“Cool. Later, dude.”
I hang up, and I’m so done with being conscious. I’m out the second I fall face first onto my bed.
A little while later, I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. “Wipoo, what are you doing in here?” I ask the giant bear sitting cross-legged at the end of my bed.
He opens the pizza box next to him and holds out a slice to me. “Want some ant pizza?”
“No, thanks.”
He shrugs, his fur rustling, and sniffs at the pizza that’s crawling with busy, shiny black ants. “Suit yourself,” he says, then swallows the entire piece whole, licking his claws afterward, one by one.
“Is Taxidermy Todd home yet?” I ask.
He perks his ears, listening, then shakes his head. “No, the evil bastard is still gone.”
I guess most people might be freaking out if this were their dream, but not me. I’ve been talking to animals in my dreams since I was a kid. I think most people would, too, if they grew up around so many inanimate deer heads and squirrels and bears. They started out as nightmares, naturally, but that didn’t last long. Thank God. By the time I was six, Mom said she was at the end of her rope. She told me that if I had woken up screaming one more time she was going to insist Dad find a new line of work. And if that would have happened we wouldn’t be living the life we do today. Then again, I’m not sure if that would’ve been so bad.
“You know what we say about calling him that, Wipoo,” I scold the bear.
He waves me off with his big paw. “I know, I know. It’s not his fault, it’s the guy with the gun who put me here.”
“Exactly. So, how’s it hangin’?”
Wipoo gives me a contented nod. “Pretty good. That was a great party last night.”
“Oh yeah? You liked that? Have a good time?” Yes, I know there wasn’t a six-foot-tall stuffed bear literally with me at the party, but he does travel everywhere with me in my head.
His laugh rattles the walls. Have you ever heard a bear laugh? It’s loud and deep and always genuine. “I saw some pretty girls.” He grins, showing off his mouth full of sharp teeth.
“Niiiice.” I slap his shoulder hard. “But don’t expect that to be a regular occurrence, my man.”
“Aw, but it was fun. Why no more?”
Bob the Bass crawls up onto the bed then, shoving the pizza box off. He crosses his fins to mimic Wipoo’s pose.
“Because,” I say, “parties are just not my thing. This was an exception, since it was partly Logan’s, but the only other ones I’m invited to are full of all those fake, superficial people.”
Bob slaps Wipoo’s leg and makes some wet bubbling sounds at him.
Wipoo nods in agreement then turns to me. “Bob’s right. That Donovan guy seemed all right.”
“Yeah, that was weird. It was like he didn’t even know that hurting people’s feelings actually, ya know, hurt. That kid’s home life must be pretty messed up.”
Wipoo points a claw at me. “Well, there you go.”
“There what goes?”
He and Bob share an exasperated look, then Bob starts gurgling furiously at me. When he’s done, I turn to Wipoo, waiting for translation. “It’s not your place to judge people. Instead, try to understand them, put yourself in their place. Every person has his or her own story, and it’s your job to listen to it.”
Zelda
After my chat with Dan is over, I only sleep for a few hours. When I wake up, he pops right back into my head. It’s a weird feeling not being mad at him. My brain is having trouble processing it. Maybe that’s why it churns up another reason. He still told Martin about how I feel about sex, and the way he said it was so mean. “There’s no satisfaction to be had there.” What the hell? That was my business, and he had no right to tell anyone else.
By the time Monday morning rolls around, I’m back in despise-Dan mode. I’m no longer fearing telling him the truth about FinityGirl, I’m looking forward to it.
I get to school and pass Dan on the way to my locker. He stops like he wants to talk to me but I just keep going, leaving him standing there with his mouth half open.
When I’m done with my locker, I head toward first period, but I hear him call my name. I don’t even acknowledge him. I keep walking, but if Dan is anything, he’s persistent. I quicken my steps and so does he. Soon, it turns into a chase. I’m trying to work out a way to my class in my head, but all solutions start with turning around. I turn left into the first open door I come to, which is the hall in front of the locker rooms. I whip behind the door and listen for footsteps for a minute before finally relaxing. I come out from behind the door and slide down the wall, catching my breath.
As much as I’m looking forward to the look on Dan’s face when I tell him the truth, I haven’t had time to figure out the perfect speech.
The hall darkens a bit and I look up to see Dan’s silhouette in the entrance. Damn it, looks like I won’t get that time I so desperately want. Now I have another thing to be pissed at him about. He made me run and I didn’t even get away.
He sits next to me, our thighs touching, and I refuse to feel the spark that travels down my leg. “Okay,” he says, “Um…why?”
“I don’t want to talk to you. Just leave me alone.”
“What did I do now? Is it because of Christmas Festival? I said I was sorry. Seriously, that was a random, crazy thing and I’m sorry, okay?”
I let out a huff. “No, it’s not about that. It’s…” I’m about to say the word “nothing” but it’s not nothing. This is important to me. And I’m tired of not being honest. Screw the big speech. “Fine, here it is. A while back, I overheard you say something.”
He raises an eyebrow, and one side of his mouth quirks up. “Oh really?”
“Yeah.” I tell him what I heard and I’m sure my tone and sneer convey that I’m not pleased about it.
His brows knit together. “Who was I talking to again?”
I shrug. “Martin. But that’s not important. What’s important is what an assh—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “Wait! I remember now. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Does it matter? Would you have even cared? I don’t think so.”
“Of course I care. Did you ever think that maybe I said that because I was protecting you? Because he didn’t and still doesn’t deserve you?”
I scoff. “A likely story.”
“Honest.” He puts a hand over his heart. “Bring me a copy of The Hobbit, I’ll swear on it.”
I stand and grab my stuff. I should say something, but I don’t know how to respond. He looks up at me, waiting, and something breaks in my head. I just don’t know how to deal with this revelation because despite hating him for a long time, I believe him.
I turn and bolt. I hear him call my name a few times, but I don’t turn around.
I thought my good feelings about him were just a blip. I thought things were back to normal. Then he had to go and say he was protecting me. What am I supposed to do with that? I’ve been so caught up in getting revenge. Revenge for what, though? I don’t even know the answer to that anymore. This all started out as a way to get back at him for the basketball thing, the LARP abandonment thing, and what he said about me, but I realize now that one was an accident, one wasn’t something to hold a grudge about, and the other was a misunderstanding.
For the next three days, I don’t have to try too hard to avoid Dan. He’s actually giving me space, which should make me happy, but I’m worried instead. Thursday night, as I’m getting ready for The Super Ones premiere, I still haven’t figured it out. I’m tired of my thoughts going in circles, so I look at Beth in the vanity mirror we’re sharing. “I think I’ve screwed up.”
“Eek, I think you’re right. This wig is not sitting right at all.” She yanks at the hair, trying to get it straight.
“No, not the wig, with Dan. I’ve screwed up with Dan.”
Cara, who’s been ironing Beth’s cape because Beth slep
t in it last night, comes up behind me. “Tell us about it, Zelda.”
So I do just that. I tell them about how I’d built him up to be this villain in my head and how he isn’t that at all. How I feel like if I was wrong about Dan, what else have I been wrong about? Ya know, all that life evaluation stuff.
I also tell them about my fears. “And what if he asks my online identity to meet or video chat? There’s no way that’s going to happen, so he’ll probably never talk to me again. At least, not like that anymore. He might talk to me me—that’s doubtful, though—but not to other-me. He’s different with other-me. He’s more honest. He listens. I’ll lose all that.”
Beth leans against the vanity, arms crossed. “Okay, question number one: why would you two meeting never happen?”
“Because I’d never agree to it, of course. I thought I was ready to own up to everything, but now I’m not so sure. If he found out it was me me he’s been talking to all this time, I’d lose him for sure. At least with maybe putting off a meeting, or just saying I don’t want to, there’s a chance he won’t ditch me. A slim one, but still a chance.”
Cara shakes her head. “If he does that, ditches you because of who you actually are, then he’s not worth it. But I think there’s a huge chance he won’t do that. Either way, you’ll have your self-respect. By telling him the truth, you’ll be owning who you are—which is an amazing person, by the way—and you’ll be taking a chance, reaching for what you think is unreachable. And that is a brave thing to do.”
My lady crush for Cara cannot be contained any longer, so I hug her super-tight.
“Yes, my dear sister is all kinds of right,” says Beth. “So, it’s settled. If he asks for a meeting, you agree. Now, let’s suit up!”
As I slip on my black leggings, I realize that this is exactly what I need right now. Becoming someone else, someone who’s strong and self-reliant, is exhilarating. My worries melt away when I put on Finity Girl’s red leotard and satin black mini-skirt. The red mask over my eyes is the best part. I am Finity Girl now.
With my pity party solidly behind me, at least for the night, I get in my mom’s car and drive toward the theater. The Parkway Cinema is not a big theater, but it gets the job done for a small town like Natchitoches. We even have two 3D screens. Beth, Cara, and I are some of the first to get in line. Beth looks perfect as the Bright Frenzy, with her tall, fuchsia boots and matching cape that almost reaches the ground.
As more people show up, we get asked to take pictures with them or we get questions about how we made our costumes. I’ve never had more fun. There is nothing better than geeking out with someone, not to mention an entire line of them. It makes me feel part of something special, which hardly ever happens. At this moment, I’m not that “weird girl.” I’m a member of a community. A community, I might add, that knows how to have fun.
About thirty minutes before the box office opens, the theater’s manager comes out and asks us if Beth and I want to help them by handing out the 3D glasses. Cara, who’s basically become kind of our agent during this whole thing, barters for free tickets in exchange for our help. The manager easily agrees.
The excitement and anticipation of the crowd becomes almost tangible as Beth and I pass out the glasses, spouting off classic Super Ones quotes.
“As I always say, ‘Go forth and be blindingly beautiful.’” Beth high fives a girl who goes to our school.
“Remember, ‘True friends never falter,’” I say to Maddie and Logan when I come upon them in the line.
“Oh my God, you guys look freaking awesome!” she squeals. “The cape, the hair, and even the utility belt? You nailed it!”
“Thanks, we—” I stop speaking at the sound of a familiar, jerky voice.
“If that’s what the chicks look like in the movie, I’m gonna need a barf bag or something.”
I turn to see Martin Hedge, one of Donovan’s lackeys and the guy who basically asked if I was easy, sneering in my direction.
Logan looks over his shoulder at him, too, scowling. Maddie puts a calming hand on my arm and says, “Did you make this cape by yourself?”
I open my mouth to answer, but Martin speaks again. “I mean, some chicks can pull off a mini-skirt and some can’t. Like, some just really can’t, ya know? Ha! I just made up a joke: what’s red and black and fat all over? That chick!”
My cheeks burn and I’m at a loss for words. Going from such a high to such a low throws off my return-insult game. I’m so used to being on the lookout for burns that I always try to have one on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not ready tonight.
“That’s it,” Logan says and stomps toward the theater entrance.
Maddie pats my back. “Don’t let that asshole get to you.”
I try to answer her, to brush off her insinuation that I care about what this guy says, but my throat won’t let me speak. It’s tight, holding back a sob. All I can manage is a nod and a smile. I can tell neither is convincing at all, because she tilts her head and sighs a sigh that says, You’re too precious for this horrible world.
She puts an arm around my shoulders and I take a minute or two to get my shit together.
Logan comes back with the manager in tow.
The manager, who’s a tall, burly black guy, slaps Martin on the back. “Excuse me, sir, but I understand that you’ve been harassing my Finity Girl. Is that right?”
“What?” is all Martin says. The girl he’s with tries to defend him, but a bunch of the other moviegoers tell it how it is.
The manager whips out his phone and takes a picture of Martin. “Congratulations, you’ve just been banned from this theater for a year.”
Of course I feel like justice has been served, but Martin throws a stink eye at me and I know this isn’t over. A few people cheer as Martin and his date leave the line and head out into the parking lot.
I try to continue with my job, but every time I hand someone a pair of glasses, they either give me some type of pity comment or they kind of scowl at me. Like I’m a troublemaker or something. It was one thing to get good attention because of my awesome costume, but it’s another thing to get this kind of attention.
I bear with it until I finish with my side of the line, then I leave. I don’t even tell Beth and Cara that I’ve gone. I just text them when I get to my car.
Chapter Seventeen
Dan
It’s hard to do, but I give Zelda some space for the next few days. If she wants to talk to me, fine, but she needs to be ready. I was completely truthful about everything. When Martin started discussing who would be easy to hook up with, I pretty much tuned out until he said Zelda’s name. I had to think fast to get that idea out of his head.
It’s a little past midnight on Thursday night when my phone dings. This is a good thing, because I was having a zombie dream, and because it’s effyeahFinityGirl. The screen almost blinds me as I pull up our chat.
effyeahFinityGirl: You up?
Me: I wasn’t, but I’m glad I am now. I was being chased by a zombie Kardashian. It was TERRIFYING!
effyeahFinityGirl: Oh, come on. I’m sure you could take one of them down easily. Which one was it?
Me: They’re all kind of the same to me so I think my brain mooshed them together into this huge mega-Kardashian zombie. Scariest thing ever.
effyeahFinityGirl: Well, it can’t be scarier than what I had to deal with tonight.
Me: Was it a Bieber zombie? I bet it was a Bieber zombie.
effyeahFinityGirl: Nope.
Wow, not even an “lol”? My Bieber jokes usually make her laugh. Whatever happened must’ve really been bad.
Me: What’s wrong?
effyeahFinityGirl: It’s nothing really. Just some jerk made fun of me. Of the costume I wore to the midnight premier of The Super Ones.
Me: What a jerk! Does he have any idea the time and craftsmanship it takes to make something like that? Not to mention the bravery it takes to wear it? You want me to hunt him down and kick his ass? I can to
tally do that.
effyeahFinityGirl: Ha-ha. No, he’s not worth it. It just kind of ruined the whole thing. I didn’t even stay for the movie.
I’m officially pissed at whoever this guy is now. She’s been looking forward to this movie since it was announced. What kind of monster makes fun of a person’s appearance? A stupid one, that’s for sure.
Me: That sucks. I wish I could make you feel better, but the usual way I cheer people up is by doing my Ace Ventura celebratory dance. The one he does while wearing a tutu.
effyeahFinityGirl: I bet that is a wonder to behold.
I don’t know why I pick this moment to ask the big question.
Me: Maybe you could behold it. Do you have a video chat program or something?
She doesn’t say anything for at least ten minutes. They’re some of the worst minutes I’ve ever had to live through, but I try not to freak out too much. It does happen sometimes. One of us will get distracted by actual real life and won’t respond for a while. But right now, she is the realest thing to me.
After eleven minutes, I have to say something.
Me: Did I just overstep? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to talk.
A few more agonizing minutes go by and then—
effyeahFinityGirl: No, you didn’t overstep. My mom just came in and told me to go to sleep. So, I’ll talk to you later, okay?
I’m an idiot of epic proportions. Why did I have to get pushy and ask her to video chat? Looks like I’m just the worst at talking to women in every form and fashion.
Romancing the Nerd Page 13
