He holds up his hand for me to stop. “No, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. At all.” He emphasizes those last two words and covers my hand with his, his thumb rubbing slightly, soothingly. “Let’s just…forget all that even happened. Okay?”
Ben’s voice buzzes over the speaker, and we both jump, “And we’re back in five, four, three…”
Logan doesn’t miss a beat. “Man, I love that song. What about you, Wonderful Wendy?”
I grin. “One of my favorites.”
Ben waves at us and makes the international hand gesture for phone with his thumb and pinky finger.
“Looks like we have a caller. Hello, awesome listener, what’s your name?” Logan says.
“Hey, Awesome Logan. This is Dan-the-man.”
Logan rolls his eyes but keeps his voice steady. “All right, Dan-the-man, what’s on your mind?”
“Well, Awesome Logan, there are always a lot of things on my mind, because I’m extremely intelligent and always contemplative, a sort of modern-day philosopher, if you will, but at the moment, the main thing I’m thinking about is what I’d like to say to this chick you have cohosting with you even though you’ve never had a cohost and have probably had a close friend or acquaintance suggest that they cohost, but of course, you turned them down, which is a big, fat load of—”
“Thanks for calling in, Dan-the-man. We’re going to take a quick break before you make your statement to Wonderful Wendy since I’m sure you’d like a little more time to think of the right way to put it. Have a quick listen to this piece about the upcoming NU production of West Side Story, audience.” Logan cues Ben to play the segment.
“Dan, I told you not to call in because this is what always happens,” Logan says, and I realize we can still talk to a caller while the music plays without it being broadcast. “This is a PG-rated show, and you have difficulty saying two words without one of them having something to do with inappropriate parts of an animal’s body.”
“How could I not call in? I asked you just the other day if I could be your cohost, and you said you couldn’t have one, that it was against the rules. I am not happy with you, Awesome Logan, not happy at all. And don’t think for a second I’m fooled by that codename bull-pucky. I know that’s the cheerleader.”
Bull-pucky? That’s a new one. “Why does everyone keep referring to me as the cheerleader? And why won’t you let Dan cohost? I think he’s funny.”
“See! I’m funny, Logan. Wait… I don’t need you to stick up for me, cheerleader.”
“Fine, I won’t!”
“Good, fine!” Dan ends on a squeak.
“Will you two stop fighting?” Logan tugs on my shoulder. I hadn’t realized I’d gotten so close to the mic I was almost touching it with my lips. “She’s not my cohost, she’s a guest. Okay, Dan?”
“Whatever, dude.”
“Do you actually have something to say to her? If not, you’re not going back on-air.”
“Yeah, I have a butt-ton of things to say to her.”
Logan sighs. “Are any of those things rated PG?”
“Yes, mister almighty Awesome Logan, one of them is.”
“I’ll let you stay on then. But, just so you know, I consider ‘butt-ton’ PG-13, so none of that either, okay?” Logan raises his eyebrows.
“I promise. No butt-tons, no donkey butts, no butts of any kind.”
Logan gives Ben a thumbs-up when the piece about the play ends.
“So, we’re still on the line with Dan-the-man who says he’d like to say something to Wonderful Wendy.” Logan closes his eyes like he doesn’t want to see what happens next. “Take it away, Dan-the-man.”
“Thank you for that lead-in, Awesome Logan. You know, we should work together one day. I’m told I’m pretty funny. Anyway, I’d like to say good job, Wonderful Wendy. It takes a lot to be honest and admit you are wrong. I hope this person realizes that and accepts your apology.”
Logan looks at me, mouth hanging open, and I’m sure my expression mirrors his.
I lean in. “Um, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Peace out, bitches!”
Logan just shakes his head. “Thanks for that, Dan-the-man. Listeners, do you agree with what he said? Give us a call and let’s discuss. Now back to the music.”
He turns the mic off again. “So, what are you doing this Saturday?”
I know I must look like a goof, but I can’t hold back my huge smile. “I don’t have any plans.”
“Do you want to hang out?”
“Like a date?”
He pushes his glasses up on his nose with the knuckle of his forefinger. The little gesture is so…him. I wish he’d wear glasses all the time. Honestly, I just want to pull him under the desk and kiss him silly. What would happen to those glasses if I just laid one on him right now? Would it be uncomfortable? Would they get fogged up? Would he whip them off Clark Kent style, revealing the hero behind the disguise?
“Yeah, sure. Maybe I can pick you up and we can get lunch?” He shrugs and pulls at the edging of the table which is close to falling off completely.
“Sounds good. That way, you can meet my parents.”
His hand jerks and rips off a long chunk of flimsy wood. He tosses it into a corner of the room and turns back to me. “Um, okay. That’ll be…awesome.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry, my parents are cool. I mean, my dad will probably want to show off all his guns, so that might be fun for you. He has them hanging up all over the house so there’s always one in reach.”
“Oh…really?”
“Yeah, plus, he has all these old stories he likes to tell. About his days with the Mob. You should hear all the different ways he hid the bodies. He’s so creative.” I look off wistfully but watch him out of the corner of my eye.
His eyes widen for a moment, and then it must dawn on him I’m kidding because he smiles. “I suppose he’s where you got your fashion sense from. A hoodie and sunglasses in the middle of summer? Been taking lessons from the old man, huh?”
“Exactly.” I nod. We laugh a little, possibly a lot, and then I remember what I wanted to ask him before. “What did you mean earlier with ‘you’re you’?”
“That? Uh, I just meant you’re great, ya know? And that I… Well…” He’s tripping over his words. And it’s so cute, but I’d really like him to finish his thought.
But of course, that’s when we come back from the music break, and there’s another caller.
“What’s your name, caller?” Logan asks.
“Hi, A.L., it’s Capri.” Her voice is clearer coming through the headphones than it has been when I listened to the show at home over the radio. There’s something about it that strikes me as familiar.
Logan looks up at the ceiling like he’s summoning patience. “Thanks for calling in again, Capri. So, what’s your stance on Wonderful Wendy’s situation?”
“If you ask me, I don’t see why you guys are, like, proud of this girl. The fact that she’s trying to be all ‘poor me’ is really lame. She shouldn’t have screwed up in the first place.”
Geez Louise, is this girl serious?
I lean in to speak before Logan does. “Hi, Capri. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done this thing in the first place, but I’m trying to make up for it.”
“How so? You haven’t even said you’re sorry. You don’t even know if this person will hear it if you do, and if they do hear it, how will they know it’s you? You haven’t given your real name? What is your real name, anyway?”
Man, this girl’s voice sounds so familiar, but I just can’t place it.
I open my mouth to speak, but Logan beats me to it. “She has said she’s sorry, it just wasn’t broadcast. And, the apology was accepted.” He nods his head like he wants to say, “So there.”
“I knew it!” Capri shrieks, and I almost throw off my headphones. “You’re the one she’s talking about, aren’t you, A.L.? Don’t listen to her, she’s not good enough for you.
She broke your heart once, she’ll do it again. You need someone who will treat you right. Who will—”
“Well, thanks for calling in again, Capri. You’re definitely one of our most faithful listeners, but we have to get back to the music now.” Logan flicks the microphone’s switch and makes a hurry-up gesture at Ben who is flipping through CDs at super-speed. “Music, Ben… Play the music!”
Finally, a piano begins, its melody followed by a rusty, bluesy voice.
Logan’s ears take on a pink tinge. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what her deal is.”
“I know what her deal is—I’ve said it before. She has a thing for you.”
“No, she doesn’t. I’ve never met that girl in my life. I—”
“Doesn’t matter.” I give his knee a nudge. “I mean, who can blame her? You’re Awesome Logan.”
He smiles, and his eyes literally sparkle as he looks at me. Or maybe it’s just the reflection of the dim light off his glasses. Either way, it makes my toes go numb, probably because all the blood has left them and gone to my cheeks.
What were we talking about again? “I like this song.”
“Yeah, it’s good.” He stares at the mic and takes a deep breath. “So, what do you—”
Ben interrupts his question when his voice comes through the headphones. “I’m missing a CD, dude. You got it in there?”
Logan hops up. “Which one?”
As he looks for the CD, I fiddle with the spiral cord of the microphone. I can’t believe he’s not mad at me. Not only does he want to hang out, he’s agreed to meet my parents, which is just crazy pants.
I’m daydreaming of what he’ll think of them when he pops my hand, trying to stop me from tangling up the cord more than it already is. He’s still flipping through CDs, so I give his shoulder a good punch, and he fakes a huge amount of pain, clutching his shoulder and almost falling out of his chair. When he finally finds the missing CD, he runs to the swinging door and tosses it to Ben.
He makes it back to his seat just in time to go on-air. “Here’s another very important question for you, listeners. What awesome activity should Wonderful Wendy and I do on our date? Natchitoches isn’t known for its social entertainment, so is there anything you can suggest? Give us a call, and we’ll debate the possibilities.”
My eyes go wide at the practically public announcement we’re “a thing.” He raises his brows at me in a question, like “Did I just royally screw up?”
Into the mic, I say, “Yeah, the most popular place to be in town is Wal-Mart, and that’s not exactly the most romantic destination.”
Throughout the rest of the show, people commend me for owning up to my mistake and apologizing. Callers make suggestions for our date, the most promising being the Alligator Park.
The show ends, and Logan walks me to my car, leaving Ben to lock up the studio. It’s nice outside tonight, only a little muggy.
“So, I’ll see you Saturday? Around lunchtime?” I lock my hands behind my back as I lean against my car. The urge to put a hand on his arm or run my fingers through his messy brown hair is overwhelming, but I don’t want to seem needy or possessive.
He shoves his own hands in his pockets, and I wonder if he wants to keep them under control for the same reason I do. “Saturday it is. Prepare yourself for the best date of your life.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great.”
He moves toward me, and I freeze. He’s going to do it, I think. Then he grabs the handle of my car door.
I go to scoot out of the way, but he lays his other hand flat against the window on my side. There’s no way I can move now that he’s trapped me between him and the car.
He closes the distance between us to just a few inches. His gaze flicks from my eyes to my lips. My fingers disobey me and do what they wanted to do back at The Phoenix. I hook one into each of his jeans pockets, which brings him a tad bit closer.
He lets out a shuddering breath and moves to whisper in my ear, “Thanks for coming tonight, Mad.” He presses his lips against my cheek. It’s not a quick peck, but a long, soft kiss.
I seal this perfect moment away in my memory as one of those few seconds that I was blissfully happy. He opens my car door for me and tells me to be careful.
On the way home, I realize he could take me Dumpster diving and I’d still consider it the best date ever.
#16
Eric and I are done, but by the time Saturday rolls around, I’ve realized it’s not exactly official until Eric acknowledges it, too. Which is why I want to cuss my phone from here to eternity and back.
Since I was at the radio station the other night, I’ve kept my phone at arm’s length at all times just in case he takes a break from whatever super important stuff he’s doing to call me back. But he hasn’t.
And now it’s Saturday and Logan will be here any second.
Maybe I should call one more time.
It rings once, twice, three times. After the fifth ring, voice mail clicks on, and I just want to scream. “Eric, please, please, please call me back,” I say. “Please, please, please. It’s about our ree-lay-shun-ship. Like the fact we don’t have one anymore. Important, right? Call meee.”
I’m hanging up when Mom steps into my room with a basket of laundry.
“So, how did Eric take the breakup?” she asks, adding another cherry to the cupcake of suck. “I take it you talked to him since you’re going out with this new guy today.”
“Logan is the new guy’s name, and Eric seems to be taking the whole thing fine.” Which is not a lie, since my breaking up with him is obviously not important enough to warrant a call back. “I think being on a beach in Florida is making it easier to handle.”
When she leaves, I glare at my phone, willing it to ring.
Nothing happens.
The neighbor’s dogs bark, signaling Logan’s arrival. I make it downstairs just in time to watch Dad walk up to the door. My irritation over Eric’s rudeness evaporates in a cloud of panic. My parents have never really met one of my boyfriends. They kind of met Eric once at a football game, but he was in game mode and wasn’t very responsive.
What are they going to think of Logan? I can’t think of any reason they wouldn’t like him, but I could be a little biased. Don’t parents always find some reason not to like the guy their daughter is dating? Plus, this is the crucial first impression moment. Will Dad be put off by Logan’s messy hair? What if Logan wears the infamous porn-that’s-not-porn T-shirt?
Actually, nerdy as he is, that shirt might make my dad like Logan even more.
When Dad opens the door, I see Logan went with a different look entirely. His hair is flat, although, to me, it looks barely restrained—like it wants to jut out at strange angles any second—and he’s wearing a baby blue polo shirt. Did he wear glasses because I said I like them or because they make him look smart? Maybe a little bit of both.
“Hello, sir, I’m Logan Scott. I’m here to pick up Maddie.” Every word is spoken precisely with a kind, clear voice.
They shake hands, Logan giving one firm up and down. “And this”—he steps to the side—“is my little sister, Vera.”
“Hello, Mr. Summers, what a lovely home you have,” Vera says in a practiced manner. She steps up and sticks her hand out. Her blond hair is in pigtails and each of her wrists is lined with bulky, beaded bracelets that rattle as she shakes Dad’s hand.
I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Granted, Vera is freaking adorable, but why did he bring her? There’s no way I could have misunderstood him about this being a date. Right?
“Nice to meet you, Vera. Y’all come on in.” Dad turns, and I catch his huge grin. He sees me standing on the bottom step, and his grin disappears like he doesn’t want me to know he approves of Logan already. He’s probably comparing Logan to Eric, who never even gets out of his truck when he picks me up. He just honks the horn.
“Hi, Vera,” I say as we walk into the living room.
“I lost a tooth.” She smile
s up at me, revealing a gap where one of her front teeth should be. “The tooth fairy gave me four quarters. I’m going to use them in the claw machine today. There are these earrings with big hearts I saw last time we went to the—”
“Vera, remember what I said in the car?” Logan asks.
“Right, right, right. No telling where we are going. It’s a surprise.” She nods a lot.
I nudge Logan with my elbow. He grins at me, and those pure blue eyes twinkle mischievously. An unexpected giggle escapes my mouth. From what Vera just said, it sounds like he actually put a lot of thought into this date—if it’s still a date—which is unheard of when it comes to the guys I hang out with. It’s always the same thing with them: a movie and fast food, or just driving around on a Saturday night, looking for parties.
Dad plops down in his extremely worn and extremely smelly La-Z-Boy recliner, TV remote in hand. Mom has begged him a million times to let her buy him a new chair, but he never gives in. “So, Logan Scott, huh? I don’t know any Scotts around here.”
Logan sits on the couch in the spot closest to Dad. “We’re from Arkansas. We just moved here a few years ago. My parents own the comic shop across from the college. Maybe you’ve seen it?”
Dad’s eyebrows rise. “I know that place. I’ve thought about stopping in there before. I used to love comic books when I was younger.”
“We’d be happy to have you. We have tons of back issues. You could catch up on your favorites.”
Mom walks in, and her eyes light up at the sight of Vera swinging her legs back and forth as she sits next to Logan on the couch.
I catch Mom up on the conversation. “This is Logan and Vera. Logan’s parents own the comic shop in town, and Vera just lost a tooth.”
Mom sits next to Vera. “Hello, Vera. Logan, what do you have planned for your first date?”
“It’s a surprise, Mrs. Summers. But don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous or illegal.” Logan bumps Vera. “Right, Veer?”
The Summer I Became a Nerd Page 11