Adorkable

by Cookie O'Gorman

  As the team headed for the lockers, I followed, trying not to feel awkward.

  Becks and I had never been weird around each other before. Not even after I’d told him about my secret life-long crush on Lucius Malfoy from the Harry Potter series. That hair, the voice, that whole uptight baddie/aristocrat thing... It was embarrassing, but the guy was just yum. This couldn’t be any bigger than that, could it?

  Yeah, right, I thought, hanging back. This was so much bigger than my Lucius confession. This wasn’t some fantasy; it was real life. The butterflies running amok in my insides could attest to that fact.

  “You catch that last one, Spitz, or were you too busy staring at Mr. Wonderful?”

  Grateful for the distraction, I pulled out my inner Southern Belle. “Well, goodness gracious sakes alive. Is the Ash Stryker, aka The Whip, speaking to little ol’ me?”

  “Funny,” Ash said. “So did you see it or what?”

  “Yeah, I saw. I always knew you had a hard head, Ash. Thanks for the proof.”

  He scoffed.

  We were getting closer and closer to Becks, so I decided to quit teasing. “Can I get a comment? That was a pretty sweet play.”

  He came to a sudden stop. “Pretty sweet?”

  “Alright,” I said, turning back around, “it was awesome, tremendous, truly masterful. That better?”

  “Much.” Ash’s lips curved up in an almost smile. “Here’s a comment for you, Spitz. Becks needs to keep his head in the game. That’s the only way we’re going to win state again this year. Everyone’s gunning for us.”

  “My head’s always in the game, Stryker.”

  I jumped at the sound of Becks’s voice then felt like an idiot.

  “Didn’t look that way at half-time,” Ash said.

  “Whatever, man.” Becks came up beside me. “Why don’t you hit the showers? Sal and I need to talk.”

  Ash shrugged then walked off.

  “I really don’t like that guy,” Becks said, staring after him.

  “He’s okay,” I said. Becks looked at me like I’d gone mental, which brought back the fluttering. Great, now I couldn’t even look him in the eye. I cleared my throat. “What’s this about Saturday? I can’t come at ten. You know I’ve got to work until noon.”

  “Oh,” Becks said, leaning back, “Make it one then. I thought we could work on a few things. I mean, if we want people to take the boyfriend thing seriously, we need to make it as authentic as possible, right?”

  “What things?”

  He smiled at my nervousness. “You’ll see.”

  His cryptic reply annoyed me enough to kill a few of the chest insects dead, but the smile brought them back to life full force. By the time I got them under control and met Hooker at the car, she was looking pretty ticked.

  “It took you that long to get a couple of lame quotes?” was the first thing she said as we got in the car.

  “I was talking to Becks,” I retorted.

  “Becks,” she repeated as if she’d never heard the name. “Becks, your boyfriend?”

  I gritted my teeth. Her absolute refusal to believe my perfectly good lie was starting to get to me. “That’s the one.”

  “You know what Spitz, there’s this guy named Alex. He’s a tattoo artist. I think you guys’d really hit it off.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good.”

  “Or if you’re into athletes, there’s John Poole. He goes to school with Will, pitcher for the Tarheels. Great guy, real smart. I could introduce—”

  “Hooker,” I interrupted, “I appreciate the offer, but I have a boyfriend. Becks is pretty laid back, but I’m not sure he’d be too happy about me dating other guys.”

  Hooker sniffed and reached between us to turn on the radio.

  Whatever Becks had planned had better be good, I thought. It was clear Hooker wasn’t going to hang up her matchmaking gloves without a fight. When we pulled up in front of her house, she shifted to face me instead of getting out immediately.

  I killed the engine. Going by her thoughtful expression, we were going to be here for a bit.

  “But it’s just so weird,” she said finally.

  “What is?” I asked.

  “You and Becks.”

  “And why is that weird? We hang out all the time. We’ve been friends forever. There’s no one I trust more, except maybe you and Mom.”

  “That’s my point.” She grimaced. “It’s almost incestuous, like he’s your brother or something.”

  I snorted. “Becks is so not my brother.”

  “Yeah, but he acts like he is.” Hooker’s tone turned philosophical. “This is what comes from watching too many episodes of Star Trek. It’s just not healthy. Next thing you know you’ll be wearing doughnuts over your ears and calling yourself Princess Spitz.”

  “Firstly,” I said, “that’s Star Wars, not Star Trek.” Hooker wasn’t a big fan of The Force. “And secondly, Leia and Luke were never romantically involved. It’s a common misconception. Skywalker wasn’t her guy. For Leia, it was always Han Solo, nobody else.”

  She shook her head, lip curled in faint disgust. “You watch way too many movies, you know that?”

  “And you don’t watch enough to make that kind of comparison,” I countered.

  “Alright,” she said, “I’ll concede that. But…Becks? Really?”

  I nodded.

  “Not in an ‘I like him’ kind of way…in the ‘I love him’ way?” She was studying my face a little too closely, and I began to sweat. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it Spitz? You’re in love with the guy? Becks is your Han Solo?”

  My throat closed up tight, holding back the words, but I knew this might be the only thing that would make Hooker believe.

  “Yeah,” I said, voice hoarse, looking her dead in the eye. “He is.”

  A moment went by in which Hooker continued to stare, presumably weighing my words, and I continued to sweat. Then, out of nowhere, she laughed.

  “God, Spitz,” she said. “You are such a liar.” Getting out of the car, she waved goodbye. “I’ll call you later.”

  I waved back, nearly overwhelmed by the relief. Of course, I wanted Hooker to believe my little lies. Stopping the epidemic of blind dates was the point of this plan and fooling her was integral to its success. But when I’d concocted the F.B.F. idea, I hadn’t been thinking clearly. Everything had happened so fast, that I hadn’t had a moment to consider the catch, the huge snag I’d missed when I’d so carelessly asked Becks to be my F.B.F. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that I’d be revealing any of my secrets.

  Hooker had called me a liar, and I’d told enough lies in the past few hours that it was basically true. Funny thing was I hadn’t been lying at the time. It was my deepest, most well-kept, I-would-just-die-if-this-ever-got-out secret. One I hadn’t revealed to a single soul.

  Becks was totally my Han Solo.

  Even if he didn’t know it.

  I’d been in love with him since we were kids, and I was only now realizing all the ways that the plan could backfire. I could only hope Mom would be an easier sell.

  CHAPTER 6

  She cleared her throat then fired off her first bomb.

  Casually—too casually—she said, “How?”

  “What do you mean?” I mumbled, though I thought I knew.

  “Did he ask you or did you ask him? Where did it happen? Does Lillian know? What does she think?”

  So much for an easy sell.

  Pouring the milk slowly, careful not to spill a drop, I walked over, replaced the carton, and lowered myself into the seat across from The Interrogator. She was wearing one of the bridal tiaras she’d brought home, a white veil attached to the back. Her fingers were beating a lazy rhythm on the wooden table top, but the beady eyes remained.

  “I asked him, Mom,” I said, reaching across to grab an apple, saying the words like they were the easiest thing in the world. “In the storeroom, after first period.”

  “Did you?” Mom raised an
eyebrow, drumming a constant five-count, pinky to thumb, pinky to thumb.

  The sound was unnerving.

  “Yes.” I downed a big gulp of milk, quickly wiping away the excess on my top lip. “And yes, Hooker knows...but she doesn’t believe me.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, thinking back. “She says it’s weird, that Becks and I know each other too well and there’s no mystery.” I laughed. “She actually said we’re like siblings. What I really think is she can’t believe Becks would go out with someone like me. I mean, he’s my best friend, but he’s still Becks.”

  The finger tapping stopped abruptly. “That’s ridiculous.”

  I shrugged. In this at least, I was on sure footing. “That’s what I said. Seriously, Mom, me and Becks related? He’s too freaking pretty for that.” Though as I said it, I noticed how beautiful my mom looked now, even as she frowned. I guessed good looks sometimes skip a generation.

  “That’s not what I meant at all.” Her eyes were slits, never a good sign. Before I could figure it out, she went on. “And when was this?”

  “Yesterday.”

  The seconds ticked by, each marked by her once again drumming fingers and the erratic beat of my heart. I’d just told her about me and Becks, and this was her response: a question-and-answer session sure to trip me up if I wasn’t on my guard. Luckily, after Hooker, I’d been expecting it.

  After a time, she sighed. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” I looked up, shocked to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I would’ve been fine with you dating Becks so long as he treats you well—which I have no doubt he does. ‘Yesterday’? You actually thought I’d buy that?”

  I was floored. Was she actually saying…

  “You don’t have to lie,” she continued. “This has obviously been going on for some time. But you didn’t have to keep it a secret, Sally. I would’ve understood.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Her quick acceptance was so unlike Hooker’s flat-out refusal I had a hard time forming a reply.

  “Sorry,” I said after a beat. “I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

  “Oh God,” she said suddenly, raising a hand to her lips, “I feel so stupid now about helping Lillian with all those blind dates.”

  This was going much better than I’d expected. “Ah, don’t feel too bad, Mom.”

  She sniffled. “I just can’t believe you never told me. I mean, I’ve always thought of myself as a cool mom. You know, a friend as well as a parent, hip to the ways of the young crowd.”

  I leaned over to place a hand on her shoulder. “You are, by far, the hippest mom I’ve ever met,” I said, looking her in the eye.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Mom, it’s true.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, but I love you for it.” She took my hand in hers, a smile playing on her lips. “So, why didn’t you just wait for Becks to ask you? Was he really dragging his feet that much?”

  I shook my head at the idea. Becks ask me out? That was a laugh. “Becks would’ve never asked me first.”

  She looked confused. “Why not?”

  Because, I answered mentally, even if Becks was the one who’d needed a fake girlfriend, he wouldn’t have had to ask me. Girls would line up for a chance at him, fake or no. There were just too many other options, and besides, I was completely off his radar.

  What I said was “Because he just wouldn’t.” Shrugging, I stood up, stretched and went to get my wand and cloak off the counter. “The kids will be arriving in about twenty minutes. I should get going.”

  “Why not, Sally?” Mom stepped in front of me, arms crossed, tiara sparkling, and I realized I had made a mistake.

  Trying to laugh it off, with a flourish, I swirled the cloak around my shoulders and said, “Well because for all his strengths, Becks has never appreciated my flair for the dramatic.” The pinky to thumb thing started again, soundless this time because it was on her arm. Dropping the act, I decided to get real. “Come on, Mom. You’re not seriously asking me this. With every other girl vying for his attention, why the heck would he notice a bookworm like me?”

  And then I stopped, suddenly realizing I was wrong. Becks had noticed me. Out of everyone else, he’d picked me, Sally Spitz, as his best friend. For once, I was happy to be wrong.

  “Sally, you’re gorgeous,” Mom said, arms falling to her sides.

  “Yeah, o-kay,” I said, moving around her. A bit of sarcasm leaked through despite my best efforts. When I got to the door, she stopped me again, planting herself in front so I couldn’t leave. “Mom, I really need to go. They can’t start without me.”

  “Okay, okay.” Lowering her chin, she narrowed her eyes. “But I’m serious, Sally Sue Spitz. You are my child, my baby, and nobody calls my baby ugly. Nobody. Not even you.”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Now Mom, gorgeous is a bit of stretch don’t you think?”

  “Gorgeous,” she repeated firmly, slipping the top button of my cloak into place. “Now, go on before you’re late. Those kids are probably tearing the place apart. When will you be home?”

  “Not sure,” I said and then added the cherry on top. “I’m going over to Becks’s house after.”

  A light lit in her eyes. “Oh, okay. Good. Have fun.”

  Turning, I smiled to myself, knowing she was totally sold. One down, I thought, one to go. Look out, Hooker, I’m coming for you next.

  “Oh, and Sally?”

  As I got to my car, I looked back.

  “Not too much fun, alright? Becks is a good boy, but…he is a boy. Tell him I said to keep it in his pants, okay? No babies for my baby, get me?”

  I couldn’t get away fast enough.

  “Love you,” she called as I drove off. “Say hi to Becks for me.”

  Through the embarrassment, I felt a sweet buzz of triumph steal up my spine. The F.B.F. train was rolling now. There were really only two train seats that needed filling, and Hooker’s butt was about to be planted into one of those seats—whether she liked it or not.

  It might’ve sounded strange, but my job always put me in a good mood. I know, I know, teenagers are supposed to be all “I hate my job. The pay sucks, the hours suck, the customers suck, my boss is out to get me.” But none of those things applied to me. I must’ve gotten lucky because my job at the library was completely kick-ass.

  Reading to the kids, seeing their faces rapt with attention, eager to hear what happens next, hearing them laugh out loud or gasp in surprise, it actually made minimum wage sound good. Seriously, I should’ve been paying them. The kids were so much fun—cooler than a lot of my so-called peers—and even if it was just on weekends, I loved sharing my favorite childhood books with them. Plus, sometimes they made me presents.

  Like today, I’d received my very own pirate hat, completely blinged out with fake rhinestones and pink skull and crossbones. The thing barely fit on my head, but that was probably because of the braids. The gift and the Pippi Longstocking-esque hairdo were compliments of Gwendolyn Glick, one of my favorites. She wore red glasses two sizes too big for her face, spoke with a slight lisp and always had on the same t-shirt at story time, a faded black number featuring the Starship Enterprise and the saying “I Trek. Do you?”

  What can I say? The kid and I were kindred spirits.

  Even if I felt like an idiot, I jammed the hat on my head and wore it throughout the day along with my long black cloak. Those kids loved that cloak; the ones who knew the series said it reminded them of the professors at Hogwarts. I must’ve looked pretty silly—a cross between Severus Snape and Jack Sparrow—but Gwen’s happy expression made it all worth it.

  It was only after I’d knocked on Becks’s door that I wished I’d remembered to take it off.

  Clayton answered and nearly had a conniption. He was hooting and carrying on and looked like he was this close to passing out from lack of oxygen.

  “Oooh,” he said, gasping, face redder t
han his shirt.

  He had the top three buttons undone, and the sight made me blush. Apparently Becks wasn’t the only fit one in the family.

  “Oh Sally—” He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “—girl, you keep coming ‘round dressed like that one of these days I’m going die laughing.”

  “Why wait?” I asked sweetly.

  Becks came into view at that moment, his mouth spreading into a wide grin as he looked me over.

  I shot him a warning glare, but that didn’t stop him from saying, “Hey, Sal. That a new hat?” which, of course, set Clayton off again.

  “Funny,” I told him, tossing him his present. “Here, Gwen made you one, too.”

  “Well, that was sweet of her,” he said, propping the thing on his head. “But why?”

  I frowned, noticing how the pirate headgear didn’t look half as ridiculous on Becks as I was sure it did on me. Dang it, he actually looked kind of cute. I couldn’t help thinking that in that hat, with his perfect five o-clock shadow, Becks’d give Johnny Depp a run for his money.

  “I think she’s got a crush on you.”

  “Smart girl,” he said, lifting the hat off easily. “Why don’t we go to my room?”

  “O-okay.” The word came out unsteady. Considering I’d been to Becks’s bedroom a ton of times, spent almost as much time there as I did in my own over the years, I shouldn’t have been nervous. But as Clayton sauntered off making kissy noises and Becks placed his hand on my lower back, I was jumpier than a jackrabbit on speed. My heart was a wild thing in my chest. It was beating so fiercely and so fast that by the time we reached the top of the stairs I felt like I’d run a marathon.

  As I entered Becks’s room and heard the door click shut behind us, I took a deep breath before turning to face him.

  “So,” I said, backing up, removing the hat and cloak, voice higher than usual. Realizing I had nothing left to say, like an idiot, I repeated myself. “So...”