40 and I decide to trust Jade a little more. “I actually really want to meet a guy here,”I say. “Ooh, yeah,”says Jade. “Summer fl ing.”I laugh. “I guess,”I say. “I just never really found my type of guy back in North Carolina, and I thought maybe Austin would be the per- fect place, since there’s such a great music scene and lots of smart band guys.”“There are also lots of frat boys,”says Jade. She takes a big bite of her burrito. “I’ve already met one of those,”I say, think- ing of Russ and his irksome personality. “They’re not all bad,”she says. “Just mostly.”I put my taco down as sauce drips on my arm. I grab a napkin and wipe it up, then I gaze across the parking lot. “I can picture him,”I say, probably sound- ing too wistful for my own good. “Your dream guy?”Jade asks, smirking. “Yeah,”I say. “I guess that sounds dumb.”I pick up my taco. “No, it doesn’t,”she says. “Do tell.”“Okay,”I say, carefully fi nishing my chew
41 before I lapse into the vision I have. “Dark hair and perfectly hip glasses—meaning either black frame classics or those larger, slightly tinted ones that Alpha girls think are nerdy but that I know are truly stylish.”Jade laughs encouragingly. “Go on,”she says. “He loves the Walters, of course, but he also knows a lot of other bands that he can intro- duce me to,”I say. “I really want to hear new stuff and fall in love with the music he worships. We can go to shows every night and make each other playlists, and choose one song that’s just ours, just for this summer, that we’ll both always remember.”“You are such a spaz!”says Jade, standing up and tossing out her burrito wrapper. I stand up too. “Oh, and he’s in a band,”I say, walking across the parking lot and back to Amalgam. “Or he’s a DJ. I could completely fall for an indie-rock DJ.”Jade’s face lights up. “What?”I ask as she holds open the door to the offi ce for me. “I’ve got someone you need to meet,”she
42 says mysteriously. “Don’t make plans for Friday night.”I try to press her for the rest of the day, but she won’t tell me who this “need to meet”person is . . . although she does tell me he’s a guy. At the end of the day, she fi nally caves a little. “His name is Sebastian,”she says. “And he is smoking hot.”That’s all I need to hear. I cannot wait for Friday.
43 Chapter 5 The rest of the week goes by really slowly. I realize that my assumption about Penny’s gro- cery shopping habits was only partially correct. She does indeed shop, but she buys only fruit and candy. It’s like this weird mix—apples, Sour Patch Kids, honeybell oranges, Sno-Caps, grapes, gummy bears, bananas . . . I may turn into a sugar-craving citrus animal if I don’t get some protein soon. I email Mom and Dad to tell them all about Amalgam and how much I’m going to learn about the “real world”this summer, leaving out the part about my internship being one day a week and my diet consisting of things that I’d eat if I were the love child of Willy Wonka and Chiquita Banana. I read a few guidebooks to Austin but realize that I have no way to get
44 anywhere I want to go without a car. Penny has to use the BMW for the rest of the week, and I’d feel sheepish borrowing it all the time anyway. Luckily, the condo’s just a few blocks from campus, and by Friday afternoon, I’ve fi gured out the easiest way to walk there. I’m ready to leave my air-conditioned sanctuary. I think. I load up my backpack with my iPod, a snack (a honeybell), a blanket, and two books on my personal summer-reading list. Oh, and a big-ass bottle of water. When I reach campus, my water’s almost gone. I fi nd a drinking fountain and refi ll my SIGG before I spread out on the fi rst big stretch of grass I fi nd. Under a tree. I can’t risk getting sun, and I’ve never been into tanning. Besides, did I mention it’s a thousand degrees outside? It is. There are lots of students around, but I’m sure the crowds are much bigger during the year. Summer is always the best season in a col- lege town, when the student population thins out a little. “Hey, hey, Priscilla!”I hear a deep twang behind me. I guess the population hasn’t thinned out enough.
45 “Russ,”I say, pulling out my headphones and tucking my iPod into my bag so he won’t see that I’m listening to the Walters. He sits down on the edge of my blanket by my outstretched feet. As if he’s welcome. I remember that Penny told me that Russ is on campus most days, fi nishing up some paper for a class, which he didn’t turn in on time last semester—he needs it to become a senior next year. “Haven’t seen you around this week,”he says. “You been working hard at Amalgam?”“Yeah,”I say. “It keeps me busy.”“So, are you riding the bus all the way to South Congress every day?”he asks, naming the street Amalgam is on. I wonder how much I should lie here. I look back at him. His smile widens and he swats my out- stretched foot, knocking off my fl ip-fl op. Then he laughs and lies down on his back in the grass at my feet, raising his arms to cross his hands behind his head. How often does he have to work out to get that kind of bicep defi nition? “I know you’re only there on Mondays,”
46 says Russ. “Penny told me.”“Well, I worked really hard on Monday,”I say defensively, chastising myself internally for even noticing his sculpted muscles. “And I’ve been busy the rest of the week.”“So busy you can’t even come next door to hang out?”he asks, leaning up on one arm and looking at me sideways. He tucks a blade of grass in his mouth and starts to chew on it. Like a cow. “I’ve had my own stuff going on,”I say. The truth is, “my own stuff”has been a lot of time online with my headphones on. When Penny goes out, she always invites me, but Chrissy and the Tri-Pis are not my people. Nor is Russ for that matter. I’ve been bonding with Miss Tiara though—she nuzzles next to me on the couch while I listen to music. And I have to agree with Penny: She does seem happiest in dresses. “Fair enough, Priscilla,”says Russ, lying back again with a maddening grin. “But I don’t think you want to spend all summer stuck in that apartment.”“What are you suggesting?”I ask. Because, well, I sort of agree with him.
47 “You must have some money saved up if you’re working a no-pay internship,”he says. “Why don’t I take you down to Albie’s to get yourself a beater.”“A what?”I ask. “A beater,”he says, still staring at the sky and chewing on that mutilated blade of grass. “A clunker of a car you can drive around for the summer and sell back to him in August when you leave.”I consider the idea. It’s not a bad one, and I do feel stuck at Penny’s condo. I have about two thousand dollars saved up for the summer from my movie theater job in North Carolina. I cannot explain what it takes to save two thou- sand dollars on minimum wage, but let’s just call it two years of popcorn shifts and very little new clothing. “I could probably spend like fi ve hundred dollars,”I say, calculating things in my head. “That’ll get you something nice at Albie’s,”he says, sitting up to face me. Then he starts explaining that Albie is this old guy who lives outside of town and has a lot full of eclectic cars.
48 In the mottled sunlight through the trees, Russ looks like an old movie star, someone out of a Western who belongs on a horse with a gun slung around his waist. But here he is, on my blanket in the shade. And when he’s not being obnoxious, he’s kind of . . . “You hungry?”he asks, interrupting my inappropriate daydream and fi nally spitting out that blade of grass. “Starving,”I say, feeling friendly toward Russ for the fi rst time. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just not my type, I remind myself. “I thought maybe the grape-and-grape- NERDS diet Penny lives on might not work for a girl like you who enjoys her tortilla-fried catfi sh,”he says, standing up and offering me his hand. I laugh. He remembered what I ordered last week. “Let’s go get some real food,”he says. After a huge burger that tastes like heaven, Russ asks me if I want to hang out tonight. The weird thing is, I don’t fully want to say no. But I have to.
49 “I’ve got plans,”I say. Tonight is the night I meet Sebastian the DJ. I’ve already made him my summer fl ing . . . in my own mind anyway. I even IMed with Raina about it last night, and she agreed that with a name like Sebastian, he has to be The Supreme. “That’s cool,”says Russ, yawning and stretching his arms over his head as we fi nish our walk back to the condo. “So I’ll come over tomorro
w morning and we’ll go to Albie’s to car-shop. Remember to get out some cash tonight—he doesn’t take credit cards.”“Okay,”I say. “It’s a date,”he says, walking up to his door while I head to mine. “Well, it’s not a date,”I clarify. “Relax, Priscilla,”he says, smiling and shak- ing his head. “It’s just an expression.”I sigh audibly in frustration. Why can’t he just call me Quinn?! I slam the door and I can hear his loud, whooping laugh through the wall. I stomp up the stairs to take a long shower while Penny’s not here. As much as I hate to admit it, I enjoy the amount of product she has in her bathroom. I get to choose between four
50 pairings of shampoo and conditioner, not to mention three scents of body wash and six (six!) facial cleansers. If I approved of such excess, I’d really get into this. But I don’t. Well, at least not in theory. When I go downstairs to get dressed, I plug my iPod into the stereo. I almost put on the Walters, but I wonder if Russ can hear through the walls. I choose Seasick Pandas instead and turn up the volume. Their fast-paced guitar riffs put me in a dancing mood as I pull on my favorite pair of faded jeans and a free shirt that I got when I subscribed to NYLON magazine last year. It’s white with hot pink lettering, and I cut out the neckline a little bit and washed it a ton of times to make it stretchy and a little faded. I love free shirts. I sneak back upstairs to put some of Penny’s various volume-gel-hair-thickening- beach-texture gunk in my hair, which has faded to a pale greenish-blue hue and is growing out a little. When I try out some light mascara and a slash of dark red lipstick, I notice that Miss Tiara is in the bathroom with me, her head cocked sideways.
51 “What?”I ask her. “I may not be Party Penny’s style of hot, but I think I look good.”Miss Tiara barks her approval. Or disap- proval. Who can tell? Either way, I feel ready for tonight. I go downstairs and sit on my couch- bed, awaiting Jade. The hanging-around-to-be-picked-up time after getting ready to go out is always a buzz- kill. I grab some candy from my cousin’s over- fl owing jar in the kitchen and suck on a Sugar Daddy to keep my energy up. Finally, the doorbell rings. I leave a quick note for Penny telling her not to wait up, and I head into the night for my fi rst Austin music experience.
52 Chapter 6 At Dirty’s, the scene is all pool tables and neon beer signs, despite the fact that Friday night is eighteen and older, so everyone can enjoy the DJs. There’s a dartboard in the corner and a row of arcade games along one wall. When we get there, I immediately notice him despite all the lit-up distractions. Sebastian. It’s like a spotlight is shining on the DJ booth. “I see him!”I say to Jade excitedly. “That’s probably because there’s a spotlight on the DJ booth,”she says. Riiight. I silently acknowledge that I could possibly be a little overexcited here. “Introduce me!”I say. “Oh, I don’t know him,”she says. “I just thought he matched your description perfectly.”And he does. Black hair smoothed out into
Lovestruck Summer
53 a hipster cut that hangs in a wavy line around his face, almost covering his intense green eyes, which are framed by large oval glasses with a dark olive-colored edge. He looks like an album cover for a band I’d really like. Jade’s tugging my arm over to the DJ booth. But without her intro, how will I ever get up the nerve to—“I’m Jade. And this is Quinn.”I guess Jade has nerve enough for both of us. “Sebastian,”nods the DJ, barely looking up from his vinyl. He hasn’t started spinning yet—he’s laying out his selections for the night. I glance at the albums he has out—Remote Storage, Paper Prospect, Cakewalk, plus an old David Bowie single and some Cure songs mixed in. I think I’m in love. “What’s this band?”I ask, pointing to an Endless Rain album and looking up at his effort- lessly cool face. At this point, the only thing I’m confi dent enough to ask him about is music. “Dance tunes,”he says. “But dark.”“Like Depeche Mode?”I ask, liking how he keeps his sentences short. He looks at me then and grins, showing
54 crooked teeth that give him that just-off-enough- to-look-perfect smile. “Kind of,”he says. “Come talk to us when you get a break,”says Jade, tugging me away. “What are you doing?!”I ask when we get to a table and sit down. “Did you see him smil- ing at me?”“You have to leave him wanting more,”says Jade instructively. “Besides, he’s working and you’re not here to see him, you’re here to enjoy the music. Studied nonchalance is the key to catching an indie boy.”She’s good at this, I realize. While Jade and I talk about random things, I surreptitiously watch Sebastian’s shiny black hair move back and forth as he changes tracks from his booth. I appreciate the way his long, thin fi ngers carefully tuck each record into its cover after it spins, and I think how gentle those hands must be. I get a little shiver each time he does it. After an hour, the live band is getting ready to start, so Sebastian packs up his stuff. Please come over to us, please come over to us. I keep my face calm as I see his long stride, out of
55 the corner of my eye, heading for our table. “Hey,”he says, sitting down in a conve- niently empty third chair that we had discour- aged others from stealing during his set with “don’t touch it”glares. “Hey,”I say. “I’m thirsty,”says Jade-the-expert-wing- woman, getting up to go to the bar. “Be right back.”“You new in town?”asks Sebastian, turning his full attention on me. “Yeah,”I say. “I’m from North Carolina, but I’m here for the summer.”I want to tell him I’m working at Amalgam, but I also don’t want to be name-dropping right away. “Doesn’t your friend work for Amalgam?”he asks. Guess that takes care of that. “Yeah,”I say. “We met there—I’m an intern.”“Cool,”he says. “My favorite bands are on that label.”“Mine too,”I say. “The Walters.”“They are wild,”says Sebastian. “Those guys put on a show.”
56 “I know,”I say. “I’ve seen them seventeen times.”“Whoa!”He laughs. “You’re a superfan.”“Kind of,”I say, embarrassed. “It’s cool,”he says. “I am too. That’s why I spin—I just love getting into all those songs and fi guring out the mix that will set the per- fect mood for the band that’s playing after my set. Like tonight Inconceivable Hat is here, so I wanted to spin some old infl uences that I hear when they perform.”“That’s really smart,”I say, leaning on my elbow and watching Sebastian’s mouth move. He’s talking with his hands now that he’s explaining what he spins, and they look even softer up close. Jade comes back with her drink and breaks my reverie, but she’s careful to be low-key and let me and Sebastian do most of the back-and- forth. Talking with him turns out to be easy. We like a lot of the same bands, and he is complete physical perfection. Even his fl aws, like the way one of his front bottom teeth overlaps the other and how one strand of hair is slightly longer
57 than the rest on the left side of his head, make him somehow more attractive. When we leave around midnight, Sebastian writes his cell number in a matchbook, which strikes me as romantic and iconic and so much cooler and less presumptuous than actually pro- gramming it into my phone. I clench it in my hand as I get into Jade’s old Toyota and watch him speed away on a green Vespa. “How cool is he?”I ask rhetorically. “Told you so,”says Jade. I fall asleep that night dreaming of those vinyl-changing hands.
58 Chapter 7 I wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Penny’s humming. I go upstairs to shower away the mascara remains from last night. I usually kind of like that raccoon-eye look, but today I feel like being clean. I put on an old T-shirt that says ALLEN AND SONS BARBECUE and my jean shorts, which Penny was totally right about—I’m wearing them almost exclusively now because of the heat. Then I go downstairs and join my cousin in the kitchen, where she’s picking at a mixed berry bowl. “What’s up, Quinn?”she asks, feeding a strawberry to Miss Tiara, who sits on a barstool between us at the kitchen island. “Nothing,”I say, tucking my hair behind my ears. “What’d you do last night?”she asks.
59 “I just went out with a friend from work,”I say. “We saw a show.”“Fun!”says Penny. “Yeah, it was cool,”I say. I don’t want to tell her about Sebastian, because I can’t pic- ture them getting along. If I admit it to myself, I think I’d be embarrass
ed to let him meet her, in all her sorority-sister glory. “Sorry I’ve been MIA all week,”says Penny. “Planning Rush is a huge task, and I’m also trying to get a head start on a venue for Tri-Pi’s fi rst formal of the year, the Sweet September Swingfest.”“It’s okay,”I say, cringing internally at the name of the dance. “I can entertain myself.”“I know,”says Penny. “But I just feel bad that you don’t have a car and—”Ding-dong. Penny jumps up to get the door as Miss Tiara starts barking haughtily. I race to head them off. “I’ll get it,”I say. Russ is standing outside in the sun with a huge grin on his face. His curls are completely unruly today, I notice. “Ready?”he asks. “Ready,”I say. “See you later, Penny.”
60 Her mouth drops open, and so does Miss Tiara’s. “Russ is taking me to buy a car,”I explain. “I was just about to tell you. Bye!”I shut the door before Penny can say any- thing. It’s not a big deal. I really hate it when people act all like, Ooooh, about things. We’re not in fi rst grade. Outside, Russ opens up the passenger side door to a giant Ford truck that looks like it’s seen a few decades. “This one’s yours?”I ask. “You surprised?”asks Russ, taking my hand to help me step up into the cab. I swat him away. I can do this myself. “I’m actually not surprised,”I say. I should have known that this old rusty truck, among all the other normal cars in the lot, would belong to Russ. We drive through the main part of town by the Capitol building and then head out onto an empty stretch of road. I’m guessing they didn’t have AC in cars made in the 1950s or whenever this thing came from, so we have the windows rolled down, and the engine isn’t the quietest in the world. Despite all the noise and wind, the
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