Revenge of the Geek

by Piper Banks

  “You have to get it cut,” Avery told him bossily. “No girl is going to want to date you with those sideburns. Total Loserville.”

  “So you’re not mad at Finn anymore?” I asked Hannah.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, no. I’m still mad at him. In fact, one of these days I’ll get him back for what he did.”

  There was something menacing in the way Hannah said this.

  “You didn’t happen to say anything to Phoebe about Finn, did you?” I asked. “Something that would make her break up with him?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “Maybe I should, though,” Hannah said thoughtfully. “Maybe I should tell her that you told me he’s obsessed with feet. Or that he collects Madame Alexander Dolls. Which do you think would freak her out more?”

  “Hannah!” I said.

  “It’s just a thought,” she said.

  “It’s a bad thought. And don’t drag me into your revenge plots,” I said. “Besides, the reason I asked is that Finn and Phoebe broke up.”

  “They did? Really?” Hannah tapped a thoughtful fingernail against her clipboard. “So Finn’s on the market? Maybe I could hook him up with one of my clients. Does he have a problem with severe overbites?”

  Meanwhile, Avery and Leo were still arguing about his hair.

  “But the sideburns are my signature look. And it took me forever to grow them out,” Leo said, clearly not ready to give in on this point.

  “So?” Avery said, clearly not moved. “You can always grow them out again. But trust me, you’ll look so much better without those things. You can’t go around with your head looking like a Chia Pet.”

  “If I’m going to find a girlfriend, shouldn’t she like me for who I am and not what I look like?” Leo asked.

  Avery gave him a patronizing smile. “If you could find a girl who liked you for who you are, you wouldn’t need us. We’re going to turn you into someone new. Someone better.”

  Leo looked so miserable, I decided I had to intervene on his behalf.

  “Hannah, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?” I asked.

  Hannah glanced at her watch—clearly she didn’t think there was any time to be wasted before she bullied Leo into getting a haircut—but finally she acquiesced.

  “Okay,” she said. “But make it quick.”

  Hannah and I headed out to the back deck, with Willow tagging along behind us. The deck was raised on stilts, and offered a gorgeous view of the Atlantic Ocean. Willow stuck her nose out between the railings and stared longingly at the sandpipers darting along at the water’s edge.

  As soon as the glass door was shut behind her, Hannah said, “What’s up?”

  “I don’t think you should bully that poor kid into cutting off his sideburns if he doesn’t want to,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s a person. With feelings. And it isn’t cool to keep talking about him like he’s some sort of a freakish loser,” I said. “He seems like a perfectly nice kid.”

  “I don’t think he’s a freakish loser. That’s how he sees himself,” Hannah said.

  “How do you know?”

  “He came to us after seeing our Web site. Remember? Are you a loser at love? Are you too unattractive to find a date? If he didn’t think those things about himself, he wouldn’t have hired us,” Hannah pointed out.

  “It’s one thing for him to have low self-esteem. It’s another thing for you to make him feel even worse about himself,” I argued.

  “That’s just it—we’re trying to help him feel better about himself,” Hannah said.

  “By telling him he needs to have a makeover?” I asked.

  “Yes. The problem with you, Miranda, is that you’re too idealistic. You think people should always be judged on who they are, not what they look like,” Hannah said.

  “What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

  “It’s not realistic. The truth is, looks do matter. And people do judge you on what you look like. Take you, for example,” Hannah said.

  “What about me?” I asked, instantly wary.

  “Remember how you used to dress? All you used to wear were boring T-shirts and ratty old jeans. Then I took you shopping, and we got you some cute new clothes, and you look like an entirely different person,” Hannah said.

  “I don’t know about the entirely different part,” I said.

  “Trust me, you do. And look at the effect it’s having on your life. You told me that witchy girl you go to school with wanted to say something mean to you about your appearance, but couldn’t come up with anything,” Hannah said. “And look at your friend Nora.”

  “Nora? What about her?” I asked, startled.

  “She’s started dressing like you.”

  “She has?”

  “Yes. Haven’t you noticed? I noticed it the other day when she was over here. She totally copied that outfit you have. You know, the cute tunic with the spaghetti straps over the skinny-leg jeans. The top was exactly the same as yours, only she had it in green instead. I remember seeing it at the store, but I thought blue was a better color on you,” Hannah said.

  “No, I hadn’t noticed,” I said, completely bewildered. “But I have no fashion sense. Why would anyone copy what I wear?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you. You may not have any fashion sense, but you look like you do, thanks to me. So everyone who sees you thinks that you’ve got great style. And then they want to copy you. Or at least Nora does,” Hannah said.

  “But isn’t it sort of weird that she’d copy me like that?” I asked. The idea made me vaguely uneasy.

  “No. I mean, it might be sort of psycho if she bought all of the exact same clothes as you. But if she’s just copying a piece or two, that’s not so weird. You know what they say about imitation being the sincerest form of flattery,” Hannah said.

  Hannah’s cell phone rang, and she tapped her Bluetooth on. “Match Made matchmaking, Hannah Moore speaking. Yes, that’s right. Hold one minute, please.” Hannah looked at me. “Are we done, Miranda? This is a client calling.”

  “Yeah, we’re done,” I said.

  I hadn’t succeeded in talking Hannah into leaving Leo’s hair alone. But, after all, it was his head. If he didn’t want his hair cut, he was going to have to stand firm.

  But Hannah’s comments about Nora wearing the same clothes as me worried me. The long tunic tank top wasn’t the first item of clothing Nora had copied from me; she’d also bought an identical plaid halter top. And maybe there were other things she’d copied, as well, without my noticing. I never did pay much attention to what people were wearing. For all I knew, Nora could have bought all the exact same clothes I had. Which would be really creepy.

  But no, I thought, and shook off this thought. Why was my mind jumping to such nasty places? If Nora and I had some of the same clothes, it was just a coincidence. Orange Cove was a small town, with a limited number of places to shop.

  I thought I knew what was going on. I was still feeling a little jealous about how well Nora had been getting along with Charlie and Finn that afternoon. In fact, it wasn’t the only time I’d been feeling flashes of jealousy lately. I’d also been jealous of Tabitha for getting the fiction assignment for The Ampersand, and I’d worried unnecessarily about Dex being invited to a study group, for no other reason than that the person who’d issued the invitation happened to be a girl.

  I have to stop being so jealous, I told myself sternly, as I headed back inside the beach house. There was a reason they called jealousy the green-eyed monster. As soon as you let it loose, it started to rampage out of control, insidiously causing you to question everyone and everything around you.

  “Come on, Willow,” I called out. She was still at the deck fence, only now she’d wedged her entire head and neck through the railings to get a better look at the birds below. Willow panicked when she tried to turn to look back at me and realized that the fence post was in her way. When she fin
ally freed herself, she looked sheepish as she trotted past me into the house.

  In the kitchen, Leo was still on his stool, but the white sheet that had been tacked up behind him was now wrapped around his shoulders. Avery was standing over Leo, brandishing electric clippers in one hand while keeping a firm grip on Leo’s chin with her free hand. She looked intently down at him, while turning his chin from side to side.

  “What are you doing to him?” I asked.

  Avery and Leo both looked up at me. And as soon as they did, I could see exactly what she’d been doing to him: in our absence, one of Leo’s sideburns had been shaved off.

  “I’m making him look better,” Avery said.

  I considered trying to help Leo—insisting that he had the right to wear his sideburns however he chose, and that she should let him go immediately. But then I remembered what Hannah had said about how I was too idealistic, and that maybe Leo really would be happier once the ridiculous sideburns were gone. Besides, he couldn’t walk around with one sideburn short and the other long.

  So I just said, “Oh.”

  Avery refocused her attention on Leo’s hair. She picked up a pair of scissors and snipped them menacingly. “I think an inch or two overall would make a big difference,” she said.

  “An inch or two? But my hair’s only about two and a half inches long!” Leo said nervously. “Can’t I at least go to a professional barber?”

  “Why? I can totally do this. Besides, if you’re ever going to have a relationship, you’re going to need to work on your trust issues,” Avery said.

  Recognizing a lost cause, I grabbed an apple and headed off to my room to give my Ampersand piece one final read through.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dex was in brighter spirits that night. He’d gotten a B-plus on his first homework assignment in European history.

  “Now if I could just figure out my trig homework, I’d be golden,” Dex said.

  “Too bad you don’t know anyone who’s good at math. Especially a girlfriend willing to help you out,” I said.

  “I didn’t even think of that. Can you help me?”

  “Sure. Just give me the problems, and we’ll go through each one step-by-step,” I suggested.

  “Have I ever told you that you’re the best girlfriend ever?” Dex asked.

  “Yes. But I’m always open to hearing it again,” I said.

  The truth was, I was glad to have the distraction. I’d been feeling off all afternoon, ever since leaving Grounded. But an hour spent walking Dex through the complexities of trigonometry had the effect of clearing my mind. After we hung up—and I was pleased by how reluctant Dex seemed to say good-bye to me—Charlie called me on my cell phone.

  “Hey. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said. “You were so quiet this afternoon. You didn’t seem like your usual self.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I’d been sitting at my desk while I Skyped with Dex, but now I moved over to my bed, sitting cross-legged on top of the blue-and-green bedspread. Willow stood, tail wagging, and mashed her head down on the edge of the bed so I could stroke her nose.

  “I feel like I spent the whole time we were at Grounded talking to Nora,” Charlie said.

  You did spend the whole time talking to Nora. I was completely superfluous to the conversation, I wanted to say. But then, remembering my resolution to squelch such jealous thoughts, I instead said, “I guess I was just off in my own little world.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?” Charlie offered.

  “No, nothing like that. I think I’m just nervous about my article for The Ampersand. I’m handing it in tomorrow,” I said. This wasn’t a complete lie. I thought I’d done a good job with it, but I was nervous about how Candace would respond. I had the feeling that she read all of The Ampersand pieces with a very critical eye.

  “Are you happy with how it came out?” Charlie asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “Or, at least, I hope so. I just don’t want Candace to hate it.”

  “I’m sure she’ll love it,” Charlie said supportively.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” I suggested. “This is just making me nervous.”

  “Okay. Like what?”

  “We could talk about Finn’s big news,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

  “Stop playing innocent. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I said.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised he and Phoebe broke up,” Charlie said. “They had nothing in common.”

  “It just seems like it went downhill quickly. When we saw them at Grounded together that time, Phoebe seemed like she was really into Finn,” I said.

  Charlie hesitated. “Do you think Finn meant it about getting Hannah to set him up with another girl?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But I wouldn’t worry too much. Hannah’s decided to work with more, um, how shall I put it? Challenging clients.”

  “How so?”

  “When she heard Finn was newly single, she asked me if he’d have a problem dating someone with a severe overbite,” I said. “Besides, Hannah’s still annoyed with Finn for messing with her Web site.”

  “That’s good,” Charlie said, sounding more cheerful.

  “You know what I’m going to say now, right?” I asked.

  Charlie sighed heavily. “You’re not going to start lecturing me about how I should talk to Finn and tell him how I feel about him, are you?” she asked.

  “That’s right,” I said, choosing to ignore the lecture crack. I never lectured her. I just offered advice. Succinct, to-the-point, very useful advice.

  “What’s the point?” Charlie said. “We’ve been over this a million times. I can’t just walk up to Finn and say, ‘Look, you may be a complete freak, but I’m in love with you.’”

  “I’d leave out the freak part. But that’s just me,” I said.

  “I can’t do it. I just can’t,” Charlie said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m a chicken. I admit it. I’m a total coward,” Charlie said.

  “You? No way. You’re one of the bravest people I know,” I said.

  Charlie snorted. “Please,” she said.

  “I’m serious. Look at your artwork. You put all of your emotions and hopes and dreams into your paintings. That’s really brave. I can’t even write one measly little article without worrying that it’s going to be criticized. You’ve had, what, a dozen art shows?” I said.

  Charlie was quiet for a moment. “But that’s not nearly as scary as telling Finn how I feel about him.”

  “I don’t think it really is that different,” I said.

  “Maybe I should talk to Hannah about this. She’s the professional, right? Maybe she’ll have some matchmaking advice for me,” Charlie said.

  I sighed and leaned back on a fluffy stack of pillows. Willow, realizing her head stroking had come to an end, returned to her circular bed with a snuffling sigh. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think you have to stop listening to me or to Hannah or anyone else. In the end, you have to do what you think is right. What you want to do. It’s your life, after all,” I said. “You’re the one who has to live it.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Charlie said.

  “It’s bound to happen once or twice in my life,” I said.

  Charlie laughed. “More often than that, I think. By the way, what are you doing Saturday?”

  “We’re driving down to the Keys for the weekend,” I said.

  “Really? I didn’t know that,” Charlie said.

  “I’ve hardly seen you,” I reminded her. “But while we’re on the subject, I’ve been meaning to ask you: Will you watch Willow while we’re away?”

  “No problem,” Charlie said.

  “Do you want to check with your mom first?” I asked. Mrs. Teague was allergic to most animals, and dogs in particular gave her sneezing fits.

  “Nah, she won’t m
ind, as long as I keep Willow in my room,” Charlie said. “Are you missing school?”

  “We’re leaving Friday morning, so I’ll miss that day. Orange Cove High has the day off. I think Hannah said it’s a teacher workday, or something,” I said. It was typical of Peyton to schedule this family getaway around Hannah’s schedule, and expect me just to go along with it. I hated missing school. It always meant extra catch-up work when you returned. “Why, what are you doing?”

  “Nora and I were talking about heading down to West Palm to see the Georgia O’Keeffe show at the Norton,” Charlie said. “And she’s never been to Palm Beach, so we were going to go walk around there after. I was going to see if you wanted to go with us.”

  And just like that, the green-eyed monster reared up again. Nora and Charlie made plans without me? Even if Charlie had decided to include me, it was after the fact. Would Nora and Charlie get even closer this weekend? And if so, what did that mean for me? Would I be replaced? Would I—

  But then I stopped myself.

  It’s totally fine for Charlie and Nora to hang out together, I reminded myself. I was not going to get all twisted up with jealousy. I took a deep breath and tried to will the green-eyed monster away. It didn’t work right away, so I took a few more deep breaths until I started to feel calm.

  “Miranda? Are you there?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes, I’m here,” I said.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

  “Oh, I just . . . got distracted for a minute. Willow was making a funny sound,” I lied.

  Willow, hearing her name, opened one amber eye and thumped her tail.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Um, yeah, she’s fine,” I said.

  “I’m really glad you met Nora. She seems really cool. It’s nice to talk to someone who’s into art,” Charlie said.

  “I actually didn’t know she was into art,” I said. “That was news to me.”

  “Really? Well, anyway, she seemed really interested in listening to me talk about it,” Charlie said. “I hope I wasn’t boring her.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t,” I said.

  Charlie and I chatted for a few more minutes, and then she got off the phone, saying she wanted to get some painting done before bedtime. But for a long time after we hung up, I stayed put, lying on my bed and staring up at the bumpy white ceiling, thinking about Nora. She talked to Charlie about art, joked around with Finn, and with me . . . with me, she talked about her long-distance boyfriend. Was that all genuine Nora? Or was it just a chameleon attempt to fit in with us? And, if so, would I ever get to know which was the real Nora?