The "Firsts" Curse

I know it’s stupid, but I thought I’d have my first kiss by the time I turned sixteen. Not that I need the assurance that I’m loved or beautiful…I just really hate firsts. Well, let me rephrase that. I have a terrible track record with firsts. 

My first day of kindergarten I threw up all over Emily Frank’s lunch. To this day, she avoids me, especially during the lunch hour. On my first day of middle school, I blanked when the teacher had us share a fun fact about ourselves. In the midst of my panic, I blurted that when I get sick, I’m crazy mean and it’s the only time a cuss word will ever leave my lips. Of course, whenever I stayed home from school sick, some of my classmates would try to come to my house after school and see this in action. My mom thought they were so sweet, bringing me cough drops and cards. She had a knack for ignoring my screams of, “MOTHER DON’T YOU OPEN THAT F***ING DOOR!” I was religious about taking my vitamins after that. 

The worst first though, was my first day of high school. I had introduction to chemistry right after lunch, and honestly, I was feeling pretty confident that I would survive the day without major incident. Our chem teacher walked us through lab protocols and safety, and we had some time toward the end of class to practice using the lab equipment. Like a good student, I read through the process for turning on the Bunsen burner, and I watched the flame light. My lab partner was some jock named Damien (I think he played soccer), and he was goofing off with his buddies who sat behind us. I turned around to tell him to knock it off, and my arm must have swept over the flame because the next thing I knew my lab partner said, “Jackie, your shirt is on fire.” 

By then, I saw the flame licking up my sleeve and felt the heat burning my arm. I screamed and waved my arm around like a maniac, and my lab partner said with the most straight face I’ve ever seen, “Take off your shirt.” 

This was never a circumstance I expected to be in when a guy told me to take off my shirt. I was such an idiot though, and I didn’t even hesitate. Right there, with the whole class watching, I ripped off my shirt and threw it in the nearest sink. 

Only then did I see the smile playing on my lab partner’s face, and his friends were all snickering. Several students had pulled out their phones, and the chem teacher, Mr. Gerke, looked just as mortified as I felt. 

He dismissed us from class, and I quickly put my shirt back on and fled the classroom. Needless to say, I still carry that trauma with me. Instagram was flooded with pictures of my hot pink, lacey size 32A bra. Every time a guy on the soccer team passes by me in the hallway, they ask me if I’ll take my shirt off. Some colorful language always fills my mind, but my filter is too strong when I’m not sick. 

With my track record, I can only imagine how awful my first kiss will be. The whole school will know about it, I’m sure, but at this point, I’m so ready to be teased for something besides my small chest and color choice in bras. 

It doesn’t need to be memorable or romantic; I just need to get it over with. And I only have a week to do it. My older sister thinks that if I practice on one of my teddy bears, maybe I can cheat my curse. 

Okay, I may be desperate, but I’m not that desperate. Maybe the night before, but we’re not there yet. One thing my sister is right about though is preparation. If I prepare, that leaves less room for error. 

It’s lunch hour, which means I’m in my usual corner in the library where the historical fiction meets the romance novels. I set my ham sandwich down and pull out a sheet of paper and pen. Before I have my first kiss, I need a list. A list of pre-requisites for a curse-free kiss. 

Here’s what I have so far: 

·      A guy – preferably not a jock or anyone who will get handsy with me

·      The guy must have no facial hair – something will most certainly go wrong if he has facial hair

·      NO BRACES – that is self-explanatory

·      I want to be wearing something cute – not a dress, but maybe a cute shirt and jeans

·      Lip gloss or no? 

·      Pull my hair back so it doesn’t get in the way

·      I’m going to go with no lip gloss

·      The kiss only needs to last a few seconds

·      No tongue for my first kiss

·      We’re not going to talk about it after it happens

I re-read through my list, and I feel good about it. You can do this, Jackie.

***

Wednesday morning, April seventh. It’s my sixteenth birthday. Jackie, you can’t do this. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. My hands are shaking as I pull my long, dark hair into a ponytail. 

“Deep breaths,” I tell myself. 

I’m in my favorite pair of black jeans with a blue shirt and soft cardigan. My sister, Camry, elbows me out of her mirror space. 

“I know it’s your birthday, but could you please not hog the mirror?” Camry asks, waving her curling iron at my face. 

I scurry out of the bathroom and get my things together for school. As I lift my backpack onto my shoulders, I eye my favorite teddy bear, Mr. Brownie. His stitched on smile does little to comfort me. Reaching for him, I pet the soft spot on his head between his ears. 

“It’s going to be fine,” I say. 

“Jackie!” my sister calls. “We gotta go!” 

With that, I leave Mr. Brownie on my bed and head to the car. On the way to school, I go through my checklist in my head. I think through the two guys I chose who fit my criteria. Two in case I chicken out the first time. There’s John, from geometry in third hour. He’s not bad looking. I’ve always liked his intelligent blue eyes. The second is Sam, from gym class in fifth hour. He has messy curly hair and always has a smile on his face. Though he hangs out with some of the jocks, I don’t recall him ever teasing me about what happened freshman year. 

By lunchtime, I’ll either be all over social media again, or I’ll have broken my curse and had an uneventful first kiss. 

By noon, neither of those things happened. I couldn’t believe it. John wasn’t in geometry today, and Sam was hacking up a storm in gym class. It was so bad, Ms. Kinsy told him to leave class and go see the school nurse. My heart sank, but relief flooded through me as well. 

Maybe I needed to take more time to scout out the right guy. Maybe I did need to be more thoughtful about this and not kiss someone I barely knew. Although, I didn’t know any guys super well. Back to square one. 

I trudged from the library to my enhanced chemistry class, taught by Mr. Gerke, the same teacher I had during the “incident” freshman year. He’s always been nice to me, and I aced his class freshman year, but I can never quite meet his eyes after what happened. I try to keep my head down and just do the work. 

Unfortunately, my old lab partner is also in this class, though I’m not sure how he made it into enhanced chemistry. Damien is too busy with soccer practice and parties to care about homework. Not that I keep tabs on him, but his Instagram doesn’t hide much. 

As if the sixteenth birthday gods couldn’t be any more cruel, Damien and I are paired up for our lab today. I take my seat next to him at the lab table and begin reading through our instructions. Heat up some things…record some numbers…analyze results…blah, blah, blah.

I turn on the Bunsen burner while he gets some flasks ready. Perhaps the only true blessing of this day is Damien’s silence during our experiment. I’ll take his coldness over his teasing any day of the week. 

Before I know it, the bell rings, and students start packing up their stuff. I finish the analysis part of my worksheet while Damien cleans out the flasks. After he puts them away, he sits back down on his stool to finish his sheet. He leans in my direction, and my first thought is that he’s trying to look at what I wrote so he can copy it. Instead, he reaches past me and turns off the Bunsen burner. He doesn’t say anything. No teasing or snide remarks. 

He’s still so close to me, and all I can think is, The list be damned. 

I make a split second decision and kiss him. My lips press against his, and he sort of stiffens in surprise. I’m not sure if I like this with both our lips in a firm line, pressing against each other. Then, I realize I’m too busy thinking about our lips, and I have no idea how long I’ve been kissing him. 

But just as I think this, his mouth parts and he leans into the kiss. It’s not what I expected him to do, and I quick pull away. He falls off his stool and clatters to the floor, taking a few flasks with him. They shatter on the floor, and pieces of glass cut his hands. 

“Oh my gosh, Damien, are you okay?” I crouch down next to him and pick up the broken pieces as carefully as I can. 

“I think so,” he says. 

Mr. Gerke comes rushing over and helps Damien to his feet. “What happened over here? Damien, it looks like you got some cuts. Jackie, why don’t you take him to the school nurse?” 

“Okay,” I say, grabbing both our backpacks. Damien moves toward the door, and I follow. 

The hallways have started to clear, but several students look our way as they head into their last class. Damien stops just short of the nurse’s office. He leans against the wall and stares at me.

“What?” I ask. 

“Why did you pull away?” he asks. 

I look away and find a poster on the wall to fix my gaze to. Don’t talk about the kiss after. I sigh and force my gaze back to Damien’s. 

“I was surprised, that’s all. I didn’t expect you to kiss me back.”

“I was surprised too,” he says. “Why did you kiss me?” 

“It’s going to sound stupid, but I’m kind of cursed with ‘firsts,’” I confess. “First day of kindergarten, first day of middle school and high school, first doctor visit, and the list goes on. I just wanted to have my first kiss, so I could get the disaster over with.” 

A smile plays on his lips. “I was your first kiss?” 

His words sink in. 

“Yeah, you were.”

“Well, was it a disaster?” he asks.

“I mean, you’re bleeding, but I suppose it’s not as bad as catching on fire,” I say. 

“True,” he replies, “and now that we have the curse out of the way…”

He pushes off the wall and closes the distance between us. I drop our backpacks and look up at him. This time, he kisses me, and I’m ready for it. 

Maybe I’m stupid for making a list, or for kissing him after chem lab. Maybe I’m stupid for kissing a jock or pulling away when he kissed me back. But what’s not stupid is this flutter in my stomach and the tingle that this first has left behind, unlike any other first before it.