Kiss Me Again by Rachel Vail Page A

said, at the exact moment that Felicity said, “Siblings.”
    We all opened our mouths wide at both ideas and how definite both Tess and Felicity had sounded. I tried to make it about Tess and Felicity, their conflicting ideas, but everybody was like, Wow, Charlie, your face is so red . I denied that, even though I could feel the heat fevering up my head.
    We all just focused on our lunches for a while. I was concentrating too hard to say anything, working on not making eye contact with Tess, who would see the truth with her X-ray best-friend vision. At the same time, I was using every eye muscle I had on not lifting my gaze to Kevin’s, to see if he had heard what Tess and Felicity had said and if he was still, over across the way where the boys were slouching, looking at me.

fifteen
    AFTER SCHOOL I went straight to Cuppa. Anya had said if I didn’t have too much homework, I could stop by, maybe learn how to clean the machines, maybe even make that pot of tea she got too busy to teach me how to make the day before. I wasn’t scheduled to have an actual work day yet; I had a bunch of training to do first, but she told me not to worry, she’d pay me for training, too.
    I didn’t tell her I wasn’t worried about that because I actually had no interest in the money at all. It would just sit in a jar on my desk. There was nothing I wanted that money could buy. I was just happy to have someplace to go instead of straight home. On my way into Cuppa, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. My first thought was Kevin instead of Tess. Before I could wonder what that meant, I saw that it was my mother.
    Hi, Charlie!
    I have a ?
    My mother does not normally text me. She is a history professor at Harvard. Anything post–Civil War tends to strike her as disarmingly modern.
    What’s up? I texted back.
    Does Kevin like it
    Okay, I just stared at that for a few seconds. What the heck? Does Kevin LIKE IT?
    I texted back:
    ????
    I stood there and waited for a response. Finally, my phone shook again. My mom had texted:
    Sorry. Does Kevin like IT
    So I had to text back:
    Mom what the heck is that supposed to mean?
    Nothing. My phone just faked innocence, lying still as a walnut in my palm.
    “You have to press something to make those work,” said a voice beside me.
    “Excuse me?” I looked way up into a scraggly but familiar face. It was a guy from school, a senior with heavy-lidded eyes and a hipster’s slouch. Tall and slim, with dirty-blond hair hanging limp down his long neck. Rollerblades on his feet, a messenger bag slung across his torso.
    “Oh,” I said. “Hi.” I had met him a few months earlier and seen him around, here and there. I groped my mind-files for his name, so I’d seem less little-girl frightened by his aggressive mellowness and sudden appearance. “Tony, right?” I asked.
    “Close enough,” he answered.
    “Okay.” Then my phone buzzed again. He looked over my shoulder at it.
    Do you if Kevin likes
    “My mother has lost her mind,” I said.
    “Who’s Kevin?” Toby asked, raking his fingers back through his hair. “Your brother?”
    “No, my … jeez. No! He’s not my—never mind. My, he’s my, my friend. Kind of.”
    “Boyfriend?”
    “No!”
    “Your mom is wondering who he likes?”
    “No! What?”
    “Who does she think Kevin likes?”
    “I have no idea. I don’t think she …”
    “That’s kind of cute, that your mom wants to know who your friend likes. Weird, but …”
    “ Weird doesn’t begin to describe my family these days.”
    “Yeah, tell me.” He skated forward and opened the door of Cuppa. I walked in. He followed me.
    “Can I help you?” I asked him. The last thing I needed right then was a stalker, even one with a rumbly, slow-talking way and Rollerblades.
    “No, I’m good,” he said, and skated toward the counter, then around it, back to the storage room. Nobody stopped him; nobody who worked there seemed to be around, just me and this guy, gliding to the storage