"I'll tell it like it is." That's all the warning I get from Martin before he drops the bomb. "Leslie is beautiful, sure, but that's pretty much all there is to her."

"Wait! What? You have to be kidding me." I lean over the top bunk to better listen to this nonsense, because as usual, we're reviewing our day before we go to sleep. Martin spent his whole day with his brand-new girlfriend, so this is the first time I get to speak with him about it. "You might not be aware of it yet," I say, "And maybe it's the shock of getting together with such a splendiferous young girl or some shit, but you're dating Leslie Durham. Everyone in school wants to date Leslie Durham! Probably even other girls want to date Leslie Durham!"

"Yes, and that's why everyone in school has her idealized," Martin says, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Me included, I admit. But that's only part of the problem."

"Seriously, Martin? Are you really saying that Leslie Durham, aka: the Tenth Grade's Bombshell, also known as 'nine out of ten'—

"I hear you. She's just not up to my expectations, that's all. So what?"

I grant him a second to breathe, think, and realize he's wrong. I mean, sure; everyone has great expectations of someone like Leslie, but did we really give her shoes too big to fill?

"Okay, let's go step-by-step here," I say, trying to give Martin the benefit of the doubt. "What is it about her that you dislike so much?"

"She's not as interesting as one might expect from a tenth-grade girl. She has no conversation other than her stupid nail polish or her posh friends. It's like she fell off Saint Claire's or something."

"Wow," I say. "That's harsh."

Saint Claire High School is Celadon Bay's most prestigious private school for the fashionable, the elite, and the rich. Not my turf by any means, and although Martin would definitely be able to pull his own weight there, he's not interested either. Of course, to any proud CJ High student, this would be a big insult.

My point being, Martin is actually insulting his newest girlfriend, based off how shallow she is. Ironic as that sounds.

"Nah," I say, and I can hear his big sigh. "I'm not buying that. There must be something else you're not telling me."

"Okay. You're right." I hear him take a deep breath before continuing. "If you must know, she's a terrible kisser."

I wait a bit, expecting more, but nothing else follows.

"Wait, that's it?"

"That's it."

"But, Martin, isn't that something you learn over time?"

"You've never kissed a girl in your life, have you?"

"No. You know I've never had a girlfriend." (And no, Janice still doesn't count.)

"So, you don't know how to tell if a kiss is actually terrible or good, do you?"

"No. So what?"

"So shut the fuck up and listen to me for a change. I don't like her. She's plain and boring, and she's a terrible kisser."

"Oh, come on! Give her a few days. It can't be that bad."

"Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you so interested in me dating Leslie?"

And there you have it. He catches me off-guard, as usual.

"Actually, I don't know." It's the question I've been asking myself all day, still unanswered. "I guess I just want you to settle down with a girl. And in my humble opinion, the two of you look awesome together."

"I know I always go for looks first and foremost, but I want more from girls after, and Leslie doesn't have what it takes." He goes silent, so I do, too. But he can't keep it up for long, and after a couple of minutes he speaks again. "She's just not the kind of girl I want to be in a long-term relationship with."

"Then what are you exactly looking for? I mean, you know what you don't want, so half the problem is solved, right?"

But I never found out the answer to my question; I fell asleep waiting for Martin to come up with an answer.

The next morning, we have to hurry so we don't get to talk at all, but somehow, we make it to school five minutes early. Leslie is waiting for Martin close to the front doors, her burgundy tie the only reminder that this girl is actually two years older than we are.

"Guess I'll see you in class," I say, and Martin quickly grabs my sleeve and pulls me to him.

"Just hang with me and meet your celebrity, will you?"

I'm about to say something when Leslie makes her way over to us. To my surprise, Martin doesn't greet her with a kiss. And she doesn't lean in for one, either. Lame. I kind of want to see what Martin meant by 'bad kissing'.

"Leslie, this is my cousin John."

"Ah, yes. You talked about him a lot yesterday," she says, now looking at me. I recognize the look on her face; I've seen it enough times. It's the look of the girl who thinks she'll be Martin's eternal life partner. It's kind of an invitation for me to be the best man in their wedding; one I know won't be coming. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," I say, but I'm unable to mask the sadness I feel, knowing a truth way beyond her grasp. She doesn't notice, though, because she's already back to Martin.

"Oh, last night I went to bed so late... but I wanted my nails to be perfect." She lifts her hand for Martin to see the glittery pink with black blobs at the tips that vaguely resemble cats. "Don't they look absolutely great?"

"That's great." Martin's lack of enthusiasm is obvious, but Leslie is apparently indifferent to it.

"I also got a new shampoo. Does my hair look good?"

"You know you look amazing, Les." Again, Martin is a shoe-in for the National Uninterested Guy of the month contest, and this time she notices.

"You don't sound convinced."

I rush in before Martin has a chance to do something rash, like dump Leslie. "He's just not a morning person," I say, and then, thankfully, the bell rings.

"Well, wake up soon, Marty." She gives both of us a wide 'Miss-Universe-worthy' smile, and batts her lashes. "Because your eyes look super cute when they're open."

And then stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, and when she does, the clash of their teeth reaches my ears, even over the crowd of kids in the hallway. I wince and hold my hand to my mouth just like the two of them. I might not know what a bad kiss feels like, but I sure learned what it sounds like.

Leslie mouths a muffled, "Sorry," then heads to her classroom, visibly embarrassed. When she's out of sight, Martin's words seem laced with acid.

"She didn't even ask how I was doing on this fine, fine morning. That's how shallow she really is; it's always all about her."

Says the guy who, up until now, has picked his girlfriends based on their good looks.

Still, I know better than to argue with him when he's angry. I try the rational approach. "Perhaps she would change a bit if you could talk to her about it?"

"She fucking paints cats on her nails, John."

"All right, all right, I get it."

"No, you don't!" he snaps. "Can you imagine a full afternoon listening to this girl talk about makeup, clothes, brands, diets, and even badmouthing her own friends?"

"You certainly make it sound bad."

"Because it is! It's the worst!"

"Let's just go to class," I say, hoping to diffuse my cousin's tantrum, only it doesn't work. Not even a little. Instead, it backfires. Because some guy from our class walked by at the same moment the 'teeth clash' thing happened, and the gossip has made its way to every ear in our classroom.

"Dude, you need to teach the girl."

"I imagined she'd be a pro by now."

"Rumor has it she was kind of a nun. No boyfriend ever."

"Yes, but not knowing how to kiss?"

The whole classroom is in full uproar about it, but Martin keeps himself quiet and takes it. But looks can be deceiving, and I can tell he's about to blow up.

The girl named Jo, from two rows behind us, walks past and places a hand on Martin's shoulder. "You know?" she says, "I may not be as cute as that Durham chick, but at least my kisses are above par, don't you agree?"

Martin slowly lifts his face to meet her eyes, and, there it is again: that signature grin; the dimpled one. "You can say you kiss better than Leslie Durham," he says in an even, quiet tone, "but is that such a great victory for an eighth grader like you to be proud of?"

"You're an asshole, Martin."

"Perhaps. But you still want me."

But as Jo is about to give him hell, Miss Klum, our English teacher, walks in and everything goes back to normal. For a while at least.

By our third break, the whole student body of CJ High has heard about the 'Clash of The Teeth'. It's so obvious, especially when Leslie files into the cafeteria and you can hear a pin drop, except for the occasional giggle here and there. Leslie finds us right away, sitting at our usual table, and makes her way over to us.

"Come with me for a second," she says calmly, though her words echo through the silent cafeteria as though she has shouted them. And then she grabs Martin's red tie and pulls him out of the cafeteria like a dog on a leash. I don't get to know what happens until later in the afternoon, when Martin finally arrives back home, because for whatever reason, he skipped the rest of his classes.

"Man," he says, plopping down on the couch. "It's never been this hard to dump a girl before."

"So, it's official?"

"Yup. Although she really tried to convince me to stay with her, no matter what."

"Because the girl really likes you," I say, walking to the kitchen to grab a couple of cans of Coke for us.

"They all do, Cousin. That's a problem," Martin says, following me into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table.

"What do you mean?"

I hand him his can, but I have to wait for him to pop the lid and take a long swig before he finally replies.

"It would be really interesting if someone did pose an actual challenge."

I roll me eyes. "I see. So, you do realize you get them too easily."

Martin shrugs and takes another pull from the can. "I can't help it; they literally fly at me. I did nothing to perk up Leslie's interest, so where's the fun in that?"

"Most kids at school would probably want to be in your place, you know?"

"But, not you?"

"Not one bit, Cousin. Not one bit," I say. "Luxurious as your problems are."

"I don't lose hope, my dude."

"About what?" I say, genuinely intrigued, taking a sip of my own Coke.

"One day you'll date a girl, and it'll be a huge deal."

"Well, if I ever decide to date someone, which you already know it's not currently a priority, I won't be anything like you, that's for sure."

"Too bad," Martin says, flashing one of his hellish dimpled grins. "I was hoping you and I might be able to share girls at some point."

"Ha! Because that sounds like something I'd definitely be into."

"No, you'd most likely lock your girl as far away from me as you possibly could."

"You'd be right about that," I say, nodding my head.

Still, it gets me thinking, and I kind of wonder what kind of girl would choose to date me over Martin. Worse still, who would date me and not be infatuated by this demonic kid. And even worse, how would I survive the ordeal without hating my only friend. Because after all, Martin is quickly growing infamous among the girls.

But, as usual, I'm worrying needlessly, because it's not like I want to date anyone any time soon anyway, so... hah!