Champagne Kisses (The Park Brothers #1)

Prologue

Maya

Ms. Nappy Head

Thunder thighs!

TRY JENNY CRAIG!!!

Call me when you lose 50 pounds, LOL

I clap the worn composition book closed and lean back against the painted concrete bricks of the stall behind me. The putrid yellow of the walls is fitting, considering I might actually be sick. I knew I should have started my own book! No one talks shit about you when it’s your slam book.

I crack the book open again to see crude depictions of myself in pen and Sharpie. I could’ve done without the drawings. Do they think I don’t know about my thunder thighs? God, I hope Tim and James haven’t seen this.

Before I can continue to spiral, Tiffany pops her head over the top of the bathroom stall in which I’ve sequestered myself. No one needed to see me have a full-on meltdown in the middle of the choir room. That would’ve been the cherry on top of this shit sundae of a day.

“Maya, are you crying in there?” I quickly wipe my tears with my sleeve, keeping my head down so she can’t see.

“Uh, no. Of course not!” Tiffany looks at me doubtfully, so I push the corners of my mouth up into what I hope passes for a smile. Tiffany despises pity parties.

“I’m fine. Really. Just stressed about the history test next period.

” Tiffany raises her eyebrow to let me know she’s not buying my bullshit excuse, but hops off the neighboring commode when I stand.

Unfortunately, I can’t stay in here forever; the smell of disinfectant is making me dizzy.

I suppose it’s better than any alternative for a junior high bathroom.

I flush my tissues and step out of the stall, but the slam book slips from under my arm onto the bathroom floor. Tiffany kicks it out of my reach and snatches it up victoriously.

“Ah ha! I knew you were in there with Julie’s slam book.

“ She holds it away from her with just her fingertips like it’s radioactive.

“Why do you bother reading it? You know she’s got it in for you and she’s just going to pass it around to all the cheer bitches.

” She flips through the book and rolls her eyes dramatically when she gets to my page.

I appreciate the show of support, but as one of our school’s resident bombshells, Tiffany can’t possibly understand what I’m going through.

Seriously, she’s got, like, the perfect body, long black hair, and hazel eyes.

Tiffany’s barely five feet, but she’s got the presence of a freight train and a temper to match.

People practically clear a path whenever they see her coming.

Meanwhile, I’m stuck with boring brown eyes and, as the slam book so eloquently put it, a “nappy head” and fifty extra pounds, mostly in my thighs.

My cool points go up just from standing next to her.

She lets out an unladylike snort when she’s done reading.

“‘Maya the Pariah’, huh? Bet it took someone all five of their brain cells to come up with that one.“ She snaps the book shut without bothering to check her page. How does she do that? Then again, her page is probably just compliments anyway.

“I know, I know. I’m a glutton for punishment. I was just curious.” I tuck the book back into my backpack and nibble on my fingernails.

“Do you think Tim has seen it?” Tiffany levels me with a “you’ve got to be kidding me” face and I wish I could take the question back.

“Considering he’s Julie’s boyfriend? Yeah, I think he’s seen it.

I think he was the first person to write in it right before he fingered her while watching ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ for the fiftieth time.

” She turns and wraps her arms around herself to look like two people making out and I giggle behind my hands.

“Ew, gross, Tiffany! How do you come up with this stuff?” Tiffany just smirks and shrugs.

“It’s a gift. You should really try it; let those cheer bitches know Maya’s not some goody two-shoes.”

I sigh and lean against the wall.

“But I am a goody two-shoes. All those anonymous questions in Sex Ed last year totally blew my mind.”

Tiffany leans against the wall next to me and sighs like she’s remembering a fond memory.

“Ah, yes. Who can forget Danny Raskin asking about the purpose of areolas? And then Mr. Drummond saying they’re bullseyes?! I almost peed myself laughing.”

The bathroom echoes with our laughter; that was the funniest Biology class ever.

“How’d you know it was Danny? Those questions were anonymous.”

Tiffany just scoffs.

“It was hardly anonymous when he bragged about it all through lunch.”

When it came to Sex Ed, the boys had been especially shameless. I shake my head realizing I’m no longer worried about the slam book. She might not really get what I’m going through, but she’s always been able to pull me out of my funk.

Tiffany pushes off the wall abruptly.

“New topic: What are you going to wear to the homecoming dance? Once again, I’m stuck with whatever I can find at Goodwill.” She sighs dramatically. She might have the perfect body, but her family doesn’t have much money for new clothes.

That’s my cue. I reach into my backpack and pull out a clear garment bag containing a tea-length, burgundy dress with spaghetti straps and a floral shawl. Despite the fluorescent lighting, the dress still shimmers.

“Actually, I made something for you to wear. I snagged some premium satin in about six different colors and figured I’d try out one of my new patterns for a homecoming dress.” Tiffany grabs the dress from me before smoothing her hands over the garment bag reverently.

“I made one for myself too. It’s in a different color, though, so we won’t be too matchy-matchy.” She blinks rapidly to push back the tears forming in her eyes. I seriously hope those are tears of joy; the last person who made fun of her thrift store clothes wound up with a bloody nose.

“This is amazing, Maya! Thank you so much.” She holds the garment bag against herself and spins. “I am going to look fierce in this.“ She hugs me with one arm, keeping the dress safe in the other.

“More importantly, we’re going to break some hearts this weekend. No one will remember that stupid slam book come Monday.” She grabs me by the hand and pulls me toward the door. “Now come on. Let’s get to class.”

Mom and Dad drop me off in front of the building just as the dance is scheduled to start.

I smooth my sweaty palms over my dress. It’s a lot like the one I made for Tiffany except it’s royal blue and off the shoulder to hide my upper arms. Did the slam book have it right?

Am I too big? What if no one wants to dance with me?

Ugh, maybe I should just hide in the choir room until it’s all over.

Tiffany hops out of an old Ford truck, pairing the dress I made her with the floral Doc Martens she got firsthand as a birthday present a month ago. Once again, her arrival saves me from spinning out and I run to see the dress close up.

“You look amazing, Tiff! I never would have thought to wear it with the Doc Martens but you look cool, like ‘Clarissa Explains it All’.” Tiffany preens under my compliments and I notice she has on eye shadow, mascara, and red lipstick while all my parents let me wear is lip gloss.

Yet another reason she will always be cooler than me.

The cafeteria has been transformed from the linoleum-lined gauntlet of my recurring nightmares, into an enchanted forest. Cardboard trees dot the dance floor, construction paper flowers and exotic animals line the walls, and crepe paper in various shades of green and brown hangs from the ceiling like vines.

There are even colorful party lights like the ones at laser tag. It’s magical.

As usual, we’re some of the first people in the cafeteria.

Despite my minor panic attack earlier, our clique tries never to miss even one minute of a school dance.

We might not be the best dancers, but the music rocks and the dark offers cover for those of us too shy to talk to the opposite sex during the day.

Plus, missing a dance means missing out on some of the juiciest gossip.

Who can forget when half the girls’ volleyball team got suspended for drinking Everclear in the teachers’ lounge?

The DJ plays Red Hot Chili Peppers, Spice Girls, and Usher as the room steadily fills up with kids. During the slow songs, I crack my friends up with interpretive dances instead of waiting for a guy to approach me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see James come in. He’s hanging with Tim, Julie, and a few other kids from yearbook. All the popular kids take yearbook.

Tim is cute but Tiffany is right; he’s with Julie.

I value my life too much to crush on him for real.

James, however, is single and looks just like Shawn from “Boy Meets World”.

His eyes are deep royal blue instead of the usual sky blue, freckles dust his nose and cheeks, and his chestnut brown hair falls in waves, partially obscuring his eyes.

Whenever I’m near him, my whole body starts to sweat and I can’t stop blushing.

I feel the same as when I stay up late to see the sexy movies on Cinemax—“Skin-emax”, as Tiffany calls it.

Tiffany sees me see him and dances over to whisper in my ear.

“Go for it, girl! What’s the worst that could happen?” I look over at him and another wave of desire makes me want to actually fan myself.

“Oh, I don’t know. Public rejection? Complete humiliation?” There is no way I’m going over there. Tiffany just laughs and rolls her eyes.

Our dance circle has grown, with more friends from choir, almost the whole brass section from band, and even a few jocks from the basketball team. Everyone is dancing together, regardless of their clique; another bonus of school dances.

A few songs later and I feel a little sweatier and a whole lot braver.

James and his group are dancing near us and he hasn’t left to make out with a girl like he did last time…

n-not that I was watching! I use a paper towel I snuck into my bra on the last bathroom run to blot my face and sneak yet another peek at James.

Why can’t I ask him to dance? It’s not like I’m asking him to be my boyfriend.

Monica’s “For You I Will” comes on like a sign from God and I seize the moment before I can chicken out. James turns towards me right as I’m about to tap his shoulder.

“Um…Hey, James. Uh…Do you m-maybe…wanna dance?” I can barely make eye contact but, to my surprise, he actually smiles at me.

“Hey, Maya. I’d—“

“Is this person bothering you, James?“ I turn to see Julie and her boyfriend sneering like bullies in an 80s movie. Shit! Why is she torturing me? Did I do something to her in a past life? James’ smile is gone and with it, all hope of avoiding complete humiliation.

“Shouldn’t you be back at the farm with the other pigs, Maya?” She snorts for the full effect, her voice dripping with malice. She’s clearly enjoying this.

I wish I could melt into the floor. From the embarrassed look on his face, James feels the same way. I guess that means he’s not going to stick up for me.

Tiffany notices the impending train wreck and shoves in between us to defend my honor, but I don’t stay to watch.

I run down the hall and hide in the choir room, just like I should’ve done from the beginning.

Whatever I did to Julie in a past life must have been unforgivable.

My face is wet with tears and my chest actually aches.

Tiffany was right about at least one heart getting broken this weekend: mine.