Chapter Three of Kiss and Don't Tell | Teen Ink

Chapter Three of Kiss and Don't Tell

July 26, 2010
By ELM522 DIAMOND, Selden, New York
ELM522 DIAMOND, Selden, New York
79 articles 0 photos 139 comments

Favorite Quote:
"All those other girls, well they're beautiful, but would they write a song for you?"-"Hey Stephen" by Taylor Swift

My hands trembled severely, as I texted Adele. Hugo had been let out of the hospital precisely three hours ago, and we left approximately ten minutes beforehand. My inbox was practically overflowing with curious messages from Adele. As much as best friends are relaxing to vent to, my head was spinning enough as it was.

I always talked to Hugo, but suddenly everything was different. Maybe it was because he wasn’t taken by Celine, so I knew I might even have the slightest chance. Might- this was a word I’d lived by since two years ago when I realized he was my ideal boyfriend. For instance, I used to say, “He might feel the same way about me that I feel about him.” That briefly changed as soon as he met Celine to something along the lines of, “He might realize how shallow Celine is and dump her.” Might was still a word, but now I say to myself, “He might really not like Celine.”

We’d talked about what it might be like if we’re in love with our best friend. Hugo questioned, “What would happen if, you know, kinda like those cliché movies that Adele scoffs at, best friends were really soul-mates?” I shifted my weight uncomfortably. I know I probably sound pathetic, but I couldn’t help but wonder whether he was talking about me or Adele (even though Adele has a boyfriend, Greg, to whom she swears to me is going to be together, even after death). My response was, “Go for it. Soul-mates are soul-mates no matter who it is.” We were going to talk more, but the nurse came in, and told me visiting hours were over.

I replied to Adele, “Nothing…We just talked.” A message so casual would be immediately deleted, and I was aware. I knew Adele wasn’t naïve, and would not fall for such trickery. And apparently, I was correct. Within ten seconds, Adele texted back, “We both know you are completely and utterly lying.” Only, it was in text lingo, so it resembled this, “We both no yu r completely nd utterly lyin.” I wanted to explain everything, this way, she might decipher the signs Hugo was sending me, only I didn’t have the slightest idea how. I replied in desperation, “That’s all there is to it.”
“That can’t be.” She argued.
“I honestly don’t know how to explain it.”
“Geni, just tell me exactly what happened.”
“Okay, but it would be a whole lot easier in person.”
“So you want me to come home?” Since I’d returned to the U.S., Adele (as, well as Celine, like I mentioned before) is staying at my house.
“Yeah, can you?”
“If that’s what’ll getcha to tell me.”
“Hey, where are you, anyway?”
“I just went shopping. I’ll be over in thirty!”
“You’re joking right? Adele, if you are going to be supportive, then why are you making me wait?”
“Did you know your school has a dance coming up in THREE days?”
“Yes. Bye! See you in thirty! By texting me, you’re making me wait longer!”
“Okay, okay. Bye.”

Those thirty minutes weren’t exactly agony. In fact, I had time to do my algebra homework. I deplored algebra, which reminded me: why didn’t I just wait until Adele came? She loved algebra! But I didn’t stop because it was passing the time. When I was half-way through the thirty problems, I got a text from Hugo. Although we did talk, and work out any problems, I didn’t expect him to text me this soon. In fact, the thought made me nauseous. All he wrote was how there was a dance in three days. Was he trying to ask me? Was this his way of being subtle? I did not know how to reply because if I said I’d go and he wasn’t trying to ask me out, I’d look like I was desperate, but if I changed the subject, he’d be getting mixed signals. I just put, “Yes.” I instantly regretted it because he asked, “So you’ll go with me?” As much of an optimist as I am, every time I was around him, I couldn’t control myself. So I improvised, not lie, but under these circumstances, it was my only option. “Sorry, Adele is seriously sick.” Now I know what you’re thinking: in every TV show, characters use that lame excuse, but I couldn’t think. “Oh no, what does she have?” This, was not in my plan, so I answered, “The stomach flu.”
“Oh no, really. But shouldn’t you keep away? I hear it’s highly contagious.”
“She’s been in my house, so I’m probably already coming down with it.”
“I thought it was serious. Most people are in the hospital.”
“Well, it hasn’t gotten that severe yet.” I felt flushed, and it wasn’t from the contagious stomach flu.
“Tell here to feel better. And you should, too.”
“Oh, I will…And why do I have to feel better?”
“You said you might be coming down with a case, too. You did look flushed today.”
“Oh, thanks, bye.”

Just then, Adele walked in, and I was hoping she had a mop to clean up this fiasco, before it stained.

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