I glance over my shoulder at the girl just as she whisks her hair into a clippy in a very familiar fashion. There’s no doubt in my mind that’s Terra now. I’ve seen her do that move a million times. Not to mention I’ve actually borrowed that exact clippy a million times at cheer practice.
I don’t know why I’m freaking out. Terra’s my best friend. My Soul-Sister. If anyone will accept the real me, it should be her, right?
But then I realize it’s not the real me I’m worried about—it’s her seeing me here with Logan. I haven’t told her about any of this, mostly because I’ve been too busy avoiding her calls so I don’t have to explain what I’ve been doing. Seeing me with another guy she doesn’t know about might make her feel like we’re drifting apart. Or betrayed. What if she tells Peter about seeing me with Logan? I really, really do not want Eric to find out about Logan and me from anyone but me. Yeah, Eric and I aren’t together anymore, and yeah, it’s apparently no big deal to him, but finding out I dumped him for another guy? Worse, a nerd boy of the highest order?
Breathing feels impossible. Oh, what a tangled web of suck I have weaved.
“Sure, we can do that, but I know what you’re trying to do here.” He stands and stares down at me. “Using me for my stockroom full of comics, huh? Shame on you.”
Relieved that he, at least, doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, I focus on breathing normally and try to kick his shin, but he easily dodges my foot.
“Just kidding, just kidding! No need for physical harm.” He winks at me.
I slip out of my shoes and shove my feet into my flip-flops, socks still on. “I’ll go pay for our games.” I snatch up his shoes and head to the counter. He calls after me that he wants to pay, but I just keep going.
“Have a good time, hon?” Barbie asks.
I nod as I keep an eye on Terra. “A blast.”
Suddenly, she glances over her shoulder like she can feel me watching. We make eye contact for about a nano-second. I see her eyes widen right before I duck down behind the counter. Crap!
“That’ll be fifteen fifty, hon,” Barbie says from above me. I stretch my arm up to hand her a twenty from my purse, but she’s glancing around with a confused look on her face. I tap my hand on the counter to get her attention.
“There you are. I thought you disappeared on me.”
“Nope, I just lost a contact.” I peek around the corner of the counter and see Terra standing on her plastic ‘70s-orange chair, trying to see over the counter. She must not have gotten a good look at me.
Logan comes around to the front of the counter. “Lose something?”
“Uh, yeah, my contact.” I tug on his pants leg, probably a little harder than necessary. “Can you help me look for it?”
He kneels down and angles his head, trying to catch the nonexistent contact’s reflection.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I peek at the text.
Terra: Is that you?
#18
“Found it! Let’s go.” I tug on Logan’s shirt sleeve then kind of crab-walk/crawl toward the exit until I’m sure I’m out of Terra’s line of sight.
He gives me a weird look but doesn’t acknowledge my crazy behavior. “So where to now? You said you wanted to go to the shop, right?” He holds the door open for me and Vera.
“Uh.” I glance over my shoulder just to be sure Terra isn’t following.
And there she is standing in front of Barbie’s desk, holding her phone and giving me a I-think-I’m-glad-to-see-you smile. I try to smile back, but it’s weak, like she just caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.
Logan doesn’t notice the quick exchange between Terra and me because he’s keeping an eye on Vera as she crosses the parking lot. Without looking back, he reaches down and takes my hand, leading me out the door. The part of me that wants to squeal at the little gesture is quickly tucked away by the part of me that’s flailing because, “Oh my God, Terra just saw me holding hands with a boy she doesn’t know exists.”
We climb into the car, and Logan cranks it. “I forgot about something.” He digs in the glove box, then pulls something out. He holds the NerdCon pass up by the end of its purple string. It dangles there, mocking me.
The brightness of his smile makes me take the pass. “Oh… I’d forgotten, too.” I laugh nervously, but he’s too busy beaming to notice.
“So, the shop?” Logan asks.
“Aw, come on, do we have to?” Vera whines.
“Vera, if Maddie wants to—”
“No, it’s okay,” I say. “You know what, I should really be getting home.”
“Are you sure? Vera really doesn’t mind going to the shop, do you, Veer?”
She just huffs and rolls her eyes.
I put a hand over my stomach and grimace. “I’m not feeling so great all of a sudden, actually. Too much burrito, maybe.”
He takes a breath like he’s about to say something but then let’s it out like he just gives up. “Okay.”
We don’t say much during the drive home. Even Vera is quiet, like she can feel the uncomfortable weight that has settled over us, too.
If this was an alternate timeline or maybe a galaxy far, far away, I might have the guts to tell him the truth. But this isn’t. This is the galaxy where Madelyne Jean Summers is a liar and a wuss, end of story, thanks for watching, roll the credits.
I twist and untwist the purple string of the NerdCon pass as we drive through town. I’m doing it again. I’m screwing everything up. I can’t let Logan believe I’m going with him to the convention. It’s not right.
Dusk is coming on fast when we pull up at my house. Logan turns off the car and picks at the steering wheel where the plastic covering is peeling away.
“I can’t go to the con with you,” I blurt out.
He shakes his head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration written all over his face. “Why? You practically fought me for that pass and now you can’t go? And what happened back there at the bowling alley? Everything was fine, and then we get in the car, and all of a sudden, you’re ready to go home? I just don’t get it, Maddie.”
“Nothing happened. I had a really good time. I just… I promised to do something else that night and forgot about it. Really.”
“It’s fine.” He crosses his arms and flops back in his seat. “Maybe next year.”
“Yeah, next year.” I nod so fast, my head kind of hurts. “I’m totally going next year.”
I throw my purse strap over my shoulder and tell Vera bye, then turn to Logan. I want to hug him or kiss him on the cheek or something, but he looks like he’s about to ask more questions I don’t want to answer, so I settle for, “Bye, Logan. Thanks for today.”
I scramble out of the car and go inside. As I watch him drive away through the screen door, I realize I’m still wearing his socks. Maybe I’ll give them a home with the Phoenix bag. Then I smack my forehead because I don’t have the bag anymore. It’s currently in my notebook which Logan has.
In all my giddiness over the date and the disaster of seeing Terra, I forgot that the most damning evidence of my secret identity now resides in the glove box of a boy who may or may not hate my guts after how crappy I acted on our first date.
At that thought, I turn and stomp up the stairs. Mom is at the top, wanting to know how the date went.
“Fine,” I say pitifully. I can’t even muster the energy to lie convincingly anymore.
I go in my room and close the door. Leaning against it, I let my head fall back and stare at my popcorn ceiling. Terra’s going to be mad when she figures out what she saw. Logan is probably already mad. Eric’s going to freak out when he finds out who I dumped him for.
Crappity-crap-crap.
#19
The next morning as I lie in bed, I tell myself this is all for the best, really. I couldn’t continue to indulge my nerdy fantasies. What was I thinking? At least now Logan has to realize I’m not worth it. I’m going to do the right thing. I’m going to leave him alone,
go back to my life of secrets—but even those secrets are tainted now. How will I ever be able to look at another comic book without thinking of him?
Then, there’s the whole Terra thing. By now, she has to know something is going on. What kind of best friend ignores the other friend when she’s standing right there, smiling, and keeps her out of the loop when she starts seeing a new guy? That’s the kind of thing I’m supposed to be excited about telling Terra. I’m supposed to dash over to her house and be all giggly about it. Maybe I should call her and try to explain. But what would I say? How do I answer all her questions?
With lies, most likely. I’m fed up with lies.
I toss and turn, punch my pillow, scream into it, and dash away tears for two hours before finally deciding to roll out of bed. I haven’t even made it to the bathroom when the house phone rings. Hope flashes through me—maybe Logan wants to talk—but then I realize it can’t be him because he’d call me on my cell.
“Maddie,” my mom yells from downstairs.
“Yeah?” My heart starts pounding.
“You have a phone call.”
I run to Mom and Dad’s room and pick up the other handset. “Got it,” I call down to her as I press the on button. “Hello?”
“We need to talk, cheerleader,” a guy says in a voice that is unmistakable.
“Dan?”
“Yeah, it’s Dan, who the hell else did you think it was? Surely not Logan, because from what I’ve heard things aren’t going so well in that department.”
So Logan is mad. I knew it. All the more reason to cut ties and leave the poor guy alone. “What do you want?”
“Like I said, we need to talk. Face to face. Come on over so we can settle this.”
“Um, I can’t today. Maybe—”
“Oh, no you don’t, you can’t pull the wool over my eyes. It’s like my dear old MeeMaw always says, ‘You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.’”
He’s probably going to yell at me for messing with Logan’s head. And justly so. I should do what I do best: hide. But I feel like I owe Logan more than that. If I’m in for a session of “dog the cheerleader” then I should own it.
“Fine.”
“Fine. See you in an hour.” He hangs up.
I throw on a T-shirt and shorts and head downstairs, hoping I’ll make it out of the house and over to Dan’s before anyone notices I’m gone.
“Good morning, my beautiful daughter,” Mom says and I nearly jump out of my skin. “You never really told me how your date went yesterday.”
“It was fine.” I’m getting real tired of that word. It’s a nothing word, and when people say it, it never really means what it’s supposed to.
“Just fine? Where did y’all go?”
“Bowling.”
“That sounds like fun. You used to love the bowling alley when you were little.”
I just nod.
“And it was so nice that he came in to meet us. To be honest, I always hated that Eric never came in. Even Terra doesn’t come in very often. I was starting to worry you didn’t want people to meet us.” She laughs, and I have to turn around so she doesn’t see my cringe of guilt.
I don’t want Mom to get concerned, but it’s hard to put on a cheerful face. Not when Dan’s at his house, waiting to rip me apart. Even though I’m making an effort to seem happy, I think she’s on to me. So, naturally, I lie. “Can I go over to Terra’s today? We need to finish our signs for the concert.”
“Sure,” she says, still watching me closely. “You guys have fun.”
I’m about to get laid into by a squeaky, foul-mouthed geek. Not fun at all.
…
Last time I was at Dan’s house, it seemed like this huge, imposing thing, but now, with its purple and yellow “Go LSU!” sign staked in the front yard, not so much. It’s still the biggest house I’ve ever seen, but it’s hard to feel intimidated by it when there’s a multitude of wind chimes twinkling in the breeze.
I walk up to the medieval-looking front door and debate what to do. There’s a metal knocker hanging from a tiger’s nose, and there’s a doorbell. I choose the knocker because when will I ever again get to use a tiger’s nose ring to announce my presence?
Dan opens the door a few seconds later and walks back into the house. No “Thanks for coming over,” or, “I hate you because you were mean to my best friend.”
“Look, Dan, whatever you want to say just—”
He cuts me off by holding up a hand. “Don’t say another word. First we shoot each other. Then we talk.” He waves a hand for me to follow. But I don’t have a tendency to run after people who threaten me with violence, so I turn around and head back down the steps. “I didn’t mean literally, dumbass,” he yells from inside.
I look up at the sky and pray for patience before following him.
Inside, Dan stands on a winding staircase to my left, and in front of me is a uniquely decorated living room. A deer’s head is mounted over the brick fireplace. A bear in an I’m-going-to-rip-your-face-off stance takes up the far corner. One wall is covered in various stuffed fish.
“Your dad likes to hunt, huh?” I ask.
“Nope. He’s a taxidermist. Those are all things people requested to be done but never paid for.”
“What does your mom do?” She has to be a lawyer or something considering this house.
“Watches Home Shopping Network mostly.”
“I didn’t realize there was so much money in taxidermy.” I poke the bear’s paw, expecting it to attack.
“My dad is one of the best. Do you know how much talent it takes to stuff a giraffe?”
I shake my head.
“About twenty thousand dollars’ worth, my pom-pom-loving friend.”
The pieces of the puzzle slowly fit into place. “Wait, is your dad Taxidermy Todd? The Taxidermy Todd?” I can’t believe it. Everyone knows Taxidermy Todd in Natchitoches. He’s the hometown boy who made it big.
“Uh, yeah.” He shakes his head. “You really don’t pay attention to things outside your own little world, do you?”
At first I want to deny it. But then I think of not remembering Corina at the restaurant and I have to own up to the fact that I really haven’t been paying attention to anyone else. But I’ll only admit it to myself. No need to give Dan more ammo.
I follow him upstairs to his room, which is about three times the size of my own. The walls are papered with random posters featuring anime characters and superheroes, and apparently, the guy really has a thing for Natalie Portman. On the wall across from his bed, there’s a big flat screen. Beneath it is an array of almost every gaming system I’ve ever heard of along with stacks and stacks of games.
Dan sits on one of the two black beanbag chairs in front of the TV and picks up a controller. The screen clicks on, and the words “Shoot Your Face!!!” splash across it in bloody letters.
I sit in the other beanbag chair. “You know, I’ve heard these games can warp your mind.”
“That’s crap. I’m a well-adjusted teenager. Believe me, my parents had me tested. Now, pick up that controller and let’s do this.”
He tries to show me what all the buttons do on the controller, but the only ones I remember are the right trigger fires my weapon and Y reloads. I scroll through the different characters, but of course, there isn’t one woman. Finally, I settle on the biggest, burliest guy. He has a blond Mohawk and is missing both front teeth. I name him Bob.
“I’m on the green team, and you’re on the red team,” Dan says as a grenade blinks in the middle of the screen, telling us the game is loading.
“That doesn’t sound fair. Red isn’t really a color that’s easy to camouflage. Can’t I be on the—” Before I can finish, the game starts, and Dan kills Bob immediately. “Hey! I wasn’t ready!” I tap random buttons to come back to life.
“Shoot Your Face does not wait for the whiny, cheerleader.”
“Stop calling me that,” I say just as my character explodes again. “Give m
e a chance to get used to this, at least.” Dying twice in a row is driving my competitive spirit crazy.
“I didn’t do that. You blew yourself up with a grenade.”
“How could I do that? I don’t even know which button throws a grenade.”
“Obviously you don’t, because you didn’t throw it, you held onto that sucker. Bam!”
“Stop killing me!”
“But that’s the whole point of the game.”
After a while, I start to get the hang of things. Bob dodges and weaves, rolls and ducks. Dan talks a lot of smack, but at least he’s not treating me like a stupid girl. It takes me two hours before I finally get Dan’s guy.
I jump up and start doing a happy dance. “Yes! I got you! Bob is the man!”
Dan drops his controller and flops back in his chair. “Thank God. That took forever.”
“Let’s go again.” I expertly scroll through Bob’s weapons, arming him with a flame thrower.
“Maybe later, I’m thirsty.” He rolls out of his chair and onto the floor, then hops up and leaves the room.
I catch up to him on the stairs. “But I was just getting good. Come on.”
“All shooting faces and no fluids makes Dan a very dull boy. You want some sweet tea?”
The kitchen is huge, of course. I take a seat at one of the fifties-style, red bar stools behind the granite-topped island. Dan fixes a couple of glasses of tea with plenty of ice.
He sits down two bar stools away. “So, feel any better? I’ve found Shoot Your Face is a perfectly healthy outlet for teenage angst.”
“Who said I was feeling angsty?”
“I figured you wouldn’t be very happy after how your date went yesterday.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Logan seems to think you had a horrible time. And I can understand why because, ‘She turned down NerdCon and doesn’t want to see me again.’ That’s how he put it.”
This is not exactly the person with whom I want to discuss my love life, but who else do I have at this point? “I had a great time. It’s just… There’s other stuff going on with me. It’s all confusing and stupid, and I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
The Summer I Became a Nerd Page 13