Me: Sure, yeah. Talk to you later :)
I send the message too fast. A smiley face, Dan? Really? No wonder she doesn’t want to talk in real life. I’m a smiley-facer now.
It’s hard to fall asleep after that. I keep checking my phone, thinking she might have something else to say. When sleep finally does come, it’s restless and filled with dreams of a blond girl who doesn’t have a face.
The next day at school, I’m very distracted, to say the least, but I do notice Zelda’s absence. At lunch I ask Beth about it and she just says that Zelda had a rough night. Something must be going around.
Basketball practice does not make me feel better. I sink a total of two three-pointers. No leveling-up today. Even though I’m preoccupied with my very serious problems, in the locker room Martin’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Seriously, I wasn’t saying anything everyone wasn’t already thinking. But who cares, right? It’s not like Parkway is the only theater around. I can go to Shreveport or whatever. It’s a much better theater anyway. But this isn’t over by a long shot. I’m going to get that freaky little bitch.”
Looks like something is definitely going around. I grab my stuff and head for the door, but Martin stops me. “Hey Dan, you can tell your girlfriend that I meant every word of what I said. She looked like lumpy shit poured into spandex. And I’m kind of glad I’m banned from Parkway now. Means I won’t have to see her in any more of her weird costumes.”
I stop. The hamster running the gears in my head is working overtime to figure out what he’s talking about. “What?”
“That Zelda girl, Mrs. Potato Head. She needs to watch her back.” He crosses his arms.
So, last night, FinityGirl got harassed by some jerk for what she was wearing at the movies and so did Zelda. “What was she dressed as?”
Martin scoffs and looks at Donovan. “One of the people from The Super Ones movie. It was all red and black.”
My brain-hamster collapses because he can finally take a break. I’ve figured it out. “Well, what d’ya know…”
“What?” Martin asks.
“Nothing, shut up, I’m thinking.”
Zelda was dressed as Finity Girl. Only FG has a red and black color scheme in The Super Ones. The dots are all connecting.
While I’m slowly putting things together, Donovan speaks up. “Martin, dude, not cool. That’s called bullying and it’s mean and wrong and messes with people’s minds.”
My jaw drops, and I rename him in my head as Do Right Donovan.
I walk slowly up to Martin until I’m glaring down at his stupid face. “You are a horrible human being. And unless it’s to grovel at her feet for forgiveness, you are not to go near Zelda or all of Hell’s wrath shall rain down upon you. And by ‘Hell’s wrath’ I mean me. It will not be pleasant. It will be the worst experience of your puny existence.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Even if something did come out, it would probably be a physical threat or a curse word or a weird combination of both.
I don’t give him the chance to gather his wits, though. I’m out the door, through the gym, down the hall, out the front door, and throwing my bag into my monstrosity probably before he can formulate a sentence. The Phoenix is my next destination. Maddie has a lot of explaining to do. She must’ve known about this. Hell, she might’ve been the mastermind behind it, with her always pushing Zelda and me together and all that being enamored by our interactions.
The drive to the comic shop is a blur. All I remember of it is having a very loud pretend conversation with Zelda. It involved lots of apologizing on her part. And on my part? It wavered between being so very angry with her that I did all those stereotypical manly things, clenching my jaw, punching a hole in the wall, etc., or I would just kiss her in the middle of her sentence. And if this were a movie, a romantic comedy starring Chris Pine and Emma Stone, I’d go over to Zelda’s house and hold up a boom box and profess my love for her. But that’s not the case.
This isn’t a movie. This is me, super pissed and wanting answers.
And even though the idea that Zelda is effyeahFinityGirl makes me feel like all is right with the world, it still doesn’t make me less upset.
I pull into The Phoenix’s parking lot and stomp to the front door. “Where is she?” I yell, and many nerd-heads turn my way. “Where is that traitorous cheerleader?”
Vera, Logan’s little sister, who is growing up way too fast, pokes her head out from behind one of the comic book racks. “Maddie? She’s not here.”
“Hey, Veer. Well, is Logan here?” My original anger goes down a notch.
“Nope. They went somewhere. Dad’s here but he’s in the office. You want me to get him?” She stands, carefully closing the comic she was reading.
“Nah,” I say and look around, confused at what to do next. It’s one of the worst things in the world, to be prepared for battle and then the opportunity is stolen from you. I’m ready to go. I have arguments and comebacks on the tip of my tongue.
Maddie must’ve had information I didn’t. And it’s so not cool that she didn’t share. That’s like the first thing you learn in kindergarten. Sharing is caring, damn it.
“Is everything okay, Dan?” Vera asks with the air of a psychiatrist.
It throws me off. “Uh…no. Everything is not okay.”
She walks toward the checkout counter and motions for me to follow. “Let’s talk.”
“That’s sweet of you, Veer, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help.”
She puts her hair into a ponytail, like she’s about to do some real work. “Let me guess. Girl problems?”
My eyebrows rise. Despite her being about nine years old, she apparently does know a thing or two. “That’s a lucky guess.”
“No, it’s called an educated guess. My mom taught me.” She plops down in an office chair behind the counter and the contrast of her spouting some pretty wizened things then spinning as fast as she can in the chair makes me laugh.
“Of course she did. Okay, I’ll play along. There’s this girl who’s been pretending to be someone else while we talk online. I just figured out the truth and have realized that not only has this girl been lying to me, but I’m almost positive that Maddie knew about everything.” I lean forward, elbows on the counter, and smirk at her. Let’s see what sort of educated solution she can come up with for me.
She stops spinning by dragging her feet on the floor and takes a second to enjoy the dizziness. “So, you came here to yell at Maddie, right?”
I nod.
“Why?”
“Because I’m pis— Because I’m mad at her.” Language, Dan.
“That’s fine, but I think you’re acting rashly.” She shrugs her small shoulders.
“Rashly? You’re like nine years old. Do you even know what that word means?”
She crosses her arms and tilts her chin up. “I’m nine and three quarters and rashly is an easy word. Do you know what triskaidekaphobia means?”
I scoff. “No.”
“Well, I do.”
I stare at her, waiting. When she just stares back at me, I give up on learning the meaning of whatever the hell she just said and try to get back on topic. “Whatever. Why do you think I’m acting rashly?”
“Mom always tells my brothers, ‘Watch where you’re putting your feet.’ Does that explain it?”
I pace a little. As much as I love this kid, I will not be bested by a fourth grader.
When I don’t answer after a minute or two, Vera sighs like she’s getting tired of explaining things. “It means think before you act. You don’t know the whole story, right? And you obviously like this girl, so you don’t want to screw anything up. Make a plan before you lose your temper at Maddie.”
I give up being shocked at Vera’s beyond-her-age wisdom. “How do you know I like this girl? I’m not even sure I do.”
“You must or you wouldn’t care enough to yell at Maddie first before yelling at the gir
l.”
My brows knit together as I stare at Vera. “You’re smart.”
She shrugs and stands. “I know.”
She leads my befuddled self to the front door and pushes me out. “Now, go home, relax, and give the whole situation some good thought.”
I’m cranking my monstrosity when I come out of the daze and realize I just got love-life advice from a nine-and-three-quarters-year-old. And what damn good advice it was, too.
Also, I still don’t know what triskaidekaphobia means.
Zelda
It’s one of those rare days that my mom has off. So in the morning, when I tell her I don’t feel well, she’s all over it. She brings me breakfast in bed—a bowl of sweet and buttery oatmeal. She asks if I want more blankets or less. She brings me some Tylenol to take for a fever she didn’t check to see if I had. She just took my word for it. When she asks if I want to lay on the couch in the living room and watch a movie, maybe “play” on my laptop at the same time, I don’t argue with her.
Maybe my having a shitty night then being confronted by Dan to meet in sort of real life was exactly what my mom and I both needed. The last time my mom was able to give me this much attention was eighth grade when I got the mumps. Dad had been around then, too, but he’d had to work. Despite being severely angry/depressed/humiliated about last night and being confused/conflicted/what-the-hell-do-I-do about Dan’s request that we video chat, I’m strangely comfortable.
Later in the day, I’m watching Pitch Perfect for the twenty-fourth time (I like to keep my life statistics current) and surfing Tumblr for inspiration for the fanfic I’m working on at the moment when there’s a knock on the door.
“You stay right there, hon. I’ll get it,” Mom says as she zooms through the living room.
A few seconds later, Beth leans over my shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”
I quickly shut my laptop. I’ve been embarrassed too much recently, and the last thing I need is for her to see the newest Super Ones fanfiction I’ve been working on.
“Nothing. What’s going on?”
She walks around and nudges my legs over so she can sit. “I brought your homework assignments. How are you feeling? Your mom said you have a fever.”
Before I can stop her, she puts the back of her hand to my forehead. “I knew it! You’re not sick. No fever that I can feel.”
I push her hand away. “I took some medicine. My temperature has gone down a lot.”
“Yeah right. This is about last night, isn’t it?”
Can’t a girl throw herself a pity party without being hounded about it?
“No,” I say, not making eye contact.
She taps her foot rapidly on the wood floor.
I give up lying to her because she knows me too well. “Fine. Yes, that’s part of it.”
She flings her arms around me. “Zelda, don’t give that jerk another thought. You looked a-freaking-mazing last night and you know it.”
“Thanks. I’m starting to come to terms with the whole thing. I just couldn’t face it today. Plus, something else happened.”
She sits up and puts her hands on my shoulders. “What? Tell me.”
“Dan asked to video chat with other-me.”
Her grip tightens. “And what did you say?”
I let out a long sigh and prepare to be yelled at. “Nothing. I dodged him and said I had to go to bed.”
Beth shakes me and the yelling begins. “Why did you do that? You have to tell him at some point. It’s like a Band-Aid—you should just rip it off. If you don’t, it’ll haunt you forever. Or he’ll find out from someone else, which is worse.”
Mom comes in then with a tray of tea for all of us. “I couldn’t have put it any better myself, Beth.”
“What?” I ask, almost spilling the hot tea onto my precious laptop.
“Beth’s right. You need to just ’fess up and take things from there.” She blows on her tea, calm as a spring breeze. “I knew it had to have something to do with a boy. You never get sick. A broken leg or a concussion I would’ve believed, but not a virus. And I could tell by your demeanor that this was a sickness of the heart, not the body.”
“There you go again with your romance novel logic.” I shake my head.
She points a scolding finger at me. “Don’t discount romance novels. What do you think that stuff you write for your blog is? You call it ‘fanfic’ but it could absolutely be categorized as romance. Love, finding that other person who understands you, is a part of everyone’s life. Some of the most beautiful and poignant words I’ve ever read have been in romance novels.”
“Okay, first off,” Beth says, “we’ll talk about your fanfiction another time. Secondly, your mom is totally right. ’Fess up already.”
“Fine,” I spit out like a petulant child. “I’ll agree to a video chat or whatever next time he asks, okay?”
Of course, there’s no way that’s going to happen because Dan is probably too discouraged to ask again. I’ll have to find another way to rip this Band-Aid off.
Chapter Eighteen
Dan
After talking to Doctor Vera, the first thing I do when I get home is Google triskaidekaphobia, of course. Learning that there are enough people out there who have a debilitating fear of the number thirteen that they had to give it a name is almost as unbelievable as the fact that Zelda Potts is effyeahFinityGirl. My effyeahFinityGirl. All this time the girl that I’ve wanted so desperately to know better was a five-minute drive away. She was right down the hall at school and sitting in the heated seats of the monstrosity.
In my room, I turn on some Mozart and lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. And yes, I listen to Mozart. What kind of modern Renaissance man would I be if classical music wasn’t on my iTunes? Plus, studies have shown that classical music can jumpstart the logical part of the brain, and that’s exactly what I need right now. I need the emotional, hormonal, lovey-dovey part of my brain to shut up.
I don’t know what she wanted to accomplish when she started this, but she probably had nefarious intentions. And as much as I want to be angry about that, I can’t be too upset. I just can’t. She, as FinityGirl, has been a light in the dark, a glass of water on a hot day, a 1-UP when I was down to zero lives, whether she meant to be or not. She probably didn’t mean to be supportive at the beginning, but I’d like to believe that as time went by, maybe Zelda’s hatred of me dimmed and she wanted to be there for me. Just like I want to be there for her.
Now, I might not be super mad at her, but I can’t just forgive and forget then change my Facebook status to “In a relationship.” It’s not in my DNA to let something this big go unpunished. I deserve to have a little fun, seeing as she’s probably been having a good laugh at my expense. I also really need confirmation that I’m right and this isn’t a case of wishful thinking.
First things first, I need more information. I need a spy. And I know just the cheerleader for the job. But she can’t know she’s spying or she won’t go along with it. I know Maddie and Logan went to the premiere last night because they invited me and I couldn’t go because Taxidermy Todd said no. Even though I’ve been exploring my rebellious side where he’s concerned, after everything that happened on Christmas Festival night, I didn’t want to push my luck. It sucked on every level.
The first time I call Logan, it rings only twice before it goes to voice mail, which means he declined my call, which means he’s probably with Maddie doing things I really don’t want to know about. I’m not a horrible person so I give them ten minutes before I call again. And again. And again. Third time’s always a charm.
“What? What? What do you want?” He sounds out of breath when he answers.
Gross.
“I need to talk to Maddie,” I say.
“Then why didn’t you call her phone?” I almost feel bad for interrupting them. Almost.
“Because by the way you sent me to voice mail the first time I called, I knew you two were probably…busy, shall we say, and if
I’d called her, she’d never have answered because she can be very selfish. You, on the other hand, I knew would answer because you have a conscience. Really, it’s not that hard to figure out, dude.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh that’s very loud in my ear. “Whatever. Here.”
“Make this quick, Dan.” Maddie sounds about as happy as Logan did, which is not at all.
I try to sound depressed. “I need a sympathetic ear, Madelyn. Do you have a second?”
As expected, she loses the upset tone of voice quickly. “Aw, sure, Dan. What’s up?” She might be selfish when it comes to Logan, but she’s also a bleeding heart. She once made us pull the car over on the highway because there was a cardboard box on the side of the road and she wanted to make sure some horrible person hadn’t left a litter of puppies or kittens in it, which people sometimes do around here.
“I’m worried about effyeahFinityGirl. She had a bad experience last night,” I say.
“What happened?” she asks.
“She went to a midnight premier of The Super Ones and someone made fun of the costume she was wearing. She didn’t even stay for the movie. I just”—I throw in a pitiful sigh for good measure—“I just wish I could cheer her up or something.”
The silence, as they say, is deafening. She stumbles on her response. “R-really? That sounds horrible. W-what did you say her name was again?”
This should give her the proof she needs to turn her suspicion to belief. “EffyeahFinityGirl. She’s a big fan of that character.”
“Ah, well, that’s so sad.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, which means she’s thinking pretty hard to figure this out. Multitasking isn’t really her forte.
“Yeah, and I feel helpless, ya know?” I’m not lying. I did feel helpless when FinityGirl told me that. I feel even more helpless now. I know exactly who made her upset and I can’t do anything about it without tipping off Zelda that I know what’s going on. I promise myself right here and now that no matter how all this plays out, Martin will learn the error of his ways.
Romancing the Nerd Page 14