Headlights appear on the driveway, and I jog toward them. Logan’s beat-up silver Accord pulls into an empty spot, and he leans over to unlock the door. When I open it, a very dim overhead light pops on, and the first thing I see is his smile.
“Hi,” I say when I drop into the seat. How witty is that?
“How’s it going?” He throws an arm over the back of my seat and turns to watch the back as he reverses.
“Fine.” Man, I should write a book. I could call it Things to Say to Ensure You Come Off as an Idiot.
“Good, good.” He nods his head.
It’s quiet for a minute as we both stare ahead at the road. Finally, I strike on a gem of a conversation starter. “I didn’t know you worked at The Phoenix.”
“I didn’t know you were into comics.” He quirks that eyebrow at me. “I haven’t seen you in the store before.”
“I usually just download my issues.”
“Aw, why would you do that when you have a perfectly good comic shop in town?” He taps his fingers against the steering wheel along with the music on the radio.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It’s just more convenient, I guess.”
“But don’t you miss actually holding the paper in your hands?”
“Yeah, I do. I miss the smell, too. There’s just something about it.”
“Exactly. The old ones especially, before they went to that glossy paper.”
This feels so weird, surreal even, to be having a real-life conversation with someone about comics. I catch myself bobbing my head, agreeing with every word he says. I can feel a goofy grin on my lips. I literally have to shake my head, rattle my brain, to come back to my senses.
I keep quiet for the rest of the drive. So does he, but I can feel him flick glances at me which, in turn, causes me to flick glances right back. He’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. His hair sticks out at weird angles, but for some reason, the whole messy, not-a-care-in-the-world thing makes him seem even more magnetic.
The only noise is the college radio station playing quietly through the front speakers. A Yoda bobblehead shimmies on the dashboard. The car is clean or, at least, my seat is. It’s obvious he tidied up before coming to get me. In other words, the back seat is crammed full of books, CDs, and notebooks. There are a couple of long, white cardboard boxes I know are made for comic book storage. My fingers itch to open them.
When we make it to my house, I see my mom’s silhouette through the glass in the front door. She turns the porch light on. It’s 11:30. I’m early. She sticks her head out the door, and I wave. Her worried frown is replaced by a relieved smile.
“I’ll just run up and get your book,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it later.”
“But aren’t you ready to read it?”
“Yeah, but I can wait. You look nice tonight, by the way.” He clears his throat. Even in the barely there light, I can see his ears turn red.
Is blushing contagious? Because my cheeks start to burn. “Thanks, and thanks for the ride.”
“Any time.”
“Okay.” There’s a second where I forget what it is I’m supposed to do next. Eric usually lunges across the seat and gives me a sloppy kiss, but this isn’t a date, and Logan isn’t my boyfriend. Or Eric. I tuck my hair behind my ear nervously and look him in the eyes. They are blue, not the color of the ocean blue, not the blue of a morning sky, just pure blue.
Somehow, my mind kick starts, and I remember what the next step is. “Well, good night.”
“‘Night.” He smiles a real smile. This one is so honest and bright it’s almost blinding in its cuteness.
His car almost stalls as it pulls out of the driveway. I wonder what he’ll do with the rest of his night. Is he going to continue playing video games with Dan? Or is he going to curl up in bed with a stack of comics?
Now I’m thinking about him in bed. Possibly wearing nothing but a pair of Iron Man boxers. I shake my head. I have got to get a hold on myself.
…
The next morning, I wake up to the smell of French toast drifting through the house. A weight leaves my shoulders when I realize today is the first official day of summer. I hate the heat—it’s easier to get warm than it is to get cool—but the summer has always been my time. I don’t have to pretend nearly as much. By the end of this week, I’ll probably be completely caught up on my to-be-read pile—or file since it’s really just a folder on my computer—which means I’ll need to buy a new comic journal because the current one will be full.
But, before I start rolling around in my nerd-world like Scrooge McDuck in a mountain of gold, I need sustenance. When I get downstairs, Mom is at the stove. I stack a couple of pieces of buttery, syrupy goodness on a plate and sit down at the table to dig in.
“Do you know where the air mattress is? Roland is coming home for the weekend soon, and he might need it,” Mom says, and my heart fills with happy.
Roland is my older brother who goes to college in Shreveport. He was my hero growing up. Whenever he does come home, we stay up way too late catching up on comic book talk. We’re going to have so much to discuss when it comes to The Super Ones. I can’t wait to hear his opinion on the significance of The Young One’s OCD in comparison to Marcus’s drinking problem. And I’ll be able to show off another completed comic journal. Ro gave me my first empty one after I spent hours poring over his own towering stack of journals when I was a kid. On one hand, I want to curse him for ever getting me into comics. On the other, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“It’s in the hall closet by your room, but I doubt he’ll use it. He’ll just end up on the couch like always,” I say.
“I know, but I want to make him as comfortable as possible. If I have to hear any more psychobabble about why I turned his room into a craft room, I’m going to lose it. Anyway, did you have fun at the party?”
“Yeah, it was okay.”
“Whose car was that last night?”
I almost choke on my food because the last thing I need is Mom poking her nose into the situation. She’s not exactly the biggest Eric fan, and if she thought I was talking to someone else, I’d never hear the end of it. “Eric wasn’t ready to leave so I got a ride with Logan.”
Mom sits across the table with a cup of coffee. “Who’s Logan?”
“He’s just a guy in my class.”
“Who are his parents?”
“Mom, come on.”
“Okay, sorry, I just like to know who my daughter is friends with.”
“We’re not friends,” I say, then backtrack, thinking she’ll want to know why I let a stranger drive me home. “Not really, anyway. We just know each other from school.”
Dad comes in through the back door, stomping his boots on the welcome mat to get rid of any dirt. He always has had perfect timing.
“Good morning, Madelyne Jean, Dorothy Ann.” He nods at us both like a true gentlemen. “What do you have planned today, Maddie?”
“I thought I’d go over and hang out with Terra. Maybe go swimming.”
Mom sighs. “Ah, to be young again. Nothing to do but hang out and go swimming.”
I grab my plate and put it in the dishwasher. “It’s a tough life, but someone has to live it.”
“Don’t forget your sunblock!” Mom yells as I dart up the stairs.
When I get to my room, I give Eric a required girlfriend call. There’s no answer, of course, so I text him a quick message.
Maddie: Have a great time! Will miss you :)
I’m such a horrible person because that is a big, fat lie. Do I wish he’ll have a great time? Sure. But will I miss him? Not really.
I put on my swimsuit and cover it with a fitted white T-shirt and some shorts. Then, I grab #400 from my closet and give it one last read through. I’m going to miss it, but I’ll have my own copy in another month or two, right? It’s not like this one is special or anything because it’s Logan’s.
I fold the Phoenix bag wit
h perfectly straight creases until it’s a nice flat square that will fit in my comic journal. After it’s safely put away, I carefully place #400 in my backpack along with some sunblock.
I prop some shades on my head and give myself a once-over in the mirror. There I am, just a normal teenage girl ready to go swimming with her best friend on the first official day of the summer. Looking at me, no one would ever guess I’m really on my way to visit the nerd capital of Natchitoches.
#6
With my jacket on, the hood of it pulled up and over my cap, and my shades firmly in place, I pull into the back parking lot of The Phoenix next to the only other vehicle, Logan’s. I dial his number.
“Hey, Maddie,” he answers, his smooth voice causing a shiver to float across the back of my neck.
“How did you know it was me?” I look around. Is he hiding in the bushes or something?
“I programmed your number into my phone.”
Great. What if someone goes through his contacts and finds me? “Right. Anyway, I have your comic.”
“I can’t come get it now because I’m at the shop, but maybe later we—”
“I’m parked out back,” I say quickly before he can tempt me with what we can maybe do later.
“Well, come on in.”
“Could you just come out here?”
There’s a long silence before he says, “Fine,” and hangs up.
Double great. Now he’s mad at me. And why should I care? It’s not like we could ever actually be friends. My kind and his kind just don’t mix.
The beat-up metal door in front of me slams open, banging against a cinder block probably used to prop it open, and out comes Logan. He stalks to my passenger-side door, shoulders hunched, hands in pockets. The window is open, so he just shoves a hand through it and makes a give-it-here motion with his fingers. As I open my backpack to get the book, I lean over, trying to see his face.
“Sorry I made you come out here. You probably need to watch the store, right?”
“Dan’s keeping an eye on things,” he says in a flat tone.
“What a good friend.”
I pet the #400’s cover one last time. Am I stalling? I don’t know, but for whatever reason, I don’t want him to be mad at me. Thinking it’s the best way to get us back into friendly territory, I hand it to him. He snatches it away without so much as a thank you, turns to go back inside, then stops. He leans over and sticks his head through the window, a scowl on his face.
I prepare myself for whatever rant he’s about to lay on me, but when he sees me, his face goes blank. His eyes move from my glasses to my hat to my hoodie and back to my face. I’m used to these kinds of blatant appraisals. I’m a cheerleader, for God’s sakes. But Logan’s stare makes me feel naked. Heat rises in my cheeks. Then he ruins it by laughing long and hard.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you serious?” He wipes away a tear from the corner of his eye. “In the name of all that is good and holy, why are you dressed like that? It’s almost a hundred degrees out here.”
“I…I get cold.”
“You get cold?” he asks, then lets out a sound that can only be interpreted as a scoff.
I hate scoffs.
“Yeah, I get cold.”
He shakes his head as he laughs some more. The heat in my cheeks has turned to a scalding burn. This is what I get for allowing someone to peek at that side of me. He can just laugh his ass back into that store and out of my perfectly fine life.
I throw the car into reverse. “Enjoy your comic.”
“Wait!” he yells, gripping the door handle.
I stop just for a second thinking his shirt or something is caught, but he takes the chance to fling open the door and sit in the passenger seat.
He fastens the seat belt, closes the door, and slaps the top of the car through the open window. “Okay, I’m ready. Where are we going?”
I can’t think of a response due to being completely and utterly flabbergasted at his audacity.
“I’m hungry. You hungry? I’ll buy.”
I glare at him over the top of my sunglasses and purse my lips.
He sighs. “I’m sorry I laughed at you, but please don’t go. You want to come inside for a second? Get some water? Cool off?”
“I can’t. I have to…” I trail off as I stare at the metal door hanging open. God, what I wouldn’t give to go in.
“Come on, just for a minute. You’ll kick yourself later if you don’t, and you know it. I promise no one will see you. Dan will stay up front for as long as I’m in the back.”
“I’m not worried about anyone seeing me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Of course not. You’re just trying to start a new fashion trend. I’m sure the creepy-creeper style will take off.”
I remove my shades and look between him and the open door. I can see stacks and stacks of those white, cardboard boxes lined up against the wall in there. When will I ever get this chance again?
It’s not like I really have anything to do. I chew on my bottom lip a little before giving in. “Just for a minute.”
Before I’m even out of my car, he comes around to meet me with that annoying smile plastered across his face.
I glare at him. “Will you stop that?”
“Stop what?”
“Smiling.”
“Okay.” But he just keeps on smiling and nudges my shoulder with his. How can I stay mad at that? Heaving a sigh, I trudge toward The Phoenix.
The second I cross the threshold, the smell of aged paper hits me, and I breathe deep. I pause and take it all in as Logan closes and locks the door behind us. I feel like I’ve been given an all-access pass to Disney World. Not only are there tons of boxes, but there’s a row of big cardboard cutouts in the corner lined up like they’re waiting to buy movie tickets. The walls are covered with gorgeous posters done by some of the best artists ever. There’s George Perez’s cover of DC’s Infinity Crisis #7 with Superman cradling Supergirl’s torn and battered body. And by the door that leads to the front of the store, is a really long poster of the X-Men team done by Jim Lee. I know it’s Jim Lee because the way he does hair and brow furrows is unmistakable.
“Any particular title you want to read?” Logan asks.
“Where’s your boss? He wouldn’t like me being back here, I bet.”
“Actually, I’m kind of my own boss. My parents own The Phoenix. All you see before you will one day be mine.” He spreads his arms wide.
Talk about a dream job! I’d never leave. They wouldn’t even have to pay me. “That is so awesome.” I let my fingers slide over one of the boxes. I can almost hear the thousands of voices inside begging to tell me their stories.
“It’s okay, I guess.”
“What do you mean ‘I guess’? You get to come here every day.”
“Well, the shop isn’t doing so well lately.” He leans one shoulder against the wall.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.” Now that I think back over the many times I’ve passed by the store, I can’t remember ever seeing more than one or two cars out front at one time. Rather than think about what that meant to the store, I was more concerned about whether the people driving those cars would notice me ogling the displays in the windows.
“Don’t worry about it. Things will pick up soon. So let’s see. You like The Super Ones so you’d probably like The Midnight Judge.”
“I’ve already read that series.” I wait for his inevitable response of disbelief, but it never comes.
“Great! I mean, the earlier issues were kind of cliché, but when that new writer took over, wow. Just wow. He took it in a whole new direction.” He starts shifting boxes, reading the labels as he goes.
“I know, right? Issue #249 almost made my brain explode when he killed that cop on accident, then totally lost it.”
He stops in the middle of picking up another box, turns to me, and there’s this moment where I feel like I’m being seen for the first time. I can’t quite interpret
the look on his face. It’s kind of like before when his stare made me feel almost naked, except this time his head tilts to the side and the corner of his mouth turns up just a tiny bit. It’s like he just caught a glimpse of something fascinating, but he’s not sure what it is.
“I thought the same thing.” He takes a step toward to me. “That whole story line was revolutionary, in my opinion.”
I smile, and he smiles more. The question I’ve asked myself at least a million times since I first saw Logan pops into my head: What is it about this guy? He’s not “movie star” hot. He wears one of those old calculator watches and has a scattering of freckles, for goodness sake. Then, he checks the time on that silly watch, and my stomach goes all wibbley-wobbley. I have to bite my lip to suppress a giggle when I picture him tapping away on that tiny calculator, working out complicated equations. He would have a crease between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the numbers. I would smooth it away with a kiss, and he’d look up at me and…
I put a chokehold on my thoughts before they get any further. No fantasizing about kissing adorkable nerd boys for me, no matter how kissable they look. Especially right now.
Suddenly, I realize we’ve been standing there smiling at each other for way too long. “Oh, and when his best friend is taken and brainwashed into becoming a super assassin and Judge has to kill him, too, only to find out about the brainwashing thing later.”
He nods at my rambling and takes a few more steps closer. I step back. Sort of.
“It was so sad when he found out he could have reversed the effects of the brainwashing and saved him,” he says in a near whisper. He leans forward and reaches around me to tap the box I’m propped against. “I think that run of issues is in this box.”
We’re so close now I can feel the leftover heat from the sun as it leaves his clothes and skin. He’s wearing a worn gray T-shirt that’s kind of tight on his shoulders. He’s not buff like Eric, but he’s not skin and bones, either.
“Neat.” I could smack myself in the forehead for such a lame response. But it’s like my brain has given up trying to supply me with intelligent words and has switched to “grin like a fool” mode.
The Summer I Became a Nerd Page 4