People like that annoyed the crap out of me. Either care or don’t care, but don’t pretend like you don’t when you do.
I didn’t say that, obviously, but it was what I was thinking. It was what I would have said if I didn’t care. See the irony there?
When my gaze returned to his eyes, he looked away. Maybe he’d been checking me out just like I’d been studying him. By the way his lips were pressed together in annoyance I’d guess his assessment of me was just as negative as mine, too.
“What happened to your glasses?” I asked.
He squinted at me. “What?”
“Your glasses,” I said, waving a hand at his face. “Don’t you normally wear glasses?”
“That’s all you have to say to me?” He looked so perplexed, but what else did he want to hear? That I was pissed the stupid hashtag had been created in the first place? That much was obvious, wasn’t it?
And I was bound and determined not to lose my cool. If I’d kept it together during all the stares and whispers in class, and during the lovely dumping that just occurred, I sure as heck could hold it together now. So yes, I was going to focus on something mundane, and that was all there was to it. “I like your glasses.”
“You do?” He sounded wary.
I nodded. “You look good in them.”
This was the truth—he had these hipster-ish coke bottle glasses with the black frames and when he wore them he looked—I don’t know…kinda sexy.
No, not sexy. That’s weird. Just sort of…appealing. “They make you look like Clark Kent.”
I realized the idiocy of that statement as soon as it slipped out. I forced a smile and started walking away. “And I think we all know that if there’s anyone who appreciates a good Clark Kent, it’s this girl.” I pointed both thumbs in my own direction, completely embracing the awkwardness that was me at this particular moment.
He at least was kind enough to smile at my stupid, self-deprecating joke. “This is true,” he said, following along toward the gym. “It seems you’re something of an expert on the subject.”
“Well, he is my cousin and all,” I murmured, more to myself than anything.
To my surprise he burst out in a laugh that didn’t sound fake. It sounded genuine and…hot. He had a low laugh that was soft and rumbly, not at all like Ryan’s loud guffaw that seemed to be begging the world to pay attention whenever he was amused. Matt’s laugh was understated.
“You know,” he said as he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked beside me. “I could use an expert like you.”
I let out a short laugh because I was sure he was kidding.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I’m going to the Philadelphia comics convention next week and I could use some help crafting my—”
I stopped short. “Wait, seriously? You’re going?”
He nodded. “I’ve been covering pop culture at The Morning Roundup and they’re sending me to cover the convention.”
“So, will you have full press access?”
He nodded.
I found myself gawking at him because that sounded like a dream come true. Not writing for The Morning Roundup, but being sent to the convention. And with an all-access pass!
For a second all thoughts of Ryan, Cara, and the whole hashtag disaster were forgotten. “Wow, that’s so cool.”
He gave me this funny little lopsided grin that made his eyes crinkle up in a ridiculously sexy way.
I gave my head a little shake and turned away. No, not sexy. There was nothing sexy about Matt Cartwright. Cute, maybe, in that dorky Clark Kent kind of way, but that was it.
My head was swimming with thoughts of Matt and Clark Kent and longing thoughts about ditching school to go to another comics convention.
Then I turned the corner and landed right back in reality.
I came to a stop so suddenly that Matt bumped into my back, but his hands came up to my shoulders to steady me.
Or maybe he was trying to comfort me because his hands squeezed my shoulders as we both stood there staring at the life-sized printout of me…wearing a Supergirl costume and grinning like a lunatic.
Some kind soul had used a marker to add glasses and buck teeth.
The silence in the hallway was deafening. I could hear my own heart pounding and my breathing sounded too loud.
A second later I wished for that awkward silence back because all at once I became aware of my classmates coming out of the woodwork. Well, they’d probably just walked out of the gymnasium’s side entrance, but suddenly they were all there. Cara was snickering, my friends were giggling, Joel was sneering.
They were all laughing at me.
That was when I saw the phones out, aimed in my direction.
Awesome. My living nightmare was being videotaped for good measure.
“Come on.” Matt spoke quietly and directly into my ear. He’d leaned down a bit so his head was right next to mine. “Let’s get out of here.”
I had never heard a better idea in my life. I let him lead me out of there, one of his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulders as the people who were supposed to be my friends laughed at me behind my back.
Within earshot, for the record, but technically behind my back.
I heard them snickering as the door shut behind us, mercifully cutting off the sound that would likely be haunting my nightmares tonight.
We kept walking toward the parking lot and it wasn’t until we’d reached the lot full of cars that I realized I had no idea where we were heading. Ryan had taken me to the dance tonight so I didn’t have my car.
Sweet. My boyfriend didn’t just break up with me at the Valentine’s day dance, he left me stranded. Could this night possibly get any worse?
Matt cleared his throat and I realized his arm was still around my shoulders. “Just so you know…that picture back there…you looked—”
I stiffened under his arm. “I looked ridiculous.”
“You looked beautiful.”
I stopped walking because it felt like someone had just sucker punched me. The air rushed out of my lungs as I shrugged off his arm to face him. “You’re mocking me now?”
“No!” He looked startled. “No, I mean it. You looked beautiful.”
“I looked like an idiot.”
“No, you looked happy.” He widened his eyes. “You looked genuinely happy.”
What was that supposed to mean? The way he stressed ‘genuinely’ made it sound like some sort of backhanded compliment. What he was really saying was that he thought I was fake. A phony.
Or maybe tonight’s prank had made me paranoid.
I honestly didn’t know if he was mocking me or trying to be nice, but it didn’t really matter because all I could think about was that giant photo mocking me with its ludicrous smile.
I had been happy that day. Really, honestly happy. And now look at me. One day of true happiness and it led to this.
Matt edged toward me, his hands coming back to my shoulders again like he was my coach about to give me a pep talk. “Look, I know that must have sucked back there—”
“You think?” I snapped.
And that, ladies and gentlemen…that was when I lost it. My thin control over the anger that had been brewing for the last twenty-four hours snapped. Pushing his hands off my shoulders, I gave his chest a shove that had him backing up a few steps.
I hadn’t pushed him that hard but he likely hadn’t been expecting it. Sure enough, his expressive dark eyes widened again with surprise.
I tried to take a deep breath but it was too late for that. “You know how it must have sucked, huh? When’s the last time your friends publicly humiliated you?”
He flinched and I knew I’d struck a chord. My mind raced back to that first day, to the way Margo and Suzie had suffered the consequences of his idiocy. “Oh wait,” I said, pretending to have a lightbulb moment. “It’s the other way around, isn’t it? You’re the one who embarrassed your friends.”
He made a h
issing sound as he winced, like my words were an actual, physical blow.
My hit landed and I couldn’t summon up even a hint of guilt that I’d hurt him. That anger in me was flooding my veins, clouding my mind and making my body feel like it was made of living fire. I jabbed a finger at his chest. “You don’t know the first thing about how I’m feeling.”
He eyes flashed with…something. Anger, perhaps. Or maybe bitterness. “No, of course not. How could I possibly know how it feels to be mocked and bullied by your lame friends?” His tone was too mild and held a world of resentment. “It’s not like I haven’t experienced it my whole life or anything.”
I jerked back in surprise at the venom that laced his words. My anger was tempered by a flicker of guilt because I knew he was right. Matt had never been popular and back in middle school and junior high…well, kids could be cruel. I’d thought we’d all outgrown the mob mentality but the geeks gone wild hashtag had proven otherwise.
“I never mocked you,” I said.
“No,” he said drily. “You were always nice. To everyone. Even as your friends made our lives hell.”
He made nice sound like an insult and all pity vanished in the face of my anger. “How dare you make this about you,” I said, edging toward him so I was in his face. I hated that he was taller because glaring at him this close lost a lot of its efficacy when I had to crane my neck. That only made me more furious. How dare he be tall! “You’re the one who started this whole hashtag,” I reminded him with another jab to his chest. “This is your fault.”
That spark of disdain in his eyes vanished and was replaced by guilt.
Good. He should feel guilty.
“You’re right.” He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets, his entire body seeming to wilt beneath his shame. The sudden change from self-righteous indignation to guilt-ridden underdog was disorienting. “I’m so sorry for my part in all this.”
Ugh. I didn’t want his apologies, I wanted someone to be angry at. I didn’t want to forgive him, and I didn’t want to think about who was really to blame.
For a second there, I’d stopped feeling helpless. Anger had given me a sense of power. But now…now he was taking that away. I couldn’t stay angry with someone who was standing there looking like a sad puppy.
Not that I didn’t try.
“Don’t apologize,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m angry and I—I—” My bluster came to a sad, stuttering stop. It was useless. I could feel the anger ebbing and sanity returning as Matt gave me a sympathetic nod.
He wasn’t going to fight with me. Which meant that if I kept up this tirade I was just a spoiled, hysterical drama queen shouting at some harmless, guilt-ridden geek who didn’t deserve to pay for others’ sins.
I turned around so quickly I nearly broke one of my heels. “I’ve got to go.”
“Where?” Matt called out behind me.
I stopped walking. He had a point. I still had no car, no ride, and no friends inside who I could ask for help. Not without facing more laughter and humiliation.
Also, it was February. Now that Matt didn’t have an arm around my shoulders and that fiery anger was fading, I was starting to become aware of the fact that it was freezing outside and I was standing there in a skimpy red dress and high heels.
As if on cue, I started shivering convulsively. Wrapping my arms around myself didn’t help, and I heard Matt sigh behind me. “Come on,” he said. “Let me give you a ride.”
I wanted to say no. I mean, a girl had her pride. But let’s face it, my pride was currently tattered…and freezing. “Okay,” I mumbled.
He took my arm and steered me toward a beat-up old Dodge that looked like it might fall apart at any moment. “It’s not fancy, but…” He gave a self-deprecating laugh that was annoyingly endearing.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said as he held the door open for me.
“It’s the least I can do.”
That was true enough. He was still to blame…sort of. I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him as he closed the door. I could tell myself he was the one at fault until the cows came home, but in reality, most of the blame lay with me.
He got in and started the car, and we drove in silence for a while. It wasn’t until we were in my neighborhood that I came to my senses. “You know where I live?”
He shot me a look of amusement. “Of course. You’re Julia Farrow. Everyone knows where you live.”
I blinked. How was I supposed to respond to that? I might have been popular but it wasn’t like I was a celebrity. There were no paparazzi stalking my house.
“You always threw the best parties when we were kids,” he added.
I sank back in my seat. Right. I’d forgotten about those birthday parties. Back in the day one couldn’t have a party without inviting the entire class. “I wonder when that stopped,” I said.
He shot me another look, this one filled with confusion, and that was when I realized that I’d spoken aloud and I probably sounded nuts. “I was just wondering when we stopped inviting everyone to our parties. Remember back when the whole class got an invite…”
I faded off and slumped down in my seat. What was I talking about? Of all the people to have this conversation with, this guy was the worst. He clearly resented me and my friends.
I had a mental flash of those friends who’d just laughed their butts off at my expense. I guess I was feeling a little resentful toward them too.
“Fifth grade.”
I looked over in surprise. “What?”
He met my gaze before turning back to the road. “Fifth grade. That was the year the invites stopped coming.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
He grinned and even in profile his smile had an effect on me. I got a weird butterfly sensation that was completely inappropriate for this scenario.
“Don’t be,” he said. “Your invites lasted much longer than the rest.” He glanced over at me. “You were always nice like that.”
I shifted in my seat to better face him. “Why do you say it like that?”
He frowned in confusion.
“The word nice,” I said. “Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?”
His fingers opened and closed on the steering wheel and he shifted in his seat. “Do you really want me to answer that? Or are you just looking for another fight?” His lips curved up in a rueful little smile and I fell into a hole of shame as I remembered the way I’d shoved him, the way I’d shouted. “I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I never do that.”
“What? Express honest emotion?”
“Yell at people.”
He pressed his lips together and I got the feeling he was either trying not to laugh or stopping himself from saying something. I toyed with the hem of my dress. “I really never get angry like that—”
“Yes, you do.”
“Excuse me?”
He shifted in his seat and glanced over at me. “Of course you get angry. Everyone does. Unless you’re a Barbie doll come to life, you experience emotions just like the rest of us mere mortals.”
For what felt like the millionth time that night I found myself gaping at him with an open mouth and wide eyes. “I’m not Barbie.” It was the best retort I could come up with in my shocked state.
“No, I didn’t really think you were.” He sounded serious and that helped calm any offense I’d been feeling about being called a plastic doll. I swallowed as I tried to think of a response.
But the thing was, I knew what he meant. Or at least, what he was implying…and he wasn’t wrong. Not entirely. I placed my hands in my lap. “Just because I don’t show every emotion at every moment I experience them doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”
He nodded. “I never doubted it.”
“So what are you saying then?”
“I guess, just…” He shrugged. “If you’re always monitoring your emotions and putting on a happy face, it’s hard to know when you’re actually bein
g nice or when you’re faking it.”
I swallowed down anger and hurt and a million other emotions. “So, you think I’m fake.”
He shot me a look. “Aren’t you?”
I inhaled quickly and it sounded too loud in the silence of the car. I turned to face front, giving him my profile. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation right now.”
He was quiet for a moment and I heard a quiet sigh. “No, you’re probably right.”
“I’ve had a bad night.”
“You definitely have.”
“Ryan broke up with me.”
“I heard.”
I swiveled my head so quickly I got whiplash. “You heard? I knew gossip spread quickly but I didn’t know it could travel at the speed of light.”
He shifted. “I, uh…I accidentally overheard Ryan’s little…speech.”
Now it was my turn to flinch. “Great,” I mumbled.
He turned to face me. “He’s a dick.”
I nodded. I was in no mood to be diplomatic. “Agreed.”
That made Matt grin that epic crinkly-eyed smile I liked so much and I was glad I’d been honest.
Matt dropped me off and we said quick, awkward goodbyes. I mean, what did you to say to the guy who’d just witnessed your most humiliating moment? “Thanks for the ride.” That’s what I settled on. He mumbled something about how everything would look better in the morning.
The sentiment was lovely but it was a total bald-faced lie.
The next morning things just got worse. I made the mistake of going on social media and found myself bombarded with photos of myself, along with some homemade videos. I even starred in a GIF.
After that I avoided social media—or I tried to. Easier said than done. Like picking a scab, I’d say, but that would be too gross of an analogy. I didn’t tell my parents what was going on because…well, they wouldn’t understand.
My dad would have given me a lecture on the importance of turning the other cheek, and holding my head high, and being nice to everyone even if it’s hard because this is a test and blah blah blah. Probably wise words, but they wouldn’t do me any good when I’d have to face Cara and Ryan and everyone else in the halls of Grover High.
Once Upon a Comic-Con: Geeks Gone Wild #3 Page 4
