Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

the air, like he’s won an Olympic gold medal for moonwalking.
    The crowd claps and some girls whistle and scream. I’d like to boo, but I’d probably get kicked out and I want to hear what the teachers say about him.
    â€˜He’s good,’ murmurs Miss Mason, ‘but his voice is too deep for the lead role. We need someone who sounds a bit more boyish.’
    Yes! I think.
    â€˜I disagree,’ says Mr Relf. ‘He’d be a good foil for Ashleigh, especially in terms of the romantic story-line.’
    No! What are you thinking, Relfy?
    â€˜I suppose Kane will look convincing during the kissing scene,’ says Miss Mason, stroking her hair. ‘He’s a real ladies’ man.’
    Kissing scene? No one told me about no kissing scene!
    â€˜And I don’t think we have too many other options,’ says Mr Relf. ‘So it’s decided then?’
    â€˜Wait!’ I yell.
    Everybody looks at me.
    â€˜I want to try out for the lead part,’ I say, before I really know what I’m saying.
    â€˜Tony, stop mucking around,’ says Miss Mason. ‘We’re discussing important business here.’
    â€˜I’m serious,’ I say. ‘I can sing like … Michael Jackson.’
    Mr Relf and Miss Mason look at each other. ‘This I’ve gotta see,’ says Relfy.
    â€˜Okay, get up there and do your stuff,’ says Miss Mason.
    â€˜I, umm, have a sore throat right now.’ I cough. ‘Could I do it tomorrow? Please?’
    Miss Mason sighs. ‘Before school, okay?’
    â€˜No worries.’
    *
    There a re heaps of better things to do in life than sit in your room all day and practise music. Like sitting on the couch all day and watching cricket. I did have a piano lesson once but the teacher told Mu m not to bring me back, just ’cause I broke one of the lady’s stupid keys.
    Not the piano key. Her car key. I was mucking around with it while the chubby boy before me finished off his lesson. Yep, my music career ended before it began. Which was fine with me. I didn’t want to sit on that stupid brown stool, anyway. Imagine how many kids had let one go on it?
    But my little bro, Simon, loves nothing more than hooking up his keyboard to the computer and recording himself playing and singing. He does it for hours. He’s not bad, either. I’d never tell him that, but. He’s probably good enough to make it onto that TV show Australia’s Got a Tiny Bit of Talent , except that he won’t play for anyone outside the family. He reckons he gets stage fright. The only place I get stage fright is at the trough at school when lots of older boys are in there.
    So I figure my plan shouldn’t be too difficult to pull off, if Simon will actually agree to help me.
    â€˜Why should I?’ he says. ‘What have you ever done for me?’
    â€˜I’ve done heaps of stuff for you. Like that time when I gave you … that thing.’
    Then I put my arm around his shoulder and make him an offer he can’t refuse. ‘Look, if you do this for me, I’ll let you have something that you really, really like.’
    â€˜What’s that?’ he says.
    â€˜Your life.’
    *
    â€˜Are you ready, Tony?’ asks Miss Mason.
    I nod, squeeze my hand, and wait for the song to pour out of me. Well, I wait for it to pour out of the state-of-the-art MP3 player that’s strapped to my chest. Suddenly it does, and I quickly start lip-syncing.
    â€˜Go grease fighting, it makes everybody black. Grease fighting, go grease fighting. Go grease fighting, your mum’ll have a heart attack. Grease fighting, go grease fighting …’
    I even learnt some dance moves so I’d look as good as I sound.
    â€˜It will stain. Girls go insane. Grease fighting. Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go!’
    I squeeze the pause button and the singing stops. ‘Is that enough? I don’t want to ruin my