The Kiss Off Page 11

  I put a lot of effort into keeping my face blank. If they had lost him, there was slim-to-no chance they would have known we had him. Unless they happened to be walking down the street in the five minutes between the posters going up and the posters coming back down again. Mom stopped peddling and gave him a pat on the head. In return, he licked her leg, leaving a trail of slobber with little bubbles on her shin. Mom grimaced, but forced a smile. “No one’s missed you, have they boy?”

  “So we’re keeping him?”

  “It’s not like I hate having him around - he’s really rather sweet. Now that he doesn’t jump me every time I come home.”

  “Rory’ll be happy.”

  “Mmm. I was going to register him with the council, but I don’t know what to say his name is.”

  “Well he comes when he’s called-”

  “I’m not calling him Poo Bum, Poppy. I am not going to the pet registry and saying ‘Hi, my name is Michelle Douglas, I would like to register my dog Poo Bum, thanks’.”

  “Aw,” I said, pouting at the dog. “She doesn’t like your name, Poo.”

  “If we’re going to keep him, we have to give him a new name and that’s all there is to it.”

  Suddenly Poo Bum looked at the doorway, his ears sprang up like antennas, he sniffed at the air, barked once and ran for the front door. Seconds later the door opened and we heard Rory shout “Poo Bum! Hi boy!”. I smirked as mom rolled her eyes and started peddling again, turning back to her magazine. “How about something sophisticated. How about Dougal?” she said, looking up again.

  “Dougal Douglas?” I said. “Are you serious?”

  “How about Max, then? Maxamilian? Or Alfred. Do you think he’s an Alfred?”

  “Pooooooopppyyyyyyy!” Rory called. “Maddie’s here!”

  I walked out to the front door to find Mads holding a rolled up magazine, doing her jiggling up and down thing where you think she needs to pee but she doesn’t. But I couldn’t tell for sure.

  “Hey, didn’t I just leave you at the bus stop?” I said.

  “Yes, but I bought-”

  “Did you follow me home? Are you stalking me?”

  “Poppy shut up! This is important! You’re in Star Magazine!” She hit me on the shoulder (a little harder than she meant to, methinks) with the rolled up magazine.

  “What?” I said. “Where?”

  She flattened out the magazine and flipped through a few pages – I was right near the front!

  “‘New rock sensation and his muse’,” Mads read, holding out the page. There were three photos, slightly grainy. One of the band, me, Lana and Jeri coming out of Luigi’s, another of Ty and me pressing our faces against the windows of Acoustic Heaven, our favorite local guitar store (it was a totally cheesetastic photo - we looked like we were grinning like lunatic when we were actually laughing because only seconds before the shot was taken, we had been panting like dogs at the window display of the new electric Les Pauls and Fenders), and lastly a shot of us kissing, holding hands, my head bent back to reach him. It was a cute moment, actually. It had only been a peck, we didn’t do a whole lot of PDA, but from that photo, it could have been anything. Those photos were from ages ago, but according to the magazine, they were brand-spanking new.

  And below the article – there was an article! - was a photo of me and Stella, a screenshot from one of my YouTube videos. I couldn’t believe it.

  “‘YouTube phenomenon ‘PoppyLongStocking’, real name Poppy Douglas, is the personality behind Academy of Lies’ hit track The Kiss Off, the angsty lyrics about getting even with a cheating ex combined with a catchy beat have caught the attention of teenagers across the globe.’”

  “Did that say globe?” I asked.

  “‘Teenagers across the globe’, yep.” Mads grinned. “‘Douglas, dating the band’s lead singer Ty and her song The Kiss Off, are responsible for Academy of Lies’ meteoric rise to stardom in recent weeks and the sixteen year old could be considered the band’s muse,’” Mads stopped and turned to me. “You’re their freaking muse!”

  I smiled, biting my bottom lip. I couldn’t believe all this.

  Mads continued. “‘The PoppyLongStocking YouTube channel is filled with Douglas giving acoustic performances of original tracks, all of which are gutsy and deeply personal with killer hooks and choruses you want to sing along to. We at Star believe this talented songwriter has a long and promising career ahead of her, and look forward to the Academy’s debut record and the possibility of more Poppy Douglas original songs’.” Mads whacked the magazine against my chest, and I took it. “They freaking love you.”

  But I didn’t feel right about that last part. “Yeah,” I said.

  “What’s that face, what’s wrong? You’re in Star magazine! The paparazzi were stalking you. You’re officially famous, Pops.”

  “I don’t have any more songs on the record. It’s just The Kiss Off.”

  “Hey, do you get royalties for that or anything? Cos you’re going to be rich.”

  “Mads this is serious, what if…?”

  “What?”

  “Well, I mean they’d been performing before they played The Kiss Off, right…?”

  “Right.”

  “And they only got signed when the label heard that song. They never got signed for their own stuff, just Kiss Off. What if…?”

  “What? What are you saying?”

  “What if the record bombs?” I said. “What if the rest of their songs are crap? I know that sounds terrible, but that’s a lot of pressure, what they wrote. I didn’t write their album!”

  “Honey, relax. We’ve been to their shows. We’ve heard their songs. The Academy kicks ass with or without you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Sorry and all, Kiss Off rocks seriously hard, but-”

  “No I get it,” I said. “Good.” I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. My body started to relax. “And besides, they beefed it up. Gave it a fuller sound. My version’s good and all but theirs is better,” I said. “Okay, good. Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  “So, have you heard from him?

  “Yeah, a couple of times,” I said. “Not in a couple of days though. Sounds like the tour’s pretty intense.”

  “Yeah. And fending off the skanky girls throwing themselves at him would be a job all in itself.”

  “Say what?” I said. “Back up a second. Skanky girls?”

  “Oh come on, how have you not seen them? Don’t you practically live online?”

  “What are you talking about, Mads?”

  “It’s nothing,” she said. “It’s just the screaming slutty fan girls, that’s all.”

  “Is he, you know…” I started. I wasn’t sure I could finish my question. “Is he looking at any of them?”

  “I don’t know, but you know what you should do? Send him a sext.”

  I couldn’t believe she had just said that. Naked photos? I couldn’t do…there was no way… I covered my chest with my arms, and glanced around the hallway in case my mom was around. Or worse – my brother. “Why? You’re a crazy person.”

  “Why not? If he is looking at other girls, a photo like that would sure remind him what he’s missing.” She nudged me with her hip and gave me a wink.

  “Don’t you have a home to go to? Bye Mads.”

  “Oh calm down, it’s just a suggestion,” she said. “Later.”

  I showed Mads back out the door where she came from and stomped up to my room. That was a stupid idea. He’d never seen me naked as yet, it had all been a bit of a rush for him before they left and it had just, a second opportunity had never come around. My condoms were buried in the back of my underwear drawer, behind my tampons.

  I thought about all the girls at school with his poster. All the girls out there liking the band. All the girls, in general. Mads might have a point. I lay on my bed, playing with the camera function on my cell. I posed a couple of times, being stupid, kicking my legs into the a
ir, arching my back. I pulled my sweater off and pouted at the camera, pushing my breasts together so that I had a heap of cleavage poking out the top of my tank. Ugh, what was I doing? Why was I even considering this? I so wasn’t that girl. I cringed, tossed the phone onto the carpet and buried my face in the pillow. I wasn’t even naked, no one had seen me posing and it was already humiliating. There was no way I was doing that, letting a sext be the first time he saw me with no clothes.

  I wondered if Mads had sent Dev sexts. Since she seemed so comfortable with the idea, I was guessing maybe she had. Did Vanya know? No, there was no way. I groaned, feeling guilty at the thought that Vanya might find out I was even considering it. I could see her disapproving, disappointed face. She wouldn’t understand at all. Then I wondered if Nikki had sent any to Cam. I bet she had. Then I wondered why I was even wondering about Nikki and Cam.

  I may not have been going to send him a sext, but I should still remind him of what he was missing. Me, he was missing me. Maybe not naked me, but me all the same. All the other parts of me. I stretched my arm out toward my cell, but with a groan, realized I was nowhere near it. I couldn’t be bothered getting up so I wriggled a bit closer to the edge of the bed and reached for it again, doing spirit fingers in mid-air, a couple of inches away. I rolled over and wriggled my body some more. Placing one hand on the carpet to steady myself, the other touched the phone. My fingertips grazing its smooth surface ever so slightly. My whole upper body was hanging over the bed as I let out involuntary grunts, stretching, stretching, until finally my hand closed around my cell, the movement of which threw me off balance, my bracing arm gave way and I collapsed face first into the carpet. I tried to roll over, but my legs were tangled up and caught in the sheets.

  In hindsight, maybe it would have been easier to stand up and walk over to the phone.

  I found Ty’s number and held the cell to my ear. It rang for what felt like forever until someone picked up. I couldn’t be sure it was Ty, because they mumbled something and waited for me to speak.

  “Hello? Is that you, Ty?” I said.

  “Heeeeeey.” was my answer before a handful of curses and a moan.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, fine. I’m alright.”

  “Did I…” I looked at my alarm clock. Surely not. “Did I wake you up?”

  “No, no,” he said. “Well, kind of. Yeah.”

  “It’s three o’clock. In the afternoon, I mean.”

  “Yeah. We had a gig last night and then everyone went out after. It was a bit of a late one. Man, my head is killing me.”

  “Oh,” I said. I didn’t know what else I could say. “Are you at your hotel?”

  “Yeah. Is it really three o’clock?”

  “Yep.” I said. I heard some movement on his end.

  “Oh, no it’s only twelve here,” he said. He must have found a clock. “Give me a heart attack. Eleven, that’s good. We’ve got a meeting at two, so I thought I was screwed. Mind you, with this hangover I probably will be.” He covered the mouthpiece, or pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment and I heard him ask “Could you get me some water?”

  My insides froze as I heard a voice, a female voice say “Sure”.

  “Who was that?” I asked, trying to keep the freeze in my body and out of my voice.

  “Just Sasha,” he said. “She’s our publicist, can you believe it? We have a publicist. She works for Faux Hawk. And us now, I guess.”

  What was she doing in his hotel room, when he wasn’t even awake? Images of a half-naked woman climbing out of his bed to go and get my boyfriend some water flashed into my mind.

  “Oh, I, um…”

  “It’s good to hear your voice,” he said. “And I really want to talk, but did you call about anything in particular? Because if not, I have got to get aspirin or something because-”

  “No it was nothing,” I said quickly. “I just wanted to say hi, and that I missed you.”

  “I miss you too,” he said. “But I really better go get some pain killers.”

  “Okay, talk to you soon?”

  “Absolutely. Ah, my water’s here. You’re a Godsend, Sasha,” then he turned his attention back to me. “Bye babe.” And he hung up.

  I put the phone down. I didn’t like this Sasha girl, Sasha woman, being in my boyfriend’s hotel room. Maybe I should have sent him a naked photo. I bet it would have gotten me more attention than that phone call had. From my weird angle down on the floor, my eyes fell on my school books, my text books up sitting in a pile on my desk. Waiting for me to study. Because Trigonometry wasn’t going to study itself. And judging from my C-, neither was English. I turned my head away from the desk and my eyes settled on Stella, my acoustic guitar. I pulled it out from where I always stored it, safely under my bed, and began strumming. This sexting thing needed to be addressed.

  ***

  The next day it really started. Turns out Mads was not the only person to see me and the It-boy-of-the-moment in Star magazine. It seemed like the rest of the school had seen it too, there were copies of it in at least one of two people’s hands through every corridor I walked, every classroom I sat down in. The freshman girls watched me with envy and adoration, and even some of the seniors looked like they had something to say but didn’t know how to approach me. It felt like freaking everyone was talking about me. Out of the corner of my eye, I’d think they were looking at me, but then I’d look over, and they weren’t. And I could have been crazy, but it was more like most of the rooms I walked into went quiet when I arrived. But I could have been imagining things.

  Either way, it appeared I had been outed. A couple of senior girls jogged over to me as I passed them in the hallway.

  “Hi Poppy,” a girl in a white dress with leggings to her shins said as she matched my stride. ‘Hi Poppy’, like we were friends, like we knew each other. We totally didn’t.

  “Hi…” I said.

  She just dove right in. “So is it true you’re going out with Ty from Academy of Lies?” She held up the magazine, specifically pointing the picture of us smooching. She didn’t even wait for an answer. “You are so lucky. When’s he coming back to town, are they doing any shows here? Do you think you could get us in?”

  “Do I even know you?” I said.

  She floundered for a moment, opened her mouth a couple of times, blinked and her composure came rushing back. “Duh, it’s me, silly. Ava,” she said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “We’ve only been going to the same school for two years, but it’s okay, I forgive you.”

  I grimaced. She looked like a senior, or a junior. How did I know her? Or maybe…was she a really mature sophomore I’d never noticed existed?

  “So what’s Ty like, anyway?” she said. “He’s so hot. Is he as hot in person as he is on TV? I bet he is, huh. How did you meet him?”

  I didn’t know how to deal with this. Yes, I may have been dating him, yes he was just as hot in person though with less attitude than in the music video, and how did we meet? Did she really think I was going to tell the story of how a dog tried to rape my leg to a complete random? How was any of it her business?

  “Because you’re in a magazine and your life isn’t yours anymore,” Vanya said as we stood on the sideline at her hockey practice after school that afternoon. “It’s public now and people feel like they have a right to know the details and bitch about your mistakes.” We watched her teammates run drills and whack the ball up the field. “Not that you’ve made any mistakes, I’m just saying.”

  “This sucks,” I said, kicking at the grass. “Is this what being famous feels like? Like everyone’s talking about you and you don’t know if they’re saying you rock or like, you’re a giant slut? And you constantly feel like you must have a giant booger hanging out of your nose or food in your teeth?” I ran my tongue in front of my teeth for the hundredth time that day, just to be sure.

  “I don’t know,” Vanya shrugged. “I guess so.” She leaned down and hitched up her tube so
cks. I took her hockey stick from her and gave her shin guards a light thump.

  “Well it sucks,” I said, handing the stick back.

  “Hang in there, Poppy. You’re not the famous one, he is. They’ll forget about you soon enough, don’t you think?”

  “I hope so. You know I used to want to be a rock star.”

  “I know.”

  “Stupid. Think I’ll just stick to song writing.”

  The soccer coach blew her whistle. “Vanya!” she yelled, waving her hands over her head. Someone was in trouble.

  “Good idea. I better get back to practice,” Vanya said. I looked past her and sure enough, there was a huddle of girls on the pitch watching us.

  “Yeah, sorry, go. It looks like they’re waiting for you.” Vanya turned around and saw them, then turned back to me with a sympathetic smile.

  “Well, they are, but they’re not looking at me right now,” she said. “They’re looking at you.”

  I closed my eyes and grimaced. Of course they were. “You free to come over later and film a couple of songs?” I asked.

  “I can, but are you sure you want to? What with this whole fifteen minutes of fame thing.”

  “PoppyLongStocking is about me. It’s not about anything else - definitely not about fame. I have two new songs that I want to put up. I haven’t uploaded a video in a while.”

  “Okay, I’ll come by later.”

  ***

  Later after a dinner in which Bex had had a screaming tantrum and nearly deafened us all, her blood curdling wails reaching front-row-music-festival levels, and after Van had come over and we’d set up the camcorder and recorded and uploaded “This Little Doggie” and “Let’s Talk About Sext”, and after I had spent an hour studying for my Geography test that was the next day, after I gave up in frustration, accepting that I wouldn’t be impressing anyone with my marks when the test came back, around the time I decided to give up and just go to bed already, Ty called.

  “Hey you,” he said. I could hear him smiling.

  “Hey yourself,” I said back.

  “I see you’ve been writing.”

  I smiled. “Indeed I have.”

  “Interesting video.”