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gets off on worrying, let her. Besides, actually talking to her would be awful. She doesn’t really want to know about my sex life any more than I want to know about hers.
    With other girls, it’s trickier. I can’t let them think I don’t have a boyfriend. So when everybody’s talking about their big heartthrob, I invent one. They have names like Jaden and Caleb and Josh and are always mysterious, guys from far away who can be ditched whenever there starts to be too many questions, like when’s he going to drop by the school for a visit. When asked how far I’ve gone, I say, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” or “Guess” and let people think I’m this big make-out expert.
    Katie’s crowd used to come to me for advice, because they’ve never gone further than sweaty hand-holding and lip kissing. “Frenching!” Katie made a face. “That’s so gross. I want to brush my teeth just thinking about it.”
    But Katie blabbed the truth about me and boys to Ashley last summer, at their stupid youth leadership training camp, and as soon as they got back Ashley ran around and told everybody else. Needless to say, the next time the topic of boys came up and I mentioned I’d met this guy called Ricky at my dad’s apartment building, the girls all gave me these funny looks.
    Katie turned red and her eyes popped, and right away I knew what had happened. But I didn’t crack. Instead, I laughed and said in a really loud voice, “Let me guess—Ashley’s pretending to be an expert on my sex life, right?” And then I turned to Ashley and practically shouted. “You are such a pathetic baby, Ashley Walker. Who are you to talk about anybody? You can’t even say the word ‘penis.’ Say it, Ashley! Penis, penis, penis!”
    Seeing as we were hanging around the mall at the time, I got a lot of attention. I also made Ashley cry. Serves her right after how she treats me. Like, she’s lucky I don’t blog about her on Facebook. I mean, I wouldn’t, but she deserves it.
    Getting even with Ashley was one thing, but I still worried about what the other girls thought. That’s why Frenching with Jason in broad daylight was extra fantastic.
    Jason, you are my dream come true. But now I have something new to worry about: will I be his dream come true? He probably thinks I’m experienced, and I’m still wondering how far is too far on a first date.
    Worrying about what to do is bad enough. But even worse is worrying about how to do it. Even simple stuff like kissing. That time on the football field doesn’t count, because it happened so fast and out of the blue I didn’t have a chance to tense up. But knowing it’s coming is a different story.
    Your reputation can get ruined in one night. Back in grade eight, Rachel Moses didn’t do anything the first time she got kissed, just opened her mouth. Ever since, guys have called her “Slug Tongue.” And then there’s Debby Grace. She bit into Tommy Singh’s lip so bad it bled and swelled up. So now she’s “Cannibal Girl.” How a person kisses can affect their whole life.
    Maybe I should stay home from school tomorrow. That way I can practice kissing in front of the bathroom mirror. Also, I can make sure I don’t catch a cold. I mean Saturday has to be perfect, and kissing with a runny nose—well, can you imagine?

Nine
    O h god. It’s Wednesday. Four days after my date. I’m in English. And I’m going out of my mind. Every time people laugh, I think it’s about me. When I cross the cafeteria, I’m sure the world’s staring.
    Jason, I have to see you. Did you tell anyone what we did?
    I need to know, but he hasn’t been at school this week. I’ve left a zillion messages on his cell—I’ve e-mailed, too—but he hasn’t answered.
    Monday morning the girls crowded around me at my locker, all curious. “How was your date with Mister Stud Muffin?”
    “Okay,” I said.
    “Just okay?” All those grinning faces. Had they heard something?
    “It was great. We saw a