⊕⊗⊕
It’s the third Saturday. Senior center night. I missed the last one. I should miss this one.
I’m not going to, though. I miss all of the people there, Mrs. Green in particular. I think about her sitting there waiting for someone to come see her, and no one showing up. I can’t be yet another person that lets her down.
That’s the official excuse, and genuine as it is, there is of course another—the pull of Trevor, of being near him. So I hurry out the door before I can chicken out.
Mrs. Green is happy to see me. She doesn’t remember a lot, but she remembers that I wasn’t here last month. Before I can make up an excuse that at least sounds truthful, Trevor walks in. My heart stops as I watch him make his cheerful circuit. He hasn’t seen me yet.
Eventually though, he makes his way around to where I am. He stops short when he sees me sitting there. He stares at me, disbelief and anger warring on his face.
Anger wins.
“What are you doing here?” he bites out tightly.
“She came to see me,” Mrs. Green informs him sharply.
He looks at her, and immediately his features smooth out. Figures his innate politeness would extend to everyone but me.
“How are you today, Mrs. Green?” he asks kindly.
“Better now that Jen is here,” she answers, patting me on the knee.
That reminds him, and he turns hard eyes back on me. Before he can chide me again, Joshua, the guy who’s in charge of all the volunteers, hustles into the room.
“Hey, Trevor, you’re here,” he calls as he walks past us. “Glad to have you back, Jen. We missed you.”
Trevor’s jaw ticks twice before he turns abruptly away.
“I see why you weren’t here last time,” Mrs. Green mumbles. “That boy needs to learn some manners.”
I choke out a laugh at that. If there is one thing Trevor definitely doesn’t need, it’s a manners lesson. He avoids me after that. He is über nice to everyone else, a contrast to the absolute silence he subjects me to.
When it comes time for his playing and singing, he does so with only slightly less enthusiasm than usual. His eyes keep flicking my way, and I’m very aware that my presence is an annoyance to him.
Maybe I won’t come next time.
Maybe I will.
29. Two Dates?
I’m still not sure how it came about, but somehow because of my every-other-day sitting with Brian and the others at lunch, and Brian’s obvious infatuation with Jane, the in-between days soon find us all sitting at the same table.
This is incredibly awkward.
Trevor sits at one end of the table, and I sit at the other. My stomach churns the entire time, and while I studiously ignore him, I am constantly watching him. He is overly attentive to the mouse, and I am insanely jealous. She spends most of lunch shooting daggers at me. Who knew she had it in her?
Brian seems to be the go-between. Mark and Jim tend to stay at Trev’s end, though Mark has been drifting a little more toward center. I dread these lunch days when I have to face Trevor, pasting a smile on my face and pretending his presence doesn’t affect me.
I also look forward to them more than anything. Paint me a masochist.
⊕⊗⊕
“So, what do you want to do this weekend?”
Jane and I are standing near her locker, which I now share. Using my own, the one I shared with Trevor, is too hard, so it sits empty since he also no longer uses it. Probably shares with the mouse, I think with a pang.
“You know me, I’m up for anything,” I say, though we both know that’s a lie.
“How about if I stay at your place on Friday after you get home from your family thing, then on Saturday—” She abruptly stops, her eyes moving past me to freeze on someone behind me. My stomach clenches. There aren’t too many people who would have this effect on her, and only one pops into my mind. I slowly turn around, cheeks flushed.
It’s not Trevor.
“Hey, Jen,” Seth says, hesitantly. He shifts back and forth, unsure. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I look back at Jane, who’s trying not to stare at Seth’s multi-colored spiked hair, black lips, and many piercings.
“Sure,” I tell him, seeing the surprised expression on Jane’s face. “I’ll be right back, Jane.”
She shoots me a questioning look, and I almost laugh. It’s much like the look my mom gives me when I’m doing something she doesn’t approve of.
I follow Seth as he walks a few feet away. Jane stays planted in place; this does not go unnoticed by Seth.
“What’s up?” I say casually, though I’m burning with curiosity—and suspicion. Why would Seth approach me now, after all this time?
“I know we haven’t really been, you know, friendly for a while.” I scoff lightly at this. “But I was wondering if you would ever consider, you know, going out with me sometime.”
My suspicion ratchets up.
“Are Beth and Ella behind this?”
He looks surprised. “Of course not.”
“Kyle?”
He shakes his head. “No one is behind this but me. You know I’ve liked you for a long time. Or at least, I thought you knew that.”
I study him, trying to determine if he’s being truthful. I can’t see anything in his face that tells me he’s being distrustful, but I still can’t figure out his motivation.
“I did know that, at one time. But that was before . . .” I trail off. I definitely don’t want to discuss Trevor with Seth. “Anyway, things are different now. I’m different now.”
“I’ve noticed,” he says, sounding hesitatingly accepting but at least not cynical.
“I don’t party anymore.”
“I figured as much.”
“Then why?”
If he’s taken aback by my directness, he doesn’t show it.
“Because I’ve always liked you, and I thought it would be fun to hang out.”
I stare at him, unsure of his intentions. There was a time when Seth was exactly my type. I can’t really remember what attracted me to him. He’s such the polar opposite of Trevor, who is now definitely more my type.
He shrugs under my silence. “Just a movie, maybe some dinner. You can even just meet me there if you want. Just a date, nothing else.”
Hard to argue with that logic, right? So why does it feel so wrong?
“Okay.” I say, making a snap decision I hope I don’t live to regret.
His face brightens, and I swear he nearly smiles, which brings to mind the thought that I haven’t ever really seen Seth smile—unless he was high.
“Friday night?” he asks.
I glance back at Jane, who is now standing with her arms crossed tightly, mouth grim and toe tapping impatiently as she watches us unhappily. I grin at her continued motherly presence.
“I have plans Friday.” I’m surprised that he doesn’t remember how sacred Friday nights are for my family. After all, we used to laugh about it. I’m not going to remind him because I now look forward to my Family Fridays. “How about Saturday? You can pick me up at my place.”
“Okay.” He seems a little stunned that I’ve agreed to go.
He leans down awkwardly and gives me an uncomfortable, one-armed hug, bathing me in the scent of smoke—both cigarette and otherwise—and I can’t help but compare this to Trevor’s clean smell. I push the thought away and hurry back to Mother Jane.
“What was that about?” she demands.
“I was being asked out on a date.”
“With him?” Jane glances back to where Seth now disappears through the school doors. “Do you think that’s safe?”
“Yes, Mom.” I laugh. “He’s an old friend. He was one of my first friends when I started coming to this school.”
Jane knows my story, from my biological parents to the day she met me. I didn’t really mention Seth as my almost-boyfriend to her because I figured that was an unimportant dead end of my history.
“You’re not going to . . .” She looks genuinely worried. She brushes her hands forward, as if pushing her thoughts away. “No, never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s always your business, Jane. You’re my best friend. I’m not going to do anything I shouldn’t be doing.” I smile and tuck my arm through hers. “I’ll call you as soon as I get home and tell you everything that happened.”
She cocks a brow at me curiously. “Why this sudden decision to go on a date?”
I shrug. “Because someone asked me. And because he’s dating, so why shouldn’t I?”
“Ah, so it’s a revenge thing.”
“No!” I immediately refute. “Well, okay, maybe a little. But what else can I do? Spend the rest of my life miserable because I screwed up and lost the guy I love?”
“You could get some cats, you know. Become that old lady who loves her cats more than people.”
“I’d have to learn to knit. Make me some doilies to place on all of my furniture.”
“And buy lots of cat food.”
“And cat litter.”
“No, if you’re crazy enough, you can just let them poop all over the house. Then go on Oprah so she can tell you you’re crazy, and she can get someone to clean up your house for you.”
“Or maybe just stay crazy so I don’t have to remember him.”
Jane glances at me, face grim.
“Go on the date. Forget the cats,” she says.
“I like cats, though. I like the idea of being crazy enough to forget.”
“Well, I’m deathly allergic to cats, so you need to stay sane.”
I sigh. “All right, I’ll do it. For you.”
“Glad I talked you into it,” she says.
⊕⊗⊕
Homecoming is in two weeks. It seems to be all anyone can talk about. I’m trying to pretend it isn’t happening at all.
Trevor and I had talked about going to it at the beginning of the school year, before he learned to hate me. I know he’s still planning to go—he’s pretty much required to as the student body president.
I also know he isn’t taking me. I have a pretty good idea about just who he might be taking.
Jane is going with a boy named Charlie. He asked her quite a while ago, guessing (correctly as it turns out) that she would have multiple invitations and he would need to beat the rush. This is a crushing disappointment to Brian I know, which might explain why he now looks at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.
“What?” I ask, sure I couldn’t have heard him right.
“I said do you want to go to Homecoming with me?” he repeats. I’m beyond aware of the fact that everyone at the table is either openly looking at us in expectation of my answer or pretending to not be listening even though they obviously are. There couldn’t be a worse day for him to ask me, I think, as my eyes go to the face of the only person at this table whose opinion on this matters to me.
Trevor is staring right at me, his expression carefully blank. Something flashes through his eyes, something that almost hints at jealousy. He quickly looks away, turning his attention back to the mouse, who had been watching Trevor watch me.
“Yes,” I say, my mouth working before my brain has a chance to catch up. As I say the word, I swear Trevor winces a little. I drag my eyes away from Trevor, facing Brian, mind firmly decided.
“Sure, Brian, why not?”
“Cool,” is his only response, and I wonder if I’m not the only one with an ulterior motive for wanting to go to this dance—even if it isn’t with the one either of us would have had as first choice.
30. Date Disaster # 1
Seth picks me up fifteen minutes late. But at least his eyes are clear, so he’s sober. My parents are polite, not even blinking at his appearance. Then again, they learned to love me when I looked similar, so I guess it’s just part of their non-judgmentalism. Personally, I think they’re just thrilled I’m going on a date.
I admit it—I dressed a little on the conservative side tonight as a sort of rebellion, I guess. I didn’t want it to seem like I was sliding back into my old ways just to appease Seth. Though I’m willing to go out with him, my heart still belongs elsewhere, and I don’t want him confused about that, or about any expectations he may have of me.
We go to a movie first. The car ride isn’t bad because I can talk cars and haven’t yet met a guy who’s not willing to talk about his car. The movie is easy because it’s dark and distracting, and thankfully Seth doesn’t try to make a move on me.
Now we’re at dinner. I realize just how thoroughly I really didn’t know Seth before. We’d always hung out together with a group, but never alone. He’s very fidgety, and I’m guessing he really wants to go out and have a cigarette but doesn’t want to offend me. Or he’s just really nervous. Or uncomfortable. Or sorry he asked me out. Or any combination of these.
It occurs to me that the awkward silence has stretched on for a while and that’s why my mind is rambling so inanely.
“So, how is everyone doing these days, Seth?”
He looks surprised at my question.
“Everyone?” he asks.
“Well, yeah, like Kyle . . . or Dave . . .” I’m searching my brain, trying to remember the names of the people we hung out with only to realize I didn’t really know any of them well enough to easily recall their names. “You know, people like that who don’t go to our school.”
“Uh, well, I guess they’re about the same.”
“Oh.” I sit silently for a moment. “How about Beth and Ella? Are they doing okay?”
“They go to our school. You see them, like, every day.”
“Well, they aren’t exactly speaking to me, so . . .”
“They’re about the same also, I guess,” says the fountain of information.
Another dead silence ensues while I try to think of a subject that we might have in common.
“Any idea what you’re gonna do after graduation?” I ask.
“Haven’t even thought about it. That’s still a ways off.”
Well, I guess if you want to call six months a ways off, no point in making any hasty decisions. I can’t help but mentally compare him to Trevor, who has already applied to colleges and has scholarships lined up. I shove that dangerous thinking away.
“No ideas? Dreams? Wishes?” I press.
“Oh yeah,” he half-moans with a lopsided grin. “I dream of driving a ’Vette, partying with my friends, and having a hot babe by my side.”
I can only stare. I don’t know if he’s serious or if he’s joking and expects me to laugh at the lame joke. He’s not laughing, only has a faint upturn of one side of his mouth, and though I’m appalled, I really think he means it. That’s as far ahead as he can think, and it truly is his life ambition. I wonder cynically if I should high-five him.
Sadly, I probably would have in the not-so-distant past.
Seth’s background isn’t much shinier than mine, but at least he’s had the stability of a family. That thought brings to mind a girl I had known of in middle school, one of those girls that everyone makes fun of and tortures just for fun. I was in a particularly bad home at that time, though that’s by no means the reason I had joined in hurting her. I was a pretty tough cookie at that time, fighting a lot and usually winning because I had been taught how to fight dirty.
One day she came to school battered, and in one of my few moments of insight, I realized that it wasn’t from any of the other kids at school—she received her bruises at home. I felt a sense of kinship with her and had managed to make it clear that she was to be left alone—at least as far as physical harm was concerned. And because I’d thrown my weight around enough, they generally followed my edict.
Of course, it wasn’t long before I’d gotten myself thrown out of that home, though that time it was a particularly great blessing. I sometimes wonder what happened to that girl, if she got out of her situation.
The server brings our food, and I’m grateful that there
is finally something to occupy us. I eat quickly, wishing this date could be over. Unfortunately the only thing the fast eating does is give me a stomachache and lots of empty silence while Seth slowly eats, and the server takes her sweet time wandering back with the bill.
Where’s the ornery Italian restaurant waitress when you need her?
Finally, we finish, and Seth drives me home. Of course, he doesn’t get out and walk me to the door. I’m grateful.
“Thanks, Seth.” I say, knowing the polite thing would be to finish with something like I had fun, but I can’t force myself to tell such a bald-faced lie. “Dinner was really good.” There. That should satisfy all the polite geeks who would judge me. One in particular. I walk quickly toward my house.
“Hey!”
I look back. Seth has rolled down his window and is leaning out. For one horrified second I wonder if he expects me to run back and give him a kiss.
“Maybe we could go out again sometime. Maybe next weekend or something.”
Is he serious? I mentally push my jaw shut, dismayed at the thought of another three-and-a-half uncomfortable hours with Seth.
“Uh, I can’t next weekend.” That’s not a lie, I justify to myself. It’s the truth because I really don’t think I am capable of going out with him again. “Thanks, though. I’ll see you at school on Monday.” I wave and hurry through the front door before he can suggest another time. I slump back against the door as if I need to hold him out.
“That bad, huh?”
I smile wryly at my dad as he comes out of his office and nod.
“They can’t all be Prince Charming,” he says, squeezing my arm as he walks by, as usual seeing right to the heart of the matter. No, they can’t, I think. Because there is definitely only one of him, and I had him, and I screwed up and lost him.
“I think I’ll go to my room and cry,” I tell the empty hallway. Instead of crying, I decide to call Jane and tell her just what I think of her talking me into this date—even if she really didn’t.
31. Date Disaster # 2 . . . With a Twist Ending
Once the cheerleader heard of my plan to go to Homecoming, she arranged to be home both the weekend before, for dress shopping, and the weekend of because she claimed her “older sister’s right” to do my hair. She ignored my arguments that she isn’t much older than me. I was grateful she was there.
Geek Girl Page 19
