“Kind of,” I reply.
“Oooh…what are the birds doing?” she says, stepping closer to the bird cage and peering in. Baby and Chris Jr. are flying around the cage in circles, nipping at each other.
“Looks like they’re fighting,” I say. I glance at my bedroom window and see two brown birds sitting on a tree branch. I bet Chris Jr. was checking them out. He’s just like his two-timing daddy. I glare at him. I hope Baby plucks out all your feathers.
“Are you seeing Chris tonight?” Mom asks.
“Uh huh.”
“He called while you were at the mall getting your haircut. It looks adorable by the way.” She sets a stack of folded jeans down on my bed.
“Thanks.” I touch my hair. “What did he want?”
“I’m not sure,” she says, shifting the laundry basket she has on her right hip to the left. “I just told him I’d tell you.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She starts to close the door and then peeks in once more. “Are you going to be here for dinner?”
“Sure,” I say.
“Good. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” She closes the door.
As soon as I’m positive she’s down the hall, I maximize Carter’s Facebook page. There really isn’t a vast amount of information here. He does list his age, school, and bands that he likes. Mostly old bands from the nineties trying to make their comebacks like Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins, and Dave Matthews Band. I kinda like Dave Matthews Band, though, so that’s one thing we have in common. There are no pictures of him on his page, just a psychedelic-looking graphic. And he doesn’t have any status posts about what he’s up to. Hmm. Maybe I’ll just scan through his Friends list? We may know some of the same people. I scroll down to the Friends section. I recognize a handful of the names—mostly people from school but no one I know on even an acquaintance level. This really isn’t helping me too much.
What else can I search on? I hit the back button until I’m back at Google. I think for a few minutes and then enter a new search term.
“[email protected]”
Yes! Victory! Six pages of hits. I eagerly begin opening links in new windows. Wow…Carter really gets around online. There are a bunch of posts from him on various video game message boards. He seems really interested in Fantasy Football. He’s also into online role-playing. Too bad I totally suck at video games or that could build some common ground for us. Maybe I can learn quickly? I keep scanning the search results and oooh…what’s this? I click on a link for “WWFPOET” at blogworld.com and start reading. Ohmigod, Carter has a blog! Yes! WWFPOET is his handle. It doesn’t say his name anywhere on it but I’m positive it is him. This will totally help me. Now I can really get a feel for who he is.
His bio says, “I’m a senior Varsity Wrestler at a small high school in Illinois and I love poetry. Mostly British stuff. So that is what I blog about.”
Wrestling and poetry. Huh. What a combination. And he isn’t kidding. I scroll down to one of his posts from last month and it says:
WWF Saturday Showdown:
Match 1: Buff McBuff vs. Muscle Mayhem
Buff started the match immediately grabbing MM by his injured wrist and throwing him into the ropes. MM came back with his dropkick special and momentarily paused Buff. But not for long. Buff climbed the ropes, turned, and gave MM a Big Buff Bomb, knocking him out. Winner: Buff McBuff.
There are a bunch more of these wrestling descriptions and then whoosh, right into…a love poem? Weirdness. It’s called Counting the Beats by Robert Graves (1895- 1985).
“You, love, and I,
(He whispers) you and I,
And if no more than only you and I
What care you or I?”
It goes on for another five stanzas. Hmmm. Carter certainly is interesting. I wonder if he sends any of these to Cassie? Not that she strikes me as the type to enjoy love poems. I wouldn’t mind getting some from Carter. I expand the comments to this post and see what his blogworld friends have to say.
One person, “Poetricia” wrote, “Thanks for sharing, WWFPOET…another good one. One of my favorites actually.”
Carter, aka WWFPOET, replied, “It’s a favorite of mine too. Actually, Graves is my favorite poet.”
I continue reading through Carter’s posts. VERY interesting. I think I can use this.
Chapter 13: Follow Those Boobs
Last night’s date was, well, boring. Chris was quiet most of the night and I wasn’t about to ask why. I didn’t really care, to tell the truth. If he was mad at me about something, then so what? I’m still plenty mad at him. If he was moody because he had a bad date with Cassie or she cancelled or whatever then I don’t really care about that either. And I really don’t care to find out if it was a good date. I asked him how his family dinner went on our way to Rosehill Lanes to meet our friends and he said it was “fine.” He didn’t offer more so we left it at that.
We bowled two games and then stopped at Sammy’s for frozen custard. There were seven of us altogether, Chris and I, Lizzie and Jacob, Melanie and Chad (oboe and tenor saxophone) and Angela (harpist). Angela isn’t in the marching band, but we’re friends from concert symphony in the winter. Since it was an odd number, I decided that I would spend a good amount of time making sure Angela was comfortable. Melanie and Angela are best friends but Melanie and Chad were in some really strange fight all night so she wasn’t paying any attention to Angela. I’m not sure what the gist of it was, but they kept whispering angrily at each other and then putting on fake smiles for us. And Lizzie and Jacob were making out the entire night, I swear. It’s crazy how fast they’ve hooked up.
Like I said, Chris was just a big ball of moody all night so he kept mostly to himself. He was really involved with keeping track of the bowling scores on a scratch piece of paper. He swore that the computer was miscalculating everyone’s score. Funny how he can be so attentive to something like that but he can’t even tell that I’m feeling different toward him.
I don’t have a whole lot to do today. I told Mom I’d clean my room and vacuum the house. I have a little bit of homework: two pages of math and I have to write a paragraph for French. The biggest item on today’s list is to continue working on my Get a Date with Carter Jones Plan. Specifically, STEP 2, ITEM 2, Develop a Plan to get Carter to date me. I completed ITEM 1 yesterday. I already talked to Rayne about Carter and got everything she knows about him; I’ve researched him as much as I can online; and I poured over all my yearbooks last night, studying each and every page he appeared on. And I have to say, Carter is pretty adorable. He seems to have had a huge growth spurt the summer between sophomore and junior year. He looked almost dorky in his sophomore year. Though I’m sure he probably wasn’t. But he was about a foot shorter with braces and a really crazy haircut. There was a really cute shot of him dressed up as a cheerleader at the girls’ powder-puff football game that year. Like I said, adorable. And there were tons of shots of him pinning opponents in wrestling, which doesn’t involve actual pins at all. From what I can tell, one guy somehow shoves the other guy down onto the mat and then kinda sits on him so he can’t get up. Carter is really good at that. The wrestling outfits the guys have to wear are a bit ridiculous and female-bathing suit like but, wow, his muscles look pretty yummy.
So now onto my list. I have to come up with a bunch of ideas to get Carter’s attention and more importantly, go on a date with me.
STEP 2: RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT
1)Develop a plan to get Carter to date me.
a)Carter works out in the school’s weight room before first hour. Start working out at the same time. Wear cute outfits.
b)Talk to Carter in English class. Change seats so I’m in the row next to him and strike up conversations about poetry.
c)Sometime next week, wear my old Dave Matthews Band t-shirt from concert I went to in eighth grade. T-shirt is a little tight. Wear with Turbolifter 3000.
d)Mention loudly in English class or in weightlifting r
oom that my dad is getting pay-per-view WWF all day Saturday on our big screen flat-panel.
e)Buy a video game magazine and pretend to read it in class. Make sure he can see cover.
I think that is a good start for now. I can keep adding to the list if all of these options bomb. It’s time for action:
STEP 3: GET DATE WITH CARTER JONES.
* * *
Shoot. I blew my first plan of action for today. The original plan was to get up early and have my mom drop me off at school so I could work out with Carter in the weight room. But I woke up too late and my mom had already left for work. So Chris is giving me a ride. And it isn’t like I could ask him to come early and drop me off at school to work out. He’d know something was up. But all is not lost. I found my old concert shirt and I have it on today with my new bra and a really cute pair of fitted jeans.
Chris turns off the engine and I reach into the backseat to gather my stuff.
“Hey,” he says, “we have a minute. Hold on.”
Oh. I know what that means. “Um…” I glance at the time on his dashboard clock. “We only have like five minutes before the first hour bell rings.”
“That’s more than enough time,” he says, moving closer to me and putting his arm around my neck.
Obviously Chris is feeling like his normal self again. Too bad I’m not. But there isn’t much I can do at the moment. So I let him kiss me a few times. Although I pretend I’m kissing Carter. Just for practice. I’m warming up to the idea of kissing Carter more and more as I learn about him. He seems really cool. Much too cool for Cassie. And he’s so freakin’ hot.
“Hmm…I guess we better go now,” Chris says a few minutes later, pulling away and gathering up his school stuff.
I blink at him a couple of times and then look down at my stuff. “Yeah, let’s go.”
We walk into school and toward the band room. Chris chats away the whole time about the new rock band he and a couple of his friends are forming. Chris on drums, Freddie Duffy on Bass, and Sean Hanson on lead guitar/vocals. The tentative band name? Thank you for Not Smoking. Weirdness. Each time Chris and I get into one of these totally normal everyday conversations, I can’t help thinking, what’s his deal? Is he just incredibly dense? Does he still think I don’t know about him and Cassie? Or does he know that I know and he just doesn’t care? That would be way cocky of him if that was the case. Maybe this is all my fault because I joined the club? I dangled temptation in front of Chris. But he wasn’t supposed to take it! So really, he is the one in the wrong. He should have felt strongly enough about me not to be lured away by other girls. I shouldn’t feel bad about any of this. Right?
I leave Chris at the percussion section and head for my band locker to put my coat away since we aren’t going outside for practice today. Lizzie is standing at her locker a few feet away from mine.
“Hey, Lizzie,” I say, slipping my coat off my shoulders.
“Hey, Br—…HOLY BOOBAGE BATGIRL!” she yells, staring straight at my chest.
I look left and right to see if anyone heard her. “Shh!”
“Jesus, Brooke, your chest is enormous! And why are you wearing that old shirt? Isn’t that from the concert we went to, God, when was it? Years ago.”
“Yeah. It’s kinda old. So what?” I say with a shrug.
“So what?” she repeats. “Did you get a drive-thru boob job yesterday or something? You weren’t this big when we went bowling Saturday.” She leans in to get a closer look at my chest.
“Stop looking at my boobs, you!” I shoo her away with my hand.
“It’s kinda hard,” she says, “they keep poking me in the eyes.”
“Oh puh-lease!” I walk toward the locker room door. “Are you coming?” I say over my shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, catching up. “Your giant boobs can lead the way.”
We walk into the band room and head toward our seats. I glance in Mr. Shank’s office window to see my reflection. Are my boobs really that noticeable? Or is Lizzie just being a spaz? I take my seat and assemble my flute on my lap. Rayne sits next to me with a giant grin.
“Hey, Brooke,” she says.
“Hey, Rayne,” I say, returning a less dramatic smile.
Rayne chuckles to herself and sits down. I scan the room, waiting for Mr. Shank to enter and begin practice. People are staring at me. At least the guys. Pretty much all of them. Some of the girls are giving me questioning looks. I look up at Chris, who had been banging out a practice beat on his drum set. He is staring at me too—jaw dropped. He’s looking directly at my chest. He finally looks up and meets my eyes. He looks kind of…pissed? Which is pretty strange. Usually guys like boobs. But then I see him look around the room. Ah…he’s noticing all the other guys noticing me. Hmm…I don’t think he likes it. Ha! Well, too bad. I have to say, the Turbolifter 3000 rocks. I hope Carter likes it next period.
After band practice, I quickly put my flute away and race to get out of the room before Chris can stop me. I see him rushing to put away his drum set too, but he has more pieces and there is no way he can finish by the time I hit the door.
“Brooke! Wait!” he says as I fly past him.
“Can’t.” I say with a wave and an air kiss. “Have to get to English early today.”
His forehead is all wrinkled and I can tell he’s mad I didn’t stop. Oh well.
I stop off at my locker before class to grab my English book and notebook. As I walk through the hallway toward the classroom I feel more people staring at me and smiling. The pink scarf definitely boosted my popularity with the girls but this bra is boosting it with the guys. I’m totally going to write the company a thank you letter later.
I take a seat in English, this time the seat diagonal from Carter, to the back left of him. I was going to take the one directly next to him but I thought that would be too obvious. And it isn’t like he won’t see me here when he walks down the aisle to his seat.
I place my books on my desk, sit up straight, and arch my back, waiting for Carter to come into class. I see Cassie walk him to the door and stand up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. She peers into the classroom and sees me and my big boobs sitting near Carter’s regular seat. She takes in my new haircut and sculpted eyebrows and I see her own little perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrow. I can’t resist. I put on my brightest smile and give a little wave. She looks at Carter’s retreating back and then stares at me and frowns.
Yes! How does it feel Cassie?
It’s like I’m suddenly a possessed woman. I see Cassie still lingering in the doorway and Carter coming down the aisle at me. “Hi, Carter,” I say as flirtatiously as humanly possible. Cassie’s eyes widen, she turns on her high heel, and stomps off down the hallway. Victory! Brooke- 1, Cassie- 0. Today, anyway.
“Hey…Brooke,” Carter says, directly staring at my boobs. But his stare is different from the other boys. He’s reading my concert T-shirt, which thankfully has the words “Dave Matthews Band” written straight across the chest. He tilts his head a bit, stopping before my desk.
I sit up even straighter.
“Hey,” he says again, “I went to that concert.”
“Really? Cool,” I say. “I LOVE Dave Matthews Band.”
“Me too,” he says, sliding into his seat. “That was actually my first concert.”
“Mine too,” I say. Which is totally true. It was the first time Lizzie and my parents let us go to a concert on our own. They drove us there and sat at a restaurant while we were at the concert, but we were on our own for the duration. It was so fun.
Mrs. Miller starts class and I feel all smiley on the inside. I can feel my plan to get a date with Carter working. We’ve already established common ground and he seems friendly toward me. This Boy Swap stuff is kind of fun, when I’m the one doing the swapping.
Chapter 14: Sisterly Advice
I’m crouched down, gathering my Chemistry books out of my locker, when I feel something fall on my back. “What the—?” I twist
around to see who is behind me.
“Here,” Chris says, “This looks good on you.”
Interesting. Chris has put his old stinky jean jacket on me. “No thanks, Chris. I’m not cold.” I try to shrug it off but he stops me.
“No really. I want you to wear it,” he says.
“Well, I really don’t want to wear it,” I return.
“Brooke…” he says, raising his eyebrows, just like my dad does right before I’m about to get slammed with a lecture.
“Chris…” I say, imitating his look.
He sighs and glances around the hallway. “Please wear it. It would mean a lot to me,” he says, softening his voice.
Yeah right, because ratty old jean jackets are the new promise rings. He’s just trying to cover up my chest. What a drama king. I mean seriously. Cassie walks around with boobs this big every day and he doesn’t have a problem with it. Whatever.
I nod. “Fine, fine. I’ll wear it. Since it means so much to you and all,” I add sarcastically. But my sarcasm whooshes right by him. I put my arms into the sleeves and return to getting my books together.
Chris gives me a victorious grin, kisses the top of my head, and walks down the hallway to his next class.
Soon as he’s out of sight, I tear of the jacket and whip it into my locker. “Whatever,” I mumble and head off for class.
I’m actually glad I wore my Dave Matthews Band shirt today. Apparently there are a lot of closet Dave Matthews Band fans. Who knew? Several people have stopped me and commented how they love the band and a few are even talking about getting a group together to go to a concert. I’m not even sure that they are still touring, but if they are, I can totally ask Carter to go and tell Chris I have a “family dinner” that night.
Boy Swap Page 7
