Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories Page 3

  ‘Nuthin. I just can’t see Kane singing and dancing, that’s all.’

  What I really mean is: I know Kane. You don’t.

  ‘I betcha he’d be great.’ She touches his arm. ‘And if he needed any help, I could give him some private tuition. I’ve been performing since I was five.’

  She does a pirouette and her hair whips me in the face. This girl is really starting to get on my nerves.

  ‘It’s not gonna happen,’ I say.

  ‘Why don’t you let Kane make up his own mind?’

  ‘Okay then. Tell her, Kane.’

  I look at him but he doesn’t say anything.

  ‘Kane. Tell her.’

  Before he can, three more girls show up and the blonde lets them all in behind her, which is in front of me.

  Far out!

  *

  ‘D’ya hear Kane’s trying out for the musical?’ Gavin Fox says to me during maths.

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘Nah. I don’t blame him, either. It’s a good way to meet girls. I’m thinking about trying out meself.’

  ‘Can you sing?’

  ‘Nah. But I’m hoping for a part where you don’t have to. Like maybe a tree.’

  ‘In that case, I’m going for a part, too.’

  ‘What as?’ he says.

  ‘A dog.’

  We laugh.

  ‘Boys!’ says Mr Relf. ‘I’ll be over in a minute to check on your work.’

  ‘Hey, will you come with me to the tryouts?’ Gavin whispers.

  ‘Heck, yeah.’

  Although there’s no way I’d be caught dead trying out for the school musical, seeing Kane make a fool out of himself is something I wouldn’t miss for the world.

  *

  ‘The sun will rise, tomorrow,’ sings the blonde girl from the tuckshop line. ‘Bet your last dollar that tomorrow, there’ll be …’

  ‘A much better singer than you up there,’ I say.

  Gavin sniggers and Miss Mason and Mr Relf, the musical directors, turn and give us nasty looks.

  Most of the kids who try out can’t sing to save themselves. If I were the director I’d keep a box of rotten tomatoes handy. But then a girl I’ve never seen before gets up on stage. She stands tall, and there’s something about her that keeps my eyes open and my mouth shut.

  ‘Say you’ll care for me, now and always, turn my head with talk of butterflies …’

  She looks out at the crowd and uses her hands to help her sing. She’s got nice hands and an even nicer voice.

  ‘Say you’ll want me when I’m old and ugly. Swear to me that all you say is true. That’s all I ask of you …’

  ‘Holy Toledo, this girl’s good,’ says Gavin.

  ‘She’s better than good,’ I reply. ‘She’s awesome.’

  The music crawls under my skin and something rises up inside of me. Something I’ve never felt before and I have no idea what it is.

  She gets to the climax. ‘Love meeeee. That’s all I want from you.’

  It’s like she’s talking to me, and me only. And suddenly I know what the feeling I’ve got inside is. I’ve read about it in one of Belinda’s Dolly magazines.

  It’s lurrrve.

  She smiles out at the audience, who gives her a round of applause. I clap so hard my hands go red.

  ‘Well done, Ashleigh,’ says Miss Mason.

  Ashleigh, ay? That’s a good name for my first girlfriend.

  Miss Mason leans over to Mr Relf and says quietly, ‘We’ve found our star. Now we just need a leading man.’

  Before long it’s Kane’s turn. I know that he knows I’m watching but he doesn’t look over, which annoys me because I want to poke a face at him.

  He clicks his fingers to get the beat and then starts singing.

  ‘I’ll win the game on my own. I’m like a one-man team. I feel power inside me. People will see me and scream.’

  I have a chuckle at the thought of people looking at Kane and screaming, and nudge Gavin to share the joke. But all Gavin says is, ‘Geez. He’s not half bad.’

  I hate to say it but Gavin’s right. Like everything else, Kane’s beaten me to puberty, and his low voice rumbles to the back of the room in a way that doesn’t make me want to put my hands over my ears.

  ‘I’m gonna run right past you. Make you feel so ashamed. I’m gonna live forever. All you suckers remember my name.’ He starts doing the moonwalk. ‘It’s Kane, my name is Kane, it’s Kane, it’s Kane, it’s KANE!’

  He finishes by throwing his arms up in the air, like he’s won an Olympic gold medal for moonwalking.

  The crowd claps and some girls whistle and scream. I’d like to boo, but I’d probably get kicked out and I want to hear what the teachers say about him.

  ‘He’s good,’ murmurs Miss Mason, ‘but his voice is too deep for the lead role. We need someone who sounds a bit more boyish.’

  Yes! I think.

  ‘I disagree,’ says Mr Relf. ‘He’d be a good foil for Ashleigh, especially in terms of the romantic story-line.’

  No! What are you thinking, Relfy?

  ‘I suppose Kane will look convincing during the kissing scene,’ says Miss Mason, stroking her hair. ‘He’s a real ladies’ man.’

  Kissing scene? No one told me about no kissing scene!

  ‘And I don’t think we have too many other options,’ says Mr Relf. ‘So it’s decided then?’

  ‘Wait!’ I yell.

  Everybody looks at me.

  ‘I want to try out for the lead part,’ I say, before I really know what I’m saying.

  ‘Tony, stop mucking around,’ says Miss Mason. ‘We’re discussing important business here.’

  ‘I’m serious,’ I say. ‘I can sing like … Michael Jackson.’

  Mr Relf and Miss Mason look at each other. ‘This I’ve gotta see,’ says Relfy.

  ‘Okay, get up there and do your stuff,’ says Miss Mason.

  ‘I, umm, have a sore throat right now.’ I cough. ‘Could I do it tomorrow? Please?’

  Miss Mason sighs. ‘Before school, okay?’

  ‘No worries.’

  *

  There are heaps of better things to do in life than sit in your room all day and practise music. Like sitting on the couch all day and watching cricket. I did have a piano lesson once but the teacher told Mum not to bring me back, just ’cause I broke one of the lady’s stupid keys.

  Not the piano key. Her car key. I was mucking around with it while the chubby boy before me finished off his lesson. Yep, my music career ended before it began. Which was fine with me. I didn’t want to sit on that stupid brown stool, anyway. Imagine how many kids had let one go on it?

  But my little bro, Simon, loves nothing more than hooking up his keyboard to the computer and recording himself playing and singing. He does it for hours. He’s not bad, either. I’d never tell him that, but. He’s probably good enough to make it onto that TV show Australia’s Got a Tiny Bit of Talent, except that he won’t play for anyone outside the family. He reckons he gets stage fright. The only place I get stage fright is at the trough at school when lots of older boys are in there.

  So I figure my plan shouldn’t be too difficult to pull off, if Simon will actually agree to help me.

  ‘Why should I?’ he says. ‘What have you ever done for me?’

  ‘I’ve done heaps of stuff for you. Like that time when I gave you … that thing.’

  Then I put my arm around his shoulder and make him an offer he can’t refuse. ‘Look, if you do this for me, I’ll let you have something that you really, really like.’

  ‘What’s that?’ he says.

  ‘Your life.’

  *

  ‘Are you ready, Tony?’ asks Miss Mason.

  I nod, squeeze my hand, and wait for
the song to pour out of me. Well, I wait for it to pour out of the state-of-the-art MP3 player that’s strapped to my chest. Suddenly it does, and I quickly start lip-syncing.

  ‘Go grease fighting, it makes everybody black. Grease fighting, go grease fighting. Go grease fighting, your mum’ll have a heart attack. Grease fighting, go grease fighting …’

  I even learnt some dance moves so I’d look as good as I sound.

  ‘It will stain. Girls go insane. Grease fighting. Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go!’

  I squeeze the pause button and the singing stops. ‘Is that enough? I don’t want to ruin my voice.’

  The teachers look up at me for a few seconds, not saying anything. Finally, Miss Mason speaks. ‘Tony, that was … amazing!’

  ‘Unbelievable,’ says Mr Relf.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  ‘I mean it,’ gushes Miss Mason. ‘Your pitch was perfect and the range superb. What I also found remarkable was your projection. How did you manage to make your voice reach us so easily?’

  ‘Umm. I had the volume turned right up.’

  Far out! I wish I wouldn’t speak before I think.

  Miss Mason and Mr Relf look at each other, and then they laugh. ‘You can’t help yourself, can you, Tony?’ says Mr Relf. ‘Always the comedian.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I do a fake laugh. ‘I can’t help myself.’

  Phew! That was close.

  ‘We’ll have to work on your dancing, though,’ says Miss Mason.

  ‘It was terrible,’ Mr Relf adds.

  What are they talking about? I spent half the night practising in front of the mirror.

  ‘But you’re our best singer by far,’ says Miss Mason. ‘So congratulations, Tony. You’re our leading man.’

  ‘Get ready for greatness,’ says Mr Relf.

  I don’t care much about greatness. What I care about is kissing Ashleigh.

  *

  It’s the night before opening night and I can’t sleep. I think about holding Ashleigh in my arms and placing my lips on hers. Everyone knows that on-stage lovers always become off-stage lovers sooner or later. And in my case it looks like it’s going to be sooner rather than later because Ashleigh has promised to kiss me tomorrow night.

  During rehearsals it wasn’t easy to make everyone believe that I really could sing. Luckily, Simon did a good job of singing and recording the songs, although I did have to give him some ‘gentle’ persuasion to convince him to do it.

  The problem was when Miss Mason went, ‘Hold up!’ in the middle of a verse. I had to quickly hit the ‘stop’ button while she talked about where we were supposed to stand or how I was supposed to hold Ashleigh. (Yeah, I get to hold Ashleigh. Pretty cool, ay?)

  Then Miss Mason might say, ‘Okay, let’s do it again from the top,’ and I had to cough and say, ‘Sorry, Miss. My throat’s killing me. I need a drink of water.’ And while I went backstage to get it, I’d reset the MP3.

  Yeah, it wasn’t easy, but I’ve got a natural talent when it comes to tricking people. What makes me the most proud is that I’ve even fooled Kane, and he’s almost as talented a trickster as me.

  I must be good.

  Unfortunately, I haven’t got to kiss Ashleigh yet because Miss Mason showed us how actors fool the crowd by just pretending to kiss, missing each other’s lips by a few centimetres. I wish she’d just kept quiet.

  But then during our final practice last night things changed. It was called a dress rehearsal, and I was pretty nervous about it until I found out that I didn’t actually have to wear a dress. During the kissing scene, I got so close to Ashleigh’s lips that I could smell her strawberry lip gloss. She didn’t seem to mind either, so afterwards I said to her, ‘I reckon we should do a real kiss on opening night. It will look heaps more convincing.’

  She raised an eyebrow and for a second I thought I was going to get slapped by a girl. Again. But then she went, ‘Wow. I didn’t know you were such a professional actor, Tony. Are you sure you want to kiss me ?’

  ‘Umm. I think I could force myself.’

  She thought for a moment, and then she nodded. ‘Okay, why not?’

  No wonder I’m not sleeping.

  *

  Everybody’s excited. Miss Mason is running around like a chook with its head cut off, Mr Relf is counting everybody and everything (he is a maths teacher after all), and girls are giggling and doing each other’s hair.

  I make sure that the MP3 is strapped securely under my flannelette shirt, say ‘no way’ to some girls who want to cover my face with make-up, and wait beside Gavin, who’s dressed in his best tree outfit.

  Ashleigh glides up. She’s wearing a short denim skirt and a cowboy hat.

  ‘You look nice, Gav,’ she says. ‘Very green.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And as for you …’ She puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘You look sexy. Like a hot country boy.’

  It feels like a special force is travelling through her arm and into my brain, making it turn to mush.

  But when she lets go and starts walking away, my brain comes alive again.

  ‘Ashleigh!’ I call out.

  She turns.

  ‘Remember the kiss.’

  She smiles. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  Right before show time Kane comes over. I know he’s jealous of the fact that while he only gets a one-verse solo, I sing two songs on my own plus do a duet with Ashleigh, but there’s nothing he can say or do that can ruin things for me now. I can’t help it if I’m the more talented one.

  ‘You look like a country hick,’ he says, pulling at my chequered shirt.

  I point to the fake axe he’s holding. ‘Yeah, well, you look like a woodchopper who can’t chop wood.’

  ‘Say this,’ he says. ‘How much wood would a woodchopper chop if a woodchopper could chop wood?’

  ‘Easy,’ I say. ‘How much wood would a chopper chop if a chupachup could chop wood?’

  ‘Wrong!’

  ‘Was not.’

  We eye each other off for a moment, and then our faces crack open like a safe. We always could laugh together.

  He puts out his hand and I reach forward and shake it.

  ‘Break a leg out there,’ he says.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘That’s actor talk for “good luck”.’

  ‘I knew that,’ I say.

  As he walks off, I check that the MP3 remote is in my pocket. That’s all I need to make sure I break a leg. As I’m searching for it, I accidentally press the ‘play’ button and the singing starts. ‘I was born a gamblin’ man …’ But it’s not my normal singing voice, or should I say, it’s not Simon’s normal singing voice. It sounds more like Britney on some sort of weird drug. Before I can think to turn it off there’s a ‘rrrrr’ sound, like a sick dog, and then the singing stops.

  Kane turns around. ‘Are you right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, patting myself on the chest. ‘Just a few nerves. I might have to visit the dunny can.’

  On the way to the loo I hear Miss Mason yell, ‘One minute! One minute to show time!’

  I lock myself in a stall and try to fix the MP3 player, but it’s no good. It’s as dead as my pet guinea pig.

  Someone comes in and says, ‘Tony? Are you in here?’

  It’s Mr Relf.

  ‘Tony? You need to hurry.’ He’s knocking on the door.

  I put on my best acting voice. ‘Sir, I’m feeling sick. I can’t get up.’

  ‘Probably just nerves. Just come out, will you?’

  I put my hand under my armpit and make some short, sharp sounds. ‘No, I mean I can’t get up.’

  He groans. ‘How long do you think you’ll be? You’re not on until the middle of the first act, but that’s not long.’

  ‘Sir, can you do me a favour? If you ge
t my little brother, Simon, I think I’ll feel better soon. He’s one of those psycho healers.’

  ‘You mean psychic?’

  ‘No, I mean psycho.’

  It’s not long before Mr Relf and Simon burst into the toilet.

  ‘Sir, can you wait outside?’ I say to Relfy. ‘Simon can’t do his healing with other people in the room. Too much mental interference.’

  ‘Okay, but hurry!’ he says. ‘You’re on in less than five minutes.’

  ‘Crawl under the door,’ I say to Simon once Relfy leaves.

  ‘No way. I don’t want to see Mum’s cooking again. It was bad enough the first time.’

  ‘I don’t have the runs.’

  ‘What’s wrong then?’ he says cautiously.

  I open the door and pull him into the stall. ‘The MP3’s gone weird. Fix it.’

  He wriggles around like there are ants in his pants. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘How do you know? You haven’t even looked at it.’ Suddenly he tries to escape, but I grab hold of his shirt.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he says.

  ‘Did you do this?’ I hold up the broken MP3 player.

  He looks away. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Whenever Simon tells a lie he starts blinking. I grab him by the chin so I can see his eyes, but he quickly closes them.

  ‘You had it planned all along, huh?’ I say. ‘You thought I’d get on stage, sing like a strangled cat and look like a fool.’

  ‘No!’

  I squeeze his chin to convince him to open his eyes, and when he does they blink faster than a lighthouse on steroids.

  He starts whimpering. ‘It’s not fair! Just because you’re bigger than me you think you can order me around.’

  I put my arm around his neck. ‘You’re right. I am bigger than you. And because of this …’ I point to the MP3 player. ‘… I’m gonna prove it every single day of your life.’ I squeeze the soft flesh where the shoulder meets the neck and he gives a yelp.

  ‘It wasn’t my idea,’ Simon says quickly.

  ‘What?’ I squeeze harder, hoping to extract some more information.

  ‘It was Kane. He said he’d give me twenty bucks if I could embarrass you.’

  I let him go. ‘Kane? But he didn’t know—’