Dating on the Dork Side

by Charity Tahmaseb

  It was complicated. It was also perfect!

  “Is there something I should feel weird about?” Rhino said, once his eyes had stopped glowing from the possibility of gaming the system.

  Was he waiting for me to spell it out? “Do you feel weird about helping Sophie when you’re … you know … with Elle?”

  “Nah, not really. I’m always up for a little social manipulation,” he said. Then he rubbed his hands together and twirled the ends of his invisible villain mustache. “It’s ... my hobby. The real question is, are you sure?”

  “About what?”

  Rhino shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d like to be queen.”

  I thought about it for a second, really thought about it, then I shook my head. “All I ever really wanted was to be in the parade, and wear the dress, and—”

  “Sit next to a certain football player?”

  I felt a blush coming on and looked down at my shoes. “Shut up.”

  “Okay, I’ll quit,” Rhino said. Then he added, “You know, you worry about things too much.” He’d put his hands on my shoulders again. It wasn’t quite a hug, but it wasn’t exactly not a hug either. It was Rhino, sharing his space.

  I’d known I could count on him then. But standing in the school hallway the next morning, everything seemed a little less certain.

  Just then, Gavin walked past me, coming from behind. I couldn’t stop myself from staring after him. Rhino took a step back. Gavin turned and winked. Then he kept walking like nothing had happened.

  Rhino’s face crinkled into a squint. “You know, Ladybug, there are some people who will vote for you no matter what I do.”

  I saw Gavin two more times that day. Before lunch, when he gave me a questioning look. Then, as I was running to French class. That time, the look felt like he was accusing me of something. I dreaded climbing the stairs to the tutoring room after school. Would he block me again on the third floor landing? Would he insist on another not-so-secret meeting in the boys’ bathroom?

  The landing was empty but the tutoring room was full. From the windows, I spotted Gavin in full practice uniform, warming up his arm. I guess not even Mad Dog Madison could sneak out of practice the Monday before a homecoming game.

  That night, just before I backed up the wiki, my Facebook page showed a new friend request. Gavin Madison. Before I’d thought things all the way through, I confirmed the request and he sent a message to me.

  Gavin: So, how’s it going?

  Camy: Ummm…

  I touched the folder that I’d stuffed Gavin’s spreadsheets into. I’d looked at them, sure, but so far I hadn’t done anything to start Operation Hookup.

  Gavin: I’ve given you some kind of impossible mission, haven’t I?

  Gavin: Ha. Mission Impossible.

  Gavin: 6 impossible missions.

  Camy: 6 impossible jocks.

  Gavin: Got anyone for them?

  Camy: Not yet.

  I hadn’t even tried. I guessed I should probably explain why.

  Camy: The Ab = bad reputation

  Camy: Aiden? He’s -

  I let the cursor blink and tried to figure out the right word to describe Aiden. At least Jason had that goofy charm going for him. But Aiden? His preference list was longer than any of the other boys’. From what I could tell, what he really wanted was a clone of Clarissa. Only three inches shorter. Picky, much?

  Gavin: Aiden’s an @ss

  I laughed. Gavin had a way with words. Or non-words. I flipped from the message session back to the wiki, then back again a couple of times. No way, I thought. It can’t be. But as much as I wanted to deny it, the evidence was right there in front of me.

  Gavin was Adm*n.

  The second I thought it, I knew it was true. I also knew that accusing him of it might cause even more trouble. Maybe, maybe, I needed to keep this to myself, for now. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to maintain control as I typed my response.

  Camy: The problem with Aiden is we all know him.

  Of all the wiki boys, Aiden was the one guy that every “smart girl” on my list knew. We’d all shared honors classes with him. We’d all listened to him endlessly talk about, well, everything, but his favorite subject was always himself.

  Gavin: How ’bout Randall. He’s cool.

  I knew Randall from my football days. We’d been on the same youth league team. There was only one problem with him.

  Camy: He’s a player.

  Gavin: Yeah. He’s a great linebacker.

  Camy: You know what I mean.

  Gavin: He really likes this one girl

  Camy: What if she doesn’t like him?

  Gavin: That would be a problem.

  Randall had started “dating” in the fourth grade. By the time we hit middle school he’d already been through all of the popular girls in our class, plus the ones in the class ahead of us, and behind us. Twice. But even though his relationships never lasted very long, I’d never heard anyone complain about having him as a boyfriend. And the things he’d said on the wiki weren’t too horrid. I guessed that counted for something.

  Camy: He really likes her? For real?

  Gavin: I know. It’s weird. But yeah.

  I flipped through the spreadsheet and studied Randall’s entry. He hadn’t listed any preferences or types. Just the name of one girl, a girl who wasn’t his type at all. I was pretty sure he wasn’t her type either. Still…

  Camy: Okay. I’ll do it. Have R meet me at his locker 20 minutes before first bell.

  I thought that would end our conversation. I pushed away the spreadsheet and pulled out earth science. All my new extracurriculars (double agent, homecoming candidate, private eye) were ruining my grades. I worked for a while and was about to shut down my laptop when the message window pinged me again.

  Gavin: You still there?

  My heart did this crazy beating thing. My fingers trembled on the keyboard.

  Camy: Yes.

  Gavin: Can I call you sometime?

  My hands shook, but I pulled myself together long enough to type back:

  Camy: Sure. Fine.

  As soon as I sent my phone number to him, he signed off. I still wasn’t sure what had just happened, or if he would ever really call. It was enough to think he might, though. I danced through getting my pajamas on. And even after I’d climbed into bed, I still had a smile on my face.

  I jumped when my phone chirped on the nightstand. I jumped again when I checked the display screen and found an unknown number there.

  “Hello?”

  “I hope it’s not too late.” It was Gavin. It was really, truly him. Unless I’d already fallen asleep and was dreaming. A definite possibility.

  “Late? Not too,” I said. Awesome. I was talking like Yoda.

  “You’re sleepy. I’ll let you go. I just wanted to say ‘sweet dreams’.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  Then he was gone.

  I needed to make a stop at the AV Tech room the next morning. It was early, but I only had fifteen minutes before I had to tackle the Randall issue. Accomplishing two impossible things before first bell was about all I could handle.

  I pushed open the door and was relieved to see Kevin Orrs at one of the computer stations. I wouldn’t say we were close friends, but I knew him well enough that my showing up in the tech room wasn’t all that weird.

  “Hey,” he said when he saw me. “What’s up?”

  I almost said, “The best thing that’s ever happened to you!” But I thought that might be overselling it. Instead, I went with, “Nothing much.”

  He nodded. Kevin was totally attractive, with brown hair and sleepy blue eyes. He was a flannel shirt and ripped-up jeans kind of guy, the kind of boy you could relax around, and just be yourself. He’d be good for Sophie.

  I dropped into the chair next to his and watched him work for a few seconds. I leaned closer while Kevin spliced video of various homecoming activities into some sort of slideshow.
<
br />   “Are you doing video for the ceremony on Friday?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Somebody’s got to.” He gave me a grin. “By the way, I never said congratulations. I hope you win,” he added.

  “No, you don’t.”

  He blinked and looked away, but he didn’t deny it.

  “And speaking of that, she needs a date for the dance.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. I think you know who I’m talking about, too.”

  Kevin pushed back from the computer and stared at the ceiling. At last, he let out a long sigh. “Thing is, I don’t hang out with the dregs anymore. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m now an official honor roll nerd. Not that there’s anything wrong with—I mean, I’m not saying you’re a nerd, Camy. I—”

  “Sure. Whatever. No problem. Would you mind if I asked you what happened?”

  “Nah. It’s pretty simple, really. My dad promised to buy me a car if I could bring up my grades and keep them up for the rest of the year. Anyway, that’s how it started. Once I tried it, though, I realized I actually like to learn.”

  “Even more than you liked being a slacker?”

  He nodded.

  “So what if I told you Sophie has serious nerd potential too? What if I said she’s really smart underneath all that ‘I don’t care’ attitude? Well, when she tries.”

  “Do or do not,” Kevin said. “There is no try.”

  Whoa. The Yoda-speak-thing must be contagious. Either that or Kevin’s transformation from slacker to dork was finally complete. I almost said something about it, but I looked down at my Come to the dark side … We have cookies shirt and changed my mind.

  Really, I needed to do something about my wardrobe. Stat.

  “But you like her, right?” I said.

  “Yeah, but …”

  “I know she’ll say yes if you ask.”

  “She will?”

  I hesitated before nodding. Promising anything about Sophie felt like guaranteeing a volcano wouldn’t erupt.

  “But homecoming’s only a few days away,” Kevin said. “I need a jacket or something. Do I have to wear a tie? Should I get her one of those wrist corsages?”

  “So, you’re going to ask her?”

  “Well, I mean, I don’t know. You think I should try?”

  “Do or do not. There is no try.” I stood up. My work here was done.

  Twenty minutes before first bell, I found Randall at his locker. “Maybe we should walk and talk at the same time,” I said. That might look less suspicious. Also, I didn’t think things would go as smoothly with Randall as they had with Kevin. As far as I knew, Randall’s dream girl didn’t even know he existed.

  “I don’t see you very much these days,” Randall said.

  “I still make it to all the games.”

  “Yeah. We know.”

  The comment made my head jerk up. For as long as I could remember, Randall had been huge. He wasn’t fat, but even when we were little, he’d been more like a mountain than an actual boy.

  “You think any of us forgot about you?” he added. “Everyone knows you’d still be playing, if not for—” He nodded toward my knee.

  I laughed. “I probably wouldn’t be playing football anymore, anyway. You guys got bigger, or I got smaller, or something.”

  “We could’ve made you our kicker.”

  Randall was all about the “we”. And for some strange reason, he thought I was still part of that. Or maybe he knew I just wanted to be.

  “I do miss it,” I said, “but it’s not awful, being a fan.”

  “Look, Camy.” He put a giant hand on my shoulder, stopping me before I could turn into the long hallway that led to the orchestra practice rooms.

  “I never said it back then, but … I’m really sorry.” Randall sighed and his whole body shook with it. “I was showing off that day. I had no business being in that pileup.”

  “It wasn’t you.” The truth was, it was Randall, but it wasn’t just him. I didn’t say that.

  “You’re only telling me that to be nice. Inside, you hate me, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely not. If I hated you, I’d tackle you right here, drag you into the girls’ bathroom, and give you a swirly. ”

  He laughed. That was another thing about Randall. His laugh was as large as he was. In the lobby behind us, everyone got quiet when they heard him. A few kids shot us suspicious glances, and I thought I saw one of Clarissa’s minions scurry off.

  “Shit. This is supposed to be a secret, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. We can tell people we were talking football or something.”

  As we walked down the hallway, we heard muffled notes from the members of the Olympia High Orchestra, all hidden away in their own practice rooms. We went from piano to French horn to cello. At the last door, Randall wiped his palms against his jeans, then smoothed his hair.

  “How do I look?”

  I almost said, “Fine.” Except he didn’t. There was nothing I could do about the silky blue material of his shirt. It might help if he fastened a few more buttons, though. And he’d have to lose the bling.

  “Well,” I began.

  “Go ahead and tell me. I won’t get mad.” He looked at the door and his eyebrows rose when a sudden burst of music reached us. “She ... really means a lot to me.”

  “Okay, then, take the necklace off.”

  “What?” His hand flew to his neck.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You want this to work, right?”

  Randall reached behind him and unhooked the necklace. The chain jingled when he dropped it into his pocket.

  “And button the shirt three more buttons.”

  “Two,” he countered. “I gotta be me.”

  “Yeah, but she’s a serious girl. You’ve got to show her Randall, the serious athlete, not Randall, the boy with the seriously bad reputation.”

  He buttoned the shirt.

  I raised my hand to knock on the practice room door, but stopped. I had better sense than to interrupt Prudence Laramie in the middle of a song. Actually, I had better sense than to interrupt Prudence Laramie any time. I waited until I’d heard five seconds of silence, then I knocked. A violin let out a small screech of protest as if in response. I winced and felt Randall, behind me, do the same—a full body, linebacker kind of wince.

  “Come in,” Prudence called, in the same tone she might use to say, This better be good.

  I stepped into the room alone since Randall was trying to cower behind me in the doorway. I reached back, grabbed his wrist, and tugged him inside. Then we all stood there and stared at each other. Or really, I stared at Randall and Prudence while they stared at each other.

  “I know you,” Prudence said.

  Randall kicked one foot with the other. “Our lockers are pretty close.”

  Prudence shook her head and her incredible mane of red curls bounced. I’m pretty sure Randall forgot his own name in the wake of it.

  “No,” she said. “I know you. You were at the All-District Orchestra concert last spring. And you were at the City Youth Orchestra summer concert. You were there when we played the Aquatennial, too.” Apparently, Randall Benson was hard to miss.

  His cheeks turned dusky red. “I’m kind of a fan.”

  “How many of my concerts have you been to?” she asked.

  “Except for a couple I had to miss because of football, um, all of them?”

  The way Prudence looked at Randall, I thought she was trying to figure out if he was a music lover, or a giant, creepy stalker. “In that case,” she said, “what pieces are your favorites?”

  Randall looked like he was about to panic. This was a test, and he knew it. “I … I … like the stuff nobody really knows,” he said. “Not all the music you hear in cartoons, but the other ... songs.”

  “Are you talking about atonal compositions?” Prudence took up her violi
n and drew the bow along the strings.

  A haunting melody filled the room. It almost sounded as if the violin were crying. This wasn’t the sort of music that you relaxed to. You listened to be challenged. My mom would’ve loved it. After a few moments, Prudence lifted her bow and the last of her notes echoed around us.

  In their aftermath, she said, “Something like that?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet, hushed, like he was standing in church.

  “Why?”

  That was when I knew: This was the real test. That other question had just been a warmup. I glanced at Randall, hoping he understood how important his answer would be.

  “This is going to sound stupid,” he said.

  “Probably,” Prudence replied.

  “It makes me think about football.”

  Skepticism washed across Prudence’s face. I shut my eyes. Clearly, that was not the answer she’d been looking for. But Randall wasn’t done. Not yet.

  “It’s the way I feel on the field.” He said each word slowly, like he was picking them carefully. “Like after the ball’s snapped, then there’s this crush of bodies, and the adrenaline, and it reminds me that I’m alive.” He nodded toward her violin. “When I hear music like that, it makes me feel the same way. Especially when you’re the one playing it.”

  Wow.

  Prudence’s mouth hung open, and I felt mine do the same.