I wrote this story last year as an attempt to 1. write as an adolescent boy, a species that I am morbidly fascinated by, and 2. try to write 'funny.' Not sure if I succeeded really on either of those fronts, but I kind of like the story anyway. She Made It All Up
by Summer Burton
One thing that never happened is that Amanda Lane never kissed me. She didn’t ask me to walk with her behind the oak tree next to the playscape; she didn’t look at me with her eyelids all low, which makes her face look weird but older; she didn’t reach up for my face and pretend to brush something out of my hair while leaning closer and closer to me so I could pretty much smell everything she ate for lunch and breakfast; and I definitely didn’t find myself pressing my mouth to hers and even opening it a little, enough that the very tip of her tongue was between my lips. That did not happen.
The reason that didn’t happen, and could never happen, and if in some bizarre alternate universe it did happen would be a big, big problem: Amanda is my best-friend-from-third-grade Thomas’ girl and they are going to get married. Or at least that’s what Thomas told me the day before Amanda did not kiss me. I told him that was a pretty pussy thing to say and that no one got married to their seventh grade girlfriends and that if they did get married she would probably divorce him and take all of his money, but Thomas shook his head and said it was love. At which point I did not feel even the slightest bit sick or jealous or weird, in fact I felt so normal that I called him a chick and hit him on his shoulder.
Amanda looks a little bit like Natalie Portman from the Star Wars movies. Mostly in two ways: one is that she is really skinny but she doesn’t look all bony like Theresa Williams or models, and the other is that she has this smile that’s really hard to look at. It’s hard to look at her smile (Natalie Portman’s or Amanda’s) because it seems like she knows something that you don’t, and also like she knows that you don’t know it, and also that she thinks that’s kind of funny and sad and sweet all at the same time. It’s terrible.
Amanda lives on my block and her parents have more money than mine which I know is true because Amanda has a new bike, not a used one from Goodwill, and because one time she told me that they have a maid. I looked for the maid at their house every time I passed by but then later she told me that she only comes once every two weeks, so they aren’t that rich.
Thomas lives further away but he has a new bike too and sometimes he rides it to my house and then we go to Amanda’s house and make fun of her together. Thomas says that it makes her like him more. I guess he’s right because, after a while, they usually tell me to go home so they can make out. I have never made out with someone at my house or at their house, and I guess sometimes I kind of wonder what that’s like but I never stop at Amanda’s window and glance in on my way across her yard. If I did it would just be to take notes for my future make out sessions with girlfriends who will have smiles that don’t make me feel stupid. But I don’t.
I did make out with Theresa Williams two months ago in the back yard of a party at Terrence Rhodes’ house. She was wearing a sweatshirt so she looked less bony than usual and besides I just needed the practice. Afterwards she said that we were going out and I told her that she was a bad kisser, which was only half the truth and the other half is something that I can’t talk about, but I swear it doesn’t have anything to do with Amanda.
Amanda and Thomas have been together for five months, which is longer than anyone else in our grade has ever gone out with anyone, so it seems like it’s pretty serious. So, if there was some weirdo universe where Amanda kissed me behind that tree, and where my entire chest and stomach felt like they were filled with tiny ticklish pieces of fur or confetti or something, I’d be pretty confused right now. Luckily, that didn’t happen and I feel completely normal and nothing on my insides feels like it’s been rearranged at all.
One time Thomas asked me who I thought the prettiest girl in our grade was and I asked him if he wanted the truth. This is because I can not lie to my best friend, but I know that sometimes people would prefer that you lie and I guess if he ever asked me not to tell him something for his own good I could lie then. But he said he wanted the truth and so I told him Amanda. I thought he might hit me but he just said “I know, man. She’s so fucking hot.” Thomas doesn’t say “fucking” very often so I knew he was trying to make sure that I was paying attention to what he was saying. He put his hand on my back. “I’m glad you support me, man.” I wasn’t sure what that meant but I guess he was saying that me saying Amanda was hot meant that I was happy for him that she was his girl. I guess that should be true.
My mom doesn’t seem to like Amanda’s family very much and every time she runs into Amanda’s mom she ends up in our kitchen telling my dad how “waspy” the Lanes are. I guess I know what she means. Amanda’s mom is just like a taller version of Amanda with her skin pulled a little bit tighter, and I guess they both seem like they might be hiding some kind of poison stinger behind their backs. The smile that’s hard to look at might just be a trick to get you stung, you know?
It’s good that Amanda did not kiss me behind that tree and that I didn’t feel her boobs pressed against my t-shirt and that she didn’t tell me afterwards she wanted to break up with Thomas to go out with me because I was a nicer kisser, because if she did than I would probably have run home and put my entire head under the kitchen sink to calm down before Thomas came over and then when he did I would have been really freaked out and he would keep asking me what was wrong and I would keep saying ‘nothing’ even though that wouldn’t be true and then I would have a feeling in my stomach even worse than the one I would have had when Amanda’s mouth was so soft, a feeling that I was keeping something from my best-friend-since-third-grade and then Thomas might have suggested that we go over to Amanda’s and I might have flinched or made some kind of weird face and he might have said “what, man?” and I might have shrugged and, not knowing what to say, I might have said that I thought she was kind of a bitch for not letting him feel up her shirt yet after a whole five months and Thomas might have looked really thoughtful and then said “you’re right man” and then later, after his mom agreed to let him spend the night since it was a Friday, he might suggest that we play some kind of joke on Amanda and we might have grabbed all of the toilet paper in my bathroom and snuck out and thrown it all up in her trees and then the next day Amanda’s mom might come over and ask my mom about it and I might start crying and Thomas might call me a pussy and get on his bike and go home and then Amanda’s mom might tell her that we had done it and Amanda might not speak to me or Thomas for a whole week at school, she might just smile her terrible way and make us both feel small, so small. And Thomas might forgive me for letting on that we had rolled the house, but I might never forget that I hadn’t told him about what really happened with Amanda and then one day, two months later, when I had a new girlfriend – Stacy Park, who is almost as pretty as Amanda and has much bigger boobs – Amanda might smile her terrible smile at us in class and then pass Thomas a note that he will read and then crumple up into a ball and then he might stare at his desk for awhile before staring at me for awhile and we will all know everything, and then Thomas might hit me in the face and Stacy might break up with me after Amanda tells her the whole story too, and then I might be alone almost all the time and then one day I would ride my bike past Amanda’s house and see Thomas’ bike locked to the tree and I would not, I would never, lower my head and look into their window and see his hands underneath her sweater, see them holding each other and see Amanda smile some different smile, one that I’d never seen before, a smile that would make me look away and make my feet feel heavy with everything inside of me dropped right into them.
So, it’s good that Amanda didn’t kiss me, even if it might have all felt worth it anyway.
Labels: mywriting
