Confessions of a Not It Girl Read Free Page A

drinks the poison, says, " 'Thus with a kiss I die,'" kisses her, and collapses. I heard Josh make a noise like he was drinking from a bottle, and then he slipped his
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    arm under my back and lifted my shoulders off the desk.
    Now, in my limited experience, when a guy puts his arm around you, like at the movies or something, either he barely touches you or he grabs you so tightly he cuts off the circulation in your arm. Neither one is exactly the sexiest sensation in the world. But somehow, Josh managed to hold me firmly without squeezing me so hard I couldn't breathe. He sort of tucked me against him, too, so along with his shampoo I could smell his skin, which also smelled really nice. My forehead was against his chest, and I could feel his heart beating. I waited for him to say his last line.
    But he didn't say it. I waited what felt like five minutes, and then I opened my eyes a tiny bit to see what he was doing. He was just looking at me and holding me against him, and then he took my left hand and linked his fingers through mine. And the whole time he kept staring at my face, like he was trying to memorize it. I was afraid he would see my eyes were open, so I shut them. But he still didn't say his line. He just waited.
    Which is when the true irony of the situation was revealed.
    Because I actually thought he was getting ready to kiss me.
    I have no excuse for this except the possibility that, as I told Rebecca, I may have experienced temporary insanity. I mean, I've been at Lawrence Academy since I was four, and not once in all those years have two students, acting out a scene in English class, ever actually kissed.
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    Kids barely kiss in the school plays. They've actually rehearsed kissing, and they still can't do it.
    But there was something about how intensely Josh was looking at me, how he was practically cradling my head in his arms, that just made me think, Oh, he's going to kiss me now. I even, and I guess this is really the most awful part, I even sort of opened my lips a little and lifted my head a tiny bit to get ready to kiss him back. And that's what I was doing when he said his line and Mr. Jenkins and the whole class started applauding and the scene was over. Josh, who clearly had never had any intention of kissing me, let go, and then we both took these mock bows and shook hands, and the whole time I was thinking the same thing:
    Did he see what I just did?
    Which is why I not only need to change English classes but must enroll in the government's witness protection plan immediately.
    Rebecca finished eating and dabbed at the corners of her lips with her napkin. If I even drink a glass of water when I'm wearing lipstick, it gets so smeared that I end up looking like a victim on Law & Order. Whereas Rebecca can consume a five-course meal and not even need to reapply her lip liner. When we go out and Rebecca has on a hot outfit and perfectly applied makeup, I'm pretty sure people assume she's my baby-sitter.
    "I have to get back," I said. "I need to work on my Barnard application." Stepping out from under the awning into the sun, I felt as if the temperature went up
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    about twenty degrees, which is just not a good thing if you have hair like mine. Last year in art history we saw slides of the Great Pyramid at Giza, and there is no way around the fact that that is exactly what my hair looks like on a humid day. Rebecca put on her sunglasses and waited while I rooted around in my bag for something to prevent my head from becoming a day in the life of ancient Egypt.
    "You're not going to Barnard. You can't go to college in New York when you've spent your entire life here," said Rebecca. "You need to get out in the world. Experience other places."
    "You wouldn't happen to have any particular place in mind, would you?" I asked. I found a stretched-out rubber band and gathered my hair into a ponytail.
    "Why, Jan Miller, whatever could you mean?" We headed toward school.
    "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you were