“Oh! I like your star.” He pokes the hollow spot between my collarbone and my shoulder and I realize that this has to be the first time a boy has ever touched me there, skin to skin.
The thought makes my cheeks warm, and I try to cover that up with words. “Thanks. I got bored waiting for Beth to get ready.”
He sits down casually on the edge of the bed. “Ah, the age old ritual of making oneself aesthetically pleasing in order to find a mate.”
I feel awkward standing, so I sit next to him. “Of course a guy thinks the only reason a girl would take time with her appearance is so she can be”—I make obnoxious air quotes—“‘aesthetically pleasing in order to find a mate.’”
He puts his hands up in surrender again. “Okay, point taken. It’s not always the main reason, but you can’t argue that it’s a part of it sometimes.”
“I’ll concede to that.” I shrug and lean back on my hands.
“And I’m not saying that girls are the only ones who do it. Guys do it, too. But I’m of the belief that the physical is by far the least important aspect when it comes to attraction.”
I laugh. “Oh really? So you’re telling me that appearance isn’t the only reason you’re attracted to, say, Natalie Portman, for example.”
“That’s different, though. I can’t help it if she’s aesthetically pleasing to my eye. But she also has a degree in psychology from Harvard, so she’s smart and that’s hot. And yet, I know it’s still not real attraction. Real attraction is different. It’s not about one thing or the other or even both of those things. It’s a big mishmash of a million things all at once.”
I take a deep breath. This is the Dan I got used to when we were talking online. This is the Dan I used to discuss Horcruxes with over cheesy fries. The smart Dan who isn’t afraid to talk about anything. My heart aches suddenly at how much I miss that Dan. But he’s right here, isn’t he? I want to believe that so much.
He rubs the back of his neck as he says, “Listen, about the other day, I don’t know… It was…”
I hold up a hand to stop his rambling. “Let’s just not, okay?” Why did that come out as so snippy?
His lips tighten and he nods. “Yeah, sure, of course. You’re right. Back to socializing, then?”
I glance toward the door, weighing my options. I should go back downstairs, but it doesn’t sound like the crowd has thinned out. And these last few minutes just talking to him have been nice. At least, they were up until he tried to discuss the kiss.
He must notice my indecision because he says, “Or we could watch something? Logan’s roommate has an extensive anime collection in the living room.”
Maybe it’s the two beers or the crowd downstairs or the promise of anime that causes me to say, “Okay, sounds good,” because it can’t be me actually wanting to spend more time with him, right? Then he smiles, everything about him lights up, he jumps into a description of the last anime series he watched when he was here, and I am helpless.
We sit down in front of the tower of DVDs and go through the box sets. We read the descriptions out loud to each other. Most are really interesting and then some are just flat-out weird.
“Why is this guy holding a chicken in one hand and a katana in the other?” Dan shoves the case into my hands.
I shrug. “Maybe he’s trained in the art of chicken swordplay? Oh! Maybe he’s the hero of chickens.” I put a hand over my heart and look into the distance, all concerned-like. “It’s his sworn duty to protect all farmyard foul.”
Dan laughs and takes the case to read the back. “Nope, wrong on both accounts. The chicken is actually the woman he loves who was cursed.”
“Of course it is. Why didn’t I think of that?” I throw my hands in the air.
“That’s it. This is definitely the one.”
“Agreed.”
While I put the show on, Dan grabs us a couple of sodas. We both sit on the couch and focus on the screen. This anime is perfect, weird and lovable. We laugh and cheer on the main character and his poultry lady. Our banter is easy and I’m having fun. This feels so familiar, but at the same time there’s another layer. I’m grinning at him a lot more than I used to when we hung out. I can feel him look over at me more often than before, his eyes lingering.
When we finish the first disc of five straight episodes of Birds of a Feather, he pops in the next disc. He sits back next to me and I feel him looking at me again. I keep my eyes on the TV as the menu screen loads, trying not to show that my heartbeat has sped up and my cheeks feel really warm. Suddenly, he puts a finger on the star on my skin. He trails it up and over my collarbone to the pulse of my neck. “What did you draw this with anyway?”
I open my mouth to answer, but the connection between all cognitive function and my motor skills seems to have been severed.
“Wait, I bet I can guess.” He leans in and nuzzles his nose against that sensitive hollow spot. “A silver Sharpie, right?”
My eyes drift shut and I nod because that’s apparently all I can accomplish at the moment. The music from downstairs is so loud it vibrates my feet, and for some reason all I can smell is funnel cake.
“I knew it.” Then he kisses it, that stupid star, the product of ten minutes of boredom.
He kisses it.
That certainly breaks the spell. My eyes shoot open and I catapult to my feet.
He starts rambling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Did I cross a line? I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t—”
The thumping music stops abruptly, and what was a semi-loud din of voices goes up a few notches to full-on blaring. I look at the window that faces the street. Alternating red and blue lights reflect in it.
“Cops,” I say, and Dan and I share a moment of panic.
He grabs my hand and pulls. “Come on!”
Chapter Fifteen
Dan
We run through the apartment and down the stairs. People scatter as we look for Logan and Maddie. I catch a glimpse of one of the two police officers coming onto the porch. Simultaneously, I cringe internally and let out a sigh of relief. I know him. He’s one of my dad’s good friends. He’s known me since I was shitting my Pampers.
In one of the apartments, we find Logan standing on the couch, trying to get everyone to settle down, which isn’t working at all. Maddie has an arm around a terrified Beth.
I turn to Zelda. “You and Beth go out the back and head home. Text me when you get there, okay?”
Her cotton-candy-glossed lips tighten into a frown. “But what about you guys?”
“Don’t worry,” I say, then turn to Logan. “I’ll handle this, dude.”
I watch as Zelda and Beth escape through the back door, then I take a deep breath. This is not going to be fun.
The place emptied in record time, so when I go onto the porch, the only people there are Officer Warren, who I know as Mr. Bobby, the other officer, and dumbass Douchebag Donovan. Of course he wasn’t smart enough to take off.
“Let’s see some ID, son,” Mr. Bobby says to a terrified Donovan. He’s freaking shaking like a puppy. A little douchey puppy who’s about to vomit.
“Hey, Mr. Bobby,” I call out. “Why are you on duty on Christmas Fest night? Lose a bet?”
He turns to me, thankfully taking his attention off Donovan. “Danny, what are you doing here?”
“Well, I was about to make out with a girl, but you guys shut that down pretty quick,” I say as we shake hands.
He laughs and slaps me on the back. “Yeah right, sure you were. We got a call about a party getting out of hand. Someone snuck into the neighbor’s pool in the back. You know anything about that?”
I shake my head. “No, sir. Donovan”—I nod at pukey little puppy over there—“and I were just playing some video games. My friend lives upstairs. I knew there was a party going on down here, but that’s not really my idea of a fun time, ya know?”
He crosses his arms, contemplating, then he smiles. “Yeah, I swear when I was at your house the othe
r day you didn’t move five feet from that Nintendo thing in the living room.”
I laugh with him. “I’ll tell ya, my hand-eye coordination is extreme.”
“Right, well, it looks like there won’t be any more trouble from this place tonight, so we’ll head out, but you should get home, too. Do you need a ride?”
“Oh no, thank you, sir, but we’ll walk home. Don’t want to take the city’s finest away from the job.”
Once the cops are gone, I let Logan know everything is cool and that I’m going home. When I leave, I notice that Donovan is nowhere to be seen. You’re welcome, dumbass.
I try to not think about Zelda on the walk home, but it’s impossible. I knew I shouldn’t have followed her. I freaking knew it as I was doing it, but did that stop me? Of course not. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in control of my thoughts or actions. Well, there was that soap-covered kiss, but…Then it hits me.
It’s her fault. I can’t help myself with her. It didn’t used to be this way, did it? I mean, I liked her then, but I never tried anything because I knew she wasn’t interested. But she’s not interested now, either, obviously. I’ve never seen someone so repelled by my touch since I tried to hold Eliza Hamilton’s hand in first grade. The way Zelda jumped off that coach when I kissed her shoulder was definitely not an ego boost. Everything was going so smoothly and I had to go and ruin it because I thought I got a vibe. So what is wrong with me?
Plus, there’s effyeah. Maybe I should be concentrating on her. Yeah. If I can just meet her, she’d totally get my mind off Zelda, who I have no chance with and who seems to drive me to do stupid things.
Zelda
Beth is not exactly in the right state of mind to help me with any of my problems when we get home. She passes out on my bed the second she hits it. Mom is asleep and she has to get up early for work, so I don’t feel right about waking her up.
I grab a blanket and a pillow and curl up on the couch. An hour goes by and all I’ve done is stare at the ceiling and think about Dan. He was really nice tonight. He’s been nice ever since I started the whole FinityGirl thing. I want to be mad at him, but I can’t.
I think about my plan, which was so solid at the beginning but now seems ridiculous. Did I really start this because I wanted to change things? Because I was tired of being treated like a leper? Or was it really because I wanted to take out my frustration on someone?
The truth of the matter hits me like an August hurricane. I was so mad at Dan for being a jerk and what was my response? To be an even bigger jerk. I lied to him, tricked him, all in the name of what I called science but was really just pettiness.
I should stop, but how do I do that without coming off as a total asshole? The right thing to do would be to ’fess up. But I’d lose him. Even if he does feel what I’m feeling, no one wants to be close to someone who lies to them. I’d lose this new thing that seems to be happening between us. I feel like I’m getting my best friend back. Tonight I felt comfortable and exhilarated at the same time. I don’t want that to go away.
And he’d lose FinityGirl. He seems to genuinely need someone he knows won’t judge him. I’d like to think I could be that person, but he’d never allow that if I told him the truth. And as tempting as it is to let FinityGirl just disappear, that secret would eat me alive.
This can’t go on forever, though. Maybe I’ll allow myself one last evening of nerdtalk with him. Sort of a farewell chat.
I grab my phone from my purse and send Dan that text he wanted, letting him know Beth and I made it home okay. Then I switch over to my effyeahFinityGirl account. Before, I probably would’ve given it some time between texting him as me and chatting with him as effyeah, but it doesn’t really matter if I get caught now. I mean, yeah, it would be better if I confessed, but that’s going to be a crappy conversation to have. Maybe I kind of want to get caught. I’m such a coward.
Me: You awake?
Dantheman: Yes. Can’t sleep?
Me: Nope. It’s been a rough night.
Dantheman: Same here.
Normally, this would be the point where I’d press for more information, but that’s over now.
Me: So, question: what’s your zombie apocalypse plan?
Dantheman: What a great question. I have given this a lot of thought, of course. Plan A is to go to my grandparents’ house. They raise chickens and they have livestock and stuff, so it’d be the perfect place to survive.
Me: But what if the zombie virus affects animals, too? Like, what if it’s airborne?
Dantheman: I don’t know. How have I never thought about that?
Me: That’s me. Always asking the important questions.
Dantheman: Well, I guess if it’s airborne we’re all screwed then.
Me: True. Okay, so it’s not airborne and let’s say that you just can’t get to your grandparents’ house. What’s plan B?
Dantheman: Board up the house, build fences, same old stuff. I’ve been practicing my slingshot skills so by the time it happens, I should be an amazing shot.
Me: Slingshot? Shouldn’t you be practicing, I don’t know, firearms or bow and arrow or something?
Dantheman: Those types of weapons will be the first thing people hoard. But do you know what section at that local Wal-Mart no one will think to loot? The toy section. And what’s in the toy section? Marbles. Also, the exercise section. That’s where the stretchy band stuff that slingshot bands are made of is. Knowing how to use a slingshot basically comes with the infinite ammo cheat.
Me: But can you kill a zombie with a slingshot? That seems farfetched.
Dantheman: It’s a known fact that zombie flesh and bone is smooshy. You can crush their skulls with a frying pan. A marble shot by a slingshot would totally penetrate the skull.
Me: You make a good argument.
Dantheman: Like I said, I’ve given it a lot of thought.
I smile, knowing he’s not kidding. He’s probably laid awake many a night developing his zombie apocalypse plan.
I’m going to miss this so much.
Chapter Sixteen
Dan
It’s six a.m. when effyeah and I end the chat, so I forego sleep. Yeah, I’m exhausted, but it’s that weird sort of exhausted where I feel delirious and like I could still do something. I head downstairs, looking for munchies. I’m sitting on the couch watching some early Sunday morning news program when my phone rings. The number pops up with no name. Normally I wouldn’t answer, but it’s local.
“Hello?”
“Hey, dude. I didn’t think you’d be up.” Donovan doesn’t sound like his regular self. He sounds, I don’t know, calm? Quiet? It’s strange.
I didn’t even realize he had my number. “Donovan? Why’d you call?”
He lets out a deep breath. “I just… I wanted to say thanks.”
I’m shocked. I’m speechless. I’m living an M. Night Shyamalan movie. “Uh… What for?”
“Last night. You saved my ass. If I would’ve gotten arrested, my dad would’ve… Well, anyway, just thanks.”
I’m not sure what to say next. I’m not his therapist, but I’m not a horrible person, either. “Your dad can be pretty intense, I take it.”
“Yeah, he’s kind of an asshole. I’m just trying to ride it out, ya know. It’s just me and him, so once I finish high school I’m so out of here.”
It’s really strange feeling sorry for him. “That sucks, dude. What’s your plan for after graduation?”
“I don’t know. It’d be great to get a scholarship, but I’m not that smart, obviously.”
“What about with basketball? You’re the best player on the team.” Did I just compliment Douchebag Donovan? Talk about a life plot twist.
“That could work, but when do scouts ever come to our games? I don’t think that’s ever happened, like ever.”
I remember what Taxidermy Todd said about getting scouts to come to our games. Maybe I need to smooth things out with Dad. And all to help one of the people I’ve
really disliked for a long time. “You never know. I’ve recently learned that life can surprise you.”
“Anyway, what was up with you and that Zelda girl last night? I saw y’all together when the cops showed up.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I thought she was kind of lame before, but you seem to be cool with her, so maybe she’s not all bad. Do you think I should, like, apologize to her or something? Because I called her Mrs. Potato Head?”
Doth my ears deceive me? His words aren’t eloquent at all, but he sounds sincere.
“Dude, that’s really considerate of you. But you do realize that even if I wasn’t ‘cool with her’ as you put, you shouldn’t treat people like that.”
“Come on, man, I was just having a little fun.”
“That is not called fun, that’s called bullying. It’s mean and it hurts. You do get that, right?” I feel like I’m talking to a child.
He’s quiet for a minute and I can practically hear his brain gears turning through the phone. “Guess I never thought of it like that.”
I’m so confused. When did Douchebag Donovan become personal-growth Donovan? Did nobody ever explain this to him? Well, that’s a parent’s job and his parent doesn’t sound like he’s going to be winning any Father of the Year awards any time soon. Maybe the reason he acts like he does sometimes is all due to circumstance.
Huh. It’s true what they say—you learn something new every day.
I try to think more on this, but my brain is having none of it. “Okay, well, you’re welcome for last night. I gotta go, though.”
Romancing the Nerd Page 12