When I was by the door, I saw Spencer push through the circle of kids that was starting to surround Mary Ann. He stood in front of her, handed her a tissue, and said simply, “You have chocolate on the back of your dress.” As Mary Ann turned around to wipe it, she tripped a little and her glasses fell to the ground and cracked. People stopped laughing as she bent down to pick them up. She managed to wipe the chocolate with one hand while grabbing her glasses with the other, but as she got up, her organic rubber band snagged on the desk, which made her hair disengage from its signature ponytail. She stood there with her hair askew, holding her ruined glasses in one hand and a dirty tissue in the other. The crowd that was around her began to disperse. They didn’t mind mocking and psychologically torturing her, but actual physical damage wasn’t in the mix when you were considered a “good kid” by your parents.
The only ones who remained were Spencer and Doug Gool. I looked at them and then looked back at Mary Ann. I didn’t mean to be shallow at that moment, but seeing her without her thick glasses and with her hair less severe made me realize that she actually had a beautiful face. It was like that cliché I’ve seen in old black-and-white movies with the librarian letting down her hair to reveal herself as a knockout, but it was true. Spencer was helping Mary Ann get herself together and Doug was watching. For a second, I thought there was going to be a Hallmark moment where Doug sees the broken glasses and realizes the damage his words can do. He then puts out his hand to Mary Ann and says, “Friends?”
And … credits.
That didn’t happen. Instead of putting out his hand, he simply put out a finger. I think you know the one. After that, he got his book bag, bumped Spencer in the shoulder (calling him a spaz), and walked out. I watched Doug go down the hallway and was pleasantly surprised to see Chuck coming from the other direction. I gazed at him as he stopped in front of me and said to one of his friends in the classroom, “See you at lunch, right?”
Sigh. He’s so handsome. He was sporting just a little bit of facial hair, and I noticed that, like his hair, his beard was sandy blond but with a hint of red in it as well. I got a great view because he kept standing in front of me. I didn’t know why his friend hadn’t responded until I realized the only people left in the classroom were Spencer and Mary Ann.
AH! I was the friend he wanted to see at lunch! I quickly changed my facial expression from staring from afar to responding from close up and answered, “Yes, Chuck. I will see you at lunch.” It was a little stilted but, come on, I was in shock! This was the first time he had ever asked me a question that wasn’t laced with annoyance or anger. Spencer and I always ate lunch together, so did this mean that Chuck would “see” me as he walked to his table, or did he mean that both he and Becky would actually be sitting with us? Dare I hope for such joy?
Before I could ask, Chuck gave me a thumbs-up (such cute thumbs!) and walked off while I went toward my locker in a daze. When I got there, I realized I hadn’t said goodbye to Spencer, but I knew I’d see him at lunch and would explain everything. The bell rang and I ran to study hall next and then to computer lab, where nobody spoke to anybody because we were all wearing headphones, trying to upload sound effects into the games we were creating. PS, my computer game was Broadway themed (natch) and took place on the streets of New York. As the player, you were an up-and-coming actor and had to sabotage older established stars. The more stars you got rid of, the more room there was for you to become famous. You had the option of pushing them down stairs, pushing them in front of taxis, or pushing them into the lake at Central Park. (I tried for the ol’ making-scenery-collapse-on-them trick or electrocuting them with their own microphone but could only figure out how to program a push move on the computer.)
I spent the whole period trying to get the perfect sound for being pushed in front of a cab. I wanted a scream, a tire screech, and the cabdriver yelling, “Son of a—”
Unfortunately, I only had the option of using a computerized voice, which made it sound like the cab was being driven by a robot. Or by Madonna acting in a film. (If you don’t know what I mean, rent Shanghai Surprise.)
Finally, the bell rang and I skedaddled to lunch.
Mmm. Delicious pizza. The lunch lady likes me (and knows I’m a vegetarian), so she orders soy pepperoni just for me and puts a ton of pieces on my slice. I thanked her, picked up a cookie for dessert (and by “a” cookie I mean “three”), and saw Spencer sitting at our usual table. I was on my way over to give him the lowdown when I heard my name yelled. I looked around and realized it was coming from Cool U.
Oh no.
Cool U is the name Spencer and I call the table where all the popular kids sit. It’s right next to the window that looks out onto the football field. Not to be confused with Toughs ‘R’ Us, which is the table by the cereal bar where Doug Gool and his friends sit. I braced myself for the mean comment that usually follows contact from anyone at either table. Hmm. Nothing. I waited and then heard my name yelled again. I quickly glanced over and saw a fist waving in the air.
AH!!!
Wait a minute … It wasn’t a fist. It was a hand. Belonging to Savannah. It was waving me over. Was it a trap? I slowly walked toward the table and stopped.
Savannah stood up.
“Come on, Justin! I saved you a seat.” She pointed to a seat on the boys’ side, right next to the window. Cool U is a segregated table. On one side sit all of the cheerleaders/popular girls and on the other side, all the jocks/cool boys. Opposite “my” seat was an empty chair that I assumed Savannah was saving for Becky. I didn’t know what to do. I took a few steps closer.
“Hi, Justin.”
“Hey, Justin.”
“What up, J?”
What the—? Everyone on the girls’ side looked up from their food (aka lettuce leaves with no-cal dressing) and gave me a little wave and greeting as I got nearer. The sound was new to my ears because I had never heard my name said by their voices. Wow. That’s what it sounds like when a popular girl says “Justin.” All the girls who had ignored me for the last ten years were now greeting me like we were old friends. I guess Savannah the Gossip Machine had gotten the word out. Hearing all this newfound friendliness gave me the strength to walk to the edge of the table. I looked back at Spencer’s table and saw that he was sitting with Mary Ann. That did it. I didn’t want to spend my whole lunch comforting her.
I took a big step closer and then kept walking. Wow. I had never entered the realm of that table. I had only seen it from afar. Weird. It had always seemed higher and longer than the ones I sat at, but as I got closer, I realized it was the same type of table as the others in the cafeteria. I decided to stop feeling nervous. After all, the girls were so inviting. I then looked at the opposite side of the table. Uh-oh. Unfortunately, Savannah’s big mouth had only funneled toward the girls. The boys were all looking at me with confusion and mounting anger. When I finally got to the empty seat, I stood behind it. Dare I sit down? The guys started snickering and looking at each other. I could tell they were trying to decide who was going to tell me to get the hell away and how violent it was gonna be. Suddenly, I hear, “Yo, Justin! Just in time!” Huh? When did Savannah’s voice get so manly, and quite frankly, sexy?
Whoa!
It wasn’t Savannah. It was Chuck, who magically appeared and was standing behind the seat next to my empty one. Now the guys’ faces were even more confused. If the dictionary needed a visual to go with the definition of “WTF???” they could all be models.
“Come on, guys. Make some room.” Chuck pushed the boy next to him, and all the guys moved their chairs a little. Chuck put down his tray, pulled out his chair, and sat down. He patted the seat next to him and I gingerly sat in it.
There was silence.
“Yo, guys.” Chuck turned toward the boys’ side. “Don’t feel weird. I’m cool with it.”
Silence.
That comment apparently sent them all into a state of shock. The boys expected him to say something along t
he lines of “Let’s get ’im” or at least, “Leave him alone.” But hearing him say “I ain’t jealous” was so unexpected, I don’t think anyone actually understood what he said. It’s as if he’d turned to them and suddenly spoke a different language. The boys all looked at each other. Chuck then turned back toward me and started talking. But not really. His mouth was moving, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“What???” I finally said.
“Exactly,” he replied, and then kept up his mumbling.
What was happening? I looked around and saw that all the boys were leaning over the table toward someone on the girls’ side. The person they were leaning toward was Savannah. Aha! I got it. Chuck wanted to give the boys some time to hear the news. I looked up again and saw that Savannah was now talking to Ted, the star pitcher on the baseball team. She laughed snottily and asked, “Didn’t you know?”
Everyone looked at him. Uh-oh. What if he said what was obvious? No, he hadn’t heard it because it’s not true! I started to sweat. Was I about to be evicted from Cool U? I quickly glanced at Spencer’s table. Was I going to have to spend the rest of this lunch with Mary Ann Cortale comforting me?
Ted looked at Chuck.
Ted looked at me.
Finally he shrugged and said to Savannah, “Of course I knew. But I didn’t know it was so serious.”
WHAT?
That’s exactly what Savannah said when Becky tried the same technique. Wow. No wonder Germany almost took over the world. Suddenly, I smelled roses, ylang-ylang, and fresh laundry. Sure enough, Becky arrived carrying her lunch: a slice of pizza and French fries. She was frustratingly one of those people who could eat anything and still have an amazing figure. She sat down in the seat that Savannah had saved for her and then leaned across the table. I didn’t know why she was infiltrating the boys’ side until she said, “Hi, honey,” and came in for a kiss. I leaned to the right so she could kiss Chuck but then realized that I was supposed to be “honey.” Help! I didn’t have time to lean all the way back to the left, so she wound up kissing the air between Chuck and me.
She turned to Savannah. “That’s my Justin. He hates PDA.” I knew she meant “public displays of affection” and not “personal digital assistants,” but, ironically, I do hate being with someone who’s making out right next to me or constantly typing on their phone. So the acronym was correct on two levels.
“That’s why he never sits here,” she went on. She looked at me and winked. “Don’t worry, Justin. I remember my vow!” I nodded like I knew what she meant. She turned back to the other girls. “I promised him there’d be no mushy stuff if he’d sit here just this once.”
What a trickster! She was acting like it’s been my choice that I haven’t sat at Cool U instead of the fact that I’ve never dared leave the loser table for fear of being forced to eat my teeth for lunch. I could tell everyone was processing all of this new information.
Oscar Kota, known throughout the school for tackling and “accidentally” knocking out Syosset High School’s quarterback, looked at Becky and then back at me. He suddenly shook his head like he was trying to get rid of a crazy thought that had wormed its way in there. I could tell he needed clarification.
He pointed his finger at both of us. “You’re telling us that you … are dating?”
Suddenly everyone started looking at us.
Uh-oh. Were they on to us? I thought the Nazi Big Lie technique had a shelf life longer than two minutes!
“Of course we’re dating!” Becky said with a smile. But it wasn’t really a smile. She just moved her lips so her teeth showed.
“Yeah,” I said, avoiding eye contact and adding more liquid to my already sweaty shirt. “Of course we are.”
No one said anything. I could see Becky was avoiding the situation by staring at her pizza, and I was almost ready to make a mad dash to Spencer’s table when suddenly Chuck piped up.
“Of course they’re dating, bozo!” He lightly punched the guy on the shoulder.
That did it. There was more silence, then a moment where I could tell everyone collectively decided to drop it. The guys went back to their pizza and the girls started moving greens around their plates and chattering. Phew. It looked like they were buying it for the time being, but that last minute had been scary! If our ruse fell apart before it really began, I could forget about having private time with Chuck that would lead to him eventually experimenting with a boy-on-boy kiss. I knew that for this fakery to really work, we’d need a strong base of believability. Becky and I obviously crack under pressure, and we can’t always rely on Chuck to save us. Hmm. I needed to think of a reason why Becky would be with me. That way people wouldn’t have to keep believing something that literally made no sense.
I sat and thought: Why would she date me after being with Chuck? It certainly wasn’t because of my bod, my hair, or my braces-covered teeth. Was there any part of me I found physically attractive?
No.
Not that I’m ugly. I know that when I get older, my looks will come together. But right now, I’m in the period affectionately known as the “awkward years” but that should be known as the “fugly years.”
Why date anyone if not for their looks?
Wait.
I remembered watching the Tony Awards last year and there was a shot of a nominated actor in the audience who was bald and whose body made me look like Adonis. I had read online that he was gay and thought to myself, Yowtch. Even though I’d love to date a Broadway star one day, I could never bring myself to kiss that guy.
Later on, there was a live performance from his show and it turned out he was an AMAZING performer. So funny, SUCH a great voice, and, even though he was heavy, he was a sassy dancer. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was date him! I mentioned it to Spencer the next day, and he told me I had what’s called a talent crush. That’s when you’re not attracted to a person when you first see them, but their talent is such a turn-on that you want to go out with them.
Hmm. I had talent! Should I get onto the table and launch into my swing choir solo? There was a dance that went with it as well. Maybe everyone would think Becky was into me because of my amazing high notes and Broadway moves.
And cut.
Even I knew that was pushing it. It would be one thing if all the cool kids came to a chorus concert and were impressed when they saw me in action, but I knew that would only happen on opposite day, which seems to only exist on those horrible sitcoms aimed at tweens.
That got me thinking of one time during a sleepover with Spencer when I went into a whole tirade because his younger sister was watching one of those shows. Overhearing those clanky lines followed by loud, prerecorded guffaws made me so angry! After fifteen minutes, I’d had it. I found my iPod, waited for an unfunny line (I didn’t have to wait long), and recorded the long fake laugh that followed it.
Later that night, I demonstrated what those awful sitcoms did by reciting the most boring thing I knew to Spencer and then adding the laugh track I had recorded. I read our geometry theorems list in the voices of the two leading girl actresses, followed by the laugh track.
The bubbly blonde: Natasha! The area of a triangle is half that of a parallelogram standing on the same base and between the same parallels. (LAUGH TRACK)
The boy-crazy brunette: But, Amber! Through any point outside a line, one and only one perpendicular can be drawn to the given line. (LAUGH TRACK)
Spencer started laughing, so just to push it, I found the list of venereal disease symptoms we had to memorize for health class and kept the scene going.
Amber: Natasha! Loss of hair and small pustules with milky discharge! (LAUGH TRACK)
Natasha: But, Amber! Dry mouth and burning or itching in the urethra. (LAUGH TRACK)
We literally laughed about that the whole night.
YES!
That’s it! I could make someone laugh for a whole night. That was a talent, too. Everyone will think Becky has a talent crush on me because I’m funn
y. Case closed.
Wait. I just realized. The kids at Cool U have never actually heard me be funny. My contact with them has mostly consisted of me:
a. not speaking in class.
b. not speaking when I pass them in the hallway.
c. not speaking when I see them at the mall.
All under the umbrella of:
d. never being spoken to by them.
OK. I had to do something funny. But what?
My thought-fest was broken by Oscar yelling in Chuck’s direction, “Yo, bro. Don’t forget practice starts fifteen minutes earlier today.”
Chuck was chewing so he couldn’t respond right away.
An inspiration hit me and I suddenly spoke, doing my best Chuck imitation: “Yeah, well, I can’t play today. I left my jockstrap in your mother’s bed.”
Everyone laughed. Even Chuck and Oscar.
“That sounded just like Chuck!” Savannah said, stating the obvious.
It wasn’t hard for me. I obsessed so much about that Greek god that I knew how to make my voice sound exactly like his.
“Do someone else!” Becky said.
Uh-oh. I panicked. I didn’t have any other imitations in my arsenal. Then I realized that doing a funny imitation wasn’t enough for acceptance from this group. I needed one final ingredient: meanness.
My Awesome/Awful Popularity Plan Page 5
