Undiscovered Gyrl: The novel that inspired the movie ASK ME ANYTHING (Vintage Contemporaries)

by Allison Burnett

  “I know I complain about Martine. A lot. But there’s something I haven’t told you. About her. And me. You see, we’re … well … we’re engaged.”

  “What?”

  He nodded his head, really embarrassed.

  “You’re just saying that to get rid of me! No way you can marry her! She treats you like shit! She’s insane!”

  He couldn’t even look at me. “Not all the time. Sometimes we’re happy. Most of the time actually. When we are, I don’t call you. So you don’t hear about it.”

  I started crying. “What do you have with her that you don’t have with me?”

  “Oh, sweetheart. Let’s not start that.”

  I went sort of berserk and shouted “Answer the fucking question!”

  He looked at the front door like he thought any second the cops were going to come busting in and find out I was only 17. But they didn’t so he took a deep breath and talked really calmly. He said a bunch of stuff about how individuals of the same age share things that people with an age difference can’t. Something about cultural references and existentialist clocks. WTF? Never date a professor! Then he said something that really pissed me off. He said that he and Martine were “intellectually compatible” because they’re both working on their P.H.D.s. That was a cruel thing to say, because at my age even if I read a book every single day for the rest of my life I could never catch up with her.

  All I wanted to do was escape. I got dressed. He watched me. Say goodbye to my hot young body asshole! At the door I turned around with tears in my eyes and said “How long have you been engaged?”

  He looked at the blank TV. “Since October. That’s why I moved. We needed more room.”

  “You mean she lives here too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She has a seminar Friday nights. I’m sorry. I’ve behaved really dishonorably. I was weak. I couldn’t resist you.”

  I shook my head like I pitied him and walked out. I crossed the street as slowly and confidently as I could just in case he was watching. When I unlocked my car door I looked over my shoulder. He wasn’t watching. I felt like such a loser. A typical dumb teenager. I cried so hard driving home I almost crashed.

  I wish this was the end of my tragic birthday story but it’s not. When I got home Rory was in the living room playing Scrabble with my mom and Mark Aubichon. Since Rory was supposed to be at band practice tonight I used him as an excuse and told my mom we were having dinner together. Well, it turns out Alden, their drummer, broke his ankle this afternoon, so practice was canceled. Rory called to tell me but my phone was shut off, so he drove over to see if I wanted to go out. When my mom told him we were supposed to be having dinner together, he got really suspicious and decided to wait for me like a spider on a web.

  When I walked in, my clothes and hair were messy and my face was red from crying and beard-burn. Since my mom is clueless about my personal life, she thought I’d been raped or something. So did Mark. They jumped up all worried but Rory knew better. He looked like he wanted to strangle me.

  “I’m fine,” I said, laughing and crying at the same time. “I saw a sad movie, that’s all. God. Get a life!”

  “Really? What movie? What’s it called?” Rory asked.

  I was totally busted. I ran up the stairs and he ran after me. The second we were in my room, he slammed the door. His eyes were crazy. This is when I usually scream “Nothing happened! You paranoid freak!” But instead I told him the whole truth. I said I was in love with someone else, an older guy, and that I just found out he’s secretly engaged and that my heart was broken in a thousand pieces and I just wanted to be left alone. If you know guys, then you know exactly what Rory said next.

  “Did you fuck him?”

  I swear, a guy would rather have his girlfriend be in love with another guy she’s never kissed than have a one-night stand with a guy she’ll never see again. For a girl it’s the exact opposite.

  When I didn’t answer, he covered his face and started moaning like I just got hit by a car right in front of him.

  “Oh god, you did! You’re a whore! A whore!”

  “Yup, that’s me.”

  He jumped and grabbed my shirt. I hardly blinked.

  “How many times?!” he screamed.

  “None of your business, you jealous ass! And it wasn’t fucking! It was making love! Something you know nothing about!”

  He pulled back a fist. No one’s face gets redder than a red-haired person’s when he’s furious. I knew I was about to get my teeth bashed in, so I did the only thing I could: I punched him first. Right in the neck. He was so surprised that he fell and the back of his head cracked against my vanity. Before he could get up, Mark Aubichon rushed in, grabbed him by his hair and his arm and told him to get out or he’d call the cops. Now Mark was the one who looked deranged. A maniac frog. He shoved Rory out the door. Blood was running down Rory’s head. I know I should have felt sorry for him but I didn’t.

  Later while I was washing my face, my mom came in and asked what was going on.

  “Lovers’ spat,” I said. “The kind you and Mark would have if you were in love. Please get out.”

  There’s nothing that hurts her feelings more than when she wants to talk about my life and I shut down. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The full-length mirror almost fell off. I crawled into bed with my clothes on.

  I need a brake. My hands are sore from typing.

  Later: 2:15 p.m.

  On my birthday my mother and I have a tradition. We get a mani-pedi, eat a fancy lunch and see a movie, usually a chick flick. Yesterday I woke up so late we didn’t even bother. We just sat in the kitchen and talked while I crunched down a bowl of Mark’s natural cereal (pebbles and acorns) and drank a humongous mug of coffee. I felt so guilty about the way I spoke to her that I told her a lot. I left out Dan’s true age, of course, and that he is an engaged professor but I told her pretty much everything else. I said that the night before, right after we made love for the first time, he confessed that he was getting back together with his ex-girlfriend and that he couldn’t see me anymore.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “Never get attached to a boy if there’s a third party involved. The third party always wins. Because they have shared history on their side.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  “If I had told you sooner, it wouldn’t have mattered. Everyone has to learn these lessons for themselves, I think.”

  “Yeah.”

  My mom is pretty wise sometimes. But only with the lives of others. Before I went back up to my room, she gave me three hundred-dollar bills for my birthday.

  • • •

  I spent the rest of yesterday in bed, too devastated to do anything but watch TV. I didn’t even pick up the phone when Jade called, which since it was my birthday was pretty shitty of me but I knew I’d end up telling her the whole disgusting story and I didn’t want to relive it.

  Around 5:00 she texted me that she had just heard from Willy that Rory and I broke up. She was coming over asap to take me out for a birthday dinner and cocktails so I’d better get my “filthy ass in the shower.” She is so funny. It cheered me up. I got right in the shower and made myself look as pretty as I could. Not very.

  At dinner Jade gave me a beaded pink leather case for my phone and a $50 gift certificate to Victoria’s Secret. After a dinner of fried shrimp, salad and fries, the waiter brought me an apple pie a la mode with a candle in it. I wished for Dan to dump Martine. On the way out, two older men tried to pick us up but we rejected them with humor. We drove like forty minutes to this new bar that serves minors if they’re gorgeous and female. We got hammered on vodka and cranberries. Was it enough to make me forget my pain? Yes and everything else.

  When we were leaving the bar around midnight, a cute boy in a Santa hat said hello to me in the parking lot. I grabbed him by the fur on his parka and stuck my tongue down his throat so far I touched his lung. At l
east according to Jade. I don’t remember any of it. Then I asked him if he wanted to “fingerbang me.” She said he was so scared he ran away.

  Okay, that was the single most boring post ever. I have become everything I hate.

  Now it’s freezing out, football is on the TV, I’m still hung-over from last night and my fingers are stiff from typing this sad tale of a girl gone wrong. I am really unfortunate and empty. No boyfriend. No secret older man. No bliss. No college. Loser2

  I should have broken up with Rory the second I met Dan. Or else been strong enough never to kiss Dan in the first place. One or the other. One or the other.

  I really don’t want to get back together with Rory. I am sick of his freckles and intense emotions. Plus his balls smell like vinegar.

  Thank god my name is not really Katie and I am 100% invisible to the world or I would be so humiliated right now I would crawl into a hole and die.

  My father totally forgot my birthday. Or maybe he just ignored it. I was his favorite person in the world when I was little. Now that I am grown up he hates me. Why? What did I do wrong?

  I am a crazier gyrl than I thought.

  Monday, December 17, 2007

  Cole got a vaccination today and afterwards when he started to cry so did I. On the way home Margaret said she was really impressed that I had been so moved. She said most young people lack empathy. Especially beautiful young girls. It was wonderful to get a compliment like that so I didn’t tell her that the real reason I cried was that there was a cheesy calendar on the wall in the doctor’s office that showed two lovers holding hands on a perfect beach and it reminded me that I will never kiss Dan again.

  Driving home I sat in back next to Cole. He was about as happy as I have ever seen him. He squeezed my finger and whenever I crossed my eyes at him or made a funny face he gently smiled. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could forget pain as fast as babies do? But if we did, I wonder if we would learn anything. I mean, isn’t it pain that teaches us life’s most important lessons? I want to learn from the pain of Daniel.

  • • •

  When Paul got home from work we all hung out together in the kitchen. Margaret tossed a big salad and Paul popped pieces of cucumber in his mouth. Paul is brilliant and speaks with charm about every subject. I don’t care at all about sports except when I’m faking it for my dad, but I understand it pretty well. Paul explained the steroid scandal, and I swear he made it sound exciting. He talked about how baseball, except for jazz and movies, is America’s greatest contribution to the world’s culture, and to see it dirtied this way really disgusted him. I hope Margaret knows how lucky she is to have a rich handsome husband who is never boring.

  On my way to the car I turned around and looked at their big, gorgeous white house all lit up and twinkling in the cold, but so warm inside, and I thought this is what I want someday. And I can have it. All I have to do is make smarter choices.

  Driving home I decided to cheer myself up by going on the biggest shopping spree ever. I bought two wool tops, three hoodies, two pairs of skinny jeans, two packs of hairbands, two lacy bras, two red undies, a pair of red ski gloves, a jar of all-natural anti-dark-eye-circle cream, five magazines, one makeup remover with cucumber and aloe, a phone charger for my car and a pretty black velvet dress with a bow in back which is the perfect combination of dressy and casual. Oh, yeah, and a pair of black patent-leather ballet flats. I spent my gift certificate from Jade, all of my mom’s present and most of last week’s salary but it only cheered me up a little.

  When I got home and saw my bedroom, I cried for two hours. I am still such a little girl and I hated that it showed in my lavender and white bedroom. I threw stuffed animals around and broke a music box and wished I had never met Dan. My mind was filled with vengeful fantasies. I wished that I was pregnant so I could wheel our baby by his house and torture him. I wished I knew who the best man at his wedding was going to be so I could seduce him. I would take phone pics of his head between my legs and send them to Dan. And then I thought maybe I should seduce Martine instead. I love them seafood crepes! Ha! These nasty ideas did not make me feel better. I went downstairs and drank one of Mark’s fancy Dutch beers. That helped. Then I came up here and drank two more beers and smoked about five more cigarettes and that helped some more. Maybe someday I’ll be a famous alcoholic, chain-smoking writer. I’ll write a book about me and Dan. I wouldn’t have to make anything up because the truth is pretty fascinating. At least I think so.

  • • •

  I texted Jade three times just now. No answer. I bet that bitch is in love again just when I need her most. Probably with the kid in the Santa hat.

  I got a birthday card today from Affie. A lame joke card. Only two days late. My dad didn’t write anything inside, just signed it. The hopeless scrawl of a dying man. Usually I spend Christmas with them but this year they’re driving downstate to visit Affie’s mom. I’m glad they will be gone. They both suck.

  Tuesday, December 18, 2007

  I guess the babies got all the crying out of their systems last week because at today’s RIE class (I misspelled it before) there was no crying at all. The babies just laid there on their backs checking each other out like shy kids at a party.

  RIE doesn’t believe in tummy time. Most parents put babies on their stomachs a lot, which mashes their faces into the floor or the mattress. They flail around pathetically. RIE believes “Why put a baby through that? Why make him unconfident like that?” They believe a baby will turn himself over when he’s good and ready. I bet my mom gave me a ton of tummy time because even though I have an outgoing personality, deep down I am not confident at all. I can still taste the floor, if you know what I mean.

  • • •

  Being a great parent is such a massive effort. Margaret is tired all the time. Breastfeeding is really exhausting, she says. And since Cole sleeps in their bed at night, every time he wakes up even for a second he reaches for her boob and it wakes her up. The other day she said she feels like her brain is turning to oatmeal.

  The idea of sharing a bed with my husband and my baby is very cozy and appealing but when do you have sex? Never, I bet. Paul must be under intense pressure down there. Ha!

  After work I was so desperate for a sympathetic friend I called Merci Gregoris, my big-titted, fake blonde, moley ex-lab partner. She says a bunch of kids from our class are back for Christmas break and having a party. It’s at the house of a computer genius named Freddy Black who wears bow ties every day. Maybe it will be fun. If not at least there’ll be liquor. She’s picking me up in 25 minutes. Must shower!

  LATER: 11:48 p.m.

  I wanted to leave the second I walked into the party because the house was infested with techies. They will probably make extremely nice billionaire husbands some day but right now they are shockingly awkward and neurotic. Plus now that they all go to Harvard and M.I.T., they are deeply up their own butts. Which is insane. If you are a scrawny male virgin with acne and greasy hair, the last thing you can afford to have is a superior attitude.

  While I was getting a beer in the kitchen, a semi-cute kid named Anton Tuttle walked up. He’s tall and skinny and designs computer games. He told me he’s working on a game right now set during the Spanish Acquisition. (I have no idea what that is. It gets six million hits on google but on a variety of topics.) I tried to escape but he stepped right in front of me and said “We were in the same elective last year. Logic-Psychology with Mrs. Patterson. You don’t remember me because you were too busy being the hottest girl in school.”

  “Yes,” I replied, “being hottest truly is a distraction.”

  Whenever someone accuses you of something horrible, always admit it. People don’t expect it. It makes it much harder for them to hate you. Anton laughed and asked what brought me to Freddy’s party. I told him I had just broken up with two boyfriends on the same day and I was there to cheer myself up, but “so far so bad.”

  Even though this was a direct insult, he laughed again.
He obviously gets off on being abused.

  “Where you goin’ to school?” he asked.

  I told him about my academic limbo. He was impressed that I had gotten into the school that took me but even more impressed that I had the guts to defer.

  He said “I hear life after semesters is endless.”

  I told him that it is, which is why I work full-time and blog. I thought that this would impress him but he made a smirky face and said “What is it about chicks and blogs? They all have ’em.”

  What an arrogant ass.

  “Not like mine,” I replied. “I just started it, like, seven weeks ago and it already gets between 750 and 1,000 discrete visitors a day.”

  “Unless you’ve got a cam in your shower, no way.”

  “Oh, I do,” I replied. “And another one in my toilet.”

  I didn’t smile or even blink. He couldn’t tell whether I was joking or not.

  He pulled out a handy pen. “What’s the URL?”

  “Sorry, it’s anonymous.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re scared for your friends to know about it because it’s full of all the crap you tell your bestest friends over the phone only now you write it down for strangers to read instead.”

  “Get laid much? Or ever?” I said, crossing my arms and giving him the hairy eyeball.

  “Come on, you know I’m right! It’s totally self-indulgent, isn’t it? All about shoes and diets. And boys, of course.” Now he was really laughing. “Where’s my soul mate? Why can’t I meet him? Help!”

  Normally I would never let a stranger hurt my feelings but my defenses were very low. I told him that everything he said was true. My blog was vomitous. I was a total cliché. When he saw I was about to cry he felt terrible. I was tempted to tell him the name of my blog just so he could see that I am a real person with a real life and that I hate trivia as much as he does. But I didn’t do it, thank god.