8 8. A Great Kiss

Be that as it may, when she didn't answer, I went to confront her. Becky's cheeks were flushed.

"You do!" I said with a pant. "Also you believe I'm bizarre!" I announced, shaking my head. "Raven, I must go!"

I would have held up till morning, however whoever was inside wasn't coming out.

The light in the upper room window had gotten a fire going in my spirit.

"I saw a Mercedes stopped at the Mansion!" I illuminated my family at supper. I was late not surprisingly, this time for my own birthday supper.

"I heard they resembled the Addams Family," Nerd Boy said.

"Perhaps they have a little girl your age. Somebody who prefers not to cause problems," my mom added.

"Then, at that point, I'd have no need for her."

"Perhaps she has a dad I can play tennis with," my dad said ideally.

"Whoever it is should dispose of that multitude of old mirrors and boxes," I added, not understanding what I had said.

They generally checked me out. "What cartons?" my mother inquired. "Try not to let me know you've slipped into that house!"

"It's simply something I heard."

"Raven!" my mom said in that objecting mother tone.

It appeared to be nobody in Dullsville had seen the new proprietors. It was great to have a secret around here for a change. Everybody definitely knew most all that occurred in Dullsville, and a large portion of it wasn't valuable. Matt Wells lived on the great part of town, at the edge of Oakley Woods. Becky and I showed up later than expected and entered the party like we were celebrities entering a debut. Or then again rather I did. Poor Becky hung firmly to my side like she was visiting the dental specialist. "It'll be OK," I consoled her. "It's a party!" But I knew why she was anxious. We were exposing ourselves to criticize when we might have been securely at home staring at the TV like Trevor said. Yet, for what reason should the big talkers have some good times? Since Matt's room was the size of my lounge? Since we didn't wear garments that were "ready"? So that implied I ought to sit home on my sixteenth birthday celebration?

I felt like Moses separating the Red Sea, as a horde of egotists scattered from the passage upon our entrance. Our schoolmates eyeballed me, decked out in my typical Gothic clothing. Really awful Tommy Hilfiger wasn't there. He'd have been complimented. Everybody was wearing his garments like a school uniform. The sound of Aerosmith shook all through Matt's family room. A thick layer of smoke hung over the sofas, and the smell of brew pervaded the air like modest incense. Couples who weren't gazing disapprovingly at us were gazing adoringly at one another. It would have been futile to attempt to converse with anybody.

"I can't completely accept that you appeared," Matt said, spotting us in the foyer. "I'd snap a photo, yet I couldn't say whether you'd be apparent!" Yet regardless of his bark, Matt wasn't so brutal as Trevor. "Lagers are out back," he then, at that point, said. "Need me to show you the way?"

Becky was in amazement of Matt. She shook her head and secured herself in the passage washroom. Matt chuckled and set out toward the kitchen. I held up in the parlor by a show estimated speaker, scrutinizing the CDs. Michael Bolton, Celine Dion, and a lot of show tunes. I wasn't astounded.

I returned to mind Becky and observed the restroom entryway open. She wasn't in the lobby, so I strolled through the horde of pounded cohorts to the kitchen. A gathering of hundred-dollar-hairdo young ladies frowned at me and left, letting me be. Or then again so I thought.

"Hello, attractive Monster Chick," a voice said behind me. It was Trevor.

He was inclining toward the divider close to me, a jar of Budweiser hanging from his hand.

"Does that line work for you at each party?"

He grinned an enchanting grin. "I've never kissed a young lady with dark lips previously."

"You've never kissed a young lady," I said and strolled past him.

He got my arm and pulled me back to him. He checked me with his blue eyes and kissed me on the mouth out! I need to concede, he was an incredible smoocher, and it didn't hurt that he was perfect.

Trevor Mitchell had never at any point contacted me, significantly less kissed me, with the exception of when he tore into me in kindergarten. The most I at any point got was a bang on the head when I strolled excessively near him. He must be plastered. Perhaps it was a joke- - perhaps he was simply attempting to screw with me. In any case, the manner in which his lips felt against mine, it appeared as though we were both getting a charge out of it. I didn't have the foggiest idea what to think as he hauled me out the secondary passage, past an intoxicated couple squashing on the means, past trash bins and the wellspring, under tall trees and murkiness.