Saturday 12th February

Today was alright. You know, a completely mediocre day. For starters I got up and opened the curtains, groaning at the ordinary day of clouds and showers which waited outside. Once downstairs I poured myself a bowl of Frosties, turned on the television, and that was it for the day, no big deal.

Ha, I'm lying, and a big fat lie too. Today has been amazing, and quite possibly the best day of my life so far. My wildest dreams, dreams I never even dared to have, have come true, and I am officially the luckiest girl in the world.

As is standard practice for a Saturday, Natasha and I spent the day riding our bikes around town, a routine which involves me loitering behind, trying to keep my balance and avoid crashing in to the traffic, whilst she whistled at unsuspecting boys.

'Hi gorgeous!' She blew a kiss at a random rodent, 'will you buy me some ciggies?'

'Never mind cigarettes, can we go home please?' I moaned, 'it's freezing!'

We had been patrolling the vicinity for at least two hours and my meagre enthusiasm was fading.

'Be careful will you!' Alas my delicate balance was at last compromised, and typically, without warning, Natasha's breaks screeched, her back tyre tearing up the ground and skidding to a halt. Of course unable to master the same BMX trickery which she had crafted with ease, gravity pulled me forwards, catapulting me over the handle bars.

'Now look what you've done!' I held up my grazed palms which were punctured with tiny bits of gravel.

'Shut up Simone.' Doesn't she care that I might actually be wounded? 'Did you see who was in the playground?' She indicated towards the grounds of Three Lanes Primary School.

'No.' How does she expect me to see anything from the rollercoaster position she inflicted upon me?

'Michael and David Butterworth!'

'Are you lying to me?' Had she really just said what I thought she had, because it would be abhorrent to add mental distress to my already substantial physical injuries?

'It's true,' she nodded.

'But what are they doing at Three Lanes playground on a Saturday night? Shouldn't they have better things to do, like hanging out with their supermodel girlfriends?'

'It looks like they're playing football. Plus they don't spend all of their time with models, because that would get seriously boring. Dare you to say something to them.'

'No way! You do it.' Like I would be able to utter a coherent sentence to them on any ordinary occasion, let alone try to gain their attentions whilst they were busy playing something as important as football.

'Okay, but you're such a wimp.' And without hesitation she drew her lips tight before emitting a high pitched whistle.

'I can't believe you just did that.' Even now I really can't believe it, for it seems so surreal to think that Natasha actually dared to whistle at the Butterworth twins.

'Hello?' Our giggles were interrupted as a honeyed male voice echoed back from the playground.

'Oh no, they heard us.'

'What do you mean "oh no"? This is great, this is our chance!'

'Our chance for what?'

'It's our chance to speak to them, you moron.'

Speak to them? Good Lord was she crazy? 'But I don't think I can.' Like Bambi lost within the woods, I trembled. 'I mean, what am I meant to say?'

'Oh Simone, stop being so ridiculous!' It was too late, my whimpering opinions were not to be heard, for Natasha was already climbing over the school gate, attempting to prison break Michael and David's football game.

'Oh hi Michael,' she stopped mid-climb, her legs wrapped around an iron bar of the gate.

Michael Butterworth was looking at her. One of the Butterworth twins was looking directly at Natasha, with only a gate for separation. One glance in to her eyes and he was no doubt wondering who this deranged girl was, and also how did she know his name? But what he was thinking wasn't important. The only thing that mattered was that Michael Butterworth was standing only a few metres away from me.

'Did you two shout us?' Oh no, he looked cross. Please don't be angry sweet angel.

'Did we shout you?' Natasha scratched her cheek, apparently unsure of what to say. Why now, of all occasions, had she misplaced her most skilled lying face?

'Oh no, that was just Simone causing a scene as usual,' her face grinned with false sympathy, 'she crashed her bike.'

'Shut up! I was not causing a scene, it was your fault, and look I've cut my hands,' I held them up as evidence.

'Are you okay?' Quick duck, but damn it there was nowhere to hide, but bloody hell Michael was speaking to me. He was enquiring after my well being. Now it was my turn to look in to the aquamarine of his eyes. Direct eye contact! Even in the dark their colour still stunned me.

'Fine,' I mouthed.

'So can we join you for a kick around?'

'Erm, we were just about to head back home, but I guess we could have another game, if you're sure you can play football?'

'Of course we can. Simone even gets the off side rule.'

'No I don't!' Okay, so I might sort of understand it, but that's only because Daddy insists on testing me every time he watches football, which I guess is a lot, but still that's certainly not nearly well enough to engage in conversation with Michael and David about it.

'And since when can we play football?' I whispered.

'Shush.' She hissed, already re-embarking on her climb over the gates.

***

'Are we seriously going to play football?' How, despite my jittering nerve bag state, are my words still able to adopt such disapproving tones? What a way to get a boy to like you Simone!

'Well what else do you want to do, Barbie?' Michael laughed. Barbie? What does he mean, Barbie?

'There isn't a basketball hoop, so we can't play that,' David spoke for the first time.

'That's lucky; I hate basketball even more than I hate football.' Well I got that one wrong too. What was I thinking making such another controversial statement? Now I'd shocked them in to silence.

'I know!' At last Natasha broke the tension. Good old Natasha, always to be relied up on to talk when no-one else dares, 'so have you snogged a girl before?' Oh dear Lord, what was she saying? 'Well apart from my sister.' Why couldn't she just remain awkward in silence like the rest of us?

'Of course we have,' Michael defended, 'it would be pretty sad to get to eighteen and never have snogged a girl before, but I don't think we've snogged your sister. I don't even know who she is.'

'Well, little Simone here has never even been within a metre of a boy before.' I glared at her; don't use me as a deterrent from your lies! 'So I think one of you should be a sport and show her what she's missing.'

'Shut up Natasha.' Why must I always be the subject of conversation? And she's got some nerve, since despite her desires to the contrary, it's hardly like she's spent that much time in the company of a boy, except vile Harry Styles and he certainly doesn't count.

'Watch and learn little one, because it's your turn next.'

Flaming Mary on fire, what was she doing? I'll tell you exactly what she was doing, she was standing opposite Michael Butterworth, for real, and not just looking at him, which is a bold and faint worthy action right there, but she had her hands clamped on to his waist too. She was like holy water running through the palms of Jesus, but still she's so full of herself to think that she was actually going to snog one of the Butterworth Twins.

Yet despite my disbelief Michael appeared to be on the verge of some sort of reciprocation. He was moving in to kiss her. Was he cream cracker jack or actually just as desperate as the rest of us?

But it was true that Natasha was now snogging Michael Butterworth, and I don't care that Michael is totally lush gorgeous hot, because it was just full on gross having to watch Natasha indulge her passions so furiously towards his mouth. Still, I couldn't let her wanton desires distract me, I needed to take notes and fast, since apparently I was up next. I was about to kiss a boy for the very first time and by the best good fortune possible the boy that has been chosen for me is David Butterworth. Sing it from the rooftops - hallelujah!

'Now it's your turn,' Natasha smirked, summoning David and me to improve upon our currently gaping proximity to each other.

David's ashen face told that he was apparently as nervous as I was, but what did he have to be worried about, he must have snogged some of the fittest birds going, right?

'Do it!' Natasha ordered. Was I walking a line to be shot or about to kiss the boy of my dreams?

'I can't,' I giggled, but David just stood there, motionless.

'Just do it!' Natasha yelled again.

But there was something wrong with David. Why wasn't he doing anything? Talk about a scaredy cat, and so I can't believe that it was me, little Simone Rose, who was going to have to make the first move on David Butterworth.

Closing my eyes tight, I inched my way forward, purposefully replicating Natasha's previous actions as I let my shaking hands rest lightly on his waist, before, one, two, three, inhale deeply, slowly pressing my fearful lips to his and then, whoa, whaddya know, our mouths had opened and we were off like a pair of whippets around a race track, hurriedly clambering and with water spewing and swirling from a washing machine set to full cycle.

Now I can't be certain, but not long in to the opening scene of this already loony tuneperformance, well the queerest thing ever to occur in my lifetime took place. David Butterworth put his tongue in my mouth. Is he cream cracker jack crazy too? But it had to be that; it's the only thing I can think of which could be so firm yet fleshy and fuzzy, like a piece of raw liver rubbing against my own tongue. Gag!

But whatever it was that was happening has to be completely normal, right? Somebody, anybody, please reassure me that this is normal, and that I wasn't in fact having the life sucked out of me by an alien dressed in hot boy clothing? Oh dear Lord, what if I was, I mean firstly whatever it was that David was doing to me was totally bizarre, and secondly no real human can actually be as good looking as the Butterworth twins. Okay, so I was potentially snogging an alien, and I was willing letting it feed upon my life force, but still I resolved not to embarrass myself, to contain my composure, to see this ghastly act through to the end, even if that meant my meeting with death. Who cares if I die, so long as I do it with cool.

At last David removed his tongue from my mouth. Perhaps because he'd consumed enough of my energy to aid his survival for another earth year, or the more plausible reason being that I simply wasn't reciprocating? Not that I'm sure how I was meant to? Does he seriously think that I was about to put my tongue in to his mouth and rub it up against his like I was scouring some pots and pans?

Just like Natasha and Michael had done before us, the sci-fi episode continued for nearly a minute, until short of breath I pulled away, gasping. I guess a minute must be the standard time frame that one can go without oxygen?

Reflecting up on the event, it seems such a curious thing to do, to put one's tongue in to another person's mouth. I would need to quiz Natasha once we were alone, to check that this was in fact a normal part of kissing, as maybe it's just naive little me who thought that kissing involved lips and nothing more, whilst the rest of the population are all fully informed of this odd of behaviour. But still, if tongues are a standard part of the programme then why hasn't Natasha mentioned this to me before?

'Is it normal for a boy to put his tongue in your mouth?' I asked as we cycled home.

'What do you mean?'

'You know, when a boy is kissing you, is it part of the "act" that they put their tongue in your mouth?'

Natasha considered my question for a moment before snapping, 'of course it is.'

'Oh,' I paused, 'then why didn't you tell me that before now? At least that way I'd have been prepared. I nearly choked on it!'

'Simone, what are you moaning about? You just kissed David Butterworth. You kissed one of the Butterworth Twins. You've been wishing for this moment for months. It's legendary, and so you really should be thanking me for making it all happen, because let's face it you didn't stand a chance on your own. I mean how were you ever going to seduce them; "would you like to read this poem I wrote about you, David?", but oh no, instead you're just complaining about the coolest thing that's ever likely to happen to you.'

I guess she's right. David might have put his tongue in my mouth, but at least I still snogged him. That's right, I Simone Rose, have kissed a boy, and not just any random crummy boy, but David Butterworth. I am legendary.