Romancing the Nerd

by Leah Rae Miller

  Introduce

  Admire

  Make conversation

  Gain trust

  Remain vigilant

  Outsmart target

  Obtain proof of hypothesis

  Terminate contact

  This plan is as solid as a hundred-year-old tree.

  If this works out—no, when this works out—it’ll be a blow to all those people in my school who think they’re in any way better than someone else. I want to prove that popularity changes people for the worst. I want those aspiring to popularity to realize that it’s not worth it. That it is, in fact, folly and can only lead to the decay of one’s morals and self-worth.

  Take Colin, the team’s equipment manager, for instance. Right now he’s busting his ass to keep the players hydrated and stocked with fresh, clean towels. But do they ever thank him? Do they ever deign to just give a nod of appreciation? Not that I’ve ever seen. Then why does he continue? Some might bright-side the answer and say he needs some extra-curriculars on his transcript. And to those some, I say, “Give me a break.” He does it in the hopes of making popular friends. He does it in search of acceptance, and poor Colin will never get that. But what if he was better at sports, or he fit in with their preconceived ideas about physical beauty? He’d be a shoe-in. It’s all about the surface layer with them, and I hate that.

  This mission could turn into something big, a kind of screw-you to all those people who think the sun rises and sets with them. All I have to do is follow my simple plan to the letter and victory shall be mine.

  Chapter Four

  Dan

  As expected, we crushed the aptly named Hornets. I say “aptly named” because crush is what I do to all winged, stinging things. They are pointless creatures, and all deserve to die. Except for bees—they’re very important, but they can still leave me the hell alone, please.

  My stupid new shoes didn’t do me any favors during the game, though. Every time the rubber gripped the court too hard, I felt my cheeks heat up, and Donovan didn’t help. I’ve never seen him so into a game before. As captain, it’s partly his responsibility to keep our heads in the game, but tonight he was just…mean.

  When I get home, I put my world back into order by using my own shower instead of the one at that weird-smelling school, then I sit down to my computer. I do the usual internet stuff like checking my social networks and watching a couple of videos that will most likely become the next viral sensations. Dad stops by my room before heading to bed. I have to beg to be able to stay up a little longer. It’s humiliating. I think it’s because we won tonight that he acquiesces.

  At eleven on the dot, I message effyeahFinityGirl with a quick, simple, “Hi.” When she responds with her own “Hi,” the conversation begins easily.

  Me: So, tell me the truth, how did you feel about the death of Super Hedgehog?

  This should tell me everything I need to know about this girl. The upcoming cinematic release of The Super Ones movie has rehashed the argument about the book’s ending even though that happened almost two years ago. There are two schools of thought when it comes to the fact that Super Hedgehog was the only character to die in the final issue of The Super Ones. Some believe absolutely no one should have died. Some believe they cheapened the series by only killing off the animal. I’m firmly on the latter team.

  effyeahFinityGirl: I know what you’re trying to do here. You’re testing me, aren’t you?

  Ah, touché.

  Me: How do you mean “testing you”?

  effyeahFinityGirl: There’s a big debate about this going on. I have a feeling that if I were to say that I hated it and that I think no one should have died and that “OMG how could they kill the hedgehog?!” you’d write me off as the proverbial “fake geekgirl.” Amirite?

  I squint at my screen. Okay, so she knows her stuff. I decide to go the honest route.

  Me: You got me. But you have to admit it’s a valid question.

  The little blinking “effyeahFinityGirl is typing…” flashes for a long time. Then a wall-o-text appears.

  effyeahFinityGirl: I agree. Totally valid. My answer? I don’t think they should have killed the hedgehog. Not to preserve the quality of the series but because IT’S JUST NOT RIGHT! Super Hedgehog just shouldn’t have died. It made me cry, which was all it was meant to do. It had no bearing on the plot or on any character development. And, no, I didn’t want anyone to die, but I probably would have been happier with everyone BUT Hedgehog dying, to be honest. Does that make me a “fake geekgirl”? Well, we probably shouldn’t go into that because I believe there’s no such thing as a “fake geekgirl.” I do believe it makes me a compassionate person, though. Also, if you look at the series as a whole, it’s still awesome. Just because you don’t like the ending doesn’t mean you should discount the entire thing, I think.

  It takes me a while to form a response. On one hand, I want to rail against her. Of course the series was cheapened by this obvious ploy to make people tear up. The whole cliché was beneath the quality of writing we came to love about The Super Ones. On the other hand, she makes a valid argument. Just because I didn’t like the ending doesn’t mean I should dislike the entire series.

  I must be taking too long to respond because she says:

  effyeahFinityGirl: Are you regretting this chat already?

  I’m very quick to answer.

  Me: Of course not! This is the most interesting conversation I’ve had in forever.

  I really mean that, too. I like to pretend that my opinion matters to people, but it really doesn’t a lot of the time. Or at least, that’s how it feels. In my true circle of friends, which is pretty small, I’m considered the resident nut job, the loud-mouthed, opinionated geek. Maybe it was all those years of being an immature know-it-all.

  See, I have no illusions about how I’m thought of. I’m not upset about it, but it does make it hard to get people to take me seriously. So, to have this totally random girl validate my concerns and then not only call me out on my crap, but do it well, is exhilarating. I might just have to hang on to her.

  Zelda

  Dantheman: So, are you in high school?

  Yes, this is exactly what I was hoping would happen. After a little nerd talk, his interest has been piqued, and now he’s the first to ask about specifics. If I were to ask first, I might come across too strongly, and then he’d get suspicious.

  Me: I might be. Are you?

  I can’t be too forthcoming with information, though, can’t seem too eager. I have to ease him into my spider’s web and make it seem like everything is his idea.

  Dantheman: I am. A senior.

  Me: Me too. So ready to be done with it all.

  Dantheman: I know what you mean. I don’t think there’s anyone I’ll miss.

  He’s not going to miss anyone? What a liar! What about all his cool hangers-on? What about all those “hot chicks” who are constantly giggling about him in their desks behind me?

  Me: Really? You won’t miss anyone?

  Dantheman: Nope. Pretty much all my real friends have already graduated. And everyone else hates me or I hate them.

  Ah, I see what he’s doing now. He’s trying to play the poor lonely-loner card. “I’m such a quiet, deep person. No one understands me. Only someone as compassionate and intelligent as you could heal my broken soul. Wanna meet and make out?” What a slime ball.

  I want to tell him that I know exactly what he’s up to, but that would put an end to my plan. Looks like I’m going to have to play his game.

  Me: Aw, you poor thing. That’s so sad.

  Dantheman: *shrug* It’s not that big of a deal really. What about you? How’s school life other than being ready to get out of the hellhole they call the public education system?

  I giggle a little at that, then firmly cut it out. No giggling. He is not funny. He is stupid and hypocritical, Zelda. Never identify with the bad guy. Unless it’s Loki from Thor. Then identify the pants off of him.

  Me: Not m
uch to say, really. I have one good friend and that’s all I need.

  Dantheman: Just one? Why just one? You seem like a smart, funny, considerate person. Is there something about you that you’re not telling me?

  Me: Oh, you mean the thing about my conjoined twin? Must have left that out.

  Dantheman: LOL!

  Wow, an all caps lol? In my understanding of online conversation, that means he really did laugh out loud. A little pinprick of pride blossoms in my chest and I decide not to tamp it down. Why should I? A little ego boost never hurt anyone.

  Me: Seriously, though, there just isn’t anybody else at my school that I care to put any effort into, ya know?

  Dantheman: Yeah, I know that feeling. I mean, there is one person, but I kind of blew it with her.

  Ooooh, here we go. If I can get him gossiping, I can prove a piece of my hypothesis. A good person does not talk about people behind their backs. The old Dan would never have done that. Or what if he has a thing for someone’s girlfriend? What if it’s more scandalous than that? Like a teacher? Oh, the possibilities. Something like that would be an even better indicator of the toll popularity can take on a person’s morals. But of course I can’t come right out and ask who it is. I have to be sneaky. This is very sneaky business, after all.

  Me: Why do you think you blew it?

  Dantheman: I don’t think, I know. It’s a long story.

  Damn it. It’s too early in our online relationship to press him for more information. Time to earn his trust a bit more.

  Me: Oh well. Nothing to do about it now, right? Anyway, are you excited for The Super Ones movie?

  Dantheman: Am I excited? Does a bear spit in the woods?

  Me: Uh. Number 1: I don’t think that’s the saying. And number 2: I don’t even know if bears spit.

  Dantheman: Of course bears spit. Everything spits.

  Me: That’s debatable.

  Dantheman: Everything has saliva, right?

  Me: That doesn’t mean everything spits.

  The conversation then devolved into defining the act of spitting versus the act of drooling, which then turned into trading YouTube videos of animals spitting/drooling. And despite my earlier promise to myself to not laugh at his jokes, our chat session is some of the funniest few hours of my life so far. Of course, this is a fact I will never admit to anyone else but myself. It’s also an occurrence that I promise to never let happen again. How am I supposed to treat him as a guinea pig when that video he sent me of a llama spitting at a screaming grandma nearly makes me pee my pants?

  Chapter Five

  Dan

  The next night, I decide to tackle film. EffyeahFinityGirl displayed her comic book knowledge last night, but I’m passionate not only about comics. Plus, I could use a little time to geek out with someone, since most of my social interactions only entail schoolwork or dodging innocuous flirting or counting out loud to no one in particular the amount of three pointers I hit in a row.

  With a Mountain Dew in hand, along with a bowl of baby carrots so I don’t feel too much like a horrible lying son (my dad has me on this awful diet that in no way includes Mountain Dew, but the carrots make up for my transgression, I think), I message effyeahFinityGirl.

  Me: Can I ask you a very important question?

  After a few minutes, she responds, letting me know that she has about as much to do during the weekend as I do.

  effyeahFinityGirl: I love very important questions. Proceed.

  Me: How do you feel about the Evil Dead movies?

  Again, the “effyeahFinityGirl is typing…” blinks for a while, and I find myself thirsting for her opinion.

  effyeahFinityGirl: Evil Dead 2 was a masterpiece, obviously. Those movies are like no others. But then they had to go and wreck it. The remake held none of the campy humor that I loved about the originals. It makes me wonder whether or not Raimi really had anything to do with it. And if he did, were the originals supposed to be like the new one if he had it to do over again? Which calls into question the awesomeness we all loved about the originals.

  Dear Lord, could this girl speak my mind any better?

  Me: Well said, and I totally agree. Next question: who shot first? Han or Greedo?

  She doesn’t even hesitate.

  effyeahFinityGirl: Han, end of story. Next question.

  If I were keeping score of how many times this girl gave me super-awesome shivers, the “yes” column would be as long as the line for Hall H at San Diego Comic Con.

  Me: What was the last midnight showing you went to?

  effyeahFinityGirl: You’re going to think less of me, but I must be honest.

  Oh no, I knew the other shoe had to drop at some point. She couldn’t be perfect.

  effyeahFinityGirl: It was the Batman movie before the most recent one. I couldn’t make it to the last one. And I hate myself every day because of it.

  At this, I literally pet the screen. I was expecting something very much against my personal tastes, but in reality she’s just sad because she had to claim Nerd Level 9 and couldn’t meet Nerd Level 10. Is it too early to propose marriage or at least civil-online-union?

  Me: That’s not so bad. I mean, it’s horrible, you should be so ashamed of yourself, but not friendship-ending. And just to make you feel better, I’ll reveal something, but you have to promise not to be too hard on me.

  effyeahFinityGirl: Oooh, reveal away!

  Me: I read the Lord of the Rings trilogy only after I’d seen the movies.

  I’m waiting on pins and needles for her reply when Dad bangs on my door. I jump, almost knock over my Dew, and thank the heavens when I catch it before a drop is spilled. For some reason, I just know he’d be able to smell it through the door.

  “Yeah,” I say before he gets too testy and uses his key for my door. He might be similar to a drill sergeant, but Mom has impressed upon him a young man’s need for privacy.

  “Daniel, get in bed. Can’t have your hours getting screwed up.”

  “Yes sir.” I close my laptop because I know he’s waiting and watching for the lights in my room to go out before he leaves. Only when I hear his footsteps heading back downstairs do I pull out my phone, get in bed, and scoot completely under the covers.

  effyeahFinityGirl: …I just… I can’t… I don’t think I’ll ever see you the same again.

  Me: Come on. You must know how drawn out and dry some of JRR’s writing can be. It was taking me forever to get through those books.

  effyeahFinityGirl: Point taken, but it’s still unsettling.

  I grin at my phone, or have I been grinning this whole time? I’m not sure.

  Me: Next question, and this is kind of a big one. The debate has been ongoing between me and a couple of my friends for years. You ready?

  effyeahFinityGirl: Hit me with it.

  Me: Who would win in battle: Darth Vader or Lord Voldemort?

  Zelda

  It’s like I’m waking up with a hangover every morning after I talk to Dan. I’m confused, so I repeat the events of last night and try to find the moment that things went blurry. At the start of the chats, I have a purpose, a set goal. Then halfway through I forget that purpose and just go with the flow. Talking to him is intoxicating.

  If he could stop being so… so… I don’t even know if there’s a word in my vocabulary to describe how he’s acting in these chats. He’s actually interested in my opinions, in my life, and he never says one jerky comment like I’m used to him doing. And I hate him for it.

  He just needs to stop.

  How am I supposed to make any progress on my experiment when he distracts me by being nice to me? I know, he’s being nice to the other me, but it’s still, well, nice. I need to rally. I need to buckle down and focus on the goal.

  Remember, Zelda, you long for justice. You do not think Dan Garrett is adorable in any way.

  I slam my locker door and nod firmly to myself. When I turn, there’s the object of my ire talking to one of his teammates by the library
entrance. I suddenly feel like I’m in one of those costly movie shots where everything speeds up except for the main character who goes into slow-mo. I’m a badass anti-heroine on a mission. Channeling all my anger, I frown at him as I pass. He catches sight of me over the guy’s shoulder, and his face scrunches up in confusion. Nope, that sweetly idiotic expression won’t work on me, Dan, I say in my head, but then I make a huge mistake. I make complete eye contact with him and everything goes from slo-mo to not-moving-at-all. A tingle runs down my spine and stops in my stomach where it seems to bounce around, ping-ponging all over the place. My determination melts away and I grin. It’s a familiar grin, the kind that happens when a gif of a hot guy holding a puppy pops up on my Tumblr feed. But it feels unfamiliar in these circumstances. In real life. Caused by and directed at him.