happened?' I ask.

‘Laura told Sally Bliss to send a text message to Cathy, and she was gonna email Ashleigh, right?'

‘Right …'

‘But Sally Bliss got your name wrong. She called you Gavin Ross.'

‘But that's
your
first name!'

He gives a guilty smile. ‘I know. Then Cathy emailed Ashleigh and wrote that
I
like her.'

‘You!?'

‘Boys!' says Mr Relf. ‘I'll be over in a second to check on your work.'

I start whispering. ‘But
you
don't like Ashleigh. I do.'

He shrugs. ‘Well, she is pretty cute, you know …'

My fingernails dig into my exercise book. ‘Yeah,
I do!'

I don't say any more. Mr Relf is standing over us. ‘We've got an exam on triangles tomorrow and you boys wouldn't know your isosceles from a sausage,' he says. ‘I'm going to enjoy marking your tests. I need a good laugh.'

The bell rings and I get ready to give Gavin a mouthful as soon as we make it outside. But I don't get the chance because a girl runs up to us.

‘Hey,' she says to Gavin.

‘Hey,' he replies.

I elbow him in the ribs and Gavin nods in my direction. ‘Cathy, this is Tony. Tony, Cathy.'

‘Hey,' I say.

She gives a little wave. A friend of Ashleigh's actually knows me! I start feeling pretty good.

‘Guess what?' Cathy says to Gavin. ‘Ashleigh likes you.'

Now I feel bad.

‘But she wants to know if you
really
like her, or if it's just a joke. She likes someone else as well and she needs to know.'

‘Who?' I say.

Cathy turns to me. She's nice to look at, though her nose is a bit too small for her face. ‘Who what?' she says.

‘Who does Ashleigh like?'

She gives me a tiny smile. ‘That's
what's called a secret.'

Cathy looks back at Gavin. ‘Tell your friend not to be so nosy. Although looking at his face, it must be hard.'

I feel my nose. Gavin sniggers.

‘Well?' she asks Gavin.

‘Don't be so nosy, big nose,' he says to me.

Cathy slaps him on the shoulder. ‘No, I mean, do you really like Ashleigh or is it just a joke?'

‘Uhh. Tell her I'll text her.'

Cathy writes Ashleigh's number on the back of Gavin's hand.

She starts to walk away, then turns and looks at me. ‘You know, Ashleigh's told me about you. The other boy she likes, let's just say you know him. Real well.'

I get goosebumps and my head starts swimming. I don't like to think it – in case it isn't true – but my heart is beating like it's real.

I grab Gavin's skinny bicep and squeeze.

‘Oww!' he says.

‘You've got to say no to Ashleigh,' I say.

‘Why?'

‘Because the other boy that she likes – it's me.'

Gavin laughs. I squeeze harder.

‘Stop it!' he says.

‘C'mon mate. I'll do anything.'

‘You can start by letting go of me arm.'

I do.

He looks at his wrist. ‘You know, when Cathy was writing on me skin, I felt a real connection.'

‘So you like Cathy now?'

‘Maybe. But then again, Ashleigh likes
me
. You heard it yourself.'

‘Yeah, but—'

‘I'll tell you what I'll do. Dad said he'll give me 100 bucks for every A that I get on a test.'

‘But you're dumb.'

‘That's why he said it.
If you can get me an A on the maths test
tomorrow, you can have Ashleigh. Besides, I just got a
new mobile and my phone bill's huge.'

‘But I'm dumb, too,' I say.

‘That's not my problem. An A or Ashleigh's mine. It's the best I can do.'

He walks off.

I start running. I have to find Brains. Not mine, but Kevin ‘Brains' McMahon, the smartest kid in our class. I check the tuckshop line, the handball courts, and finally spot him in the library. He's playing chess against a Year Twelve-er.

‘Brains. I gotta talk to ya.'

He has his hand on the queen. Or maybe
it's the king? I can't tell them apart. ‘Do
I not look busy right now?' he says. ‘I'm just about
to perform a Spassky special.'

I think about picking up the chessboard and shaking it, but it's probably not the best way to get what I need. Instead, I stand closer and put my hands on my head.

‘Eeww! How am I supposed to concentrate with that smell?' Brains says. ‘Your armpits stink!'

Jacob's not the only one who doesn't wear any deodorant. ‘I just want a minute,' I say.

Brains sighs, then says to his opponent, ‘I have the whole chessboard memorised so don't even think about moving any of the pieces.'

We walk behind some shelves.

‘Make it snappy, Ross,' he says.

‘I need you to get an A on tomorrow's maths test.'

‘That's a given. I perfected triangles in pre-school.'

‘Playin' 'em?'

‘Very funny, Ross.'

I don't tell him that I wasn't joking.

‘Is that all?' he says.

‘One more thing. You know how you normally write your name on the top of a test?'

‘It is customary, yes.'

‘Well, tomorrow your name's … Gavin Fox.'

He starts walking away.

‘One week,' I say.

He half turns. ‘What?'

‘I'll be your servant for one week. I'll clean your glasses, beat up your enemies, anything.'

‘Stop wasting my time.'

‘Two weeks.'

He shakes his head.

‘A month!'

‘Hmm.' He rests his chin on his knuckles,
thinking.

I have no intention of being Brains' slave for a minute, but he doesn't know that. Actually, he probably does. He's smart.

‘I mean it, Brains,' I say. ‘I give you my oaf.'

‘I need to know why,' he says. ‘I only sell myself for a good cause.'

‘If Fox gets an A, then he's gonna let me go out with Ashleigh Simpkin.'

‘So all this is for a girl?'

I nod.

‘Hmm.' Brains strokes his chin. ‘Girls
ar
e
a good cause.' Then his hand makes a fist. ‘But not today. Lucy Bagini dumped me this morning.'

He starts to turn.

‘But Brains!'

Someone yells, ‘NO ONE IS TO RAISE THEIR VOICE IN THIS LIBRARY!'

Except for the librarian, of course.

I whisper, ‘What am I gonna do?'

‘You know wh
y she did it? She said I spen
t more time with my books than
with her. What's wrong with
that?' Brains takes an encyclopaedia
off the shelf; it's as thic
k as my head. ‘If you reall
y want this girl, I have one
suggestion.'

I lean forward. ‘What is it?'

‘Study.'

*

My dad knows a lot of useless information. If there was a quiz show just for council workers, Dad would win for sure. He'd even beat the mayors. For the sake of my love life, I'm hoping Dad can pass some of that useless information on to me.

He's doing the crossword when I find him. ‘What's another word for “foolish”?' he asks me.

‘How am I s'posed to know? I'm too stupid.'

‘That's it! Stupid!' He scribbles something down.

‘You don't have to agree with me,' I say. ‘Look, Dad. I need your help. It's for school.'

Dad looks up from his crossword. ‘Normally I'd love to, son. But I've had a hard day.'

I raise my eyebrows. ‘But you work for the council.'

He sighs. ‘It's not like it used to be. There's a new rule – morning tea and morning smoko have been combined. Rumour is they're going to do the same with afternoon tea and afternoon smoko. What a joke! They also want to limit our lunch breaks to an hour—'

‘I just need some help with my maths.'

‘Maths! Why didn't you say so? It was my favourite subject.'

‘I got a test on triangles. Tomorrow.'

‘Triangles, hey?' Dad scratches his forehead. ‘Well, let's start with good ol' Pythagoras, shall we?'

‘Yeah.' This sounds good. I'm pretty sure I heard good ol' Relfy mention good ol' Pythagoras in class.

‘Well, according to Pythagoras' theorem, a right-angled triangle is when the sum of the squares of the two shorter sides equals the square of the longest side, called the hypotenuse.'

‘The hyper what?'

‘For example, if the sides of a triangle are 6, 8, and 10, it is a right-angled triangle because 36 + 64 = 100. We can find the length of any side of a right-angled triangle if we know the lengths of the other two sides. Pretty smart bloke that Pythagoras, hey?'

‘Yeah.' I'm sure Dad knows what he's talking about; it's just that I can't understand a word he's saying.

‘Anything else, son?' he asks.

‘Yeah. What's another word for “stuffed”?'

Dad holds his pen to his mouth. ‘Done for? Kaput? Up the spout?'

‘Thanks, Dad.'

‘No worries, son.'

I go find Belinda. She's chatting to her latest boyfriend on the computer.

‘Can you help me figure out triangles?' I ask.

‘They've got three sides,' she says.

Yeah, this is good. She's talking more on my level.

‘What else?' I say.

She stops typing for a second. ‘That's all I remember. Triangles are
so
last year.'

I shake my head and search for Mum. She's in the laundry, ironing.

‘I need to know about triangles for maths.'

‘I'm terrible at maths,' she says. ‘You're best to ask your father.'

‘I did. I can't understand a word he says.'

She pushes a button and steam flies up. ‘Yeah, me neither. Do you have a textbook or something?'

I think for a second. ‘Yeah.'

‘Have you looked at it?'

‘Of course. It's great when I can't sleep. All I have to do is open it up, read a few words and I'm out like a light
.'

She starts getting annoyed. I seem to have that effect on Mum without even trying. ‘Well, I pay good money for your schoolbooks! The least you can do is use them properly.'

She wields the iron like a weapon, flattening my school pants like they're being run over by a steamroller. I'm glad I'm not wearing them.

In my room
I take the maths book from my bag.
The
parts of a triangle have many interesting relationships
, it
says.

I snigger. How many triangles do you know have relationships?

Normally, I'd stop reading right there and start sleeping. But not tonight, there's too much at stake. Do it for Ashleigh, I think.

The book tells me about perimeter and area, and about congruence. Do you know that two triangles are congruent if the sides of one equals the sides of the other? Well, I had no idea, but I do now. And the weird thing is, triangles aren't that hard. As Belinda says, they only have three sides.

I study like I've
never studied before – at one stage sticking matchsticks between
my eyelids so I stay awake – and I master eve
rything except the challenge questions. Hopefully, Relfy is too
lazy to make up any of those.

Afterwards, I find it hard to get to sleep. I've got acute triangles and a cute girl on my mind, not to mention a thick maths book under my pillow. I'm hoping the answers will seep into my head overnight.

Then I realise the real reason why I can't sleep. It's the matchsticks, I've forgotten to take them out!