“Hey Cassie, this fell as you got up,” Tessa said, passing me the stuffed brown and white puppy dog I had carelessly dropped.
“Thanks Tess.”
Yeah, thanks Tess…thanks a bunch! Just hit me while I’m down.
I crossed my legs and placed the plush animal in my lap, its black glossy eyes staring up at me accusingly, mouthing out the word “bitch”. Well, that’s what I would imagine it to say if it could talk and it was a hundred per cent right. I was the biggest bitch but despite that, I couldn’t change the way I felt.
The soft toy was a Christmas gift from my boyfriend Vinnie. When I first opened it, I loved it. Now it was a constant reminder of what I had done.
“You’re next, Sophie,” Sav said. Sophie reached for the bottle and turned it around. I sunk down lower into the ground, trying to push the guilt to the back of my mind.
A kiss was just a kiss. It wasn’t even a kiss, just a quick peck on the lips, so technically it wouldn’t be considered cheating. I was overreacting; stressing for no reason and I felt like a ping-pong ball being smacked from side to side — Brayden, Vinnie, Brayden, Vinnie — then towards this stupid poem that I had recently read in Tessa’s diary: “a peach is a peach, a plum is a plum, a kiss ain’t a kiss, if you don’t use the tongue!”
And we definitely didn’t use the tongue! That would have been disgusting, considering we were all related. My mum, Tessa’s mum and Sophie’s dad were siblings, meaning we were first cousins. Sav was our third cousin and Brayden was Tessa’s third cousin on her dad’s side with no relation to either me, Sophie or Sav. Confused? Well, when I was younger, I definitely was but when you were Italian, it was normal to have half-a-million cousins. First, second, third and some who weren’t really related but just called them that because you couldn’t be bothered explaining how you knew each other.
Therefore, I didn’t do anything wrong. My conscience was clear and I didn’t have to justify myself to anyone. Except there was one problem, inside my heart, I knew I was to blame. It was what lay behind the kiss that really mattered and I could fool everyone into believing otherwise but I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. My feelings for Brayden grew stronger with each second of the day and I couldn’t push them aside no matter how much I tried. And I had tried. I tried to forget the image of him and me at the park last week, the way he looked at me with those brown eyes of his and the dimples that deepened when he laughed.
Besides, it hadn’t been my idea to play this stupid game. It was Sav’s, so it wasn’t as if I had devised a plan hoping Brayden and I would kiss and then become a couple. It didn’t happen that way. We were sitting on Tessa’s driveway, bored and when Sav suggested spin-the-bottle, we all agreed. Then, Tessa snuck into the kitchen and when no one was looking, stole a half-empty bottle of Coke from the table, watered the grass with its liquid and we began.
It was innocent; at least it was supposed to be. Every time Brayden and I had our turn, it would automatically land on each other. I had kis…pecked Brayden twenty times, actually after the last shot, it made the total twenty-one. I was beginning to think the damned bottle was fixed or had a magnetic strip attached. Better yet, it was a practical joke played on us by some evil jester, who was watching the scene and laughing at our expense. I could just picture him in his chequered multicoloured tunic, see his lips stretched out into a hideous, permanent red grin and hear the bells that dangled and tinkled from his pointed hat as he danced. Well, it wasn’t bloody funny and wasn’t something to celebrate. Besides Brayden and I, there were other people involved. Vinnie, for one and two…
“Hey guys,” Tessa said, grabbing the bottle. “It’s ten-to-twelve. We better go inside before they come out and see what we’ve been doing.”
I shot up quicker than a piece of bread inside a toaster. There was no way I could get busted unless I wanted to be buried at the age of thirteen. As if that would happen. It wasn’t likely my father would leave his usual habitat just to come looking for me. At every function we had, the men would dart outside the back, play cards and argue the entire night. At least I was free and not controlled in my dad’s watch. He was probably in his own world, sculling down glasses of whisky, smoking one cigarette after another and cursing every saint, from Santa Maria to San Lorenzo. Any saint that is except for San Bartolomeo. Dad would never use his name in vain and would fight with anyone that did. It was said that San Bartolomeo was skinned alive and later cruci-fied with his head upside down. Afterwards, his remains were placed in a box, tossed into the ocean and eventually drifted towards Lipari, where the natives strongly believed his presence had resided there on their island, giving them good luck. Dad considered San Bartolomeo a protector of the sea and if you uttered his name in ill-will, his spirit would rise from the water and either drown you or slice your throat — and Dad’s worst fear was drowning.
Besides, I had to find my mum. It had become a ritual for me to be the first one to kiss and hug her at midnight. Even my sisters knew they had to wait in line.
The boys went inside, while Sophie and I tagged along with Tessa as she threw the bottle into the bin.
“I can’t believe it is Christmas!” Sophie said, as we headed towards the house.
“Yeah, I know. This year has gone so fast,” Tessa replied.
“I just hope I get good presents,” Sophie said. She paused. “Hey Cassie, are you going to tell Lizzie?”
Elizabeth Bastiani, the fourth person to the square. She was Brayden’s girlfriend and my best friend. Some friend I was, kissing her boyfriend, though I had fallen for him first. I had fallen for Brayden a long time ago before I even knew what the word ‘love’ meant.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you guys think?”
“You should tell her,” Sophie said. “You don’t want her to find out from someone else.”
“True, but I do think Brayden should be the one to tell her if he feels it’s necessary. It might sound malicious coming from me and I don’t want her to be upset.”
“What does ‘malicious’ mean?” Sophie asked with a blank look on her face.
“Destructive,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Cruel, spiteful, nasty,” I said, shaking my head. “How can you not know what ‘destructive’ means?”
“Sorry I don’t know big words. Why couldn’t you say cruel in the first place?” Sophie asked.
“It’s not even a big word Sophie. I could have used ‘detri-mental’ or ‘prejudicial’ in that sentence.”
“Well, I’m sorry I don’t read and memorise the dictionary.”
“I do not! I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word. Isn’t it too big for you?”
I knew I went too far but I couldn’t help myself. I definitely used the dictionary a lot but I was a hopeless speller and I couldn’t hand in work with misspelled words. Besides, I had three older sisters and they used bigger and more impressive words I wasn’t aware of. But I wouldn’t ask them to ‘speak down’ to me so I could understand them. I looked the word up so I could learn from it and then used it in my own vocabulary. Why else would the words be part of the English language, if not to use them? Besides, I didn’t use ‘big words’ all the time, I did however find it useful with homework, reading, dialogue and the most important one of all — my writing.
When I was eight-years-old, our task in class had been to write a creative story. I wrote Lost in the Forest, where my main character Dannii Minogue, obviously got lost in a forest. My teacher, Mrs. Hunter was very impressed with my work and I remember her words clearly to this day. ‘You have a lot of talent. You should