Kiss Kill Read online

They always try to make you jealous.

  They beg you to do everything for them.

  They always ask you what to do in a bad situation.

  Now, you are blessed with the presence of your love’s angel. In order to

  keep this blessing, you must send this to the following # of people:

  0 - 4… You will be cursed, no love for 2 years.

  5 - 9… Your crush will ask you out.

  10 - 19… Your crush/boyfriend will romantically kiss you.

  20 +… Your crush/boyfriend will make out with you, and will not

  dump you afterwards.

  Why do girls do this? Do they really get off on this shit? As if my whole life depends on how many dumb emails I send.

  I go for the easier option and check her Facebook status:

  Elle Taylor went from being “single” to “it’s complicated.”

  What the hell does that mean?!

  She might be crazy but she’s funny and loving and silly and I’m rapt. This is all I can come up with in Bio …

  Caterpillar Present from Elle

  It’s official. We’ve traded caterpillars.

  We’ve hooked up.

  This was Elle’s idea, for me to do this stupid questionnaire from some stupid magazine. But because she asked me to, I’ll do it.

  How High is Your Self-Esteem?

  1. Do you like yourself?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  2. How often do you compare yourself negatively with others?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  3. Do you feel you don’t deserve to be happy?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  4. Do you have trouble expressing your opinions?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  5. Are other people’s opinions more important than yours?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  6. Do you find it hard to say ‘No’?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  7. Do find it hard to accept criticism?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  8. Do you find it hard to criticise someone face to face?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  9. Are you uncomfortable if you aren’t in a relationship?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  10. If you feel hard done by, do you brood about it?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  11. If you make a mistake, do you beat yourself up?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  12. Can you leave a bad relationship?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  13. Do you go through life with confidence?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  14. If a tree fell on you, would you think you deserved it?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  15. Does your good fortune come down to luck?

  Always

  Often

  Sometimes

  Never

  Congratulations!

  You have reasonably high self-esteem. You are a confident person and can appreciate yourself. Other people like and admire you. You have good friendships and relationships, however, you can be just as relaxed and happy in your own company.

  “See. There’s nothing wrong with me,” I say to Elle.

  “Nothing, except you’re up yourself,” she answers.

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  “Not.”

  One week later and it feels like Elle’s playing with me …

  Fashion Tips for the Teenage Boy

  Characters

  MAT, teenage boy

  ELLE, teenage girl

  The Setting

  The façade of a house, painted white with a blue door. The door is closed. The blue curtains in the windows are open. It is a timeless house with a pruned shrub in a pot beside the door. The sun is out.

  Scene One

  MAT enters and approaches the door. He goes to knock, then hesitates. He adjusts his clothes and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it, then cups his hands to his mouth and puffs, sniffs, then smiles. On the second knock, a mobile phone rings. Mat removes it from his pocket, checks the caller, then shakes his head.

  MAT: Hi, Elle. I’m here. Out the front.

  Mat peers in at the window and waves. ELLE flings open the door and throws herself into his arms. Mat staggers back, almost dropping his mobile phone.

  ELLE: You’re late! I thought something had happened to you.

  MAT: Like what? Like I tried to hit on the paper girl?

  ELLE: No, silly. Like you’d been run over by a bus.

  MAT: [checks the time on his phone] What’s your problem? I’m only two minutes late.

  ELLE: [checks her wristwatch] More like five.

  MAT: [hugging her again] Well, sor-r-ry.

  ELLE: [cuffing him on the shoulder] Just don’t do it again.

  MAT: Yes, Miss. [takes her hand] C’mon. Let’s go.

  Elle pulls away and stands back, looking at him.

  ELLE: You’re not going out wearing that, are you?

  MAT: [looking down his body] Wearing what?

  ELLE: Those clothes.

  MAT: What am I supposed to wear? My birthday suit? One of your dresses?

  ELLE: Ha, ha. Very funny.

  MAT: [looking down again] What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?

  ELLE: Everything.

  MAT: I don’t get it. We’re talking boardies and a T-shirt.

  ELLE: Exactly!

  MAT: But I always wear boardies and a T-shirt.

  ELLE: Not when we’re going for a coffee.

  MAT: It’s coffee at BELLAROMA’S. What’s your problem?

  ELLE: Well … [she turns away then swivels back] It’s just that I like you to look nice.

  MAT: But I do look nice. Look nice. [sniffs under his arm] Smell nice. What more could you want?

  ELLE: Steph ‘n stuff will be there.

  MAT: So?

  ELLE: They’ll be watching, judging.

  MAT: And your point is?

  ELLE: My point is I want us to look nice. Like a perfect couple on a perfect date.

  MAT: [takes a few steps back] There’s something seriously wrong with you if you think coffee at BELLAROMA’s is the perfect date.

  ELLE: [laughs and steps over to MAT] We’re not in a hurry. There’s plenty of time to go home, change, and show Steph ‘n stuff how hot you are.

  MAT: But why would I want to impress Steph?

  ELLE: [taking his hand] You don’t, you dingbat. You want to impress me.

  A crow’s cry is heard in the distance. The sun goes behind a cloud.

  Scene Two

  The Setting

  A boy’s bedroom. There is a bed with a bedside table and a lamp on it. The bed is unmade and the pillow is on the floor. A guitar is propped in the corner. Clothes are strewn over the bed. There is a cupboard with both doors open and more clothes and shoes in a jumbled mess, spilling out on to the floor. Inside one cupboard door is a mirror.

  ELLE: This room is disgusting.

  MAT: No, it isn’t.

  ELLE: It should be condemned.

  MAT: It looks dirty but most of it’s clean.

  ELLE: [nudging a pile of clothes with her toe] Hope I don’t get tinea
from this.

  Silence.

  MAT peels off his T-shirt and reaches for another one.

  ELLE: Not that one.

  MAT: Why not?

  ELLE: It’s a bit night-in-front-of-the-TV-ish.

  MAT raises an eye.

  ELLE: [grabs T-shirt and points to a stain] See?

  MAT: [marches to cupboard door and peers in, then pulls out a shirt and holds it up] How’s this?

  ELLE: Look’s like you raided your grandad’s wardrobe.

  MAT: [returns shirt and pulls out another one] This?

  ELLE: Too green.

  MAT: [pulls out another shirt and shrugs it over his head without undoing the buttons] What about this?

  ELLE: Too big. Big shirts make you look like you’re trying not to look gay.

  MAT: But I’m not gay!

  ELLE: [sniffs] Other people won’t know that.

  MAT: They will if I’m with you.

  ELLE: It makes you look like a big, fat mushroom boy. Like you’re hiding something gross. No. You can’t wear it.

  Mat pulls off the shirt, tosses it on the bed, and sits on the floor to wait.

  ELLE: [in the cupboard] There’s got to be something … Ah, perfect.

  MAT: A white button-down shirt! That’s for interviews and funerals.

  ELLE: But it looks fresh. Business-like.

  MAT: May as well add a tie, a briefcase and a comb-over.

  ELLE: Trust me. Roll up the sleeves and you’ll look street chic.

  Mat takes the shirt, puts it on and begins to turn up the sleeves.

  ELLE: Roll twice and then stop.

  Mat rolls up each sleeve with two exaggerated turns.

  MAT: [aside] This is crazy.

  ELLE: [ignores him] And now for the bottoms. Boardies off!

  MAT: But I love my boardies.

  ELLE: Only at the beach. [yanks down MAT’s boardies to reveal a pair of boxers with bright yellow ducks on them] Oh my gosh!

  MAT: Like them? They’re new.

  ELLE: [eyeing off boxers] And who bought them for you? Your mum?

  MAT: No, me.

  ELLE: What possessed you?

  MAT: [sidles up to ELLE and swivels hips] Want a duck?

  Silence

  ELLE: [picks up then drops several pairs of shorts, then pounces on some jeans] Here. Wear these.

  MAT: Cool. [puts on the jeans, then pulls them lower on his hips] Let’s go.

  ELLE: Stop! They’re too baggy. Trust me. No one wants to see the ducks.

  MAT: But I like these. They’re comfy.

  ELLE: Looks first. Comfort last. Haven’t you got anything else?

  MAT peels off the jeans and stands in his boxers again.

  MAT: Like what?

  ELLE: Straight leg. Boot leg. Something that fits well. Shows off your butt.

  MAT: This is ridiculous.

  ELLE: No it’s not. You’ve got a cute ass.

  MAT: [voice rising] What’s my ass got to do with having a cup of coffee?

  ELLE: Might as well show it off.

  MAT: Kiss my ass more like it.

  MAT pulls on a pair of straight leg jeans, pretends to tuck the shirt in, then grins at ELLE’s distressed face.

  MAT: Only teasing. How’s that?

  ELLE: [scrunches her nose and points at MAT’s thongs] Get them off.

  MATT: No way.

  ELLE: Off.

  MAT: No. It’s either these or Dad’s loafers and orange socks. Take your pick.

  ELLE: Okay. Okay. The thongs stay.

  MATT: Finally! Let’s go. [strides towards door] I’m dying for that coffee.

  ELLE: Just one more thing.

  MATT: [halts] You’ve got to be kidding.

  ELLE: About that unibrow …

  The Human Condition

  We study this photo that won the Pulitzer Prize in 1994. It became the symbol of the conflict in Sudan. It’s gut-wrenching to look at the patience of the vulture, the child’s refusal to abandon life. We learn that the photographer, Kevin Carter, committed suicide not long after he got his prize.

  “But why?” Nadia asked Mrs Potika.

  “Because he felt responsible for that child’s death.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Nadia’s brow knotted. “His photo would have gone on to save thousands of people’s lives.”

  Elle joined in. “Sure, but when he sold that photo to the paper, that guy cashed in on that little kid’s death.”

  Mrs Potika nodded. We sat in horrified silence, trying to absorb the ramifications of this. “How could taking one photo that did so much good for the world, be so bad?” I asked.

  Mrs Potika crossed her arms. “It depends how much value you put on the individual. Is the cost of one life worth more or less than the cost of many?”

  Elle rose from her chair, her words hurtling through the air. “But the value of human life arrives from subjective moral perspectives. We don’t all value things in the same way.”

  “Good point,” said Mrs Potika.

  “Well, we should.” Nadia got to feet and faced Elle. “All human life should be valued in the same way.”

  “All life has inherent value,” Elle shot back. “What you’re saying is that the ‘inherent value’ of the human being is equivalent to the ‘inherent value’ of the dung beetle.”

  “I am not! You’re being ludicrous.”

  Mrs Potika clapped her hands. “Girls I’m glad to see you both so engaged in this discussion but enough.” She gave a nervous titter and said, “The issue in question is how we see our responsibility to others. Albert Einstein said ’Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile’.”

  Nadia responded. “By taking this photo and publishing it, the photographer decided to place the global human condition above the individual and made lots of people’s lives worthwhile.”

  Elle snorted. “Propelled by self-interest.”

  This was all so confusing. I could see the points of view of both girls. I pointed to the photo. “But by taking his life, this guy obviously thought he’d made the wrong decision?”

  “Maybe,” said Mrs Potika. “We can never really know what motivates someone to take their own life. All we can say is that the ethical implications of his work may have been so horrendous that they haunted him to his death. This is what Paul Tillich described as existential anxiety. In this case, driven by condemnation and guilt.”

  All I can think is, Poor bugger.

  We’ve been asked to write a ballad for school. We’re meant to write it like a story, about a famous battle. Mrs Beanie says we can pick any battle we like and I’ve got the bruises to prove this one!

  Itty Bitty Titty Twister

  When Elle walked in, the sun came out

  No finer lass you’d see

  So tall and slim with eyes so bright

  My heart went out to she

  But had I known what I know now

  As sure as eggs I’d flee

  It started slowly with a smile

  And soon progressed to more

  We’d joke and laugh and muck around

  We’d wrestle on the floor

  But I was far too blind to see

  That she would go for more

  For she’s an …

  Itty bitty titty twister

  Knuckle duster chuckle buster

  Slurple burble purple nurple

  Ruby booby Pinch Queen

  The hugs were great don’t get me wrong

  But not the way I’d planned

  She pressed her breasts into my face

  Her kiss became a brand

  She laughed at my embarrassment

  Dismissed me out of hand

  And as time passed, she conquered me

  And ruled me heart and soul

  She dragged me here, she dragged me there

  Just like a favourite doll

  She told me what to say, to wear

  My confidence she stole

  She’d turn up unexpectedly


  Demanding that we kissed

  And if I failed to make the grade

  On this she would insist

  She’d lift my shirt and grab my tit

  And twist and twist and twist

  Should I cry out she’d say to me

  What is so wrong with you?

  You great big wuss. You cry baby

  A mamma’s boy, t’is true

  My heart would break, as had my skin

  For both were black and blue

  For she’s an …

  Itty bitty titty twister

  Knuckle duster chuckle buster

  Slurple burble purple nurple

  Ruby booby Pinch Queen

  So take my heed you fine young man

  And steal off in the night

  No fingers pressed on tender flesh

  No cries of pain or fright

  Be fleet of foot and tarry not

  And you will be all right

  For she’s an …

  Itty bitty titty twister