Art Geeks and Prom Queens

by Alyson Noel

  I give up.

  Really.

  It’s so not worth it.

  So I turn to Mason and say, “Zane seems really nice.” And I smile. Because I’d really like to get to know her better, I think we have a lot in common.

  “Really? You think so?” she says in a sarcastic tone that I can’t really figure out.

  “Well, yeah,” I say, nodding and smiling like a bobblehead.

  “Well, that’s nice. ‘Cause we broke up.” She looks away and her eyes get all teary.

  And as I watch her get up and go over to her easel, I wonder why I can never seem to say the right thing to her. But the truth is, if I’d been paying attention I would have noticed that she looked upset, and that her eyes were all red like she’d been crying. But no, I was too busy thinking about me in my Burberry miniskirt. Pathetic.

  So I turn to Jas and say, “I guess I kind of blew that, huh?”

  And he looks at me briefly and shrugs. “You didn’t know.” Then he looks down again.

  “Well, Momque seemed really nice. Or did you break up, too?” I ask, followed by ridiculous nervous laughter. Way to go, Rio.

  Jas stops sketching and looks at me, but there’s something different in his eyes this time, and I don’t know what it means. Then he says, “No, we didn’t break up, we’re still together.”

  Well, I know what that means. So I grab my bag, and walk casually into the darkroom. And once the door is firmly closed behind me, I sink down to the floor and sit there with my head in my hands, wondering if you can actually die of humiliation.

  Oh, god, did I really believe that wearing a three-hundred-dollar skirt would change my life? Because all it really did was make me a well-dressed geek. I mean, let’s face it, a change of clothes cannot erase that humiliating “date” with Jas, or the stupid thing I just said to Mason. It’s like underneath the Burberry, I’m still the same stupid dork. Or more like, the same stupid friendless dork! Since there’s no way I can hang with Jas now—not after Saturday night. And Mason, well, I really doubt she’ll miss all my stupid comments.

  So where does that leave me? I mean, I tried being all friendly with Kristi, and while she was nice, she obviously doesn’t hang with retards like me. God, I’m on my second week of school, and it may as well be the first day. I haven’t made any progress.

  Fourteen

  After Art we have a ten-minute break, so I go back to my locker and spin the dial because I have nowhere else to go and it gives me something to do between classes.

  When I swing the door open I find this piece of notebook paper that’s been folded over and over, like a million times, into a tight little triangle and it has my name written on it in big letters with a smiley face over the i and big round flower petals around the o. And even though it doesn’t look scary from the outside, I’m still a little nervous when I open it since I know it’s not from Mason or Jas, and the only other person it could be from is Kristi, and I’m not even sure if she likes me.

  But when it’s completely open I read:

  Hi Rio

  We eat lunch @ the table under the big tree if U

  want 2 sit with us!

  Kristi!

  Her i’s are dotted with hearts.

  At lunch I walk right past the field where I used to eat with Jas and Mason and head for the table with the big tree. But the truth is there’s like a bunch of trees, and they’re all pretty much the same size, so then I start wondering if Kristi’s playing some kind of messed-up game. You know, like some hateful cheerleader version of Punk’d. Because sometimes popular kids do things like that. Well, at least the ones you see in movies.

  But then I hear someone yell, “Hey, Brazil, over here!” And I see Kristi smiling and waving. And I feel totally relieved that the invite was legit.

  “You guys, this is Rio,” she says. “Rio, this is Kayla.” She points to the girl in a shrunken, pink corduroy blazer with brown eyes and blond streaks. “And this is Jennifer, but we call her Jen Jen.” She nods at the redhead across from her wearing a leopard-print cardigan.

  “Hey,” I say, smiling nervously and sitting next to Kristi.

  “Rio’s in my English class. And, you guys, she showed up like way late on the first day and I thought Mrs. Abbott was gonna bust!”

  Everybody starts laughing, but probably not because it’s funny, but because Kristi is the boss.

  “Mrs. Abbott? Gag. Isn’t she the lamest?” Kayla says, rolling her eyes.

  “Totally.” I nod, even though I don’t really think she’s all that lame. But if I’m gonna hang with the cool kids, I’ve got to be agreeable. As well as stop making fun of them in my head.

  As well as stop using phrases like “cool kids.”

  “So what’s with your name being Rio?” Jen Jen asks.

  “Jen!” Kristi says, giving her a look. And then to me, “Ignore her, she is so rude!”

  “Well, excuse me, but it’s not like it’s normal,” Jen Jen says in her own defense. “I mean, were you like, born there or something?” She makes a face as she bites into her apple.

  “No. It’s, it’s just after a song my mom liked back in the eighties,” I say, wishing for the millionth time I had a middle name I could fall back on.

  “Oh, my god, that is so cool. Your mom must be really cool!” Kayla says, looking at me in awe.

  I think about my mom and just shrug.

  “I’m serious. My mom was like born listening to old lady music.” She rolls her eyes.

  Kristi nods. “If my mom named me after one of her favorite songs from the eighties you’d all be eating lunch with ‘Funky Town’ right now!”

  “Oh, my god, remember how our moms used to blast that while they did step-aerobics when we were little?” Jen Jen says, running her fingers through her long red hair and taking a sip of her Diet Coke.

  “Ew!” Kristi shivers. “That was so embarrassing!”

  Everyone cracks up, including me. And it’s not as fake as you’d think.

  “So is your mom like a famous model or what?” Kristi asks, and everyone goes silent waiting for the answer.

  “Well, she’s not, like, famous. I mean, not anymore.” I nervously tear off a piece of my sandwich. “She used to model in magazines and stuff, but that was a long time ago, before I was even born.”

  “But didn’t she take part in a Vogue retrospective?” Jen Jen asks.

  “What?” I look at all of them. How could they possibly know about that?

  “We Googled your family,” Kristi says. “Apparently your dad’s really famous, too.”

  “He’s a lawyer,” I say. “Sometimes he does commentary on Larry King or Court TV or something.”

  They GOGGLED me????

  “But we read that he’s the one that represented that old guy actor who butchered his wife,” Kayla says.

  “And he was innocent,” I say, sounding all defensive. God, this is getting really weird.

  “So what are you doing after school?” Kayla asks.

  “Um, I don’t know. Homework I guess.” I cover my mouth with my hand since I just took a bite of my sandwich.

  “Detention’s over, I take it?” Kristi says, tapping her French-manicured finger against her Diet Coke can and eyeing me closely.

  I just nod, because I’m swallowing.

  “Well, we’re going to the mall and you totally have to come with us,” Jen Jen says.

  “Oh, okay,” I say, finishing my sandwich.

  “Cool. Well, we have to go to the gym to set up for the pep rally, but meet us in the parking lot after school,” Kayla says, getting up from the table.

  “It’ll be totally fun.” Jen Jen smiles.

  “I can’t believe you ate that entire sandwich,” Kristi says, shaking her head as she walks away.

  Fifteen

  So instead of going to the usual malls, we went to the Lab, which is like this alternative mall in Costa Mesa, that’s also called the anti-mall. And we’re in this record store because Kristi, Kayla, and
Jen Jen want me to show them the CD with the song that I’m named after. It makes me feel totally lame, but I don’t want to seem like a bitch, so I find it and hand it to them and then they flirt with the guy who works there and make him play it.

  (It’s worth noting that while the alterna girl who also works there is rolling her eyes at us, the guy can’t stop smiling. And he turns all red, and he gets all nervous, and his hands are all shaky, as he takes off the hip alterna CD they had playing, and replaces it with the Duran Duran Rio CD, track one. Which just goes to prove my earlier point about prom queens and how even the cool, smart guys get sucked in. So if I need to later, I will refer to this moment as Exhibit C.)

  By the second chorus they know most of the words, since it mostly just repeats itself.

  So they’re singing really loud, and it’s kind of embarrassing, so I walk out of the store, and across the way to Urban Outfitters. And it makes me kind of excited to see something familiar since we have that store in New York, too. But then I remember that Mason works here, and I start to leave because I’m not supercomfortable running into her, but she sees me, and goes, “Hey, Rio.”

  So I go over to the register where she’s ringing someone up and I go, “Hey, cool coat.” She has on this incredible little leopard jacket, which has like three-quarter-length sleeves, and this one big red rhinestone button at the top where the collar part is. I mean, it’s amazing and I’ve never seen her wear it before.

  “Thanks,” she says. And when her customer leaves she goes, “What happened to you at lunch?”

  “Oh, I, I ate somewhere else,” I say, avoiding her eyes.

  “Why?”

  “Well, I felt kind of bad, saying that about Zane.”

  “What? ‘Cause you said he was nice?”

  I shrug.

  “Listen, I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. We talked a little while ago and we’re gonna try to work it out. It’s just really hard with him living in L.A. and stuff.” She bites down on her lip and hesitates like she’s about to say more but then she just goes, “So I heard you met Monique.” She eyes me closely.

  “Yeah, and she’s really nice!” I say, with a big fake smile to match my big fake statement.

  “You think?” She looks skeptical.

  “Totally,” I say, nodding vigorously. Again, bobblehead.

  “That’s weird.”

  “Why?” I ask, picking up a rhinestone ring and slipping it on my finger.

  “Well, it kind of seems like you like Jas.” She’s looking right at me.

  “I don’t like Jas! Why would you think I like Jas?” I ask frantically. Oh, god, my father would not approve of my defense-litigation technique.

  “Sorry.” She shrugs. “My wrong.” She starts scooping up a pile of receipts, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

  And of course I just can’t let it go. “Why?” I ask. “Does Jas think I like him? I mean, did he say something to you? What did he say?” I’m clearly out of control, but I just can’t stop.

  Then the second she starts to answer, Kristi yells, “Brazil! I can’t believe you walked out on us while we were totally serenading you!”

  I turn to see my three new friends standing in the doorway.

  “Um, I should go,” I say, slipping off the ring and dropping it back in the little ceramic bowl by the register.

  “Yeah, I guess you should,” Mason says, raising an eyebrow at them.

  I catch up with Kristi, Kayla, and Jen Jen in this outside courtyard, which is also called the “Living Room,” and they’re all standing there, hands on hips, totally glaring at me. Jeez, are they really this upset ‘cause I bailed on their little karaoke session?

  “Hey,” I say, nervously facing them.

  “Hey,” says Kristi, while Kayla and Jen Jen look at the ground.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Well,” Kristi says, “I know you’re new and all, and I’m not sure how to say this, but you probably don’t want to be all friendly with Mason.” She gives me a hard look.

  “Why? She seems really nice.” I mean, what could she possibly mean by that?

  “Well, you’ve only known her for like a week, and we’ve known her for, like, ever. And let me tell you that she’s totally weird and disturbed.”

  “Weird, how?” I ask, shifting my bag to my other shoulder, and looking at Kayla and Jen Jen who are very busy studying their cuticles.

  “Just spooky, fucking freaky weird, okay?” Kristi says, rolling her eyes. “She wears weirdo used clothes, and sometimes I catch her—” she stops and looks around. “Watching us,” she whispers. “And it totally creeps me out.”

  “Watching you guys?” I ask, ‘cause to be honest I find that hard to believe.

  “Yes?” she says, rolling her eyes. “She’s like a—what do you call those people that watch you all the time? Stalker?”

  “Voyeur,” I say.

  “Well, she’s a stalker-voyeur,” Kristi says, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

  “She’s like a total lesbo, too,” Kayla says, making a face and shivering.

  “You guys are wrong. I know for a fact that she has a boyfriend. She’s not gay. But who cares if she was?” I add.

  “That’s disgusting.” Jen Jen gives me a harsh look, as Kristi and Kayla shake their heads.

  They’re all lined up like a Juicy Couture firing squad, giving me this awful death stare. And deep down inside I know I should just walk away, and totally blow them off, because what they’re saying is clearly wrong.

  But instead, I just stand there. Because being friends with them is a really big deal. It guarantees a date for every dance, plans for every weekend, and the envy of everyone who doesn’t belong. I mean, if someone as perfect as Kristi wants to hang with me, then it must mean I have the potential to be perfect, too.

  “Listen,” Kristi says, smiling. “I’m just telling you this for your own good. It’s hard to know who to hang with when you’re brand-new. We’re just trying to help you make the right choices before it’s too late.” Then she puts her arm around my shoulder and says, “Now let’s bail out of this psycho place and try on some makeup at the real mall.”

  Sixteen

  So after getting full-on makeovers at Sephora, Kristi pulls into my driveway and goes, “Are your parents home?”

  I shake my head. “My dad’s in New York, and my mom’s probably with your mom at that yogalates studio.”

  “Good, ‘cause I’m dying to check out your house.” She opens her car door and gets out.

  “Okay.” I shrug. “But it’s not like there’s much to see. It’s mostly not decorated still.”

  “That’s okay,” she says, rushing in front of me.

  When I unlock the door she pushes ahead and walks deep into the empty living room. “Wow, how many square feet is this?” she asks, looking up at the ceiling.

  Square feet? Is she kidding? But all I say is, “I don’t know.”

  “How many bedrooms?” asks Kayla.

  “Um, five?”

  “How many baths?” asks Jen Jen.

  “Um, six and a half?” I say, not entirely sure what half a bath is, but I overheard my mom mention it to someone else.

  “This is really nice.” Kristi nods approvingly as she walks into the kitchen. “Sub-Zero fridge,” she says, running her hand over the front.

  Okay, this is bizarre. Do kids in Newport really care this much about real estate?

  “Let’s see your room,” Jen Jen says.

  “It’s upstairs,” I say, motioning for them to follow.

  “Wait.” Kristi looks at me. “Is there anything to drink?”

  “Well, there’s some bottled water, and iced tea in the fridge.” I shrug.

  “No, dummy. I mean, you know, to drink?”

  “Like what?” I ask, watching her roll her eyes and open the fridge she was crushing on a moment ago.

  “Like this,” she says, holding up a bottle of champagne and smiling.


  “Oh, I don’t know. We probably shouldn’t drink that,” I say, thinking how my mom’s gonna kill me when she finds out.

  “Please. They’ll never even notice.” She pops the cork and takes a swig from the bottle.

  “Um, I can get us some glasses,” I offer. God, I’m so lame.

  “Nah, too much cleanup. Come on, let’s go check out your room,” she says, leading the way upstairs.

  So we’re in my room and Kristi and I are lounging on my bed, Jen Jen is propped on some floor pillows near the window, and Kayla is spinning around in my desk chair and we’re all taking turns chugging from the bottle of champagne.

  I’m feeling kind of tipsy ’cause it’s been a while since my last meal, and I’m not really used to drinking, but I’m trying to act all normal (well, cooler than my usual normal), since I’m really nervous about doing something stupid. Because even though they’re being really nice to me now, it still kinda feels like this is an audition and I’m just one dorky moment away from hearing. “Cut! Next!”

  So I’m not really saying much because I’m just trying to concentrate on making sure I laugh at all the right moments, when Kristi reaches over to my mghtstand, and grabs the silver-framed picture of me, Paige, and Hud that was taken on my last day at my old school. We’re all in our school uniforms and Paige and Hud are on either side of me and they’re smiling, and I’ve got my arms around both of them and my eyes are kind of squinted closed because I was cracking up. I mean, even though it was my last day with them, I was still just happy to be there.

  But Kristi takes one look at it, shakes her head, and goes, “Oh, my god! Geek alert! Don’t tell me that was your boyfriend!” She holds the picture up so Kayla and Jen Jen can see it and everyone starts cracking up.

  I just sit there, nervously rubbing my arm, while everyone laughs at my two best friends. “You guys don’t know them,” I say, sounding more lame than forceful. “They’re actually really nice, cool people.”

  “Nice? Maybe. Cool? Doubtful, Brazil, very doubtful,” Kristi says, placing the picture back on my nightstand, facedown. Then she looks at me and goes, “So if that’s your idea of hot, I can’t even imagine who you like at school.”