Kiss & Sell (5 page)

I stopped to think about what that meant. If I went through with this, I, Arielle Sawyer, would be locking lips with someone very soon. My stomach did a little flipflop at the idea of finally kissing a boy. Then, another thought struck me, causing me to bolt upright.

“Who are the guys that have bid so far?” I asked.

“They don’t give out their names, just a username,” McCartney said. “You won’t find out who the winner is until he’s been picked. Then, you get a name and address.”

“So, there’s no way to see who I might be kissing in a month?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little sick to my stomach.

“Well, we could always take a look at the usernames and try to guess,” McCartney offered. “I mean, they’re boys, so they can’t be all
that
bright, right?”

“Hey!” Phin exclaimed, acting offended.

McCartney and I ignored him as we sat down side by side in front of the computer. “Okay, the top bid right now is SoccerStud21,” McCartney said out loud.

We sat there for a few moments before I finally broke the silence with a groan.

“That’s got to be Calvin Brooks,” I said. “He’s on the soccer team and his number’s 21.”

Calvin was an okay guy. Just not the kind you want to smooch. He wasn’t even the kind of guy you’d want to shake hands with. He was always running around and sweating. And I was
so
not digging the boy sweat. Unless we were getting sweaty because of the kissing, in which case…

“See, I told you guys weren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed,” McCartney said. This time Phin didn’t bother trying to defend his gender.

“Okay, let’s try another one,” he said, pulling the computer onto his lap. “BigManOnCampus.”

“Hmmm, that’s more vague,” McCartney said, scratching her head. “It could be someone who’s a part of the populars, or it could be a really big guy. Like Chris Blaine.”

“Please don’t let it be Chris Blaine,” I pleaded out loud, looking up and praying to the ceiling Gods.

“How about this one. RedMustang1,” Phin read.

“That one’s easy,” McCartney said right away.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s totally Kirk Masters,” McCartney said, as if she were explaining something to a child. “Kirk is the only one in school who drives a red mustang.”

“But Kirk is one of the populars,” I stated, shaking my head.

“I’m just surprised he took the time away from that precious car of his to get on the Internet,” McCartney answered.

“All of this is starting to make my head spin,” I said and closed my eyes. Suddenly the prospect of finding out the identity of my potential new kissing buddy seemed more stressful than when I hadn’t known at all.

I stood up and walked over to where I’d dropped my book bag on the floor and placed it over my shoulder. “I’m going to head home. I think I’ve had more than enough excitement for one night,” I said and headed for the door.

“Don’t stress, Arielle,” McCartney called out after me. “I’m sure that the final bidder will be someone worth it.”

“Or you can always back out, like your mom said,” Phin added, helpfully.

I turned back to look at my friends. “If I back out, I’ll be back in the same situation. Kiss-less,” I said. “And I don’t want to be that girl anymore.”

I gave them a weak smile before walking out the door.

BY THE TIME
Friday rolled around, so much was happening that I felt like I seriously needed a vacation from all the drama that had become my life. Nearly overnight, I’d gone from barely being a blip on anyone’s radar to being the most talked about girl at Ronald Henry High. Which might sound pretty sweet in theory, but so far it was more trouble than it was worth.

Little had I known at the time, but the confrontation with Kristi and her clones wasn’t an isolated incident. Ever since the e-mail had gone viral, the hallways had been buzzing with gossip—about me. I could hear the girls giggling and feel their stares as I walked by. And the guys—the guys just sort of gawked, like I was some sort of freak show. Not exactly the sort of attention a gal dreams about.

Figures that it would take me announcing my presence on the Internet for someone to notice I exist.

Despite the way it all made me feel though, I put a big, fat, fake smile on my face and walked down the hallway like none of it bothered me.

“You’re the man, Arielle!” a voice boomed off to my side.

I watched in confusion as Aaron Breckinridge walked up and gave me a high five. I didn’t even think Aaron knew my name.

“Seriously, dude, you rule,” he added, before walking off in the opposite direction.

Stunned, I stared at the back of his letter jacket as he moved further away from me.

“Uh, thanks?” I said, unsure of how to respond. As I grappled with what had just happened, my gaze swept across the hall until I made contact with a pair of the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

Eyes that were attached to Cade Jones—a junior, and one of the populars. He was one of those guys who belonged on a TV screen rather than walking the halls of a high school. His dark hair was cut just below the chin and it was always slightly mussed, like he’d just woken up, but in that perfect kind of way.

Wowza.

He smiled at me, a sort of sideways grin, and then leaned back against the wall. I glanced behind me to see whom he was staring at. But there was no one there. Yep, he was definitely looking at me.

I smiled back shyly, feeling my cheeks turning what I could only imagine was the same shade of red as my hair. Embarrassed about being caught mid-stare, I began to walk as fast as I could to class, leaving Cade staring after me.

I sat down at my desk right as the bell rang, thankful to be back in an environment where I felt comfortable. Trusty desk, typical slightly crazy teacher, school work—that was all familiar to me. What had just happened in the hallway, on the other hand, was not.

“Today, I’d like to start with a little writing exercise to get those creative juices flowing,” Mrs. Glass said a little too happily. “I’d like you to create a fictional character and write a letter to yourself in that character’s voice.”

A few groans exploded around the room, but everyone was already opening up their notebooks and starting to scribble on their papers. I took one last glance around the room and then settled in to do the assignment.

Dear Arielle,


I cannot believe all the attention you’ve been getting these past few days! I mean, man, you were invisible before, but now you’re everything but! It’s crazy, because either you’re getting glares from the girls, or getting high fives from guys you hardly know. You put one little ad on the Internet, and suddenly you’re like those celebs on the cover of the tabloid magazines like Brangelina
or Bennifer. If you’d have known all this was going to happen, do you think you still would have gone through with it?


“Okay, pencils down,” Mrs. Glass called out from behind her desk, before I was able to get any further. “Now, I want you all to pass your papers to the person beside you. And that person will write back in the same voice.”

“What?” I nearly shrieked. If I’d known anyone else was going to read my note to myself, I would’ve talked about food, or the weather, or Miley Cyrus. “Mrs. Glass, are you sure you wouldn’t rather just read our papers instead?”

“I’ll be reading them at the end. It
is
my writing assignment, you know,” Mrs. Glass answered coolly. “Unless you have a better exercise in mind?”

As far as I was concerned, any exercise had to be better than having one of my classmates read my paper, but I held my tongue.

“No,” I answered, finally. I looked to my left to see who I’d be sharing my embarrassing, personal thoughts with and felt myself grow faint. Passing out would’ve just been icing on the cake, given the circumstances.

Of course, of all the people I could exchange papers with, it had to be a popular like Dan Stevenson. I
so
didn’t want him reading all about my freak out. I might as well stand up now and say, “Hi, I’m not only a member of the geek squad, but I’m also the club president.”

“You ready to switch, Sawyer?” Dan asked, holding out his paper, and smiling at me.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, even though I felt like doing anything but. “Just remember, it’s totally fiction, okay?”

“Sure. Of course. Mine too,” he said, smiling easily again. I found myself grinning back at him, despite my growing anxiety, and noticed how his hazel eyes crinkled in the corners.

The sound of shuffling papers around me snapped me back to earth, and I reluctantly broke my eye contact with Dan to begin reading his letter.

Dear Dan,


Yo, man, how’ve you been? Long time, no talk. Anyways, let’s cut to the chase. Dude, have you heard about that chick at your school, who’s selling a kiss on the Internet?


I felt myself begin to blush for about the tenth time that day. Did everyone know about this kissing thing? So much for fading into the background.

You should definitely think about asking her out. She’s totally cute, sweet and obviously has some balls, since she was able to put all that right out there. You’ve clearly been blind for not having noticed her before. So, buck up, man, and ask the girl out—before I do.


Peace out, dude,


Stan


I was confused—and totally flustered. Was this some sort of joke to play on the girl who had no play? Or was this his way of…
flirting
?

Glancing at Dan out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he was scribbling all over my paper, but still had that goofy grin on his face. Turning my attention back to Dan’s paper, I quickly wrote some B.S. answer to his letter and then turned it upside down on my desk and waited—impatiently—for Mrs. Glass to collect it.

When the bell finally rang, I gathered my things as quickly as I could and booked it out of the classroom. I didn’t even dare look at anyone as I headed straight for my locker. I deposited a few of my books on one of the shelves and then examined myself in my magnetic locker mirror. I looked into my familiar, pretty green eyes, and smoothed a few errant hairs, which had come loose from my ponytail. Then I applied a thin layer of Chapstick to my lips, before placing it back in my pocket.

When I slammed my locker door shut, Dan was standing beside me.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, surprised to see him so up-close-and-personal. I wasn’t positive, but I had a feeling he’d been waiting for me.

“That’s not exactly the reaction I was going for, but okay,” Dan said with a smirk.

“Uh, you just…scared me, that’s all,” I said, and instantly realized how dumb that sounded.
Stupid, stupid, stupid
. “I mean, what’s up, Dan?”

“Not much, Sawyer,” he said and leaned his head against the locker door. We were both silent for a moment. Finally he added, “So, what did you think about my paper?”

That was a very good question.

I started to chew on my lip and tried to avoid looking straight at him. “Um. It was definitely…imaginative,” I answered slowly. Was he trying to make me nervous or did he just have that affect on girls?

“Thanks,” he answered. “I thought so.”

I grew silent again. I still wasn’t quite sure what he was doing here. At
my
locker. Talking to
me
.

“Well, I decided to take some advice from my friend, Stan, and see if you wanted to hang out Friday night?” he finally asked, lowering his voice a bit as if we were having a private conversation.

“Huh?” I asked, blankly.

Have I mentioned I’m a smooth talker?

“You know. Do that thing where I pick you up, we get some pizza, see a movie and then I take you home. That sort of thing,” he said, playfully.

“Like…a
date
?” I asked, still a little slow on the pick-up.

“Yeah. Like, a date,” Dan said, chuckling at my reaction.

I studied his face, and was surprised to find that he wasn’t joking.

“Okay.” I forced myself to sound calm, even though I felt a little like puking. “Sounds like fun.”

“Sweet,” Dan said, standing up straighter. “So, pick you up at seven?”

“Sure,” I answered, grinning stupidly.

“Okay, then. See ya, Sawyer,” Dan said as he turned and walked away.

I stared at him as he moved down the hallway. I couldn’t help but admire how his shirt clung to his back and his jeans fit perfectly around his…

“Was that
Dan Stevenson
just talking to you?” McCartney asked, interrupting my Britney Spears-esque not-so-innocent thoughts.

“Yep,” I answered, taking one last glance at Dan, before he disappeared around the corner. I turned to face McCartney and we began to walk to our History class. “He just asked me out. On a date. For Friday.”

“No way!” McCartney squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” I asked. She stared at me and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. I caved. “Okay. I can’t believe it either.”

As we walked, I told her everything. Beginning with the letter and ending with our date plans.