That Boy (That Boy Series Book 1) Read online

  I look that Devil Boy in the eye.

  Dad told me to teach him a lesson by playing football, but I can see now what I have to do. I cock my arm back and punch that boy right in the stomach. Then I move in closer and give him a jab to the face. He falls onto his butt in the grass.

  What can I say? Dad and I watch a lot of boxing.

  The corner of his lip is bleeding a bit, and he is lying on the grass looking up at me with a shocked expression. I expect him to go home and cry to his mommy.

  But he surprises me. He wipes his mouth on his shirt and looks at me with new respect.

  He is nodding his head slowly up and down at me.

  It’s like his brain is transparent, and I can see the light bulb going off inside it.

  Boys are so clueless.

  Finally he says, “You know what? You just might be tough enough to play football.”

  I have to say that I think we both learned a lesson today.

  He learned that all girls aren’t prissy wimps, and I learned that he just might not be the Devil after all.

  The three of us have been best friends ever since.

  Tonight is Lisa’s fourteenth-birthday party.

  We have been planning it for months—actually for years.

  I think we started planning for her first boy/girl birthday party in fourth grade, but this is the first time her parents finally agreed to let her have one.

  This is the third one that I’ve been to.

  Boy/girl party that is.

  The first one was a little boring; everyone was too scared to do anything fun.

  But at the last one, things got a little more interesting. We played Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven. I got stuck in the closet with Andrew Martin.

  Gross.

  I wouldn’t let him get near enough to breathe on me, let alone do anything else!

  I’m hoping that at this party I will end up in the closet with Billy Prescott. He is way cute.

  Lisa assures me that she has the drawing of one boy’s and one girl’s name rigged in my favor.

  She lies.

  I end up in the closet with Neil.

  Right before we have to go in the closet, Neil runs over and breaks up with Mary Beth Parker.

  Tacky. Very tacky.

  Phillip told me that Neil has a crush on me. I let him kiss me, mostly because I haven’t liked Mary Beth Parker since fourth grade, when she told everyone not to play with me.

  When we come out, Neil has a huge grin on his face.

  That’s when things get all dramatic.

  Mary Beth is very mad at me.

  She is all huffy and says bad things about me.

  Of course, she changes her tune as soon as she gets sent into the closet with Phillip.

  Then she thinks she’s my new best friend.

  God, I hope he didn’t kiss her!

  Later on, I have to play spin the bottle.

  Yes, I have to.

  Lisa makes me.

  She says I’ll ruin her party if I don’t.

  I don’t need that hanging over my head, so I agree to play.

  See. Have to.

  Plus, since there are only seven kids left at the party, one of them being Billy Prescott, I figure the odds are in my favor that I still might get to kiss him.

  Lisa turns off the light and puts down a bottle. Everyone gets positioned on the floor in a circle.

  Neil is strategically trying to place himself across from me.

  We go through four spins of the bottle without it landing on me.

  Boohoo!

  Then it’s Phillip’s turn. He spins, and the neck of the bottle points directly between Mary Beth Parker and me!

  I kid you not.

  Mary Beth looks all excited.

  I feel sorry for the poor guy. It’s like he has to choose between Heaven and Hell. And Hell (Mary Beth) will get really mad and make his life miserable if he doesn’t pick her.

  Phillip looks at her and then at me. Then he takes the neck of the bottle and moves it so it points straight at me.

  Really!

  Both Neil and Mary Beth are looking pissed at Phillip, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  He grins, then crooks his index finger at me, motioning for me to come and get him.

  I am going to shake my head no, but his grin gets me every time. I can’t resist him . . . plus I kinda want to kiss him. So I crawl through the center of the circle. It’s like his eyes are the light at the end of a tunnel, and all I can see is him.

  I’m still not sure what happened, what Phillip did, or how he did it so fast. But next thing I know, I am lying on my back across the center of the circle, with Phillip lying on top of me, kissing me.

  The boys are hooting and hollering, but it barely registers because Phillip keeps kissing me. I’m having a hard time processing anything other than the fact that Phillip is a really good kisser, and that he is lying on top of me.

  Around us, everyone gasps and jumps up.

  I think this is exactly what Phillip hoped would happen.

  I am slightly dazed though, so I can’t be sure.

  Once everyone scatters he stops kissing me, pulls me up onto my feet, and flashes me that adorable grin.

  And I can’t help but fall a little in love with him.

  “So, are you secretly in love with me, or were you just trying to break up the game so you wouldn’t have to kiss Mary Beth,” I whisper.

  “Oh, I am definitely in love with you,” he replies, with a big smile on his face, as he sees Mary Beth storming out of the party.

  “Liar,” I say.

  Every summer, Phillip’s dad sets up a tent in their back yard. But it’s so hot already in May that the boys talked him into setting it up this weekend, so they can camp out. I’ve spent many a night in that tent with the boys, but my parents have decided that this year I’m too old to camp with them.

  It’s stupid, really.

  It’s not like I like them.

  I mean, we’re together a lot, and let’s face it, if I really wanted to do anything with them, I could just do it any old time.

  But since we are only friends, nothing happens.

  I have tried explaining this to Mom and Dad, but they got all freaked out when I told them that if I wanted to do something with one of the boys, I could do it any old time, and I nearly got grounded.

  Fortunately, I haven’t been banned from the tent entirely. I still get to go over there, but I have to come home to sleep. Which really makes no sense either, because a lot could happen before I come home. But, whatever. I mean, all we usually do is eat, play cards, and talk.

  I know that I’m growing up, but I don’t really feel all that different. I’m a lot taller than I used to be. I’m 5’10”, which seems a bit excessive to me, and it really sucks because there are only two boys in my grade taller than me. So if I want to go out with a boy who is taller than me, my choices are very limited.

  My mom is 5’9”, and she says she loves being tall and not to worry; the boys will catch up in a few years. She is also constantly telling me to stand up straight.

  It drives me nuts.

  The talks the boys and I have in the tent are much different from the ones I have with my friends, Lisa and Katie. I swear, growing up is all they have talked about for the last three years.

  Who got their boobs first?

  Not me.

  Who got their period first?

  Again, not me.

  Who got kissed on the lips first?

  Well that would have been me, but now that we are older, a silly playground kiss doesn’t count.

  So that one is also not me.

  They are totally obsessed with boys and are so excited about going to high school next year because they think the place is just full of boys dying to date them.

  Lisa has been counting down the days until we are fifteen and old enough to go out on real dates. (131 for Lisa, 215 for Katie, and 321 for me, at last count.) The countdown is kind
of silly to me. I mean, do they think they will turn fifteen and all of a sudden boys will be standing in line to ask them out?

  What if no one does?

  I haven’t pointed that out to them and probably won’t.

  They would get all huffy at me.

  As if I don’t have enough to worry about, eighth grade graduation is coming up. It’s a big deal around here. We have a graduation ceremony and parties and everything. Normally, this is something I would be very excited about—I love parties—but my mom has been trying to ruin my life.

  I swear!

  She said I have to wear a dress. I know I’m kind of a tomboy and love sports, but I don’t mind wearing dresses. It’s just I find they’re not usually very comfortable. Then there’s the whole worrying about your underwear showing issue. So, anyway, the problem isn’t really that I have to wear a dress; it’s the type of dress she wanted me to wear. Everything she picked was soooo pink! And she kept dragging me to the store and making me try these things on.

  I swear, I think Lisa and I were switched at birth. She may very well be my mother’s real daughter. They both love to shop and to go Ooh! Isn’t that just dar-ling, to anything with rhinestones, fringe, sequins, or leopard print.

  Last time we went shopping, they made me try on a dress that was a combination of hot pink and leopard.

  I’m pretty positive I saw that once in the Fashion Don’ts that Katie is always reading.

  I swear, they want me to look like a hooker.

  I told Mom that.

  And, evidently, that’s when she decided that she is very frustrated with me.

  Dad told me this, and when I was like, I know the feeling, even he got testy with me.

  After our last shopping trip, she told him she has given up. And that’s saying a lot, because this woman loves to shop.

  Dad tried to intervene and asked me at dinner a couple nights ago, “JJ, have you seen any dresses you’ve liked, anywhere?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged and took a bite of my chicken.

  “Why don’t I take you shopping tomorrow night? And if we find a dress, I’ll take you to Johnny’s for pizza.”

  I was really amazed by this development, because Dad has told me for years that he is allergic to shopping. Advil must help his shopping allergies because he took three before we left the house.

  Surprisingly, Dad and I did find something for me to wear to graduation. First, we went to the juniors section at a department store Katie recommended. I tried on a bunch of dresses, but Dad vetoed them all as too sexy, so we continued our search. I kinda liked the black one he thought was way too sexy, but I was hungry, so I didn’t argue. Katie also told me to try the Gap, so we did, and I really need to thank that girl because that was very helpful advice. I found a pretty eyelet skirt and a really cute top.

  During our whole shopping trip, Dad only held his head in his hands and muttered things to himself twice, so it was a good experience for him too, I think.

  And now, I am actually excited for graduation.

  Right now I’m getting some snacks together to take out to the tent.

  “Phillip, come help me!” I yell across the street, as I struggle to carry everything.

  Phillip runs over and grabs two grocery sacks full of candy and snacks from my arms. I’m left with just the big bowl of warm, buttered popcorn. As I’m following Phillip across the street, Danny comes out of his garage carrying a cooler.

  “Why do you look so sneaky?” I ask him as we meet up in the street.

  Danny looks just like he did the night we decorated the Mackenzies’ trees with Ashley’s underwear. At first, Ashley, who was sixteen at the time, laughed like she didn’t care, but that was before she realized Phillip had sent a heads-up email to everyone in her address book. She was completely horrified when all her friends, boys included, started driving by her house and honking at her lacy bras and panties.

  Danny’s got something up his sleeve, I can tell.

  “I’ll tell you later; just act normal in case my parents are watching.”

  Later, after we’ve eaten most of the snacks and are playing cards, Danny opens the cooler and says, “How ’bout we have some fun tonight?” Then he pulls three cans of beer out from underneath the pop.

  Phillip, who I figured would tell us exactly what a bad idea this is because he tends to be the most conservative of the three of us, says, to my surprise, “Hell, yeah.”

  So, of course, I say, “Sounds awesome.”

  We open our beers and Danny cheers, “Here’s to the good life.”

  I’m pretty sure he heard that on a commercial.

  We drink up. A few hours and few beers later, we’re basically drunk. Good thing our parents are already in bed.

  See. I told you things could happen out here before bedtime.

  The boys and I talk about who likes who and who doesn’t like who, all the gossip. We don’t know the answers to these questions, but we talk and laugh anyway. Then we share the last beer.

  Actually, I am smart and only pretend to drink from it.

  We are laughing and laughing when the boys start telling me about how they wake up in the morning with hard you-know-whats.

  So I say, Well that’s nothing, and proceed to tell them in gory detail all about a period.

  I ask them why they are so obsessed with girls who have big boobs, and they want to know why girls only like guys taller than them.

  Later that night, Danny and Phillip puke their guts out.

  I earn honors because I don’t.

  Of course, I feel terrible the next day, but I will never admit it.

  Three days until my first real date. I am so excited!

  I am also a paranoid, nervous wreck.

  I like this boy so much! His name is Ryan. Ryan Marshall.

  Ryan is so good looking, and he’s a senior! He reminds Katie and me of Jake, from the movie Sixteen Candles. I know, it’s an old movie and the clothes are weird, but it’s still funny and romantic and is worth watching just to lust after Jake. Lisa, Katie, and I all rank Jake in the Top 25 on our lists of All Time Movie Hotties.

  So how does this sound?

  JJ Marshall.

  Jadyn Marshall.

  Jadyn James Reynolds-Marshall.

  Mrs. Ryan Marshall.

  Doesn’t that just roll off your tongue?

  Speaking of tongues, they are the main reason I’m a nervous wreck. Ryan is a senior and, well, sadly, I’m not all that experienced with boys. I mean, I’m a freshman and have been to dances with boys my age and even have gone out with boys, but I’ve never really kissed them. Not like I hope to kiss Ryan anyway.

  Bobby Robinson did shove his tongue into my mouth one time, when we were kissing under the bleachers at a football game, but it didn’t feel so good. I’m pretty sure he didn’t have it exactly right.

  So I talked to my friends, Katie and Lisa, about how to properly make out.

  But, well, here is just a bit of their unhelpful advice.

  Just let him take the lead, and do whatever he does.

  Um, couldn’t that get me into a lot of trouble?

  Just sort of kiss his tongue, but try not to drool.

  Don’t open your mouth too wide.

  And then, Just open your mouth wide.

  See?

  Stupid, conflicting information.

  And this from girls who supposedly know how to do this!

  I feel like I’m an undercover CIA agent trying to wrestle vital information out of a ruthless double agent when the fate of the free world depends upon it. All the while, the President is yelling at me in a panic, saying, Somebody! Anybody! Just get me the truth!

  You know, this is really the kind of stuff that it would be helpful to learn in health class. Much more useful information than knowing how a fallopian tube works or what kinds of cancer I can fight by adding fiber to my diet.

  I mean, this is a date of epic proportions.

  He’s a senior for God's sake!
>
  My high school reputation could be ruined or made in one single night.

  I don’t want to be known as a terrible kisser!

  Or, worse, as totally inexperienced!

  I’ve got to do something.

  Get me somebody, anybody!

  I need someone who has experience and, most importantly, who will help me.

  I glance out my window and see Danny’s bedroom light is on.

  Cha-Ching.

  Danny has experience, and I’m too desperate to be embarrassed.

  So I call him. “Danny, are your parents home?”

  “No, they went to that parents’ meeting at school with yours.”

  Yay!

  “Good. I’m coming over. And you’re, like, totally alone? Phillip isn’t there, is he?”

  “No, I’m totally alone. What’s up, Jay?”

  “Um, I just really, really need your help with something. Be right there.”

  I slam down the phone, run out of my house and over to his. I barge in the front door and take the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom. He’s sitting on his bed with a varsity football playbook spread out in front of him. I can tell by the intense look on his face, he has been studying hard. Danny’s goal is to be the best high school quarterback in the state and then play for the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Let’s just say, he is well on his way to achieving his goals.

  “Hey, Jay,” he says, straightening up, “what’s the top secret meeting all about?”

  Maybe this was a bad idea.

  No. You’ve got to find this stuff out.

  It’s vital to our country’s well-being!

  Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but it is vital to my well-being.

  I pace the length of his room a couple of times, wringing my hands together, trying to get up the nerve.

  “Okay, here it is. I need your help and, well, I’m kind of embarrassed to say it, but here goes. I have that date with Ryan on Saturday, and I’m afraid I won’t know what to do. I mean I’ve never done it before, and I’m not exactly sure how. I don’t even know if he’ll want to do it with me, but I’m hoping that he will and, well, I want to, you know, be prepared. So I need you to help me, Danny. Will you show me what to do?”