The Summer I Became a Nerd

by Leah Rae Miller

  Maybe if I run, I can make it inside before anyone sees me.

  He better not be standing there with a box of chocolates and a teddy bear.

  I take off my Celtics cap, shades, and hoodie and clutch my purse to my chest with one hand. The other hand rests on the door handle. I take a deep breath and start counting in my head.

  One… Two… Three!

  I’m out of the car and down the alley between The Phoenix and Mes Amis in seconds. In front of the store, there’s a car in the parking lot. Crap! I shove the front door open so hard the bell overhead clangs like I offended its mother and run at full speed down the middle aisle.

  The next events seem to happen in slow motion, like I have the super-ability to stop time. Logan steps out at the end of the aisle, blocking my way to the back, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He puts his hands up to get me to stop. I try to put on the brakes, but it’s too late. We collide, his arms wrap around me as we fall, and our foreheads bang together. My head spins a little as we lay on the floor in a tangled heap, me on top of him.

  The moment I get a fraction of my wits back, I brace my hands on the floor on either side of his chest, but when I try to push off, his hold tightens, keeping me firmly in place.

  “Are you all right?” His mouth is so close to my ear his breath tickles it when he speaks.

  “I’m fine,” is all I can say as I recover from the goose bumps tripping down my arms. “Are you okay?”

  When we landed, it felt like he banged his head pretty hard on the not-so-soft floor. My fingers go to the back of his head as I pray I didn’t give the poor guy a concussion. At my touch, he turns his head even more, so his nose and lips are against my jaw. The goose bumps on my arms seem to forget I was trying to recover from them and redouble their efforts.

  “Yeah,” he says on a breath, his arms tightening around me. “I’m okay. One could even say I’m euphoric. Ecstatic. Floating on cloud nine, even.”

  My brain has gone into full-blown “grin like a fool” mode again. I pull back a little and turn to him. I feel my way over his scalp, searching for a bump, and he hits me with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen.

  That’s when my brain just gives up and turns to mush.

  Satisfied he isn’t concussed because no one in pain could pull off a smile that flirty, I push up again. This time he lets me. And, here I am, straddling a hot guy in the middle of a comic shop. The apples of his cheeks turn an endearing pink, and his hands drop to my waist.

  “Ahem,” a voice says from above us. “I believe you dropped this, m’lady.”

  The spell between Logan and me breaks, and I look up. Dan is standing there, holding my purse out to me. His brows knit together, and I think he mouths the words, “No way.”

  Logan and I untangle and stand. I take my purse from Dan, curtseying slightly. Isn’t that the proper response when someone calls you “m’lady?”

  “Thanks.” I try hard not to look either of them in the eye.

  “Dude, I told you to stay in the back,” Logan says in a low whisper.

  Dan drags his eyes from me to glare at Logan. “Well, excuse the hell out of me for trying to help. I heard a crash and thought someone was hurt. You could’ve fallen. On a pair of scissors. Slit your jugular. How was I to know? Next time you’re in need of life-saving action, don’t come crying to me,” he says, then his voice mimics a whiny child. “‘Dan, help me, I’ve broken my spleen,’ because you know what I’m going to say? ‘Sorry about the spleen, dude, I have to stay in the back room for all of eternity.’” He finishes his tirade and crosses his arms.

  Logan shakes his head and turns to me. “He can exaggerate sometimes.”

  “Me? Exaggerate? That’s a crock of—”

  Logan interrupts. “Dan, this is Maddie. You know her, right? She goes to our school?” He raises his eyebrows and stares at his friend.

  “Dude, of course I know who Maddie Summers is, I’m not oblivious.” He turns to me and in a low voice—or as low a voice as poor Dan can accomplish—says, “How you doin’?”

  Before I can respond, Logan grabs Dan by the shoulders and whips him around. “Okay, Dan, thanks for your help. I just need a minute, okay?”

  “But I—”

  “Good-bye.” Logan shoves him toward the back room.

  “Geez, fine, I’m going!” Dan says and goes through the open door. But he sticks his head back out. “But you got some ‘splainin’ to do!” He ducks back before Logan’s foot can tag his shin.

  “Sorry,” Logan says and rubs the back of his neck. Now, not only are his cheeks pink, but so are his ears.

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry I tackled you. I’ve watched too many football games, I guess.” The moment I mention football, it feels like a weight settles over us. I hurry to change the subject. “So, what is this thing you have for me?”

  “You’ll see. You want a cup of coffee or a soda or something? I have a break room kind of thing over here.” He nods toward the side of the store.

  “A soda sounds great.”

  We go into what is more like a very cramped office than a break room. A built-in corner desk is overflowing with papers and notebooks. Above the desk is a shelf packed full of random action figures, and I find myself gravitating toward it. A short counter on the wall across from the desk holds a coffee maker, a microwave, and a sink. The mini refrigerator sits on the floor by the door, covered in stickers.

  I pick up Wendy’s action figure and marvel at the craftsmanship. It’s fully poseable, and her plastic cape sticks out behind her like she’s perpetually standing in front of a wind machine. I pose her with one hand on her hip and one arm stretching above her. I bend one leg slightly at the knee and point her toes. Classic flying pose.

  Logan places a cold soda can against the bare skin of my arm, and I jump. “Those are awesome, huh?”

  “Yeeees.” I draw the word out to emphasize just how awesome I think they are.

  “Speaking of awesome, my radio show is doing really well.” He pops the top off my drink and hands it to me.

  I stick the can to my lips and start chugging. Maybe he won’t prod me if I play the can’t-talk-too-busy-hydrating game. “Mmm-hmm?”

  “We started off slow the first night, but midway through the show, calls were pouring in. We were so amazed Ben started asking how they heard of the show. As you can imagine, their answers were pretty consistent.”

  I can’t swallow another drop of soda by this point because the carbonation is burning my throat.

  “Oh really? Well…” I trail off as I feel bubbling at the base of my throat. This is not good.

  Before I can stop myself, I let out the biggest burp I’ve ever, ever, ever had. I slap a hand over my mouth and stare at Logan whose eyebrows have reached astronomical heights.

  “Dude! So not smooth, man! Girls cannot stand rudeness,” Dan yells from the back room.

  There’s a few moments of stunned silence before Logan and I both burst into laughter. He has the best laugh, by the way. It’s unabashedly loud, just like my dad’s.

  The bell over the front door rings, and Logan goes to take care of the customer. In the meantime, I drop into the spinning chair at the desk and position Wendy like she’s hanging off my soda can. Terra texts me about what I’m going to wear to the concert, but I don’t answer. When I’m in The Phoenix, I feel like I’ve been sucked into one of Baron Gravity’s black holes, a very geeky black hole I don’t want to escape from.

  Logan comes back and hops up onto the counter. “Anyway, I have something I think you’ll like. Think of it as repayment for what you did for my show.”

  I smile up at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but how can I refuse a gift?”

  He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out two cards with purple lanyards attached. He holds one out to me. I take it and recognize the logo of Shreveport’s NerdCon. In bold, purple font below the speech bubble that holds the letters S.N.C., it reads: V.I.P. DAY PASS.

&
nbsp; “Oh my God, how did you get these?” I say, still staring at the pass.

  “The S.N.C. sometimes gives out these passes to the businesses in the area that sell comics and stuff, but there is only one comic shop in Shreveport so they sent us a few, too, since we’re close. It’s only for Saturday,” he says quickly, “but it’ll still be pretty awesome because all the best stuff happens on Saturday. There’s The Super Ones panel. I heard they have some big announcement. And the cosplay contest. All the heavy hitters, like Stan Lee, do their signings that night, too.”

  If I go and someone finds out, my cover would be blown. Going to S.N.C. would be like shouting from the rooftops I’m a proper geek. That I’m so much of a nerd I want to go and hang out with a coliseum full of them.

  But the more I think about it, the more I realize nobody would know. I mean, the only people at my school I can think of that might show up are the role-playing guys from the band room, and there’s no way they’d pay any attention to me with a bunch of Princess Leias in gold bikinis walking around. Maybe it’d be safer than I think?

  I must have been quiet for a while because Logan asks, “Are you okay? You don’t have to go. I just thought you’d like it.”

  “No, I do want to go, I just…” In another life, I would explain everything to him. I would lay all my messed up fears on the line so he could see I’m not worth all these sweet things he’s doing for me. But this is not an alternate reality. “I’m just so excited!”

  “Really? I didn’t think you’d be so easy to convince with your phobia and all. But the thing is, there probably won’t be anyone you know there so—”

  “Phobia? I don’t have a phobia.”

  “Okay, maybe phobia is the wrong word. It’s more like a secret, right?”

  “No.” I laugh nervously. How do I explain this to him without coming off as a jerk? I could say, “I just don’t want to be seen by my friends doing anything incredibly geeky, that’s all. I have a reputation to uphold,” but for some reason, I don’t think that would go over well.

  Instead, I go with, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, that’s right, everyone disguises themselves before they enter a store. Everyone lies to their boyfriend about who drove them home when he was too much of an ass to do it himself.” He hops off the counter and stands straight as a board, arms crossed.

  My mouth opens and closes a few times as I try to come up with some type of response. I’ve got nothing. It’s all true.

  “You know what, forget it. I’m sure Dan will be happy to go with me.” He tries to take the pass from me, but I tighten my grip.

  “Hell, yeah, I’ll be happy to go!” Dan yells from the back room, which makes me jerk harder on the pass.

  We’re in a tug-o-war now. Back and forth we go until I finally stand up and give it all my might.

  “No!” I yank one more time, and he releases his hold. I clutch the pass to my chest. “I’m going. I want to go. I want to go because it’ll be fun and there’ll be lots of people in costumes and… I’m going, okay?”

  Logan just stares at me with this blank look on his face for the longest time. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I can guess, though. He’s probably thinking he underestimated my nutso factor. He’s probably wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

  Finally, his face brightens, and he smiles. “Good. I think it’ll be fun, too.”

  “Damn it!” Dan yells, and I picture him shaking his fist at the ceiling.

  #9

  The next day, I go back to The Phoenix because (1) I don’t think I can handle even looking at Terra right now because I ignored her last five texts about the Allison concert, plus I can’t stop thinking about going to NerdCon and what if I get a goofy grin while daydreaming and she asks about it and I have to lie to her? (2) I have nothing else to do but wait for Logan’s Show of Awesome to come on. And (3) I just can’t help myself.

  I still park in the back, but I take my time entering through the front door since there are no cars out front. I stroll up to the counter and wait for Logan’s usual greeting.

  “Welcome to The Phoenix, anything I can help you with?” He looks up, and a tingle runs down my spine when his expression goes from bored to what I interpret as, “Hey, it’s you!”

  He closes the comic he was reading. “What are you doing here?”

  I hop onto the counter, facing the shelves, and he comes around to stand in front of me. Swinging my legs, I say, “I don’t know. I was bored.” I shrug. I preen. I even bat my eyelashes.

  I shouldn’t be doing any of these things, but I can’t help it.

  “Logan?” a woman’s voice calls from the office. I jump down and turn toward the voice, fighting a sudden urge to duck down one of the aisles and out of sight.

  The woman pokes her head out of the office. She starts to say something, but when she sees me, she stops.

  “This is Maddie, Mom. Maddie this is my mother, Martha,” Logan says.

  I take a step back, but Logan notices. He lays a staying hand on the base of my back.

  “Hi.” I wave enthusiastically. Wave? Really? What am I, trying to be rescued from a deserted island or something?

  “Hello, Maddie.” She steps out of the office and up to the counter. “Do you two go to school together?” She points from me to Logan, back and forth, back and forth. The side of her mouth turns up in a type of smile I recognize immediately, and she props her chin on her fist.

  “Yeah,” Logan says. “Maddie is a cheerleader. She was also in my English class.”

  “A cheerleader, huh? I used to cheer at my high school, and in college, too. I was a lot more flexible in those days, but I bet I can remember one of our favorite chants.”

  Okay, this is kind of a shocker. A high school and college cheerleader goes on to marry a comic shop owner. How did that happen?

  She swishes her long brown ponytail behind her back, steps out into the open aisle, and smoothes down her flowing tie-dyed skirt. She starts clapping in a pretty decent rhythm, nodding her head on each beat, but Logan cuts her off.

  “Mom! I was wondering, since you’re going to be here all day, could I have the day off?”

  Martha stops and looks at Logan, then me. “Sure, honey. Go have fun.” She hugs Logan, and to my surprise, she hugs me, too. “If you’re going by the house, could you check on Leeloo for me? You know how your dad always forgets to refill the water bowl,” she says as she goes back to the office.

  Logan stuffs his hands in his pockets. “So, you want to check on Leeloo with me?” His head is tilted down so when he looks at me, waiting for my answer, it’s through his lashes. How can I say no to that?

  “Sure.”

  “Great, I’ll drive.”

  We go through the back room, and the smell of it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Out back, I get my shades from my car, and when I turn around, Logan is leaning against his hood playing with his keys.

  “Can’t risk being seen with me?” he says when I put on my shades.

  “No, it’s sunny. They protect my eyes from harmful UV rays.”

  “Oh, right.” He blushes.

  Just like my car, Logan’s air conditioner is busted so we drive down College Avenue with the windows rolled down. I look over at Logan and he’s nodding his head to the music on the radio. His hair stirs in the wind. No hair products for this guy.

  The Natchitoches University campus sprawls out to my right. Crepe myrtles and azaleas are in bloom, so it’s dotted with bright shocks of pink and white.

  “Great show last night.” I have to yell over the breeze and the music.

  “Thanks.”

  “That Capri girl sure does have a thing for you.” Last night, she called in again and again, asking questions about who Wonderful Wendy was and where was you-know-where.

  “No, she doesn’t. She has a thing for Awesome Logan.”

  I just laugh and turn my face to the wind, eyes closed, letting the breeze cool the sweat on my f
orehead.

  Even with my eyes closed, I know when we make it to Front Street. The muddy smell of the Cane River hits me, and the car feels like it’s going over a million tiny speed bumps. The street has been paved with bricks for a long, long time. Like, before-indoor-plumbing long time. The city replaced the bricks a few years ago and found all kinds of things buried beneath the surface: old tools, pottery, and even a cow skeleton. The street runs straight for four or five blocks and is the main attraction in Natchitoches. The river is on one side of it, and quaint local stores sell everything from books to toys to pastries to instruments on the other side. The whole scene is especially pretty during December when they light up the buildings with twinkling Christmas lights that reflect off the water like drowned fireworks.

  The road smoothes out into normal black-top, and eventually Logan turns into a driveway. His house isn’t huge but a decent size, and it’s nestled in what feels like a rain forest. Martha really loves to landscape, apparently. Ivy has overtaken the fences, the brick walkway from the sidewalk to the front door is lined with freshly planted pansies, and when we pull up under a car cover, the perfumey smell of sweet olive blooms permeate the air.

  Logan turns down the radio and looks at me with a very serious expression. “What you are about to witness in no way reflects my own sensibilities. I just wanted you to know that.”

  “What am I about to witness?”

  “It cannot be put into words.”

  We park, and I follow him to the back of the house. The fenced-in backyard is littered with plastic toys and tricycles, all bleached by the sun. A well-loved swing set sits in the corner. When we get to the door, there’s a big gray rock in the middle of the welcome mat.

  “Locked out again, Leeloo?” Logan bends down to pet the rock. It turns and snorts, and I realize it’s not a rock at all, but a very fat pug. It’s face is all smooshed in except for its eyes, which bulge. It catches sight of me and starts making weird honking noises that make me take a step back. Its pink tongue lolls out as Logan rubs its ears. It definitely has the “so ugly it’s cute” thing going for it.