Confessions of a Serial Kisser by Wendelin Van Draanen

Author:Wendelin Van Draanen [Draanen, Wendelin Van]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Submitted by Defiance23
ISBN: 9780375849923
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2008-05-13T04:00:00+00:00

50

Intersection

THAT NIGHT, as Mom and I were

enjoying a perfectly pleasant bowl of

double-fudge ice cream, she brought up

the subject of my dad, trying to convince

me that "we should get together as a

family and talk."

I, in turn, told her that "we should get

together as a family and hammer nails

into each other." I frowned at her. "It

would definitely be more fun."

"Look, sweetheart," she said, scraping

daintily at her ice cream, "your

birthday's coming up and--"

"And what? You'd like to ruin it by

inviting him?" I dug up a glacier of ice

cream and bit in. "No thank you!"

"You and he used to be so close..."

"Stop it! The past is behind us. It's

over. Why are you letting yourself be

manipulated by him? Whose idea was it

for you to go over to the house, huh? His,

right?"

She blinked at me a moment, realizing

that I was fully aware of her little

rendezvous. Finally she took a deep

breath and said, "Look. I really think we

should all go to counseling together. We

can get things out and an objective third

party can help us sort through our

feelings."

I shoved back from the table. "You

can go. I don't need a third party--I know

exactly how I feel." I folded my napkin

and restated the obvious: "My father's a

two-timing jerk and I don't want to see

him."

She gave me a pitiful look. "But he's

sorry, honey. He's really, truly sorry."

"He should be," I told her, and went to

bed.

In the morning, I was half awakened

by tingling. Tingling, and a racing heart.

I hugged my feather pillow close. It was

a warm, soft cloud, and I sank into it

deeper and deeper.

"Aaah!" I cried, jolting upright.

I'd been dreaming about Eddie Pasco.

I threw back the covers and got out of

bed, muttering, "Don't be insane!"

I showered and blew out my hair, and

with half an hour to spare after dressing

and putting on my makeup, I decided I

deserved a frappuccino for breakfast.

A grande!

With whipped cream!

Unfortunately, my dad was parked

outside the condo when I slipped out the

door.

I walked past him and his ridiculously

cool Mustang.

He got out and followed me.

"Evangeline! Evangeline, please. Talk

to me."

I kept walking.

"Evangeline, come on. How many

times and ways do I have to say I'm

sorry. I was a jackass. Yes, I know. Yes,

you're right."

The light at the intersection was

green, so I stepped into the crosswalk

with great confidence, ignoring him. And

then my shoe started squeaking.

Why was my shoe squeaking?

Why did today of all days have to be

squeaky shoe day?

"Angel, please!"

I spun on him. "Don't you ever, ever

call me that again," I seethed.

Then I ran away, leaving him in the

middle of the intersection with traffic

idling in all directions.

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