One of my favorite YA authors has stopped by to share a memory with us. It’s absolutely fabulous, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Ladies and gentlemen, Mitali Perkins.
I’d liked him—adored him, really—for two years in secrecy. Nobody knew, not even friends who shared their crushes in intimate detail, punctuated by squeals and tears and italics, ad nauseum, et al, ibid.
He’d been the hot new freshman guy, minister’s son, basketball star, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, bit of a loner. Me? I was the only dark-skinned girl in school, a straight-A nerd, trying to obey traditional Hindu parents, squandering babysitting money on trendy high-waisted jeans and a curling iron to feather my hair.
But we both played tennis. And he needed help in English class, so slowly but surely we became friends. I managed to hide my growing addiction from prying eyes, pouring the truth of it only into journals stashed deep in desk drawers.
Freshman and sophomore year came and went. Junior year careened along, and we grew closer. But there was no way he was going to like me. Not in that way, not a chance. I knew it as well as I knew the vacancy in guys’ eyes as they skipped across my face and body in a crowd of white girls.
Junior year. Early June. “Want to go to the amusement park with my church youth group this Saturday?” he asked, passing our table on the way to eat lunch in the basketball Varsity corner.
I was with my regulars, all friends of his, too, but he was looking at me. Right at me. Only at me.
“Sure,” I said, managing to make my voice as easy and relaxed as his had been. But my heart was in my throat, and I caught myself fingering a strand of hair.
The regulars were quiet, but only for a second or two. I could almost see them shrug and shake it off. A blip, for sure. Guys asked them out in front of me, not vice a versa. I was the confidante they could trust around that boyfriend with a wandering eye, not quite invisible but safely neutered, loveless but beloved.
Saturday dawned, a breezy, summery Santa Cruz-perfect day. We laughed and joked with the others on the drive, but once we got into the park and had ridden the carousel twice, everybody else disappeared.
I promise I didn’t make it happen.
My head buzzed with the nearness of him as we twisted and turned on the roller coaster. I could almost taste the sweetness of his smile when he won a stuffed bear and handed it to me. But I’d become an expert at hiding passion. The buddy banter continued and I avoided his eyes.
On the ride home, tired and squashed in the back with the others, we didn’t talk. But he rested an arm along the back of the car seat. His t-shirt felt soft against my neck. My pony tail was on his skin. Could he feel the acceleration of that traitor, my heart? I pretended to watch the scenery. He closed his eyes after the sunset.
One by one, others got dropped off. Now it was just us in the back seat, but he didn’t slide to the other window. No, he stayed close, denim leg against mine, his free-throwing arm still stretched out behind me. I made myself not lean into him in the darkness.
As the car pulled up to the curb in front of my house, his eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. I opened the car door and swung a leg out. “Thanks so much,” I said.
In one quick move, as smooth and agile as when he scored a layup at the buzzer, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Mitali,” he whispered.
The car pulled away.
I don’t remember how long I stood outside my parents’ house.
I think it was a starry night.
I think the plums on the tree in the yard were almost ripe.
I couldn’t know then that we’d date intently through our senior year, grow apart during college, and after a few years never see each other again.
But I knew I’d never forget that kiss, soft on my cheek. Those words, spoken low in my ear. And the dizzy, overwhelming sweetness of being seen, and known, and wanted, for the first time, all the girl of me.
Sigh. Oh my romantic heart. Thanks so much for sharing that beautiful memory with us, Mitali! For those of you who want to know more about Mitali and her fabulous books, you can read more at her website, www.mitaliperkins.com. She has a really active twitter feed too so make sure you follow her @mitaliperkins. Thanks again for stopping by! Stay tuned for more Memories Monday coming soon!
Today we have the fabulous Cyn Balog here to tell us about her high school memory. This is a really good one so check it out!
John Jones.
It’s funny how those two words can bring back every positive memory from my hellish high school years. It was a time when my chances of landing a modeling contract or a stint on The Real World were zilch, and I was finally facing up to the fact that after six years of lessons and constant practice, I’d never be a world-famous musician. My grades and PSATs were in the toilet, I had only one so-called friend that affectionately nicknamed me “Big Nose”, and the only positive thing my teachers had to say about me at Parents’ Night was “Cyn certainly keeps a very clean desk.” Contrary to what the dentured population thinks, it wasn’t the best four years of my life.
But it improved immensely with those four perfect words.
Tu eres muy bonita. They were spoken by someone with two enormous brown eyes, eyes that launched ships and sparked five-alarm blazes, simply by sheer intensity. That’s why I knew he was speaking to me, pathetic fourth clarinetist, and not the well-endowed flutist at the next stand. Because those giant eyes ignited some raging fire, a fire that made little ol’ me blush like a cartoon character on hot sauce.
My first reaction was, “Yeah. Right.” I didn’t actually say that, because those eyes also made my vocal capacities wither, break off, and settle in the pit of my stomach like rotting flower petals. I didn’t say anything at all— Just turned back to my “Theme from Rocky” sheet music and moistened a new reed with my tongue.
Of course, as I navigated painfully through the first few bars, squawking and screeching like the great Indian chief Wounded Seagull, all I could think about were those four words. First-year Spanish fodder, for sure. Meant to impress me? Nah. The only time anyone tried to do that was when my two-year old cousin showed me his backside. Meant to compliment me? No way . . . no one throws praise my way, just as no one wears a meat necklace in a cage of rabid pit bulls.
Suddenly, it hit me. I finished a B flat trill that sounded like the wail of something infected with mad cow disease, and looked over my shoulder. Not really at the fledgling Juan Valdez, but at his giant tympani drum. “What I think you meant to say,” I offered helpfully, my voice quivering, “Was ‘Tu eres muy fea.’ ‘Bonita’ means beautiful.”
I didn’t look directly at his smile, because it would have blinded me. He steadied the vibrating drum and leaned over it, twirling the drumstick elegantly in his hand. “Then I got it right the first time,” he said.
Okay, so what, exactly, did that mean? At the end of class, as I struggled to dissemble my clarinet, I wondered if it meant he was soon going to utter another phrase that was equally foreign to my ears: “Will you go out with me?” My palms desperately needed a dose of Speed Stick. I mean, John Jones was popular! And Cyn Balog was, well, an amoebae on the JP Stevens High School Popularity Food Chain. The last time a boy expressed any interest in little ol’ Cyn Balog was in second grade, and even then it was because she was offering up her Twinkie, since she had a stomach virus and didn’t feel much like dessert. There were a thousand thoughts in my head, all jumbled up like a giant find-a-word puzzle. The “CYN IS A BIG UGLY COW” graffiti that I found in a bathroom stall a week earlier. Scenes from the Brady Bunch episode where Jan invents a boyfriend named George Glass. Glimpses of my sparkling future as a lonely spinster goat-herder in Spooktuk, Wyoming. When John Jones finally tapped me on the shoulder, I was somewhere north of OZ.
There was a multitude of ways in which Cyn Balog could have lost her cool, completely blown it. She didn’t get the nickname “Cow With a Gun” in her third grade gymnastics class for nothing, right? But no! Cyn Balog didn’t screw up this time. She got a hold of herself. She stood up, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “John, Dahling. Let’s do lunch.” And he said, “Fantastic!” They went out, had a great time, became a couple, got married, had children, and moved to a villa in Spain, where he tells her “Tu eres muy bonita” all the time now. All her problems went away. Even her acne cleared up.
Okay, maybe not.
Sigh. Tu eres muy bonita, Cyn! Villa in Spain or not. Thanks for sharing such a great story with us! For those of you who want to know more about Cyn, you can check out her website here. Don’t forget to read her fabulous books ‘Fairy Tale’ and ‘Sleepless’, both of which you can get at your local bookstore. Thanks again for stopping by!
It’s Memories Monday again and it’s time for someone to dive into their past and share a bit of awesomeness with us. Mandy Hubbard has graciously decided to tell us a fabulous memory that she had from high school. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
One of my fondest memories of High School actually took place miles and miles away. I was a member of FFA (erm, yeah, Future Farmers of America.) and I went each May to the State Conference, which took place at Washington State University. We stayed in dorm rooms, two of us to each room, for a week. It was SO fun, hanging with my friends, staying up late eating candy, and feeling like we were big time college students even though we were only 16. The best part was that schools from all over the state were there– thousands of students. And every dorm room had a telephone, with a simple 5-digit number.
Guys took to writing their numbers on big pieces of paper, and taping it to their windows. So we would randomly call these numbers, and spend hours talking to guys. Since I had been shy forever, this was like… a whole new world. I clicked with one guy in particular, a cowboy who normally lived about two hours from my house. We both rode horses (he competed in rodeos). We hung out a little in person, and then made plans to get together at “The Big Dance.” Yeah, cliched much? Anyway, we went to the dance and it took me awhile to find him, but by the time I did, I made up my mind: I was going to ask him to dance. Gasp!
We’ll pretend that the song we danced to was not Celine Dion’s MY HEART WILL GO ON. It most definitely was not.
The day after the dance, we all piled into the school vans and headed home. On a particularly desolate stretch of road, the van began to make a weird noise. The teacher asked us all to sit up and double-check our seatbelts. I kid you not, about a half-second after the last belt clicked, the front passenger-side wheel fell off. From my vantage point in the back seat, I saw it bouncing across the road.
The van sort of careened out of control for a second, grinding on the axel, sparks flying everywhere. But the teacher, a total champ, guided it to the side of the road.
Once we all stopped freaking out, someone ran down the street and fetched the wheel, and then we all posed in front of the disabled van, broken-off wheel and all.
It was one of those weeks I’ll remember forever.
That’s sooo funny, Mandy. Thanks for sharing! For those of you who want to know more about Mandy, you can check out her website HERE. She’s got some new stuff out, like her book ‘You Wish’ releasing on the 5th, and you don’t want to miss it! Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for next week’s Memories Monday!
I think my stress level went from zilch to 100,000,000,000,000,000% in the matter of a few hours. I love this kind of stress, so believe me, I’m not complaining at all. I LIVE on this kind of stress, but at the same time, it’s the official mark that my vacation is over.
Quick recap on my vacation: My friend and I stayed at the Animal Kingdom Lodge in Walt Disney World (a hop, skip, and a jump from the RWA Conference hotel). We had this awesome balcony that overlooked the safari. We woke up with zebras, antelope, giraffes and animals with curly horns outside out window every morning. It was freakin’ amazing. I have pictures on tweetpic that you can find on twitter.com/nishawrites
The animals had to be the best part about the hotel. I didn’t like the food. If you’ve never eaten goat cheese…don’t just dive right into it. Your gag reflex will go crazy. Needless to say, the hotel restaurants were not our favorite.
What did we do on vacation, you ask? Well, we went to Animal Kingdom, Blizzard Beach, and Universal Studios: Island of Adventure. My favorite was Animal Kingdom. My least favorite was Univ. Stud. WE HAD TO WAIT AN HOUR JUST TO GET IN THE DAMN HARRY POTTER WORLD AREA. How freakin’ crazy is that? The line was half way around the park. No joke. And that wasn’t the only line we waited in at Universal Studios. We got there at 8:50 and didn’t leave until 4. In that span of time, we went on the Harry Potter Ride, the Jurassic Park Ride, and the Spiderman 3D adventure ride. That’s. It.
The weather and the lines were just unbearable. In comparison, could probably do the lines if I wasn’t so worried about heat stroke. Ghah. Anywho. Vacation ended with a fabulous one hour body polish at the Mandara Spa which had this awesome Tea Garden we got to chill in for a while.
But those days are over. I have already dived into my new work in progress and I’ve been at it since 4PM. It’s 8PM now. Pretty great, huh? But that’s the awesome vibe you get at RWA! I’ve already spotted tons of authors at the hotel, too and I’ve been tweeting regularly about it, so don’t forget to check out my twitter @nishawrites to hear more author spotting information.
Anywho. I’ll keep you posted on what goes on. I know I’m going to be freaking out the closer my workshop gets on Saturday. Wish me luck, but I’m sure I’ll blog again before then. Stay cool, peeps!
Yeay! Sexy Saturday is officially back! Woooohooo!!!!!! So today, I’m going to share with you an explosion of sexiness to make your Saturday morning extra special. Fist, you’ll see one of my favorite older men. sigh. Second, you’ll see unbelievable hottness from a fabulous TV show. You’ll know both, so enjoy the heat!
Helloooo blogsphere! I know it’s been forever since I last blogged, but I thought I’d do a quick appearance to let you know what I’ve been doing and to share some words of wisdom.
For the last week or so, it has dawned on me that I need to start preparing for RWA nationals. I’m giving a workshop this year on the subject of Goal, Motivation and Conflict in the YA Novel.
So what should writers do to prepare for nationals? Here is my handy-dandy list to help you out!
1. The most important thing you should be doing is getting business cards. Conferences are fabulous opportunities to network and if you don’t have your card ready for someone when they ask, they won’t be able to remember you. Here are some tips on getting your business cards:
a. Keep the information simple. Name, the genres you write in, any website, facebook, twitter links, a novel publication if you have it, an email address, the name of your agent if you are repped.
b. You can get free business cards through Vistaprint.com. They have limited templates and if you want to pay for a fancier version, they have more options for backdrops to chose from.
c. You can opt to make your own and use your book cover as a backdrop if you have it. Or, if you have another image you want to use, go for it! You can get business card paper and templates at your local Staples.
2. Get your pitches ready! You should have an elevator pitch (a one line succinct description of your project for when someone asks you about your book at the bar or in the lobby). And you should have a 3-5 minute pitch that goes into a little more depth in case you are lucky enough to get a pitching session with an agent or editor (or you are having a friendly conversation in the lobby).
WARNING: I run into this problem every year and I know other authors have the same issue: Don’t go in trying to pitch seven or eight books all in different genres. I write different projects too and it’s best if we all try to pick the one or two books that are the strongest, the most complete, and pitch each one to different people depending on who you talk to. If you pitch book A to an agent and she asks if you have anything else, feel free to bring up book B. Just don’t go in saying I have Book A and Book B and I am ready with both. You want to make the strongest impression with your best project for the person you are pitching to.
3. Send out those emails to people you haven’t seen in a while! Getting together with friends who are out of state is one of the best parts about nationals. However, if you plan on figuring out a meeting time and place at the conference, you may run into difficulty. The conference is crowded and busy with every moment occupied with one thing or another. If you have time free at night for a dinner, make plans in advance. It’ll cut out some of the confusion and the mayhem.
3.A. As an offshoot on this point, it’s best to look through the workshop list and the times before heading to the conference so you know what your schedule is going to look like in advance for any last minute changes. You’ll also want to print out the handouts if you’d like a hard copy of them. RWA is going green and they only provide the handouts on flash drives now at the conference.
4. Invest in yourself. You are going to make an impression on other writers and/or industry professionals. Make sure you dress appropriately, even if you are wearing only business casual clothes. Save the jeans with the holes in them, the palm-tree t-shirt you got in Punta Cana, and the paint splattered cargoes for another time. You want to look like you are serious about your profession and you are at the conference to learn, network and hopefully make leeway in your career. Most importantly, wear comfortable shoes! Trust me on this one. You’ll do A LOT of walking. Also, don’t forget the dress for the Golden Heart and Rita award ceremony! People go all out for that event and you want to dress up, glam up, whatever, because it’ll be a great time.
SIDE NOTE: It’s not absolutely necessary, but I’m a total fan of pampering myself before nationals. It’s like preparing for vacation. So…I have my facial booked, my hair appointment, and my pedicure all ready to go.
5. Set goals for the conference. You want to have general goals that you plan on meeting. Something like: I plan on attending workshops that will help with the dialog in my story. Or, I plan on meeting friends and just having a good time. My goals usually sound like: I plan on getting one request from an agent or editor. And, I plan on sitting my butt down and working on my book at the conference because the sheer energy is so inspiring. Plan on accomplishing those goals if you can. They are really helpful.
6. Avoid the major DON’Ts that apply to all conferences: DON’T talk bad about people behind their backs. DON’T pitch to editors or agents in inconvenient locations if they don’t ask for more information about your book, etc. DON’T bring a copy of your manuscript with you to hand out. At the publisher showcase events where authors sign free books, DON’T cut the line and take a free book (because it’s rude).
7. Make time for yourself. You are going to be completely overwrought with energy and excitement that it’ll wear you out. Every day, make sure you take a half hour to either blog, twitter, upload pictures onto a computer, reflect over workshop notes, or just put your feet up and talk to your kids. It’s a good way to recharge and gear up for the next events you have planned for yourself.
8. Overbudget on purpose. Make sure you set aside 20$ for meals and 30$ for shipping if you plan on accumulating a lot of books and sending them home. That way, you won’t run short on cash when you get to nationals if a dinner comes up or if you and a bunch of new/old friends decide to enjoy a few overpriced hotel drinks.
I hope this little list helps you with your conference prepping! I plan on doing a post-conference blog once I get back from RWA. Thanks for listening and stay tuned for updates from Orlando, RWA 10!!!
I’m baaaack! After my hiatus from blogging, we are kicking off with Memories Monday again starring Kay Cassidy, author of ‘Cinderella Society.’ Let’s hear what she has to say about her high school memory.
Ah, high school. The days of big hair and boys and exam stress and Duran Duran. (Yes, these are my high school days not today’s high school. Did the Duran Duran give it away?) There are lots of things I remember about being in high school. Most of them are, not surprisingly, centered around boys. I was pretty much born thinking about boys and wondering who they liked.
In fact, if I backtrack a few years to late elementary school, one of my most vivid memories is of asking boys who their “List” was. I always had a lot of guy friends and this was commonplace. Girls had them too. Your list was the top 5 people you liked, RANKED. I kid you not. I always thought this was a weird phenomenon when I got older but it turns out people I know from other parts of the country had them in school too. What a bizarre idea! Choosing five guys that you liked and then saying “I like Person A more than Person B” is terrible, isn’t it? And yet, totally considered normal. There were ways around it, of course. Like getting seven people on your list by saying they were tied for a certain number. (As long as there are rules, there will be ways of breaking the rules. Mwahahaha.) The thought of the whole list thing mortifies me now and I hope kids don’t still do this. But part of me knows they still do.
But I digress.
Flash forward again to high school and the list may have fallen by the wayside, but preferential treatment certainly had not. How did you know if a boy liked you? Hmm… that was harder to tell. Did he offer you a pencil when you forgot one in class? That’s a big clue. If you have to ask for one first, it doesn’t count. But if he offers it up of his own accord… well, you might as well start picking out china patterns and planning the big day. Seriously, it’s amazing we all survived the dating predicament known as high school socializing. I spent far too many hours wondering who liked whom, figuring out who *I* liked (this changed daily in some cases), and hoping that somewhere out there was a guy who liked me back. That’s one thing I will never miss about high school. Fortunately, being married to my best friend makes all of that a distant memory. So girls, take heart! Sometimes Prince Charming doesn’t come around until your college days or even later. In the meantime, have fun and try not to stress. I promise you most guys don’t stress 1/10th the amount we do about the whole liking game.
Ahh, Kay. How I loved thee high school lists. Amazing! Thank you so much for sharing your insight! For those of you who are interested in knowing more about Kay, you can check out her website here. Don’t forget to keep a look out for her book ‘The Cinderella Society!’ You can check out a blurb of her story below. In other news, keep hangin’! <3Nisha
What a girl to do when the glass slipper fits, but she doesn’t want to wear it anymore?
Sixteen year old Jess Parker has always been an outsider. So when she receives an invitation to join The Cinderella Society, a secret society of the most popular girls in school, it’s like something out of a fairy tale. Swept up by the Cindys’ magical world of makeovers, and catching the eye of her Prince Charming, Jess feels like she’s finally found her chance to fit in.
Then the Wickeds–led by Jess’s arch-enemy–begin targeting innocent girls in their war against the Cindys, and Jess discovers there’s more to being a Cindy than reinventing yourself on the outside. She has unknowingly become part of a centuries-old battle of good vs. evil, and now the Cindys in charge need Jess for a mission that could change everything.
Overwhelmed, Jess wonders if The Cinderella Society made a mistake in choosing her. Is it a coincidence her new boyfriend doesn’t want to be seen with her in public? And is this glamorous, secret life even what she wants, or will she risk her own happy ending to live up to the expectations of her new sisters?
I’m so glad one of my favorite YA authors is here to talk about her first kiss! Wendy Toliver not only has a fabulous story to share, but she also has PICTURES! Let’s take a stroll down memory lane, shall we?
This is kind of embarrassing in a way because while I’ve written things about my husband for the world to read, I’ve never really told a story about any of the many, many guys I liked before him. Now, notice I wrote “I liked,” with is an important distinction because only few guys ever liked me back. That’s why I was almost 18 before experiencing my First Kiss.
I met Mike at Safeway, the grocery store where I worked. One day, a checker I worked with mentioned that his friend saw me pushing carts out in the parking lot and wanted to know if I’d be interested in going out. Despite my nervousness, I said yes. He was 22 (in college), cute, tall, a skater dude (thus the broken arm you see in the photo), and drove a nice white Toyota pickup. He treated me very well, something I don’t think I fully appreciated until later on, when I went through my “date-a-jerk” phase.
Anyway, to the kiss. We had been out a few times, to watch his friends’ band perform or to a house party, but we hadn’t kissed yet. He showed up at Safeway one night when I was gathering carts (I seemed to do that quite often) in his truck and gave me a rose. I thanked him, and he asked, “Do I get a kiss?” I know for a fact my face couldn’t have been redder. He leaned out his open window. Yes, he was still in the truck and I was standing in the parking lot. Our lips touched. I was proud of myself for not hyperventilating or drooling or anything too embarrassing. But then I felt his tongue and I was so surprised, I fell backwards. I didn’t fall down, just away from him. I was so embarrassed; I honestly don’t know what happened next. But he didn’t laugh at me and we continued to date, and at some point during each date we would kiss and I think I got a little better at it (ha ha). I don’t think I ever admitted to him that he was my First Kiss. So Mike, if you ever happen upon Nisha’s blog, I guess you’ll know now!
How cool would it be if Mike DID check out my blog and was like, Wendy, I’m married with five kids but I’m glad I was your first kiss? Okay, I’ll stop, now. Thank you for participating in Memories Monday, Wendy! For those of you who want to know more about Wendy and her upcoming release ‘Lifted,’ check out her website here. Thanks for stopping by for Memories Monday! Until next time!
Okay, you guys are in for a total treat today. Author Kieran Scott has stopped by the share a story about her junior prom and it is AWESOME. Take a walk down memory lane with her. You’ll thank me for suggesting you do so.
Why My Junior Prom Would Have Been More Fun if I Wasn’t Such a Doofus
So the thing you need to know about me is that in high school, I was freakishly tall. Back then 5’ 9” was like giant. There were maybe three guys in my class taller than me when I was a junior and I was all self-conscious about it. I used to curl my shoulders and stoop, not even consciously, just to make myself shorter. Which is why, I’m told, my posture sucks so badly even now. Every year it’s my new year’s resolution to stand up straight, but it never takes. Just now, as I’m typing this, I’m hunched over my computer like some kind of twisted troll.
Sigh.
Anyway, the reason you need to know about my freakish height is because it sort of, kind of explains the awful thing I did around junior prom. What happened in my high school was this: the junior prom was scheduled for a Friday night in early May, and the second the calendar flipped over from December to January, people started asking each other to go. I’m not even kidding. It was, like, January 3, we were back from break, and people at lunch were all, “Did you hear Melanie’s going to the prom with Jay?” I mean, what the? I still had Christmas cookie hangover and now suddenly I needed a date for a spring dance? That one hook-up sparked a frenzy of panic amongst my peers. Suddenly everyone was pairing up, grabbing the good dates before they were gone. And I, of course, was one of the unlucky girls who was not immediately asked to go.
Weeks started to go by. Then months. I took comfort in the fact that some of my girlfriends remained dateless as well. Slowly our guy friends started to come around to the fact that they weren’t going to be getting up the guts to ask the girls they really wanted to go with and they started asking us to go “as friends” instead. Meanwhile, I was holding out hope that my ex, who I was still in love with, would ask me, as he was reputedly dateless, too.
And then, it happened. One night I got a phone call from this guy Devon. Devon was sort of an acquaintance. We were in the musical together, but other than that, I didn’t know him much. Devon was fairly hilarious, self-deprecating and, unfortunately, short. I’m not talking regular short. I’m talking teeny tiny short. When I think of him now, I immediate think of Rico from Hannah Montana. Actually, imagine Rico at sixteen and you’ll get a pretty accurate picture of Devon over all. Anyway, when I picked up the phone and it was Devon, I immediately knew he was going to ask me to the prom because why else would this guy I hardly knew be suddenly calling me out of the blue? And I immediately started to panic. Because I was seeing our prom pictures. I was seeing us slow dancing in the middle of the dance floor. I was seeing everyone I knew whispering and laughing at us. This could not be! This was not the sort of date I wanted for my first prom! It would be like the beanpole dating the bean.
As all of this was going through my head, he popped the question. I closed my eyes, swallowed hard, and stammered out some kind of no. I think I actually told him the truth. That I was hoping someone else would ask me. Thank you so much, but I really had to say no.
Ugh. Looking back now, I just want to smack myself. Seriously. Because A) how shallow is that? And B) That poor guy must have been nervous to call me, just like any of us are in that situation, and I shot him down. And C) I would have had so much more fun at the prom if I’d gone with him. Because you know what? He was funny. And he could dance. And I know he was a good guy, so I’m pretty sure he would have been a gentleman too.
Instead, I ended up being dateless until like a week before the prom. My ex asked some girl from another school and I finally asked this sophomore guy whom I knew vaguely through choir. He was, of course, hot, because, you know, I was shallow. It also turned out that we had nothing in common. The whole night was awkward and he still tried to stick his tongue down my throat at the end. Like we’d connected on any level that would make me want to smooch him. (Just a note, in case said boy is reading this—as if that’s possible—I got to know him better after the prom and I ended up really liking him. Shocking how it didn’t occur to me to try to get to know my date before the prom.)
And just because I know you’re dying to know, Devon ended up going with a cute sophomore girl who spent the whole night laughing and looking very happy to be on her awesome date’s arm. And you know what? She was taller than him. And they didn’t look weird together at all.
Aww, Devon. lol. I really was wondering what was going on with him. Thanks for sharing, Kieran! For those of you who want to know more about her books and Kieran herself, you can check them out at her website here. Her next book ‘She’s so Dead to Us’ will be released on May 25th, so keep an eye out for that. Thanks for stopping by and stay tuned for next week!
Today we have best-selling author Jessica Brody joining us to talk about her high school memory. You have to check this out. Her story is awesome.
A Second Look at a First Kiss
If you want to get technical about it, my first kiss was in fifth grade, under a table in the library while six eager faces of friends sat atop it, ducking their heads underneath every two seconds to catch a peek. We were dared to kiss for thirty whole seconds! Of course we knew nothing about real kissing. French kissing was about as foreign a concept as French politics. So there we were, with both of our mouths tightly shut to avoid any sort of saliva swap, pressing our lips against each other and holding them there, puckered and frozen while the spectators counted those long thirty seconds.
Although at the time, it was a momentous occasion in my life—no one else sitting on top of that table had done it—I obviously don’t count that as my first “real” kiss. That wouldn’t happen for another four years, when I was fourteen. We started dating after he passed me a note in Science class and asked if I wanted to go to the movies. Of course I did! I’d only been pining after him for like a month! Something I’m sure he knew thanks to the subtle hints dropped by my faithful best friend. It was this same friend who assured me that he would kiss me in the movie theatre.
“He’ll want to sit in the back row and make-out,” she informed me. And I listened…with eagerness. Why wouldn’t I? She’d already dated two guys and French kissed both of them and my biggest accomplishment with a member of the opposite sex thus far, took place in the library of all places!
And so it was to be believed that he would kiss me in the back row of the movie theatre, after the lights went out and the credits started rolling. And I was TERRIFIED. What do I do? How do I act? Where do I put my tongue? Ahh!
It was a well-known fact around school that this particular guy had kissed at least three other girl. Surely he’d be able to spot me for the kissing amateur that I was. I begged my best friend for pointers! I read every teen magazine I could get my hands on. I did what my type-A personality always does in the face of the unknown…I researched.
But when the night of the big movie date finally arrived, I felt no better prepared than I started.
So with butterflies in my stomach and my heart beat dialed up to max, I watched the house lights dim and the movie begin. And like clockwork, within minutes, his lips were on mine. I’d love to give in to my tendencies as a fiction writer, to drift off into a fantastical telling of how amazing the kiss was. How warm and soft his lips were, how we both clicked so perfectly and how this very lip lock lead to eventual marriage, children and blissful happily ever after. But this is supposed to be a true account. So I will stick to the truth. It was messy. And weird. And slimy And awkward. I was absolutely certain I must have been doing it wrong….and even more certain that he knew.
It wouldn’t be until years later…at my 10-year high school reunion that I would bump into this same boy again, all full grown and mature and working as an investment banker in New York City that I would learn the other half of this story. Not the other half that I was positive I already knew.
As we sat and reminisced about our short-lived relationship of three-months oh way back when, I admitted to him how nervous I was that night. How terrified I was about kissing someone for the first time. And he laughed and said, “That’s exactly how I felt!”
I looked at him with skeptical eyes. “You?” I asked in disbelief. “How could you have been nervous? You had already kissed like three girls before! I knew that. Everyone knew that.”
But he just smiled and shook his head. “There were never any girls before that,” he admitted, somewhat embarrassed. “I made that up so you wouldn’t think I was inexperienced.”
OH MY GOD! For over a decade I had been living with an incomplete memory! My first kiss had been tainted by a lie! It wasn’t me who was awkward and messy and completely unskilled, it was both of us. And at that moment, when I looked into his older, wiser, more mature eyes, I wanted to berate him. Scold his fourteen-year old self for being so deceitful. But I couldn’t. All I could do was laugh. Sometimes it’s the imperfections that make moments memorable. Worth writing about and posting in a blog. If I could go back and tell my fourteen year old self the truth, would I do it? Not in a million years.
Awww, how awesome is that? Thank you so much for sharing, Jessica! For those of you who want to know more about Jessica, you can check out her website here. Also, don’t forget to read more about her book ‘The Karma Club!’ It comes out Tomorrow! What’s even more awesome is that you can check out the trailer for the book below. Enjoy and until next week!
dizzy, overwhelming sweetness of being seen, and known, and wanted, for the first time, all the girl of me.
Thanks for sharing such a great story with us! For those of you who want to know more about Cyn, you can check out her website 
