Geek Charming

by Palmer, Robin

  Everything clicked into place. Of course he was in love with me. Why wouldn’t he be? And I, in turn, thought he was a fantastic guy. He just wasn’t my guy. This was one crisis I just could not handle right now. I took a deep breath and reached for his hand. “Josh, look, I know we got off to a rocky start, but as I’ve gotten to know you over the last month, I think you’re amazing and I now consider you one of my closest friends.”

  “Thanks,” he said, looking confused.

  “But as much as I love our conversations, and the way that you never complain while I shop, and all your other great qualities, it’s just not there for me.”

  “What’s not there?” he asked, even more confused.

  “You know, the physical-attraction thing. I mean, since I made you over, you’ve definitely become a cutie, but for now I just think that we should stay friends.”

  The confused look was still there, but I knew it was just to cover up his heartbreak. “Who knows,” I continued. “Maybe down the line that’ll change”—although I so couldn’t see that happening—“but for now I don’t think so.” I patted his hand. “I hope I haven’t just completely smashed your heart into pieces.” God, it felt good to clear the air. To deal with a problem in the moment instead of letting it turn into a big old elephant in the middle of the room. I could feel my entire body relax. Even my feet, which were killing me because they were stuffed like sausages into my heels.

  He scratched at his neck, which was all blotchy from the synthetic fur. “Uh, when I said, ‘What about you?’ I meant, ‘Will you be okay if I leave you here on the couch while I go talk to her?’.”

  Now I was the one who was confused. “Talk to who?”

  “My crush.”

  “Wait—I’m not your crush?”

  He shook his head.

  I wished I was the one wearing a mask. Between my costume being ruined and being rejected by someone I had just rejected, it hadn’t been one of my better nights. “Oh. Well, that’s good,” I said. “Because if I had been, then, well, we would’ve had a problem.”

  “But thanks for saying all that,” he added. “Because I feel the same way. About you being one of my closest friends.”

  “Thanks,” I replied glumly. I guess I had been expecting him to put up a little bit of a fight when I told him I wasn’t interested. Any guy would have killed to go out with me. Okay, well, maybe not Asher. And apparently not any of the Fall Fling-dateless guys at my school, but other than them, there were tons of guys who I knew would be asking me out soon enough. I waited for Josh to use his debating skills to convince me why I should give him a chance, but he didn’t. Instead he reached for a handful of pretzels on the coffee table.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, after he had swallowed. “I have to admit, in the beginning I thought you were just a spoiled rich Beverly Hills girl, but you’re not. You’re actually very open-minded. Especially when it comes to trying new restaurants.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. I really was grateful to have Josh as a friend, especially since it felt like all my other friendships were disappearing as quickly as a killer bargain on a pair of shoes at a Bloomingdale’s sale, but for some reason I also felt disappointed. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Josh was the kind of boyfriend I’d want to have if he wasn’t . . . well, Josh. I mean, if he were a non-geek. “So I guess that’s that.”

  He looked relieved. “You’ll be okay if I leave you here and go talk to her?” he asked, putting his mask back on.

  I nodded, reaching for a handful of M&M’s. If having my social status crumble over the last few days wasn’t an opportunity to binge, I don’t know what was.

  “Luck,” I said halfheartedly as I reached for more M&M’s with my other hand. “But you might want to take the mask off when you get to the asking part.”

  He nodded. “Mask off when asking. Got it.” He reached into the pocket of his costume, I’m sure to make sure he had his inhaler. “I know if it were up to you, I’d leave this behind, but I just can’t risk having a full-blown asthma attack in front of her.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Use it all you want.” Who was I to be giving anyone dating pointers?

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay here?”

  I nodded.

  “Thanks, Dylan,” he said. “For everything.”

  I mustered up a smile. “You’re welcome.”

  As I watched him lumber off toward the kitchen, I suddenly felt very much alone. Like it was the first day of fifth grade again and I had just gotten my lunch and was standing at the edge of the cafeteria with no idea where to sit.

  I made sure to swipe at the tears that started to fall out of my eyes before anyone could see them.

  chapter ten: josh

  After that weird exchange with Dylan, I needed a little alone time to regroup before I could stand in front of Amy Loubalu without my mask and have her risk laughing in my face when I asked her to go with me to Fall Fling. From what I had seen in movies, people always seemed to gather in the kitchen at parties, but this one was empty, making it the perfect hideout.

  I chugged a Red Bull and did some deep breathing in order to lessen my chances of having to take out the inhaler when talking to Amy. I was glad Dylan and I had had that conversation, as it seemed to be something that was weighing on her mind, but I was confused about the way that she had seemed a little disappointed when I told her I didn’t like her “that” way.

  After my heart rate was close to normal, I tried to do what Mom had learned in her Intro to Manifestation class: fill my brain with visions of Amy and me dancing at Fall Fling. Or maybe not dancing—maybe just hanging out in the corner talking, which required a lot less coordination and physical effort.

  “Hey, Josh,” a voice said as I was picturing Amy laughing at one of my jokes.

  The manifestation stuff worked because when I turned around, there she was, wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a light blue top that made her eyes sparkle even more than usual.

  “Amy. Wow. You’re here. Hi,” I babbled, holding on to my Chewy head like it was a football helmet. I reached into my pocket for my inhaler, but it wasn’t there. I shifted my mask to my other arm and checked the other pocket. Nothing.

  My worst fear had come true—I had lost my inhaler.

  “Hi.” She smiled as she made her way over to the stash of bottled water. “I like your costume.”

  “Thanks. And I like yours. What are you supposed to be anyway?” I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice as I patted my pocket again. It was just there a minute ago. It must have fallen out on my way in from the living room. Obviously I couldn’t excuse myself and go crawl around on the ground looking for it, but how was I going to talk to Amy if I couldn’t breathe? And how was I going to breathe if all I could think about was that there was a chance that I might stop breathing because I didn’t have my inhaler?

  “A yoga teacher,” she replied.

  “A yoga teacher! That’s so great! Really, really original!” I exclaimed. I cringed when I realized how much I sounded like Fast Eddie, the owner of Good Buys, in his TV commercials that ran on the local cable-access channel.

  “Actually, there’re three others here tonight,” she said.

  “Oh,” I said, willing myself to keep the exclamation points out of my voice. “I hadn’t seen them. But I bet you’re the best-looking one. I mean, the best-dressed one.”

  She laughed. “That’s very sweet. Thanks, Josh.”

  “You’re welcome,” I replied. I tried to think of something to say after that—stupid or unstupid—but nothing came to mind. If I couldn’t think of anything stupid or unstupid to say to Amy when we were hanging out in a kitchen, how on earth was I going to be able to take her on a date? And how was I going to take her out on a date without my inhaler, especially since it was most likely being stepped on and crushed into pieces at this very moment? Panicking, I did the only logical thing I could think of: whipped off my glasses, put my Chew
y head back on, and stood by the window and watched Mark Berger try to throw Katri Wood into the pool.

  “Isn’t it hard to breathe with that thing on?” Amy asked.

  Ha. If she had any idea of how difficult it was at that moment to breathe period.

  I turned around. “It’s not so bad,” I replied as I nervously pulled at the cord on the shade over the window. “Plus, I thought it would be good for me to practice being in costume so that when I’m a director, I can sympathize with the actors,” I explained as I yanked too hard and the shade came tumbling down. “Whoops.”

  “Here, let me help you,” she said, rushing over to help me pick it up.

  I couldn’t believe I was this close to the girl of my dreams. The two of us squatted on the floor, me trying not to hit her in the face with my paw, and tried to pick up the shade. Even through my mask I could smell her perfume, a delicious combination of vanilla and coconut. Unfortunately I was severely allergic to coconut—a fact that my allergist could vouch for—which is why I started having a sneezing attack.

  “Are you okay?” Amy asked after I had sneezed six times in a row.

  It was either take off my mask or suffocate to death. As I yanked it off, I prayed to God I didn’t have snot running down my face.

  “Josh?” I heard her say as I blinked to adjust to the light.

  I could feel my lungs constricting from her beauty. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied with a wheeze, reaching into my pocket for my glasses. Most people, close up, are less attractive because you can see every little mark on their face, but Amy was even more beautiful. Her eyes were even more violet than they appeared from far away, and her teeth were as white as a toothpaste commercial. There was even a little pimple, right near her left ear. This made me like her even more, probably because I’m so into gritty realism.

  “Good,” she said with a smile, taking the shade from me and standing up.

  “Oh—I’ll do it,” I said, standing up so fast I got a head rush from the lack of oxygen in my lungs and had to steady myself against the windowsill until it passed.

  “It’s okay,” she replied, trying to fit the shade back into the grooves.

  “No, really—I’ll do it,” I said, yanking it from her. Here was my chance to show Amy how handy I was so that when we bought a house when my first movie was number one at the box office, she’d feel comfortable that I’d be able to fix things. Or at least hang a picture or two.

  Except that I wasn’t handy. At all. In fact, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t fit the shade into the grooves. I turned to her. “I think it’s better to just let Lisa’s parents deal with it when they get home, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she agreed as she started throwing all the empty water bottles and soda cans that were on the counter into the recycling bin. That made me like her even more. Not only was she considerate and neat, but she cared about the environment.

  “So are you going to Fall Fling?” she asked as she wiped down the counter with a sponge.

  I was so busy trying to force myself to breathe that I almost didn’t hear the question. But when it did register, I froze. With those seven words, my whole plan of attack for asking her to the dance had gone up in smoke. Not that I had had much of a plan, or any plan for that matter, but I did know that I was supposed to be the one to bring up Fall Fling—not her. On my report card in first grade my teacher had written, While Josh is a very conscientious student (especially in math) and good about sharing with others, he is prone to fits of anxiety whenever previously announced plans and ways of doing things are altered. Obviously I hadn’t evolved much in eleven years.

  “Am I going to Fall Fling,” I repeated. “Well, at the moment, uh, no, I’m not. But that could change. If, you know, I asked someone. But I haven’t asked anyone. Yet.”

  She gave me a weird look. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Your face . . . it’s really red.”

  “I’m fine,” I replied. “I have asthma.”

  She nodded. “That’s right. I’ve seen you with your inhaler.”

  “Yeah, well, I lost it,” I said. “The inhaler, I mean.” And my mind, I wanted to add.

  “That’s too bad. My sister has asthma, so I know how scary that can be.”

  I just knew my hunch that she was a compassionate person had been right.

  I shrugged. “Well, I try and do my best to get through it.” I went over to the refrigerator and started examining it like I was on an archaeological dig and had never seen one before in my life. “So, uh, you going to Fall Fling?”

  She started examining the stove. “No,” she replied. “I haven’t been asked.”

  I couldn’t have asked for a better opening, so I turned to her. After taking a moment to smooth my mask-head (like hat-head, but worse), I cleared my throat. “Well, there’s still three weeks. I’m sure someone will ask you.” The minute the words left my mouth I wanted to crawl into the dishwasher. “I mean, you’re smart, and nice . . . and . . . pretty . . . ” I trailed off.

  It was probably my imagination, but I thought I saw her face fall. “Thanks, Josh. I appreciate that.”

  “You’re welcome.” I couldn’t believe I had wimped out like that. I bet if I had had my inhaler, I wouldn’t have.

  “I think I should go find Whitney,” she said.

  “Oh. Okay. It was nice talking to you.”

  “You, too,” she said as she left the kitchen.

  I put my mask back on before I started banging my head against the wall in order to cushion the blow, but it didn’t stop me from thinking that I was the biggest idiot not only in all of Los Angeles, but also California, the United States, and possibly the entire galaxy.

  If Dylan found out that I had blown my chance like that, I’d never hear the end of it, so I spent the next ten minutes slumped in a corner of the laundry room drowning my sorrows in a box of Cinnamon Life cereal that I had found in the pantry.

  “There you are,” said an out-of-breath Steven. “Dude, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing in here?”

  I held up the cereal box.

  He looked into the almost-empty box. “Trying to commit suicide by ODing on fiber?” he asked.

  “Something like that,” I said miserably.

  He grabbed me by my furry arm. “You gotta hurry, bro. Dylan’s totally freaking out and keeps asking for you. Lola and Hannah are trying to calm her down, but she says she won’t talk to anyone but you. I went ahead and took the camera out and Ari’s shooting it now.”

  I struggled to my feet. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. The most I could make out was that it’s something about Fall Fling,” he said as we ran into the living room after we got Steven unjammed from the doorway.

  Sitting on the couch where I had left her, stuffing her face with M&M’s, Dylan looked like the star of Prom Queen Massacre. The half of her tiara that was left was tangled in her hair and swinging back and forth as big mascaragloppy black tears fell down her face.

  “There you are,” she said with her mouth full between hiccupy sobs.

  “What happened?” I asked as I glanced around at the pockets of people staring at her and whispering.

  She held out the dish of M&M’s. “Do . . . you . . . want . . . some?” she hiccuped.

  “I think I’m good,” I answered.

  She grabbed another handful and shoved them in her mouth. “Can . . . we . . . go . . . now?”

  “Sure,” I said. I turned to Ari, who had the camera rolling. “Put that down,” I hissed.

  “Dude, but this is awesome,” Steven whispered back. “This is exactly what we need to give this thing some life. Otherwise it’s yawn city.” When it came to movies, Steven was all about gross-out scenes and car crashes.

  “No—keep it going,” Dylan ordered as she stood up and stepped out into the middle of the room. “I’ve given my life to this high school,” she said, reaching down the front of her dress to snake out part of her tiara, “and
to now be pushed aside like a carton of soy milk with an expired date? That’s the thanks I get for being such a great role model?” she yelled.

  “That’s what you get for being so snobby,” someone called out.

  It was so quiet you could’ve heard a DVD drop.

  She whipped around. “Who said that?” she snapped.

  A bunch of masked faces stared back at her, many of them trying not to laugh.

  “We go to one of the best schools in the city,” she continued. “You would’ve thought that kids here would have been taught some manners. But no!”

  “Dylan, are you okay?” I asked.

  “Of course I’m okay!” she yelled with as much dignity as someone wearing a ripped, Coke-stained prom dress and half of a broken tiara could muster.

  I grabbed the camera from Ari. “Come on, Dylan,” I said, leading her toward the front door. As we walked, she clutched my hand so hard my circulation was cut off. No one said anything, but I could feel a hundred eyeballs on my back. At that moment I really wished I had had my inhaler. Not for me, but to give to Dylan. Although I’m sure she would have thought that was disgusting.

  Right before we got to the door, I heard her dress rip even more. “I think I have a pair of sweats in the car,” I whispered.

  She squeezed my hand ever harder. “Thanks,” she whispered back. You had to give the girl some credit—even though everyone was looking at her and trying not to laugh, she managed to keep her head high.

  The minute we got outside she plopped down on the porch swing and began crying again.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?” I asked.

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “Are you thinking of telling me now, or do you want to wait until next week?”

  She wiped her nose with her dress. “Asher just asked someone to Fall Fling,” she hiccuped.