The Nerdy and the Dirty
Page 21
“Because,” I said, “the world’s not ready for that.”
We turned onto Kirby Street and Riverbend High School soon came into view. As he pulled in behind a line of cars waiting to turn into the parking lot, Benedict reached over, took my hand in his, and squeezed. He said, “I think the world’s ready for us.”
“Now I could never end the book here because you saying that makes it sound like a happy—” But he kissed me before I could finish.
The
END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For the acknowledgments in my first book, I asked my two main characters—Carolina and Trevor—to help me thank everyone. It felt right to ask Penelope and Benedict to do the same for The Nerdy and the Dirty.
But when the three of us finally found time to sit down and talk, and I explained that their story was being published, neither seemed particularly excited by it. In fact, Pen was almost hostile. I don’t know why I say “almost.” There was nothing almost about it.
“Are you allowed to do that?” Pen asked, her body shifting beneath her even as her eyes shot straight and still at mine.
“Do what?” I asked back.
“Just write about us without asking our permission?”
“I did ask,” I said, even though I knew it would be hard to explain the author/character “permission” to them.
“That’s not fair, Brad, and you know that.” And she gave me this look. And, crap, you know what? Pen didn’t like me. I really didn’t like Pen not liking me. She’s one of my favorite characters ever and she didn’t like me! (I also wasn’t a huge fan of her using my real first name but it felt inappropriate to ask them to call me b.t.)
Benedict, who had taken hold of Penelope’s hand in order to help calm her, whispered something in her ear. She nodded. Then Benedict said, “We’d like to read the book and then decide if we will let you publish it. If we decide to let you, then, and only then, will we help you with the acknowledgments.”
Because I really wanted Pen to stop hating me—and because I liked the odds of them liking the book—I agreed. Benedict said good-bye, Pen didn’t say a thing, and I emailed them both a copy of The Nerdy and the Dirty that night when I got home.
* * *
Two days later, I got an email back. Attached was a marked-up manuscript with changes I was to make to the book in exchange for their approval. Before I read their demands, I worried they would want to make themselves look better during the more painful and awkward points of their story. But, honestly, they wanted the opposite. Penelope and Benedict, as they stated more eloquently than I could, “… want teenagers, and adults, to know every crazy, mean, self-destructive thought that went through our heads. We’re sure everyone else has just as much self-doubt as we do and pretending we had even one percent less than we did is not real and one of the main reasons we’re together is because we were real with each other.”
Without fully admitting how much they improved my book, I agreed to their changes and they agreed to meet me again. But this time they insisted I meet them on their turf. At Penelope’s Pizzeria in Riverbend. I tried to explain this was impossible, but Benedict and Penelope said I’d figure out a way.
* * *
How I did “figure” out a way to Riverbend was even more difficult than I imagined and probably a novel in itself. For brevity’s sake, let’s just say I did get there and found not only Penelope and Benedict waiting for me, but a large, hot Margherita pizza in the center of the table.
“This is my favorite type,” I said as I grabbed a slice.
“Obviously, we knew this, Mr. Gottfred,” Benedict said, smiling. I don’t know what was worse: Pen calling me Brad or Benedict calling me Mr. Gottfred.
“How did you know that?” I asked. Pen was still giving me a strong “I loathe your existence” vibe, so Benedict said,
“Penelope said we will talk about how we know your pizza preference—and other information—at the end.” He then laughed. He seemed so relaxed in his body from the last time I saw him. Very strange to find your characters have grown up without you.
Benedict and Penelope shared a look—a look that mostly made me think they shared part of the same brain now—and then she nodded, and he said, “So we’ve been emailing with Kate Farrell, your editor at Henry Holt, and thought you should know.”
“How did you get her email?” I didn’t believe them.
“He doesn’t believe us,” Penelope said.
“I believe you, I just want—”
“You don’t,” she cut me off. “It doesn’t matter if you believe us or not. But you asked us to help you with the acknowledgments and, after talking with her, we think you should start with Kate.”
I started, “How about I say—”
“We wrote something out,” Benedict said before I could finish. Then he retrieved a printed sheet from a folder in his backpack. He read from it, “Kate, your loyalty to truth surpasses even my own.”
Pen added, “Surpasses yours, Brad. No one’s surpasses ours.” She smiled—well, almost—for the first time.
“Obviously,” Benedict said as he kissed Penelope on the cheek.
Pen continued, “Kate told us all about the people at Henry Holt who took our story and helped transform it into an actual, readable book that people will spend actual time and money on.”
Benedict spoke now. “I memorized all the names to show you how important we think they are: Kathryn Little in marketing, Allison Verost in publicity, Anna Booth the designer, Jackie Hornberger the copy editor, Starr Baer the production editor, Jennifer Healey the managing editor, and Tom Nau the production manager.” As he finished accessing that Rolodex in his head, I realized how jealous I was of Benedict’s brain sometimes.
Penelope kept her focus on me. “Next we want you to thank your always awesome agent, Jill Grinberg, and every awesome person in the office.”
Benedict and his brain had those names ready too: “Those awesome people are Katelyn Detweiler, Cheryl Pientka, and Denise St. Pierre.”
Penelope pulled the sheet from Benedict’s hand and read, “Jill, thank you for letting me be your wild card in your stack of aces.”
I said, “Maybe I can edit some of these? It might be confusing if you’re saying it.”
“No, people are really smart. They’ll figure it out,” Pen said, and handed the sheet back to Benedict.
“To the Wolfpack. The greatest writing group ever assembled. Jennifer Bosworth, Nadine Nettmann, James Raney, and Gretchen McNeil.”
Penelope said to me, “You know there’s like a zero percent chance you would have finished this novel of us without their help, right?”
“I know. They’re great writers and better people.”
“Don’t do that, ugh,” Penelope started.
Benedict explained, “Mr. Gottfred, I told Penelope she needed to try and stay positive no matter what, but it would help if you just let us do the thank-yous. We’ve written them in your voice. We would never talk like this normally.” His confidence was so unshakeable now. A girlfriend who loves you for you will do that for any teenage boy, I suppose.
But that only made me realize I needed to ask Penelope a question. “Why are you so mad at me?” Just had to know. Couldn’t take it anymore.
“She’ll address that at the end as well, Mr. Gottfred.”
“Please don’t call me Mr. Gottfred, Benedict.”
“But you’re really old.” He said this with a straight face. For about five seconds. Then he let out a big laugh. “I’m really funny now.”
“I can see that,” I said.
Penelope read from the sheet again: “To Amy Makkabi, for liking my brain, and valuing uniqueness everywhere.”
“I insisted on that one,” Benedict said.
Penelope went on, “To Joanne Mosconi…” She stopped as tears formed. Fighting through it, she finished. “… who inspired so much with her own journey to truth.” On that mention, Penelope and I shared a look of common and profo
und appreciation.
Benedict then kissed the corner of Pen’s eyes before continuing. “To my family. All of them. Not just my parents and sisters but my nieces and nephews and cousins and uncles and aunts and grandparents. Those here and those gone. They are all wonderfully loving and complex people who encourage growth in me, themselves, and each other.”
I started, “You forgot…” but couldn’t finish because Penelope said,
“Your wife. Of course we didn’t forget Danica. She deserves her own separate mention. She deserves her own special chapter. Do you know how lucky you are to have her as a wife, Brad?”
“Yes…”
“Do you really? I don’t think—”
I cut her off for the first time. “I actually do. She is the partner to a better, more fulfilling life than I imagined. It’s not a perfect life, but it’s a—”
“Real one,” Penelope completed my sentence for me as she looped her arm through Benedict’s. For some reason, the way she said this, and the way she pulled Benedict close to her, made me want to ask,
“Are you two doing okay?”
After their seemingly shared brain waited a moment, Benedict answered, “I understand now why Penelope was hesitant to end our story on an overtly happy moment…”
“And I…” Pen paused, pulled him even closer, and continued, “… know and understand and love his brain and his heart more than ever.” Now Benedict was the emotional one and she was kissing his tears away.
“You want to talk about it?” I asked, wanting back in their lives more than I was prepared for.
“No, that’s between us,” Pen said, then read the final thank-you. “To my sons, Axel and Leif. It will be fifteen years before either of you can read The Nerdy and the Dirty, so if I die before you do, just know that I love you for being exactly who you are, no matter who you are, and love every dream you have, whatever those dreams may be.”
That’s great, but wow, “I’m only forty!” I said.
“Which is really, really old.” Benedict laughed again at his joke.
“Brad,” Penelope said, “at some point, and maybe it’s fifty years from now and not fifteen, your kids are going to read this and you’re going to be dead and they’ll want to know you love them for being their true selves no matter how old they are.”
“And…” Benedict’s laugh died. He tried to restart with a smile but couldn’t. “Some kids might read this and not have a dad—”
“—or mom—”
“—that tells their kids what you just told your kids. And this note is for all of them too.”
I nodded. They were right. Penelope and Benedict were two of the best people I knew. What else could I add? Maybe I should thank—
“We don’t want you to thank us,” Penelope said. “We know you thanked Carolina and Trevor and that’s great for them, but we want something else from you.”
This, strangely, scared me a little bit.
Benedict said, “This is the end I warned you about.”
Penelope went on. “What we want—not just Benedict and me, but Trevor, Carolina, Zee, Art, and everyone else in Riverbend. Not just Riverbend. Everyone on this side of the page.”
I got what they meant.
“Of course you do,” Benedict said. “Because you’re almost as smart as us.” He really did think he was hilarious now.
But Penelope was on task. I could tell this was what it all was building toward. All her anger at me. Maybe it wasn’t anger. It was her passion. It had become so amazingly purposeful. “Brad … what we want … is for you to admit that we may be real.”
“Of course you’re real!” I said. “That’s what this whole book was about!”
“No,” she said. “That we may be as real as you.”
Oh. That was more complicated.
She continued, “I want you to admit, as you sit in a Riverbend pizzeria and talk to two characters you think you made up, that maybe, just maybe, Benedict and I are sitting here, alone, writing a story about a character named Brad. A character named Brad that is so hopeful of being understood and accepted for his true self that he writes a book about characters searching for the same thing.”
Oh. Yeah. Man. There were tears in my eyes, weren’t there? Yes. Yes. “Yes,” I said.
“Yes, what?” Penelope wanted me to say it out loud.
“She’s very good at making people be clear now,” Benedict said, and kissed her yet again.
Okay. I’ll say it. “I agree. There’s just as good a chance that you’re the writers and I’m the character as the other way around. That everyone reading could be more characters of yours, all with my same common goal. Hoping and searching to be understood and accepted for their real selves.”
“Obviously,” Benedict said. But Penelope wanted more. I knew she would.
I sat with my thoughts for a moment and then tried to say it in a way that would make them both proud: “Maybe what you really want me to say is if the writer of two characters can admit that those characters have just as much a right to be real as the writer himself does, then everyone has that right. That no one—no parent or teacher or group or society or even reality itself—can take the right to be real away.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
b. t. gottfred is an author, playwright, and—ooh, look there, behind you … no, you’re right, never mind—director. His first book was Forever for a Year. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1: Benedict Maximus Pendleton
Chapter 2: pen
Chapter 3: Benedict Maximus Pendleton
Chapter 4: pen
Chapter 5: Benedict Maximus Pendleton
Chapter 6: pen
Chapter 7: Benedict Maximus Pendleton
Chapter 8: pen
Chapter 9: Benedict Maximus Pendleton
Chapter 10: pen
Chapter 11: Benedict Maximus Pendlet …
Chapter 12: pen
Chapter 13: Benedict Maximus Pend …
Chapter 14: pen
Chapter 15: Benedict Maximus Pe …
Chapter 16: pen
Chapter 17: Benedict Maxim …
Chapter 18: pen
Chapter 19: Benedict
Chapter 20: Pen
Chapter 21: Benedi …
Chapter 22: Pe
Chapter 23: Bene …
Chapter 24: p
Chapter 25: B …
Chapter 26: Pen
Chapter 27: Benedict
Chapter 28: Pen
Chapter 29: Benedict
Chapter 30: Pen
Chapter 31: Benedict
Chapter 32: Pen
Chapter 33: Benedict
Chapter 34: Penelope
Chapter 35: Benedict
Chapter 36: Penelope
Chapter 37: Benedict
Chapter 38: Penelope
Chapter 39: Benedict
Chapter 40: Penelope
Chapter 41: Benedict
Chapter 42: Penelope
Chapter 43: Benedict
Chapter 44: Penelope
Chapter 45: Benedict
Chapter 46: Penelope
Chapter 47: Benedict
Chapter 48: Penelope
Chapter 49: Benedict
Chapter 50: Penelope
Chapter 51: Benedict
Chapter 52: Penelope
Chapter 53: benedict
Chapter 54: penelope
Chapter 55: benedict
Chapter 56: penelope
>
Chapter 57: ben …
Chapter 58: penelope
Chapter 59: b …
Chapter 60: Penelope
Chapter 61: bened …
Chapter 62: Penelope
Chapter 63: Benedic …
Chapter 64: Penelope
Chapter 65: Benedict
Chapter 66: Penelope
Chapter 67: BENEDICT
Chapter 68: PENELOPE
A Very Long Epilogue
Benedict
Penelope
Benedict
Penelope
Benedict
Penelope
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 by b. t. gottfred
Henry Holt and Company
Publishers since 1866
Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
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All rights reserved.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Gottfred, B. T.
Title: The nerdy and the dirty / b.t. gottfred.
Description: First edition.|New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2016.|Summary: “A cool girl—with an X-rated internal life—and a socially inept guy prove that opposites attract in this honest look at love, sexuality, and becoming your true self”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016001531|ISBN 9781627798501 (hardback)
Subjects:|CYAC: Dating (Social customs)—Fiction.|Love—Fiction.|Sex—Fiction.|Self-acceptance—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.G68 Ne 2016|DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016001531
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First hardcover edition 2016
eBook edition November 2016
eISBN 9781627798518