The Replacement Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  Then there was the zing meter. Objectively, Toff was probably a solid eight on the 1-10 scale. But I wasn’t entirely objective about Toff because of our parents dating. And the whole friends since kindergarten factor, which dropped him down to maybe a five.

  Also, he hadn’t outgrown armpit farting noises, so maybe he was more like a four. I doodled a surfboard in my notebook and drew a big X through it.

  Amy’s finger poked me in the shoulder and I looked up.

  Ms. Sanchez’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Daydreaming already, Vivian? And it’s only the first week of school.”

  I heard scattered giggles behind me. “Sorry.” I gave her an apologetic, sincere-but-distracted student smile. Her mouth relaxed slightly and she resumed her lecture.

  She’d put up a slide on the Promethean board: Symbolism, a Study in Three Parts. Ugh. Why couldn’t we read for fun? I knew how to analyze books for symbolism and metaphors and all that junk, but it got old. Sometimes I fantasized about taking over Lit class and turning it into a book club meeting.

  ...

  “Give me your hand,” Jaz demanded.

  “Why should I?” I glared at Jaz suspiciously.

  Jaz, Amy, and I had spent most of the lunch break hashing over my RC list, which now had three targets. But we’d argued over target number four: Toff. Jaz insisted I put him on the list while Amy sat quietly nibbling her crackers.

  “Just give it to me.” Jaz gestured impatiently to my hand. She gripped my wrist tightly, then stuck a marker in her mouth. She removed the cap with her teeth, then began drawing on my hand.

  “Hey!” I tried to jerk my hand free, but she had me in a vise grip.

  Amy leaned over to watch Jaz draw. “Perfect,” she said, smiling.

  “What? What’s perfect?” I tried to see what Jaz was drawing, but Amy used her hands to block my view.

  I sighed and gave up, letting my hand relax in Jaz’s grip. “Resistance is futile,” I said.

  Jaz and Amy stared at me.

  “Never mind,” I shrugged. “Star Trek quote.”

  Jaz smirked and my hand twitched under the felt tip tickling my skin. “There’s gotta be a Star Trek geek we can add to your list.”

  Of course there was, but I wasn’t going to start another argument by mentioning Dallas.

  Jaz released my hand, looking like a smug Cheshire cat. “Ta da!”

  We all stared at the back of my hand, which now sported a perfect caricature of me as Spock, complete with pointy ears. I closed my eyes. Great.

  “That’s awesome.” Amy beamed at me. “Maybe you can use it as a geek magnet. To attract new guys for the list.”

  I glared at her. “We have enough names on the list. One of them is bound to work out.”

  Jaz snorted. “Only if you stick McNerdy on there.”

  Amy spoke up before I could. “No more arguing. Viv is set on this list, so we need to support her.”

  Jaz turned to her, annoyed. “No, we don’t. Personally, I’m still completely opposed to this idea.”

  Amy shrugged. “I don’t like it, either, but what if it works?”

  “It won’t,” Jaz said. “But I don’t get to say I told you so until it blows up in her face.” She narrowed her eyes. “I was right about Jake. Why won’t you trust me on this?”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but my vocal cords seized as Dallas approached our table.

  “Hey.” Dallas nodded at everyone.

  Jaz’s foot kicked me under the table. Why did he look more like a super hero every day? Even his ridiculous Dr. Who shirt couldn’t hide his very un-geeky body.

  “Hi, Dallas.” Jaz gestured to Amy. “This is Amy.”

  “Hi,” Amy said. “You’re the Vespa guy, right?”

  Dallas smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah. I think I should change my name since that seems to be what everyone’s calling me.” He shot me a meaningful glance. “Well, not everyone.”

  My lungs stopped working while Amy and Jaz giggled like idiots.

  “Sorry about that,” Jaz said. “You know we’re just kidding, right?”

  “Whatever,” he said, shrugging. “I answer to a lot of weird names.” He lowered his backpack from his shoulder and unzipped it. “Here.” He handed me a book. “I’m paying up on our bet.”

  I reached for the thick Star Trek bible, secretly thrilled he’d remembered. “Awesome,” I whispered. I couldn’t wait to sit in my bedroom, away from prying eyes, to read it.

  “Remember, it’s just a loan, so I—” Dallas’s voice broke off as his eyes widened. His lips quirked as he stared at my Spock hand. “Let’s see it.” Dallas tilted his head toward me. “Are you testing out a tattoo idea?”

  Jaz laughed. “Viv’s way too scared of needles for a real tattoo.”

  I shot her a glare and reluctantly rested my hand on the table. Dallas leaned over to check it out while Amy and Jaz sent me a barrage of crazy girl-face messages I tried to ignore.

  “Did you draw this?” Dallas asked, raising his eyes to mine. He was clearly impressed.

  “No.” I nodded at Jaz, trying to maintain Spock-like calm. “She’s the artist, not me.”

  Dallas grinned at Jaz. “You really captured her inner Vulcan.”

  Everyone laughed except me. Dallas grabbed his backpack. “Maybe I’ll hire you to design my next tattoo,” he said to Jaz, smiling cryptically.

  Next tattoo? So he already had one? Where? And what was it?

  “Dallas, wait,” Jaz said. “You have to tell me where you saw Fisk Vilhelm.”

  He shifted nervously. “I can’t.”

  Jaz gaped at him. “Come on, Dallas. I won’t tell anyone.”

  Dallas shot me a questioning look. Was he wondering if it was okay to tell her?

  “Viv, please tell Dallas I am not a super stalker or a crazy paparazzi,” Jaz begged.

  “Paparazza,” I corrected, then took a drink from my water bottle, stalling. I couldn’t see any way to answer this truthfully without upsetting Jaz, but I could tell Dallas didn’t want to tell her about Fisk.

  “I’m sure you’ll see him again,” I said, shrugging. “Running on the beach or whatever.”

  Jaz glared at me, then at Dallas. “Whatever, okay? I don’t know why you two are keeping this a secret, but whatev—”

  “Me?” I interrupted. “I don’t know where Dallas saw him, either.”

  Jaz crossed her arms over her chest, shooting death glares at Dallas and me.

  “I’ve gotta go,” Dallas mumbled, backing away from us. “See you later, Vivian.”

  As he turned away, Amy leaned over the table, her red curls falling over her shoulders. “Oh, Viv, he’s darling. You have to put him on your RC list.”

  “Ha!” Jaz transferred her death glare from Dallas’s retreating figure to me. “Who does he think he is, acting all—”

  “Jaz.” I put up a hand to stop her rant. “I don’t know why he won’t tell you, but he must have a good reason. And I swear I don’t know. He hasn’t told me.” Dallas and I definitely didn’t share any secrets. That would require a scary level of intimacy.

  Her stalker fire snuffed out as quickly as it ignited. “I just want to see Fisk up close. You know I won’t throw myself at him.”

  Amy and I shared a look. It had been a long time since Jaz had accosted a celebrity. She’d been in middle school when boy band star Zeck had blown through town and Jaz had cornered him in the coffee shop, begging him to autograph her thigh.

  “What?” Jaz stared back and forth between us. “You guys are not going to bring up Zeck again, are you?”

  Amy tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle.

  “Anyway...” I slapped the RC notebook. Maybe I could change the subject and focus Jaz’s energy elsewhere. “I’m starting with number one on the list. Iggy.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Jaz said. “The person who should be your number one just stood here flirting with you and you didn’t even notice.”

  “What?” Dallas flirting?
No way. He’d only been making good on his bet.

  “So what’s the plan for Iggy?” Amy asked.

  “We’re on the newspaper together.”

  “And?” Jaz prompted.

  And I had no idea. The truth was I sucked at flirting. So far, I’d never been the one to make the first move. But Iggy was nice, and funny, so I hoped somehow things would just…happen.

  Something needed to happen to refocus my hormones, and fast, because right now they were way too focused on Vespa Guy. And his mysterious tattoo.

  “Vulcans never bluff.”

  —Spock

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Thursday, August 28

  I sat next to Iggy in Mr. Yang’s classroom, aka the newspaper “office.” Iggy glanced at me and grinned. He always looked like a magazine model, almost too perfect to be real, plus his unconfirmed bisexuality was intriguing.

  “Hi.” I didn’t do the hair toss since I looked stupid when I did it, my curls bouncing like Slinkys growing out of my head.

  “Hi, Viv,” he said. “How was summer?” His lilting accent made the most boring questions sound interesting. His dad was from London and his mom was from Japan. They were both involved in the music business. That was as much as I knew, that and they were loaded with cash.

  “Okay. Yours?”

  He shrugged. “My parents dragged me all over Japan. Apparently I’m cousin to half the population.”

  I laughed, relaxing a little. “I’d love to visit Japan some day.”

  He nodded. “It’s cool, but I missed my friends. Did I miss any summer drama?”

  My face warmed as I thought of Jake. I shook my head. “I mostly worked in the bookstore, so I missed out on a lot of the drama, too.” I paused, racking my brain for gossip. “Char and Rick broke up. Big scene. She lipsticked his car when she found out he was cheating on her.”

  Iggy’s eyes brightened with interest. “So I heard.” He leaned closer and spoke in a whisper. “You heard he was having his bit on the side with a guy, right?”

  It was a good thing I loved British chick lit or I might’ve misunderstood half of what Iggy said.

  “No way!” Then I worried he’d think I was homophobic. “I mean, good for him for figuring it out, but he should’ve waited until after breaking up with Char, you know?”

  Iggy leaned back in his chair, studying me. “It’s not that simple, Viv. I’m sure it was complicated, finally being true to himself, not wanting to hurt his girlfriend.” He smirked. “But she’s always been bat-shit crazy. Even if he was straight, he should’ve run away screaming from all that drama.”

  I laughed, hoping his joke meant he hadn’t been offended by my awkwardness.

  Mr. Yang entered the room, voice booming. “Welcome back, seasoned journalists and seekers of truth. I hope everyone is ready for another banner year of Clarion news-making.”

  Iggy rolled his eyes. Mr. Yang was also in charge of the drama club, so everything he said sounded like a grand pronouncement. Sometimes it was funny, but it also got old.

  Mr. Yang wrote in bold strokes on the white board with a dry erase marker listing the topics we needed to cover: school news, sports, extracurricular clubs and activities, volunteer stuff, blah blah blah.

  Seniors got first choice, then juniors. I got to write the book review column, thanks to my insider knowledge and access to review copies. Iggy reviewed movies and other events around town, so we often edited each other’s columns. His quirky writing style always made me laugh, which was a lot of the reason he’d earned the top spot on my RC list.

  “Who wants to interview the new transfer students? We have a grand total of—” Mr. Yang paused to glance at a piece of paper. “Two. A sophomore from Seattle. And a new senior, from Minnesota, I think.”

  “Wisconsin,” I piped up, instantly regretting it as everyone turned to stare at me.

  “Ah, sounds like you know him already, Vivian. Perfect. Add his interview to your to-do list.” He glanced at Iggy. “You take the sophomore interview, Iggy.”

  “What?” I balked. “I mean…uh, shouldn’t the seniors get first dibs on the interviews?”

  The three seniors on the newspaper staff glanced at each other, shrugging. Trish, our editor-in-chief, spoke up. “He’s all yours, Viv. We’ve got plenty of other material to cover.” She darted a look at Nathan, the senior who covered sports. “Besides, those interviews are predictable. Johhny is from Wisconsin and loves dogs, homework, and apple pie.”

  Everyone but me laughed. I knew I was blushing. Iggy leaned over and whispered, “Want me to do it, Viv? I’m always up for meeting new guys.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  Great.

  “That’s okay,” I mumbled, digging in my backpack for my RC notebook. I flipped it open and drew a line through Iggy’s name. “I have to work with Dallas anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

  Iggy shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” He tilted his head. “That’s such a violent phrase. Who would want to kill one bird, let alone two?”

  “I don’t know, Ig.” I doodled on the back of my notebook, not wanting to mess up Jaz’s drawings on the front. I slanted him a curious glance. Maybe I could ask him to make positively sure before I moved on to target number two. “So…can I ask you a personal question?”

  He angled his body toward me, grinning. “Sure. You know I love to talk about myself.”

  I took a deep breath, carefully planning my question so I didn’t offend him or make myself look like an idiot. “Are you…” I paused. “Do you…only like guys? Or have you ever, you know, liked girls?”

  He raised his eyebrows and fingered the small silver ring at the edge of his right eyebrow.

  “Is that new?” I looked pointedly at the piercing, which made me think of tattoos, which made me think of Dallas and his perfectly toned body that, somewhere, housed a secret tattoo.

  “Focus, Vivian.” Spock’s scolding was like cold water on my Dallas tattoo fantasy.

  “This? Yeah. Got it in Tokyo. My mom flipped. Dad thinks it’s brilliant.” He narrowed his eyes, watching me closely. “I’ll answer your question because I like you and I trust you. But first I want to know why you asked.”

  I swallowed nervously. It was a fair question since I’d asked him something incredibly personal. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

  He nodded vigorously, leaning closer. “I hoard them like those crazy people on TV.”

  I fiddled with the spine of my notebook. “Okay. So, here’s the deal. I’m trying to…to um, get over a bad breakup, and I, um, have a list. Of replacements.”

  Iggy leaned even closer. I could smell his peppermint gum as he shot me rapid-fire questions. “So you did have summer drama! What happened? Wait, what do you mean you have a list? Like a hit list of guys you fancy?”

  The senior trio glanced at us and Trish frowned in disapproval.

  “We’re talking book plots. Movie arcs. Clarion business,” Iggy said loudly. “Pay no attention to the lowly juniors in the corner.” Nathan rolled his eyes and resumed typing on his laptop, smirking.

  Iggy refocused on me. “Spill, girl. What wanker was idiotic enough to dump you?”

  “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

  He frowned. “I’m not. It’s factual information. You’re the bee’s knees, Viv. Smart, funny….cute, in sort of a nerdy way. I can’t figure out why more guys don’t follow you around like dogs in heat.”

  Wow. I’d heard of backhanded compliments, but I wasn’t sure what the heck this was.

  Iggy ran a hand through his hair. “That came out all wrong. I’m trying to say you’re awesome and the straight guys here are tossers.”

  “Yeah, well.” I shrugged, regretting ever starting this insane conversation.

  “Who was he?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is my new approach. I’m going to be logical about the next guy I get involved with.”

  Iggy fiddled with his eyebrow ring. “Logic
al? About love? That’s bonkers, Viv.”

  I huffed a frustrated sigh. Why did everyone find this concept so alien? “Everyone thinks I’m crazy but I know I’m not.”

  Iggy ran a hand across his beautiful, kissable face. I would not be that cliché who fell in love with her gay friend.

  “So,” I plunged ahead, “the reason I asked about your orientation is…um, I put you on the top of my list. As a potential replacement.”

  Iggy blushed. “You did? That’s so sweet, Viv.” He reached over to squeeze my hand. “And if I had even one bi bone in my body, I’d be all over you. But I don’t.” He shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t know where that rumor got started.”

  “Ninth grade. Tara told everyone what an amazing kisser you are.”

  Iggy cringed. “Oh God. That’s why?” He shook his head. “I was trying to figure out if I was absolutely positively one hundred percent gay, you know? Everyone said she was the hottest girl in our class, so…” He shrugged.

  “Wow.” I leaned in. “So no sparks? At all?”

  He shook his head. “Zilch.” His lips quirked up. “I’m so flattered I’m on your list. And number one? Wow.” He shifted in his chair. “So who’s number two?”

  I hunched my shoulders over my notebook. “Henry Harper,” I whispered.

  “Henry?” He shook his head “No, no, no. We need to fix this list, and fast.” His eyes darted around the room, pausing to stare at Nathan. He inclined his head. “What about him? Smokin’ body. Smart. Sportsy, if you’re into that.”

  It was my turn to blush as we both studied Nathan with his warm brown skin and dreads almost as long as Claire’s. “Yeah,” I whispered, “except he hardly knows I exist.” I took a breath. “You might think I’m, uh, dateable or whatever, Iggy, but you’re one of the few.”

  “I’m not going to get into one of those girlie arguments where you pretend you’re hideous and deformed and I tell you how fabulous you are.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “This isn’t some movie cliché where I’m the sassy GBF who gives you a slutty makeover. Besides, you don’t need one. That cute book nerd thing works for you.”

  “Gee, thanks, I guess.”

  “It’s true.” He shrugged. “Anyway, back to your list. Why not put Nathan on it?”