Ok, so my
kid was complaining about how he had a dry patch on his hand that wouldn't go
away, no matter how much Aveeno he put on it.
"Maybe
you need something stronger," I said. "Maybe you should try
Vaseline."
"Gross,"
he said. "Mom, in that story of yours about the Firebird and the Queen of Vaseline,
when he kisses her, she doesn't have Vaseline on her lips, does she?"
Um, said
my brain. My baby is thinking ahead to the kissing part. He is almost fourteen,
I know. But I'm not sure I want him to think about the kissing part.
"Of
course not," I said. "That would be disgusting."
I
hadn't written that scene yet--because I'm working on Amarath, really hard, and
not the Firebird story--but now that my kid was thinking about the kissing part
of my story, I couldn't help thinking about it, too. I had to whip something
out. And since it's February, month of love, and just because I love you guys
so much, I'm going to share my kissing scene with you, from The Grey Wolf, The
Firebird, and the Queen of Vaseline. And then I'm going to put Vaseline away
and finish Amarath. Really. I am. Here's my offering to the love gods. And to you. Feel free to bash.
Oh, and just for some background info, Alex and his mom were in a car wreck that killed his mother and put Alex into a three-day coma. When he woke up, his mother was buried and the funeral was over and he hasn't spoken since.
The
Kissing Scene
The bell
rings and a swinging paper heart hits me in the face and sticks itself to my
forehead as I walk out of Orchestra into the hall. Purple, red and pink hearts
hang from all the florescent lights all down the halls of Timberland High
School, Home of the Grizzlies, in honor of February. HEART ATTACK! banners announce all up and down the halls. TELL SOMEONE YOU LOVE THEM TODAY!
I brush
away the paper heart. Blech. Doesn’t seem very grizzlyish—or even romantic,
either—but who’s asking me? And I’m not saying anything about it, am I? It’s
just somebody’s attempt to combat the general suckiness of this month, when the
air looks like something you don’t want to step in, let alone breathe. They
thought dangly purple hearts were the answer. Huh. Weird. And a dried-up
green-painted twig of Christmas mistletoe strung from the florescent light in
front of the office in B-wing.
There’s
Eva. I lean against glass beside the front doors and wait for her to catch up.
“Give me
a smooch, Queen of Vaseline. Please. I’m dying.” Marco is standing under the
twig, sticking out his lips as she walks by.
Before
Eva has a chance to say anything, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a
dip-kiss. The hall erupts with cat-calls and whistles as she shoves Marco’s
face away.
“Ugh!
That’s so gross!”
He falls
to his knees, mock-begging. “Please. I love you. Will you marry me, Vaseline?”
“Go away,
Marco. Don’t be disgusting.”
Watching
them makes me feel sort of sick. Tight. My neck is suddenly way too hot, and I
sort of want to punch Marco in the face. Which is not the kind of thing I
usually even sort of want to do. Usually I just want to disappear. Eva sees me
watching and heads my way.
I don’t
punch Marco in the face. I walk out the door and head for the parking lot.
“Wait,
Alex! Would you wait for once?”
#
“Can we
go to your house today? Do you mind? My mother has a meeting with a bunch of
realtors in our living room, and I really don’t want to go home right
now.”
We pick
our way through piles of crusty snow and sheet ice across the parking lot to
where Koshai sits waiting for me by the stop-sign across the street. Eva watches
my face as I rumple Koshai’s ears. And try not panic.
Don’t
want her to meet Dmitry. Or Nick, though he won’t be home for hours, probably.
Don’t know why I care. The thought just freaks me out. Totally illogical, I
know. There’s no reason.
Maybe sort
of a reason.
Maybe
because Eva is my friend and a totally nice person and she deserves never to
have to interact with my rude brothers.
But I
shrug, like it’s no big deal.
“You
sure, Alex? I could go to the library. Doesn’t matter.”
I shake
my head. That would be stupid. I don’t want her to go to the library. We head
up Ivy Street to my neighborhood.
“Why are
your fists all clenched up like that?”
I give
her a look and unclench my hands. Didn’t realize I was still thinking about stupid
Marco and the stupid mistletoe.
“Oh,
Marco. He’s just stupid.”
She read
my mind. Again. How does she do that?
Those red
curls go boing, boing as she walks up the street.
“You
know, one of the things I like about you, Alex, is you never try to make-out
with me. We can talk and hang out and eat xocoatl and butter cookies and do
homework, and just be friends, and everything is comfortable and nice, and you
never try anything stupid. Most guys, all they want to do is make-out and,
well, you know. Not that I wouldn’t want to make out with you. That’s not what
I meant. You smell like peppermint and honey, did you know that? Don’t ever go
back-packing. The bears would totally eat you. You really should consider
Vaseline for camping, for the bears. It has no scent, you know? I mean, I don’t
even know if you think I’m pretty or anything. Because you never talk to
me.” Her voice is shrinking and she’s
staring at me and those huge green eyes are suddenly looking a little freaked
out. “Sometimes,” she says in a very small voice, “I really wish you would talk
to me.”
Yeah, I
don’t say anything. But my mind is spinning like my ex-firebird’s wheels going
ninety miles an hour down the free-way.
Three
guesses what I’m thinking about.
Definitely
not homework.
“Crap,” Eva says. “I have no filters on my
mouth. What I mean is, you’re my friend. I don’t want to wreck the cookies and
cocoa thing. Ugh. Just forget I said any of that. I really need to shut up
right now. And wow. I really need my
Vaseline. Uh! Where is it?” She’s
digging around in her backpack like she’s dying of thirst and searching the
desert for water.
Yeah, but
it’s just Vaseline she’s looking for.
Not
water.
She pulls
it out, triumphant.
And I’m not
too much of an imbecile, no matter what my brother Dmitry thinks, to recognize
an opportune moment.
So I stop
right there at the top of Ivy Lane. Take Eva’s Vaseline right out of her hand
while she blinks at me with those brilliant green eyes. Tuck the Vaseline away
into the pocket of her back-pack. And her boing-boing curls behind her ear. And
kiss her on her totally Vaseline-free lips. Long and sweet as xocoatl and
butter cookies. And not even greasy at all.
She
smiles at me.
“You’re
really cute, Alex. Huh, your eyes really are that blue, aren’t they? I thought
it was contacts, maybe.”
I smile
back. First time since…well, yeah.
“I was
right. You smile like you’re bringing in the summer.”
#
When did
the sun come out? I didn’t notice it before.
#