Free Princess in Pink by Meg Cabot Page B

the baby's room. But whatever. At the time, Mr G honestly thought there was no more Coke.
    'Well, I'll run down to Grand Union and buy more,' he said, putting on his coat and going out.
    That's when Ling Su asked my mom if she could see her slides. Ling Su, being an artist herself, knew exactly the right thing to say to my mother, a fellow artist, even if since she's been pregnant she's had to give up oils and work only in egg tempera.
    No sooner had my mom whisked Ling Su into her bedroom to break out her slides than Tina turned off the music and announced that we would now be playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.
    Everybody looked pretty excited about this - we certainly had never played Seven Minutes in Heaven at the last party we'd all been to, which had been at Shameeka's house. But Mr Taylor, Shameeka's dad, wasn't the type to fall for the 'Out of Coke' or 'Can I see your slides?' thing. He is way strict. He keeps the baseball bat he once hit a home run with in one corner of the room as a 'reminder' to the boys Shameeka dates of just what, exactly, he's capable of, should they get fresh with his daughter.
    So the Seven Minutes in Heaven thing had everybody way stoked. Everybody, that is, except for Michael. Michael is not a big fan of Public Displays of Affection, and it turns out he is even less of a fan of being locked in a closet with his girlfriend. Not, he informed me, after Tina had
    gigglingly shut the closet door - closing the two of us in with Mom and Mr G's winter coats, the vacuum cleaner, the laundry cart and my wheelie suitcase - that he had anything against being in a dark enclosed space with
    me. It was the fact that, outside the door, everybody was listening that bugged him.
    'Nobody's listening,' I told him. 'See? They turned the music back on.' Which they had.
    But I sort of had to agree with Michael. Seven Minutes in Heaven is a stupid game. I mean, it is one thing to make out with your boyfriend. It is quite another to do it in a closet, with everybody on the other side of the door knowing what you are doing. The ambiance is just not there.
    It was dark in the closet - so dark I couldn't even see my own hand in front of my face, let alone Michael. Plus, it smelt funny. This, I knew, was on account of the vacuum cleaner. It had been a while since anybody - namely, me, since my mom never remembers, and Mr G doesn't understand our vacuum cleaner, on account of it being so old -had emptied the vacuum bag,
    and it was filled to the brim with orange cat fur and the pieces of kitty litter Fat Louie is always tracking across the floor.
    Since it was scented kitty litter, it smelled a little like pine. But not necessarily in a good way.
    'So we really have to stay in here for seven minutes?' Michael wanted to know.
    'I guess,' I said.
    'What if Mr. G gets back and finds us in here?'
    'He'll probably kill you,' I said.
    'Well,' Michael said. 'Then I'd better give you something to remember me by.'
    Then he took me in his arms and started kissing me.
    I have to admit, after that, I kind of started thinking Seven Minutes in Heaven wasn't such a bad game after all. In fact, I sort
    of began to like it. It was nice to be there in the dark, with Michael's body all pressed up to mine, and his tongue in my mouth, and all. I guess because I couldn't see anything, my sense of smell was that much stronger, or something, because I could smell Michael's neck really well. It smelt super nice - way better than the vacuum-cleaner bag. The smell sort of made me want to jump on him. I can't really explain it any other way. But I honestly wanted to jump on Michael.
    Instead of jumping on him, which I didn't think he'd enjoy - nor would it be socially acceptable . . . plus, you know, all the
    coats were sort of impeding our ability to move around a lot - I tore my lips from his, and said, not even thinking about Tina,
    or Uli Derickson, or even what I was doing, but sort of lost in the heat of the moment, 'So, Michael, what is up with