The Girlfriend Request

by Jodie Andrefski

  Sarah’s supportive best friend gene must have kicked in, because she rushed on with comforting noises. “No. No! I’m sure that isn’t it. Maybe he’s really busy getting ready for finals and stuff. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you.”

  I harrumphed, not entirely convinced. “Well, you have to help me. What do I do now?”

  “What did you say in your messages to him?”

  “I don’t know. General stuff. Kind of flirty I guess.”

  Sarah snorted.

  I pulled my hood up, wanting to hide even though she couldn’t see me.

  “Okay, fine. So I just asked him some questions about himself, and told him I thought he was cute, and… I don’t remember exactly.”

  I did remember, but couldn’t bring myself to tell her how I’d called his eyes mesmerizing. Maybe that was a little over the top. I covered my face with a pillow. Argentina it is.

  “Em. Calm down. We can still salvage this. Is he ever online when you are? Have you tried to instant message him and ask him what’s up?”

  “I haven’t seen him on since then, but it shows he’s read my messages,” I muttered under the pillow.

  “Okay, so that makes it a little more challenging, but still doable.” She paused for a minute, obviously thinking. “Oh! I’ve got it!” She sounded excited now. “Why don’t you suggest talking on the phone?”

  I removed the pillow. “Oh, that’s brilliant, because he won’t recognize my voice or phone number.”

  “Oh ye of little faith. We’ll get someone else to make the call.”

  I bolted upright. “Are you kidding me? No way! I’m not telling anyone else about this. It would be beyond embarrassing!”

  “Oh, and it wouldn’t be embarrassing if he suspects it’s you and keeps playing the avoidance game?”

  She had a point.

  “Okay, true.” I glanced out the window, trying to spot him. He was nowhere in sight. “But I wouldn’t want it to be anyone that he’s friends with, or that would blab about it.”

  “Well, obviously.”

  “So who do you think we should ask?” Resigned to having to enlist even more help, I couldn’t believe how staggeringly poorly my plan was unfolding.

  “We?”

  “We.” I said firmly. “Or rather, you?”

  Sarah sighed.

  “Please?” I drug out the word for a full three seconds.

  “Well, shit. Fine. Let me think about it, and I’ll call you back.”

  I squealed. “Thank you, thank you!”

  “You owe me.” She hung up without waiting for a response.

  If this plan worked, I definitely would owe her, big time. I smiled in excitement.

  A couple hours later as I rinsed plates to load in the dishwasher after dinner, Sarah called me back.

  “Hello?” I turned off the faucet so I could hear her better.

  “Okay, so what do you think about asking Mallory?”

  I groaned. Mallory was this quiet mouse of a girl from my AP Science class, not at all what I imagined when I thought of the perfect girl to flirt her way into winning Eli’s heart.

  “Hang on a sec.”

  My parents were watching television in the living room, so I headed to my bedroom where I could talk without them overhearing. As I took the steps two at a time, I wondered if having someone call Eli was really the best idea. It seemed like my plan was starting to spin out of control.

  After closing my bedroom door, and clicking on the desk lamp, I sat down and reflexively booted up my computer.

  “Hellooo?” Sarah sounded impatient.

  “Sorry, I’m here. Hang on, I wanted to check and see if he wrote back yet. Maybe we don’t really have to do the phone call thing.”

  One quick check told me he hadn’t responded, but my list of online contacts raised my hopes a bit.

  “He’s on!” I hissed into the phone.

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.” I whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “Because…” I stopped. “I don’t know.” I spoke in a normal volume. “Should I send him an IM?”

  What would I even say? I pretty much sucked the last time I tried that route, and that was before the three days of incommunicado. My foot tapped nervously on the floor.

  “Well?” I pressed. “Should I?”

  “Sure. Maybe he’ll tell you why he hasn’t gotten back to you yet. I mean to Kelli.” She sighed. “Seriously, you don’t realize how ridiculous this whole thing is?”

  I didn’t answer right away, my focus a laser on his name in my contact list.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m here. What do I say?”

  “I don’t know, maybe say…” She paused. “Em, are you sure you want to do this? Keep this up, I mean?”

  A big part of me wondered the same thing. Maybe I should give it up while I was ahead. Or, at least not behind. But before I could answer her, a message popped up on my screen.

  Hey there.

  My eyes widened at the two simple words.

  “He just sent me a message.” My panic rose to dangerous levels.

  “He did? What did it say?”

  “Hey there.”

  “Well, what did you say?” Sarah sounded excited now.

  “Nothing! What am I supposed to say?”

  “Girl, that’s up to you. You know my stance on the whole thing, but you do what you gotta do.”

  “Gee, thanks a lot.”

  “What are best friends for? Look, I have to go. I’m supposed to be finishing my history paper. Let me know how it goes, okay?”

  I sighed. “Okay, thanks. Talk to you later.”

  “See ya.”

  Eli’s message on the screen mocked me. Deciding that I might as well answer, I typed back a simple, hi then watched as the box showed him typing.

  Sorry I didn’t have a chance to get back to you before this.

  Not a problem. How have you been?

  Wow, I was on fire in the flirting skills department. I wondered what he’d say. Busy? Confused? On a quest to ignore his best friend?

  Pretty good, how about you?

  Well, that was generic. I decided to play along,

  Good, thanks.

  I paused, thinking how to shift the conversation out of polite pleasantries and into something more significant. He didn’t give me the time.

  I didn’t mean to ignore you or anything.

  Before I could come up with a response, a knock sounded on my door, right before the knob turned. I quickly logged off and swiveled around in my chair just as my mom poked her head in the room. Not for the first time, I wished my parents would learn to wait until I said, “Come in.”

  “Hey sweetie, I’m sorry to bother you, but can you come downstairs and give me a hand with something?”

  I smiled weakly. “Sure, Mom. I’ll be right there.”

  Silently frustrated, I stood up and followed her downstairs. It turned out she wanted my help moving some furniture around. Dad had left for a meeting, and Mom being Mom decided she wanted to rearrange the living room. This happened a couple times a year in our house.

  Almost an hour passed before we finished. By the time I got back to my room, Eli had logged off.

  Probably just as well since it was late, and I still had to finish an essay for my Creative Writing class. The assignment was “An Impact.” Ms. Clark loved being vague. I sighed and stared at the blank screen in front of me.

  Obviously, various people had influenced my life in different ways—my parents, Eli, friends, even people like Carissa. And the move sure made an impact on my life. But it seemed superfluous just writing about the obvious.

  Maybe I was looking at it all wrong. Maybe instead of simply writing about things or people around me, I should do what all my teachers kept going on and on about and look inside myself. I looked something up online, then began to type.

  Making an Impact

  “As human beings, our greatness lies not so m
uch in being able to remake the world—that is the myth of the atomic age—as in being able to remake ourselves.” ~Gandhi

  So often, in my most private of moments, and thinking of my reasons for being here on this earth, I am left with feeling… I just want to have made some kind of impact.

  I wrote steadily for the next thirty minutes. When I finished, I read back over the words I’d written. Whether or not it was what the teacher was looking for I had no idea, but I was happy with it.

  Lately I’d felt as though I was somehow losing myself, or didn’t even know who I really was. It was nice to get some of those thoughts and feelings out. I’d always loved to write, had even thought about majoring in it in college. Somehow, I’d gotten away from writing, and it felt good to do it again.

  Chapter Eight

  Emma

  “Hey, loser.”

  I slammed the slate metal locker closed with resignation and turned to see my least favorite person in the world.

  “Carissa.” I nodded tightly and moved to step past her.

  Carissa stood in the middle of the junior hallway while football-playing toadies hovered on either side of her petite, Aeropostle-packaged body. Unfortunately, because of the spelling of our last names, we’d been placed in the same homeroom since ninth grade. This meant our lockers were close to each other, and we shared lunch periods. And due to Carissa’s shining personality, any interaction was pretty much hell.

  She’d once been human, back in elementary and middle school. She’d even gone out with Eli back in the day. Back when going out meant you didn’t actually go anywhere, but passed each other notes in the hall between classes. Back when, if you were really lucky, you got to play seven minutes in heaven with an amazing guy at a birthday party.

  In eighth grade, Carissa got really lucky at Carey Winchester’s birthday party. I remember being devastated. She’d pulled Eli’s name out of the hat to go in the closet together. They went out for three months after that. Then she got boobs and all the boys noticed her and it went downhill from there. She dumped Eli for a linebacker named Brad. It was her loss, and I think she knew it.

  As I attempted to step around the queen of the bitch squad, she extended a foot in my path. I hurtled forward, books and binders slipping from my grasp on the way down. I would have nose-dived onto the smooth hallway floor had it not been for a pair of firm hands suddenly grasping my upper arms, preventing my spectacular dive into complete humiliation.

  Grateful for the save, I raised my eyes. Eli looked straight back at me, concern etched in his features.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  Embarrassed, I nodded. I shoved the hair out of my face and did my best to straighten the band that was supposed to be holding it back.

  Eli bent and helped me pick up the dropped books with a sympathetic smile.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  After handing them back to me, he turned an angry gaze on Carissa, who still stood close by, smirking. She twirled a long strand of hair around her finger, one eyebrow raised in challenge. He took two steps toward her. The fury in his gaze caused her to stop twirling and back up slightly toward the opposite wall. His usually calm face twisted in distaste.

  “You know, Carissa, you’ve done this kind of crap to anyone you felt like for years now.” Another step closer. “And you know what I think? I think you do it because deep down, you know that this is it.” He motioned to the crowd around her. “This is going to be the height of your existence and it’s already starting to diminish little by little. Your mommy and daddy may give you anything you want, but you’re still unhappy and have to treat everyone else like garbage to feel better about yourself.”

  Carissa’s smirk began to fade. She tried to cover by quickly adopting a haughty sneer and attempted to turn away, muttering, “Whatever.”

  Eli grabbed her arm as she spun away, not hard, but enough to halt her grand exit. He leaned in closer and whispered, “It’s over, Carissa. You mess with Emma again, and I’ll tell everyone about your little trips to fat camp.”

  Her blue eyes widened.

  His expression didn’t change.

  She had the guppy look down pat. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

  Eli reached over to take my elbow and lead me away from the small group.

  “Fat camp?” I whispered as we walked past Mr. Elliot’s science classroom.

  He laughed under his breath. “I have no idea. It was the first thing I could think of.”

  Laughter bubbled up as I realized he’d just completely made up the one insult that Carissa would take to heart. Being the self-appointed princess of the school’s Beautiful People, she obviously wouldn’t want anyone to think she ever battled something as demeaning as an unsightly bulge.

  “You’re awful.”

  “Yeah, probably, but I’m sick of the way she treats people. And no one ever stands up to her.”

  Conversation halted when I reached my first period English classroom. Before I went in the door, he squeezed my arm and offered an encouraging smile. “Don’t listen to her, Em. She’s not worth it.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled back. Other students shoved to get past us since the bell was going to ring any minute, and Ms. Myers didn’t tolerate anyone being late. I wished we were alone. Instead I said, “I better go in.”

  “I’ll see you later, okay?” His eyes looked super blue, with only hints of green, probably from the navy fitted tee he wore under his open flannel shirt.

  “Sure, see you later.”

  After I walked into the classroom and headed to my desk, I glanced around. Other students talked to their friends, or tried to get one last text in before class started. Myers also had a zero-tolerance policy on any type of electronics to which she rigidly adhered.

  A few kids still stood around in small groups, while others sat at their desks talking to their neighbors. No one paid any attention to me when I slipped in my seat and took out my English textbook.

  The bell rang, announcing the start of first period. Sighing, I flipped open my notebook and took the cap off my ballpoint pen.

  8:00 a.m.

  Just another day in teen paradise.

  After forty-seven minutes of listening to my teacher drone on about the lesser-known themes in Hamlet, I was more than ready to head across the hall to Calculus. It was amazing how an instructor could take what was normally a favorite subject and turn it into a lesson in torture by boredom.

  As I stood up, a flash outside the window caught my attention. Glancing over, I did a double take. Eli stood outside holding up an open notebook with the words MEET ME NOW!!! written in what looked like black Sharpie.

  I shook my head vehemently. No way was I going to cut class. My luck, I’d get caught and land in detention.

  He nodded his head up and down and pointed back and forth between the sign and me.

  Checking to see if Ms. Myers saw what was going on, relief rushed through me when it appeared that she hadn’t noticed a thing. She was too busy arguing with Jared Stephens over what sounded like a long-running battle over why his wrestling shorts weren’t acceptable classroom attire.

  Eli had now assumed a pathetically bad puppy-dog expression to go along with clasped, begging hands.

  I stifled a giggle. Giving in, I nodded and held up my index finger to let him know I would be there in a minute. He gave me a thumbs-up and waved.

  Walking down the hall in the opposite direction of my second period math class, I tried to appear nonchalant. All I needed was for one teacher to ask where I was going and the word vomit would spew, telling anyone within earshot how I’d been on my way to leave school without permission.

  Thankfully, no one asked. Not one person seemed to notice. In times like this, invisibility had its perks.

  I finally reached the end of the hall and approached a green door marked Maintenance Exit Only that led outside. I figured it was better to make my escape here, rather than using the main entrance near the office
s. I couldn’t chance my mother seeing me.

  The bell rang for the start of the period, and I jumped. My hand flew to my chest, and I willed my heart rate to settle as I double-checked to make sure that no one noticed my big act of rebellion.

  Now or never.

  I pushed against the silver bar running the width of the door. Surprisingly, it opened without setting off any kind of alarm. The hinges swung soundlessly, ushering in bright morning light and fresh air.

  Cat burglars had nothing on me. I slipped through all stealthy-like, half-expecting Eli to jump out and try to scare me.

  He didn’t.

  As a matter of fact, I didn’t see him or his damn sign.

  I looked around, scanning the area. Nothing. I bit my lip as I gingerly allowed the heavy door to close behind me. My adventure gene began to recede. As I took a few timid steps toward where I’d last seen him, I called out in a stage whisper, “Eli? Where are you?”

  No answer.

  A few more steps.

  The whispers got a little louder. “Eli, I mean it. I left school for this. You better be here or I’m going to kill you.”

  Just as I’d given up and was about to try to head back into the school, he pulled up to the curb at the end of the teacher’s lot, right on the other side of the grassy quad where I half-crouched like some animal.

  He waved me over through the open window.

  “Eli!” I hissed. “Are you crazy? What are you doing? Someone’s gonna see you.”

  He motioned again for me to join him. “Then hurry up and get in before we get caught.”

  Oh for…

  He was nuts, which probably made me just as insane, since I did some weird crab run to try to stay out of sight while I made my way to his car.

  “’Atta girl,” he said after I slipped inside. Continuing to crouch down, I grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the bucket space between our seats and slapped them on, trying to hide my face the best I could.

  Eli cracked up, but said nothing.

  “What are we doing?” I whispered.

  “Ah,” he replied, unable to hide his grin. “That, my dear, is the surprise.”

  “Getting detention together?” I smirked.