The Summer I Became a Nerd

by Leah Rae Miller

  “We could, uh—”

  He stops midsentence, glances down at me, and swallows hard. When his lips part, I get the same light-headed feeling I do when I complete a triple back handspring. His fingertips whisper across my forearm, and my eyes close. The low hum of cars passing by outside seems to calm my rapid heartbeat. My hand reaches for him without my permission, no matter how wrong I know hooking my finger into his jeans pocket will be. Logan leans closer, like he knows what I’m about to do, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to breathe again when I open my eyes and see how he’s looking at me.

  And wouldn’t you know it, that’s the moment Dan realizes he has no idea how to run a cash register.

  “Dude!” he yells from the front of the store. “How do I get this S-O-B to open again?”

  Logan clears his throat and steps back. “I’ll be right back.”

  When he leaves, I fan my face, then lay both palms on my warm cheeks. Well, that didn’t take long. I haven’t even been here a full five minutes, and I almost mauled him.

  What’s wrong with me? One second, I’m concerned about whether or not someone will see my name in his phone contacts, and the next, I want to strangle Dan for interrupting what could have been the hottest, nerd-boy kiss of my life. I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who wouldn’t like me kissing another guy. Probably.

  Logan’s voice drifts through the door from the front counter. “What did you do to it?”

  “I didn’t do anything. It hates me, that’s all,” Dan says, and then it sounds like he slams his fist on the buttons. The register makes a lot of dinging sounds, and then there’s a strange noise like whurrrrr, tick, tick.

  I might be here for a while.

  …

  I end up on the floor surrounded by comic books, having opened the nearest box and rifled through it. I could seriously live here. All I would need is some water and maybe some of that dehydrated astronaut food.

  I suddenly get the feeling I’m being watched and look up. Logan is leaning against the frame of the open door.

  “Looks like you’re having fun.”

  “Is this okay? I promise I’ll put them back in order.”

  He laughs. “It’s fine.” He reaches up and turns a little white knob on a panel by the door. Music starts playing from an ancient speaker in the corner. The sound quality is kind of crackly, but I like it. The whole atmosphere seems to meld together into a piece of my own personal heaven. Vintage comics, music that hasn’t been autotuned to hell and back, and another person who likes all the same things to share it with? It doesn’t get better than this.

  I realize the music isn’t coming from a CD but from a radio station when the deejay announces the next song.

  “Keep listening, all you wonderful people stuck here for the summer. You’re lucky I’m one of you.” A kind of reggae song starts.

  “Is that the college station?” I ask.

  He plops down on the other side of my increasing wall of books. “Yeah. You listen to it?”

  “Not really. You were listening to it last night in the car.”

  “Oh, right. I have my own show this summer so I’m trying to make sure I don’t copy any of the other personalities.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I can tell he’s proud of the fact.

  “Wow, cool. Did you have to apply to NU for that?” I pull out another comic as casually as possible, but I really want to bury my face in it.

  “Kind of. I wanted to get started as soon as possible in the business so I went to the professor who’s in charge of the station and asked if I could help out over the summer. He gave me my own show. Figured I might be able to drum up interest from the high school kids. I doubt that will actually happen, but I didn’t want to tell him that.”

  “Why don’t you think that’ll work?”

  He shakes his head. “People don’t listen to the radio anymore. It’s all digital downloads, iTunes, and YouTube. Besides, it’s not like I have a loyal fan-base or anything.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be awesome. When’s your show on? I’ll listen—it’s the least I can do.”

  “It’s a nightly show from seven to nine.”

  “That’s a good time spot, right?”

  “Yeah, one of the best, actually. I have no idea why he let me have it.”

  I watch his every move now. He stacks and unstacks the comics. He studies one cover, then moves onto another, trying his best not to glance at me. I know that’s what he’s doing because every time he looks up and I’m looking at him, his eyes dart back down. It gets quiet, so I go back to my book.

  We spend the next few hours thumbing through different issues. He’ll show me a particular series of panels that are well done. I’ll show him a classic ad for Sea-Monkeys or x-ray glasses. We have a couple of conversations about the importance of this character or that event. He checks on Dan every once in a while, which always ends with Dan saying something like, “What the hell are you doing back there anyway?” or, “Dude, you know I’m not getting paid for this shit, which is probably against the law. Child labor going on right here in the heartland of America!”

  “Is he really that upset? I can go if you need to be up there,” I say after the third time Logan comes back from up front.

  “He’s fine. He doesn’t do anything else but hang out here anyway. Plus, I let him read all the books he wants when he watches the register.”

  Just then, my phone goes off. My ringtone is a song about this guy who wishes he would have said something to this girl he has great chemistry with. I love how the singer sounds like he’s speaking from the heart.

  I jump up when I see it’s Eric calling.

  “I should…” I glance from the screen of my phone to Logan. His brow is furrowed.

  For a moment, I contemplate not answering. It’s hard to let go of this place, but Eric is considerate even if he isn’t the smartest dog in the hunt. He might call my parents and say he can’t get in touch with me. Then they might call Terra, who wouldn’t know anything about going swimming today. I’ll be in super-duper trouble before the summer even gets started.

  I put one hand over my other ear to block out the grainy music. “Hello.”

  “Hey, babe, sorry I didn’t answer this morning. Where did you go last night?”

  “I, uh, just wanted to get home. I was tired. Just wanted to sleep in my own bed.”

  “How’d you get home?”

  I cut my gaze to Logan and catch him staring. He quickly becomes immersed in another cover. “My brother was in town. I just called him.”

  There’s some yelling in the background, and Eric says, “All right, dude, I’m coming! I have to go, babe. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Okay, bye.”

  “Was that the quarterback boyfriend?” Logan asks when I hang up, not even looking at me.

  “Yeah, he’s on vacation in Florida.”

  “Must be nice.” He finally looks at me and crosses his arms. “So, I’m your brother, huh?”

  All that camaraderie and all the awesome comic and radio talk…gone, as all the comfortable leaves the situation

  “He can get jealous.” I start putting the books back into their boxes because it is definitely time to go.

  “Just leave them. I’ll get it.”

  And now I’ve hurt his feelings. Great going, me. I gather my things and remind myself how bad of an idea this was. I really shouldn’t be jerking this guy around. He doesn’t deserve my brand of crazy messing up his life.

  “Well, thanks for all of…this. I’ll see you around, maybe,” I say before unlocking the door and stepping out into the boiling heat.

  I swear he says something under his breath behind me. Something that sounds like, “Yeah, right.”

  Man, I suck at life.

  #7

  That evening, after hamburgers, Tater Tots, and Brussels sprouts—Mom lives by the “something green with every meal” rule—I watch a couple of shows with Dad. There’s a teen drama on I would nor
mally be watching at this time, but the only reason I watch the show is so I can keep up when Terra and the other girls talk about it. But since it’s summer and Dad’s home, we’re watching reruns of a science fiction show.

  For the record, sci-fi is infinitely more dramatic than those prime-time soap operas. So what, your boyfriend’s dad is having an affair with your mom? That’s nothing compared to a love triangle between two guys and a girl in the middle of outer space while there’s a psycho bounty hunter hiding somewhere on their ship. Why they ever canceled this show is beyond me.

  When one of the two guys dies valiantly by sacrificing himself for the other guy and the bounty hunter is finally sucked out into the void, I stand to head to my room.

  “We still having our anime marathon tomorrow night?” Dad calls after me.

  “You know it. I can’t wait to see Akira.”

  There’s another reason summer rocks: our marathons. Last year we did Hitchcock, Battlestar Galactica, and Clint Eastwood films.

  In my room, I turn the radio on to 91.5, The Devil. Just as I’m propping myself up on my bed with my laptop, Logan’s show starts.

  “Welcome to the very first broadcast of Logan’s Show of Awesome,” he says, and I giggle. I can’t believe it, but his voice sounds even better coming through my speakers. There’s just nothing to compare it to. It is what it is: delicious.

  “You’re in for a treat, people. Logan, that’s me, will be on every night this summer from seven to nine, bringing you the most spectacular, mind-blowing fantasticness you’ve ever heard. And I want you to share your fantasticness with me. So give me a call.” When he rattles off the number, I program it into my phone.

  “To get things going, here’s a song that’s been stuck in my head all day.”

  Familiar hard strumming of a guitar begins. I reach for my phone out of habit, but it’s not ringing. My mouth drops open, and I stare at the stereo.

  Yep, that’s my ringtone, the first song played on Logan’s Show of Awesome. I’m full-on smiling by the end of it.

  “All right, let’s see if we have a caller with some awesomeness to share. Ben? What? Oh, no callers yet. Well, that’s okay, they’re probably just stunned by the amazingness of that last song.” He sounded sad when he asked Ben, whoever that is, about callers.

  Maybe I should call in. I could disguise my voice like I did the other day at The Phoenix. But that’s a stupid idea. I wasn’t fooling anyone then, and I wouldn’t fool anyone now. And just me calling in isn’t going to fix much. One caller does not a hit show make.

  No, I have a much better idea.

  I turn on my laptop as the next song begins. I’ve never heard this one, but I’m liking it. I pull up every social network I’m on. There are about five, all with the same group of friends except one I call my nerd circle. It’s made up of people across the country who aren’t scaredy cats about expressing their love of all things geeky like I am.

  On each site I post the same message:

  Just stumbled across the most awesome radio show on the local college station. Turn to 91.5 NOW! Sooo cool!

  This is the perfect way to return the favor Logan did for me without him knowing it and without anyone finding out about my little secret. I just hope it works.

  And it does. By the middle of the show, Logan is bantering back and forth with callers.

  “Wow, a shoe sale at the mall in Alexandria? Fifty percent off! I don’t know who Jimmy Choo is, but he sounds amazing, Megan.”

  “I don’t watch To Be a Teenager, but that episode sounds nuts, Melissa. I’ll have to start DVRing it.” And on and on he went.

  Mostly, the callers are girls my age, which makes sense because they’re the majority of my friends on those websites.

  “Can I get your real phone number?” a girl named Capri asks, and I frown at the radio. That was a little forward. And who names their kid after a pair of pants? Might as well just call her “Stirrup” or “Bootcut.”

  “Oh, I… That’s nice of you to ask, but I shouldn’t give it out over the air,” Logan says.

  “I can wait for commer—” Capri’s voice cuts off.

  “Oops, looks like we lost you, Capri, sorry. Anyway, here’s another song.”

  I laugh like a cartoon villain at that as I check my posts again. Everyone’s commenting with stuff like, “I love this song he’s playing right now!” and, “He sounds so cute!”

  I’ve done a good deed…I think.

  My phone rings for real this time. It’s Terra, and I know what she wants—an update on the Allison Blair concert. There’s still ten minutes left of Logan’s show, so I mute my phone, feeling like a horrible person for not answering.

  “Well, that’s the end of the show, everybody. And what a great one it was, too. I have to tell you I’ve had pretty much the best day ever, and I have a feeling someone out there helped make it that way. She probably doesn’t want me to say her name on air, but I am going to say thanks. Thanks, Wonderful Wendy.”

  My stomach flutters. He has to be talking about me. Wonderful Wendy was the name of a five-issue storyline in The Super Ones where The Bright Frenzy was introduced. He knows I’ll get the reference.

  I almost jump off my bed and hug the stereo.

  “And on that note, we’ll end the show just as we began it.”

  My song starts again, and I flop back on my bed, breathless. This is one of those moments you live life for, I’m sure of it.

  …

  The next day, I give Terra a call because things just feel weird since we didn’t have our nightly phone call last night. I feel like I’ve betrayed the Soul-Sisters. This is unacceptable.

  “Hey, where were you last night?” she asks right off the bat.

  “Huh? Oh, that’s right. I saw you called after I got out of the shower, but I was so tired I went right to bed. Mom forced me to help her in the garden most of the day. Do you realize how much water it takes to make things grow? It’s ridiculous. Anyway, how much are tickets for the Allison concert?” I know anytime the A-word is mentioned, all other thoughts leave Terra’s head.

  “Depends on the seats. I’ve been looking at the floor plan, and the ones I really want are a couple hundred dollars, but the fifty dollar seats are okay. Why? Did you ask them?”

  “I’m about to. I just wanted to have all my facts straight.”

  “Oh my God, I hope they say yes. Rayann’s parents said yes, but I don’t want to go without you.”

  Awwww. The girl has such a big heart. The first time we met was in ninth grade biology. We had this really old teacher, Mr. McCoy, who was basically bug-nuts crazy. He was really passionate about biology, but his hearing wasn’t great so he’d mumble. A lot. Plus, he’d hop from subject to subject every class, trying to shove as much knowledge into our young, malleable brains as possible. Photosynthesis to osmosis to cell structure to the Genome Project, all in one class period. It was seriously confusing. By the third day of class, most of the students had given up on even attempting to take notes. I, on the other hand, was determined to write down every topic Mr. McCoy touched on because if I got straight As, I could try out for the cheerleading squad.

  Terra and I were seated next to each other. One day, she struck up a conversation with me about crazy Mr. McCoy, and we decided to band together. We made a great team, too. When old McCoy would start moving too fast, I’d nudge Terra’s foot, and she’d distract him. Sometimes she’d ask him a question pertaining to what he was supposed to be talking about. Sometimes she’d just point out the window and yell something like, “Mr. McCoy, isn’t that one of those super-rare butterflies that eats its young?” This would give me plenty of time to catch up on my notes. Then, he’d always ask, “Now where was I?” and I could always make him pick up with whatever I wanted him to. By the end of the second week of school, Terra and I were inseparable.

  If I could ever build up the guts to tell anyone about my little secret, she’d be the first person I’d go to, but that’ll never happen bec
ause there is no way I’d risk losing her. At first, I saw her as my ticket to popularity. Pretty shallow, I know. But now…life would seriously suck without her goofy hand talking and unparalleled knowledge of everything Allison Blair.

  So, I guess that’s why, after getting off the phone with Terra, I go directly to Mom and Dad to ask if I can go to the Allison Blair concert and come back to my room with fifty dollars in my pocket.

  …

  During the next few days, I develop a routine: wake up, kill time, listen to Logan’s Show of Awesome, go to bed. It’s a pretty boring existence, I know, but things start to get interesting when, on his Monday night show, Logan throws down the gauntlet.

  “Before I say good night, there’s one last thing I need to send out into the universe, folks,” he says, his voice echoing through my bedroom. “To Wonderful Wendy, I hope you’re listening, because tomorrow I’ll be you-know-where with something I think your #400 heart won’t be able to resist.”

  He’s completely and totally right, of course. There’s no way I can resist.

  #8

  Me: I’m here.

  Awesome Logan: I don’t see you. Where are you?

  Me: In the back.

  Awesome Logan: You have to come in the front door. No hat, no shades.

  Me: Why?

  Awesome Logan: Those are the rules.

  I toss my phone in my purse and slam my fist against the steering wheel. Then, I shake my hand because that hurt.

  “I will not let him get to me,” I say out loud to the interior of my car, but saying it does not make it so. He certainly got to me the other day with his comic book talk and cute watch. I’m convinced I’ll never be able to smell that old book smell and not think of him. Which is not good because I have a boyfriend.

  Straight ahead is the backdoor to The Phoenix, and no matter how hard I try to use my imaginary mind powers to get Logan to walk through it, it’s not moving.

  He’s really going to make me go through the front sans disguise? What could he possibly have for me that’s worth exposing my nerd tendencies to the populace of Natchitoches?

  I won’t do it. I won’t fall for it. He can’t manipulate me like this.