Myths And Facts About Boys That Every Girl Should Know [#1]

Myth Number Eight: All Boys Are Completely Dim-Witted

Fact: Uh, no… that title belongs to girls. Well, one in particular.

xxxxxxx

“Oh my God! You look so gorgeous!”

I twirled in front of a mirror, watching delightedly as my long skirt swirled.

“Seriously, Ath, that dress is amazing. I’m so jealous!” Callie gushed again from her chair. Even I had to admit I looked pretty damn good. My hair and makeup were done, dress on, gloves at the ready. The ball was about half an hour away but I had to be ready beforehand for the photos with Heath. In fact, I was just getting ready to leave the house.

“I know! I feel… well, like a princess, actually.”

“You look like Belle out of Beauty and the Beast. Only you have redder hair and you’re not a cartoon.”

I laughed. “And Heath is most certainly not a beast.”

“Definitely not. I’m just disappointed I don’t get to see my scruffy hunk of a boyfriend in a suit. In fact, I think I’ll be lucky to even see him.”

“Hey, he didn’t think you’d still want to even go. It’s fair enough to tack a couple extra hours onto a shift. I think.”

“Yeah, but… well, you know what I mean. It just sucks.”

Callie looked solemn for a moment and my attention was once again drawn to the gauze bandaging that still remained on her forehead, cheek and shoulders from the accident. She had withdrawn from the deb, both on doctor’s advice (they didn’t think the ‘strain’ would be any sort of good idea) and her own wish not to have a lot of photos taken with a) scarring or b) bandages. I think, though, that she was still slightly upset about it.

“Yeah, it does, but you know what? You’re covered – well, sort of – in bandages and you still look amazing in that dress,” I told her, referring not a white one but instead a dark, short, sapphire blue one she got instead to wear and watch. Luckily she had turned 18 in March (it was June) so she was allowed entry.

All I got in return was a half-hearted smile. “Thanks. I’d still rather be wearing white.”

“Oh, honey, I know. I really do. Luckily the deb isn’t the only day you get to wear a pretty white dress, ok?” I gave my best friend a hug and then looked at the clock. “Oh, shit… where the hell is Heath? We’re meant to be doing photo-ness in like two minutes!”

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door and my mother, who had also been standing around gushing, opened it. There stood Heath in all his glory – black suit, white shirt… burgundy tie. Still, he looked totally hot. I’d told him not to get a haircut so it was all gorgeous and long and messy.

“Hey, Ath… Wow. You look hot,” he said, staring at me. “Ready for photos?”

I’m fairly sure I went a couple shades pinker. “Sure am. Bye, guys, I’ll see you at the place, ok?” Mum quickly handed me my gloves and I followed Heath out our door and into his car.

“I swear… dancing behind you with all that skin showing, and not being able to touch you, is going to be hell,” Heath breathed into my ear as we sat in the backseat. His dad was driving us there, and we were sitting as close as was possible.

The whispering sensation sent shivers down my spine. “Well,” I told him, also whispering, “you’ll just have to try and think about something else, won’t you?”

He gave a little smile. “Are you kidding? I won’t even be able to remember the dance.”

I blushed again. Guys don’t really talk to me like that very often. It suddenly struck me how cold it was in the car, despite having warm breath close to my face. “Wow, it’s freezing in here… think you could maybe warm me up?”

To my slight surprise and discomfort, Heath seemed to slightly misinterpret my meaning. “Sure, babe… how would you like me to do that?”

His tone was so blatantly sexual and suggestive it made me wonder exactly what I must have sounded like, suggesting ‘warmth’ like that. I backtracked a little, trying to make it sound like I knew what I was doing.

I failed. “Oh, um, a hug would be nice…”

He looked slightly disappointed, but covered it. “No problem,” he smiled, wrapping his long,
warm arms around me. I tried to nestle my face in as close as I could without wrecking my hair or makeup.

We arrived shortly after, and I disentangled myself from both Heath and the car. Inside, all the other girls and guys doing it mingled, girls squealing over each other’s dresses, guys doing that weird handshake-backslap thing. I felt slightly lost without Callie. This was slightly short-lived though as I got called over to have photos.

“Ok, smile, honey,” the photographer said, grinning manically like I didn’t know what a smile was. I tried, nervously, very aware of Heath’s presence slightly behind and to the left of me.

Thankfully it was all over soon. The organiser bustled in. “Ok, girls and boys, get into your lines!”

We dutifully obeyed. We heard the music start behind the door we were about to walk into and a sudden thrill of anticipation shot through my stomach. This was a bad idea.

I must have tightened my grip slightly because I felt rather than saw Heath’s face turn toward me smile reassuringly. He flipped his hand under mine so it was no longer palm-downward and squeezed my fingers briefly. I returned the squeeze and squared my shoulders.

Ahead, there was a door leading outside and a lot of people were gathered around, watching us in all our finery. I could see a bunch of Isaac’s friends there, a couple smoking, all wearing band shirts, laughing at him in his tux. He just gave them the finger and ignored the comments that were turning Odette a funny shade of pink.

The couples started to move, slowly, through the inner door and toward the other throngs of clapping and whistling people. When we got to the front, I spotted our parents at the table, waving. Our cue began, so we walked forward, me making sure to keep a steady pace for Heath to match.

Jesus H. Christ, I thought, panicking. That there’s a lot of people.

We got in our lines and got ready to be presented. I could see Callie in the crowd, hair done, dress on. I had to resist the urge to grin and wave manically. She looked kind of wistful and I felt sorry for her again. She was in a wheelchair – not seriously – for a couple of days at the hospital before the doctors decided she was ok to go home. I offered to boycott the deb for her but she refused to let me.

I still, I mused, don’t know whether Isaac has talked to her yet. Hmm.

My feet started to hurt and I tuned out for a little while. It was only boring speeches. Why had I agreed to this again? It was a total waste of time and money. The song changed, the dances started and by some miraculous feat we managed to get through without any major mistakes, despite what Heath had said earlier. And I didn’t have the luxury of it ‘all being such a blur’ either. I had to live through every excruciating moment.

Finally, the dances and stuff were over – even the one where I had to dance with my dad (excuse me while I go and die of embarrassment) – and we got to go sit down and eat. The organiser person had suggested an apple and twelve almonds for girls and a steak sandwich for boys beforehand, which made most of us look at her like she was crazy. Most of us except for Bonnie McDonnell, that is. She nodded solemnly and then continued to discuss her ‘dress diet’ for the rest of that practice.

As her name would suggest, Bonnie is Scottish. She moved her when she was five but that doesn’t stop her affecting a lilting accent that seems to draw people like flies to vinegar. It would actually be quite pleasant to listen to if everything she said wasn’t vapid drivel.

In short, Bonnie is the girl in class who asks the really dumb, obvious questions and everyone sort of snickers at. She is also one of three people in my entire grade who have red hair – meaning we get grouped together a lot. It’s not that I don’t like her – she’s not a total bitch – she’s just really, really shallow. Or seems to be. I’m hoping that she’s actually more intelligent than she looks.

But anyway, back in the room. I was sitting down, stuffing my face, listening to the DJ play radio hit after radio hit after dance song, listening to Callie speculate over who would get Belle of the Ball. I knew it wouldn’t be me – I’m not being ‘down’ on myself, just realistic – so I didn’t really care. Then ‘The Final Countdown’ came on over the speakers.

“Oh my God!” Callie screamed, and leapt to her feet. “Come on, Ath, you can’t say no to this one.”

“Groan. Alright.” I got up and followed her, almost tripping over my skirt in the process. A lot of people had followed our example, mostly drunk adults who were teens in the 80s, so there was a fair bit of air guitar and synth going on.

“…Da daaa! Dadada da daaa daaa! Dadada daaa, dadumdadadeeda!” just about everyone on the dance floor screamed in time to the opening bars, a lot of drunk people headbanging when the drums and stuff started in. Then, with the true devil-may-care-how-shit-I-sound air of Singstar wannabes, we joined in the singing…

“…Were leaving together,
But still its farewell
And maybe we’ll come back
To earth, who can tell…?”

Twirling, I spotted Heath across the room, talking to an adult I didn’t know who didn’t appear to be inebriated. Instinctively my smile got even wider, as it normally does when he walks into a room. I waved and got a small one in return, then beckoned. For a second, I saw him hesitate, then excuse himself. Yes! Callie regained my attention and we continued to sing the rest of the verse.

“I guess there is no one to blame
We’re leaving ground
Will things ever be the same again…?”

The song built up as Heath came bounding over, and right on cue got to our little dancing group in time to scream with everyone “IT’S THE FINAL COUNTDOOOOWN!”

I nearly collapsed with laughter. The Final Countdown has to be one of the best songs ever written, I swear to God. Heath grabbed my hand, twirled me round again and then brought me back close to him. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned down slightly, breath making my slightly dry lips tingle. Ohh my God, he’s not going to kiss me now, is he? Here? In the middle of the dancefloor?

Heath brought his hand up to the side of my neck, thumb in front of my ear, fingers entwining as much as possible in my hair-spray laden mess. This, more even than the leaning, convinced me he could only go one road, and my butterflies increased. We hadn’t kissed yet, this was going to be the first time – something I had been dreaming about since what felt like forever. Accordingly, I leaned my face upward and slightly parted my lips, half closing my eyes in anticipation –

But nothing happened. Confused, I opened my eyes fully and saw he had pulled away slightly and felt him move his hand down to just rub my shoulder. Disappointment sat in my stomach like a dead weight, then sank further when I saw what had stopped him.

Claire – remember Claire, Heath’s ex? – was tearfully yelling at someone who was making her upset. We were standing halfway across the hall and could tell she was less than happy. Her face, once perfectly made up, was now shiny with tears and her mascara was slightly smudged. Unfortunately apart from that she’s one of those people who can even cry prettily – her eyes don’t even go red or anything. It was this talent she was exercising whilst talking to her partner.

“Oh, shit,” Heath murmured almost to himself as he looked over. “Look, Ather, I’m really sorry, I have to go talk to her.”

Excuse me? “Um, no, you don’t, do you? She’s not your girlfriend anymore. I thought… I thought I sort of was.”

Heath smiled down reassuringly at me, and stroked the side of my face. “Baby, I know you ‘sort of’ are, ok? It’s just that I know Claire’s been having a really hard time lately… we’re still close, y’know? You don’t throw away friendship that easily.”

I wasn’t sure how to argue with that. I know that, provided the problem isn’t Heath himself, I feel sometimes more comfortable talking to him about issues than anyone else. How could I deny Claire that same thing? After all, I did have to admit their bond was probably slightly stronger. And I knew nothing was going to happen.

“Well, ok. Sorry. You go talk to her. Calm her down, or something, ok?”

“Thanks babe, you’re the greatest.” Heath squeezed my arm and walked in Claire’s direction while I just watched as he took her aside. She kept yelling for a second but as Heath kept talking to her eventually calmed down and followed him to some chairs in the corner of the room.

Feeling oddly deflated, but like I didn’t have a right to, I forced a smile back onto my face and went to rejoin Callie who was still dancing.

“Hey… where’d Heath go? I saw you two getting verrry close…” she said with a suggestive smile and eyebrow waggle. I tried to summon a blush, a smile, anything, but all I could manage was a faint grimace and the semblance of embarrassment.

“Uh, yeah…” I said, wanting to avoid the conversation, “Not that close.”

“Oh.” Callie looked disappointed. “But I thought you said you guys were…”

“We are. He had to go console Claire, or something. They’re over there.”

Callie looked. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So, um, any sight of Bert?” I changed the subject quickly. It was then Callie’s turn to look a little unwillingly forlorn.

“Nah. I don’t think he’s coming. I was sort of hoping, before, that he might make it, but it doesn’t look like he will…”

I murmured sympathetically, secretly glad I had someone to share my misery with. It was short-lived, though. Out the corner of my eye I saw the hall’s door open and a familiar figure step through, then wave.

Luckily for Bert, Callie didn’t see him – only I was facing that door. He put his finger over his mouth, silently begging for my silence, and I pretended nothing was happening, listening again to Callie chatter.

Silently, he crept up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around leisurely, expecting another dancer or her parents. When she saw Bert, all dressed up in suit pants and a nice shirt, she gaped and then squealed in delight while I smiled in the background.

“Hey, baby, miss me?” he asked with a big smile.

“Oh my God – what are you doing here? – I though you were working…”

“I got off early to come see you. Wanna dance?”

Callie nodded enthusiastically and they went off to the dance floor. I went back to sit down – deliberately not looking into a certain corner – and grabbed some more food. This whole deb thing was starting to suck hard.

I turned around to watch the dance floor again as ‘I Miss You’ by Blink 182 came on and the couples got closer for a slower dance. Callie and Bert were in the middle, staring at each other like no one else existed. I felt a pang of resentment and then another, harder one of self-loathing as I reflected on what a shit person I am. My best friend was happy – really happy – and all I could think about is how unfair it is.

The truly crap thing is that I know, deep down, that I’m happy for Callie and Bert. Really, really happy. But sometimes when I see them together, in photos or in real life, I get so jealous it hurts and I start wondering what I did to deserve being so miserable.

My eye was drawn inexorably to the corner where Heath and Claire were sitting. They were still deep in conversation, not looking particularly happy or sad. Claire’s always been like that though – she never really looks happy. I always sort of wondered what Heath saw in her. How do you like someone that never smiles? It doesn’t make any sense. Especially someone as full of life as Heath. Maybe there was an element of damsel-in-distress going on.

The song changed, cutting off my morbid contemplation. Callie and Bert (or ‘Ballie’ as we call them sometimes), waved me up. I tried shaking my head but they wouldn’t let up, so I got up and went out there. Suddenly, a tiny spurt of anger triggered my ‘fuck you’ reflex and I decided not to let Heath ruin my good time.

He’s not that instrumental to my happiness anyway. Right?

Either way, I plastered a smile back on my face and went out to dance with new vigour, only occasionally glancing back to see if Heath was even looking at me. He wasn’t. I tried not to let it get me down, though, and continued to dance. Dance, and dance, and dance, and dance. By the time I sat back down again I was exhausted and still slightly miserable. Goddamn it. Does nothing work? All I wanted was for him to notice me.

Callie eventually noticed I wasn’t feeling my best and came to sit beside me. “Hey. What’s up? Is it still Heath? Look, I know you like him a lot but you shouldn’t let it get to you too much.”

“Mhmm. I know. I just can’t help it. What can they possibly be still talking about?”

“God knows. It doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s between them. I bet if you knew you’d wish you didn’t, anyway.”

“Yeah, ok, I know. Dance one more time?” I offered, and she nodded wearily.

“Alright then.”

We went back out onto the dance floor and once again my eyes were drawn to the corner – but it was empty. I looked around and spotted Heath dancing with another one of his friends – again, a girl, but not someone I needed to be jealous about – just as the song ended.

I didn’t want to go over there though– I mean, possessive much? We weren’t official or anything – but I thought, maybe if I keep dancing, laughing, anything, he’ll come over. Surprise me. Tap me on the shoulder the way Bert did to Callie and then we’d smile and talk and dance for a bit.

Halfway through the song he still hadn’t come over so I looked around again. And again. I couldn’t see him anywhere. What the hell?

I mentioned it to Callie who also looked. “He must just be in the bathroom or something.”

I nodded silently, unconvinced. Surely enough, the song eventually ended and Heath was still nowhere to be found.

“Cal… I think he left.”

“No, he wouldn’t. Not without saying goodbye, surely?”

“He isn’t anywhere. He’d be out of the bathroom by now.” I sighed. “And the corner is empty.”

Callie looked slightly concerned so I forced another smile. “Look, I’m fine. Really. He’s had a lot on his mind, I can’t expect to always be the first priority…”

“You should be his first more often than his last, Ath.”

“I am. I think.”

Callie said nothing but looked sceptical, which wasn’t making me feel better. The thing was, I knew Heath cared about me. No one else I know calls me sweetie or cutie or babe. No one else sends me text message every day asking how I am or what I’m doing. Heath got me into liking good music – my taste was horrible before him. No one else goes for walks for hours, just talking about whatever.

No one else gives me butterflies whenever I look at them, talk to them, touch them…

Callie, though, wouldn’t understand. She doesn’t love people unrequitedly – they always like her back. She’s just so gorgeous they can’t help it. She wouldn’t understand the feeling of wanting someone so badly it hurts for so long and then not wanting to let it go when you’ve got it.

I’ve loved Heath for so long, there is no way I’m fucking this up. No way.

I wasn’t about to let his early departure screw with anything either. Besides, I knew exactly where he was going. The after party, in fact, was being held by one of my guy friends out at his parent’s ‘hobby’ farm, where the noise and stuff wasn’t going to bother anyone. Never one to miss a drinking opportunity, that was where I knew I’d find him.

“Hey, Cal, wanna go? I hear the after party’s meant to be pretty good.”

“Yeah, ok, this is getting pretty lame. Let’s roll.”

We left, grabbing our stuff as Bert pulled out his car keys. I looked down at myself.

“Reckon we could swing by mine so I can get changed?”

Bert just nodded. Within minutes we were out of the club, in the car and at my house, where I grabbed a bunch of clothes and quickly changed.

“Ok, ready. Let’s go.”

We drove out of town, music playing softly as Callie and Bert talked in the front, equally softly. Within maybe a kilometre we could hear the slow crescendo of music being pumped out of big speakers. By the time we got into the backyard it was truly loud, giving me a tiny bit of a headache. Ten minutes passed and I got offered three drinks, all of which I declined. I needed to find Heath.

“Hey, I’ll catch you guys later, ok?” I had to raise my voice to be heard. Callie nodded, already accepting a drink while Bert refused, jangling his keys.

Off I set, winding through people, looking for the telltale blonde hair. I had almost given up when he came almost running up to me, drink in hand and smile on face.

“Hey, Ath! What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I smiled back, “Not now that you’re here anyway.”

Heath appeared gratified by the blatant flirting. “I’m feeling distinctly better now that you’re here too.”

My heart swelled a little. See? He did care about me. I knew it.

As if to prove it even further, Heath leaned closer. “Hey, can I talk to you? Somewhere more… quiet…?”

I nodded. “Sure. Is there a room or something…?”

“Uh…” he did a quick scan of the room, “Yeah, over there. Here, follow me.”

I obeyed, tagging along as he pushed through the loose crowd to the room. The door was ajar and the light off, so Heath pushed it further and flicked on a lamp. A warm glow filled the room – how cliché, someone’s bedroom – and we sat down on a couch type thing on one wall. Like it was something he did every day, Heath reached over and put an arm around me.

Happily, I leaned back into his chest, ignoring the alcoholic smell on his breath. I barely had time to enjoy just sitting there and relaxing before I felt his fingers begin to lightly stroke my arm, and his breath get closer on my bare shoulder. He shifted under me, pushing me out and around so I was now facing him.

“So… we got sort of interrupted before, didn’t we? On the dance floor, I mean…”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” I suavely replied, amazing myself with how un-sexy I managed to sound. Was this it? Was he finally about to kiss me?

[PTO >]