I waited for her to go on, but she didn’t. “So then what happened?” I finally asked.
She shrugged. “Nothing. That was it.”
“That was the personal conversation you had with my brother. About the fact that you both like paper towels rather than napkins.”
She nodded.
And here she was giving me advice about boys? Before I could tell her that, Narc stood up and dinged his Red Bull can with a pencil. (With the number of them he drank, he should’ve had complete insomnia, but obviously they did nothing for him.)
“Attention, roommates!” he bellowed. He turned to Nicola. “Oh, and nonroommates, too!”
Because it was a particularly gory-slash-every- girl-in-a-skimpy-bikini scene, everyone ignored him. Luckily, Noob’s bugle was right there. After he had gotten everyone’s attention by blowing (not that we could hear anymore), he yawned. “Man, that was exhausting.”
“So what’s the announcement?” Max asked.
“Omigod—I was just about to ask the same exact thing,” Nicola gasped.
I shook my head.
“The announcement is this. I was thinking that it’s been a while since we’ve had a party.”
“We actually haven’t had any parties,” Doc corrected.
“That’s what I mean,” Narc said. “It’s been a really long time. And because of that, I think we should have one.”
“But what’s the occasion?” Wheezer asked right before he sneezed.
“I know what it can be!” Noob exclaimed. “In can be in honor of Video Games Day!”
“There’s an entire day that honors video games?” Nicola asked.
Noob nodded. “Well, yeah. There’s actually two—there’s also National Video Games Day in September.”
Narc shook his head. “I don’t know. That might be kind of a turnoff to chicks.”
“I know something it can be in honor of,” Max said. “It can be in honor of Simone moving in! She’s been here a whole week and a half!”
Okay, I was incredibly lucky to have such a sweet brother, but because I was still getting used to the visibility thing, that was not an idea I was interested in.
However, from the nods and “I like that”s, everyone else in the room thought it was a great idea.
“Excellent. It’s official then. Party for Simone on Friday,” Narc announced. “I’m going to have to get some serious nappage in before then.” He yawned. “In fact, I think I’ll start now.”
“I have an idea,” Nicola said a little later as we walked toward Abbot Kinney. I could take the Frito-like odor that permeated the house—no matter how much Doc and I cleaned—for only so long before I needed fresh air. “One of my more brilliant ones, if I don’t say so myself.”
I braced myself. Nicola + brilliant ideas = dangerous.
“I think you should invite Jason Frank to the party.”
I stopped walking. That wasn’t just dangerous—that was ridiculous. “Okay, I think that Frito smell is messing with your brain.”
“I’m serious. I think it would be a great opportunity for you to serve humankind by helping to foster better relationships between the popular and the nonpopular,” she said. “You could be a role model.”
I shook my head and started walking again. “No way.”
“I hate to point out the obvious, but you’re being a little selfish here,” she replied.
I started to make a left, toward Ciao Venice, the gelato place we liked to go to. For a while I had stayed away from sweets all together. But the other day, Doc explained how, if you stayed at a certain calorie level, your body got used to it and then freaked out if you started to let yourself eat normally. So I had decided to let myself have sweets a few times a week. Not like crazy Tastykake binges, but like a normal level of sweets. I was a little scared that I would end up right back where I had been before, but so far I wasn’t anywhere near there. It was weird, maybe because I was busier—and happier—but I could have some gelato, or a cupcake, or a cookie, and then just stop and go on with my life instead of it escalating into a bingefest.
“Let’s go to Licks instead,” Nicola said.
Licks was an ice-cream place down on the other end of Abbot Kinney. “But you hate that place,” I said. “You always say they stiff you on the amount of ice cream they give you.”
“Well, yeah, they do. I mean, who do they think they are charging five bucks for what essentially ends up being two spoonfuls of ice cream?! And that’s without any toppings!” she grumbled. “In fact, when I get home tonight, I’m going to blog about it. They’ll be sorry when those lines around the corner are gone.”
“Good idea,” I agreed, following her the other way but leaving out the part that, because she only had four followers—me, Brad, her grandmother in England, and this barista in Starbucks with a tribal tattoo across his face who had a crush on her—I didn’t think it would really put a dent in their business.
“I know you’re sick of me bringing up the boy thing, but I just think you’re missing out on taking advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime situation of having all these guys around to coach you,” she said. “Do you realize how lucky you are? It’s like being on a reality show without having to go through the hassle of auditioning!”
“I really hope you reconsider the whole pre-law thing when we get to college, because you’d be awesome at it,” I said.
As usual, there was a huge line at Licks. Which included—I soon saw as I felt the blood leave my face— Jason Frank and his fellow Testosterone Twit Brock Fleckman. And from the way the blonde surfer chick Brock was trying to hit on kept rolling her eyes at her dreadlocked friend and trying to edge him out with her back, he was striking out big-time.
“Oh wow. Look at that. Jason’s here. How weird,” Nicola said all innocent-like.
My eyes narrowed. “Oh really? Because the way you say it doesn’t make it seem like it’s weird at all. Spill it—how’d you manage this?”
“Foursquare?” she squeaked.
I shook my head. “It’s bad enough you stalk your ex-boyfriend with that thing, but now you’re stalking someone for me?! That’s just wrong.” I grabbed her hand. “C’mon. We’re getting out of here before they see us.”
We were thisclose to the door when I heard it.
“Simone!”
“Great,” I sighed. I turned around to see Jason walking toward us. Actually, it was more like he loped. Which, I had to admit, was kind of cute.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said to my navy-blue patent leather pump. I had never thought I’d ever be a heel girl, but I had discovered that once you got the hang of them, they were pretty easy to walk in. As long as they weren’t ridiculously high and skinny. Brad had gone to this estate sale at the house of some old Hollywood starlet from the 1940s the weekend before and had come back with an entire SUV filled with dresses and shoes and hats and purses. With my discount, they were pretty affordable, even if I had to stuff them with tissues near the toe because they were a little too big.
“Hey, Nicola,” he said, continuing to look at me.
“You know my name?” she asked, surprised. She turned to me. “He knows my name. Huh.”
Apparently, Nicola’s lack of a filter between her brain and her mouth didn’t rear its head just around the guys she liked, but also around guys she thought I should like.
“So what’s up?” he asked.
“Not much,” I replied.
“Actually, you know what’s up?” Nicola said. “What’s up is that—”
“So how’s your mom?” I quickly interrupted before she could tell him about the party.
“She’s good. You know, she thinks you’re pretty awesome,” he replied. “The other night she mentioned you’re really coordinated.”
�
��Which is really funny ‘cause she didn’t used to be,” Nicola said. She turned to me. “Remember that time in seventh grade in gym when we had to dismount from the balance beam and—”
Okay, next lifetime? Best friend will have filter. I glared at her. “Yes, I remember, and we’re not going to talk about that now, okay?” The rest of that story had to do with the fact that when I did my dismount, I slipped and landed on the beam. As in right between my legs. Just thinking about it made me wince and start worrying again about whether I had ruined my chances of ever having a baby.
“My mom told me you’re crashing at your brother’s place for a while,” Jason said.
“Funny you should mention that because—” Nicola began to say.
“—because we have to get back there,” I said, yanking at her arm. “I . . . forgot to turn off the stove, and I don’t want them all to die of carbon monoxide poisoning.” Right after the words came out of my mouth, I flashed back to the time in February when I had walked into the kitchen to find that Hillary had left the burners going. When I had pointed it out to her, she said it was because she was so busy and just forgot. But after my conversation with the Zumba Brigade, now it all seemed kind of strange.
“Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you around then—”
“Actually, you know where you can see her?” Nicola asked. “At the party they’re having at the house on Friday night.”
The one that Nicola wouldn’t be going to because she’d be dead by then because I was going to kill her as soon as we got outside.
“That’s so nice of you to invite Jason to my brother’s party without first running it by me,” I said through gritted teeth, “but I’m sure he already has plans and can’t come.” Like . . . cleaning out his junk drawer. Or cutting his toenails.
“Nope. I don’t have anything going on,” he replied.
Of course that had to be the one night that one of the most popular guys in the entire grade didn’t have plans.
“Fab,” Nicola said. “Simone will send you a friend request and message you the address.” She winked at me. “Solved that problem, huh?”
Yeah. And now onto the one of what to do now that I no longer had a best friend.
Jason nodded. “Sounds cool. See you Friday then.”
I wondered if anyone would notice my absence if I just ignored the party and stayed up in the attic watching Weird Addictions all night.
As I lay in bed later that night I was so ampped up from my run-in with Jason that I couldn’t sleep. Well, that and the fact that because of Narc, I had developed a bit of a Red Bull habit. After spending an hour looking at the photos and wall posts on Jason’s Facebook page now that we were officially friends, I got out of bed and padded downstairs, where I found Narc sprawled on the couch in front of the TV watching Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet while chomping away on the leftover roasted garlic and cinnamon brussels sprouts I had made earlier.
“Hey,” I said.
He jumped. “Ahh!”
Guilt clouded his face. “Please don’t tell the guys you saw me doing this,” he said as he quickly tried to change the channel. “It’ll totally screw up my reputation.” He pointed to the veggies. “The food, too. But by the way? They’re awesome.”
I sat down and took the bowl from him and started to pick straight from it. Living with a houseful of guys had rubbed off on me. “Your secret is safe with me. But if you ever got caught, I bet you could get away with a sleepwalking defense.”
He nodded. “Huh. That’s a good idea. I like that.” He looked at me. “Why are you up so late?”
I shrugged. “Can’t sleep. Stuff on my mind.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Trying to rank Beatles songs keeps me up at night, too.”
I gave him a look, which he missed because he was engrossed again with the Puppy Bowlers. “’Dear Prudence.’”
“Huh?”
“That’s my favorite Beatles song.”
I nodded. When I first moved in, I had tried to track the guys’ thought processes but had quickly given up after I realized that there was no rhyme or reason to them.
He clicked off the TV and turned to me. “So you excited for the party on Friday?”
I felt myself turn red. I hadn’t expected to have a conversation when I came downstairs at two o’clock in the morning. Especially with dots of Clearasil all over my face. “I, uh . . . actually . . . no.” I sighed.
His face fell. “But it’s in your honor! Since you’re underage and can’t drink, I was going to organize a special Red Bull pong game and everything!”
Way to make a girl feel guilty.
“Why aren’t you excited?”
I shook my head. “I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s late and—”
He shrugged. “Okay,” he said, as he reached for the remote.
“Okay, I’ll talk about it.” I decided.
He put the remote down and turned to me.
“But I don’t know . . . it just feels so embarrassing.”
He started to reach again. “So . . . you want to talk about it, or you don’t want to talk about it?” he asked, his hand hovering in midair.
“I’ll talk about it.” I sighed. “See, there’sthisguyinmy gradeandforsomeweirdreasonNicolathinkshemightsort oflikemeeventhoughhe’ssuperpopularndthere’snowaythat wouldeverhappenandeventhoughITOLDhernottoshewent aheadandinvitedhimtotheparty.”
He looked confused. “Was that even in English?”
I should have just stayed up in my room and continued possibly getting asbestos poisoning. “There’s a guy coming to the party on Friday.”
“Well, yeah, there are lots of guys coming,” he said. “For some reason it’s easier to get them than the girls—”
“No. I mean there’s a guy coming who I’m going to have to, you know, talk to.”
“Ohhhh . . . I get it,” Narc said. He shrugged. “Well, that’s easy.”
“How so?”
He yawned. “You just, I don’t know, talk to him. Like you would to any other guy. Like me. Or Noob.” He thought about it. “Actually, scratch that—not like Noob. Because with Noob, you kind of have to talk to him like you would a five-year-old. Or someone from a foreign country.”
“But he’s not just any other guy,” I said. “He’s . . . popular. And on the cute side.” Okay, fine, maybe he was on the cute cute side, but Narc didn’t need to know that.
“And you’re on the cute side, too,” he said. He cocked his head. “More on the . . . beautiful side.” He got all embarrassed. “I hope that wasn’t inappropriate for me to say that. It’s just that girls fall into three categories: cute, beautiful, or interesting looking. And you’re definitely in the beautiful one.”
“Interesting sounds good, though,” I said. “Why can’t I be interesting?”
He grimaced. “No. You don’t want to be interesting. That’s kind of code for didn’t-hit-the-jackpot-in-the-looks department.”
Maybe Nicola was right. Maybe I could write a book with everything I was learning.
Narc yawned and stood up. “All this talking is exhausting. I don’t know how you girls spend so much time doing it. I’m going to sleep. Good night.”
“Good night,” I said as he walked away.
It couldn’t be that easy . . . could it?
The morning of the party, I woke up out of a dream where I was wearing a dress made out of butterscotch krimpets and eating them one by one so that my maxi dress was soon a mini. I didn’t have to be a shrink like Marcia to know it was anxiety about the fact that in approximately fifteen hours, if he showed up, I would be struggling to find things to talk about with Jason Frank. Although I had been trying not to think too much about that, that was hard to do when I kept getting texts from Nicola that said things like omg r u so freaked out about the f
act that ur crush is coming to a party JUST 2 C U?!!!
As I lay there wondering if the 7-Eleven down the street carried Tastykakes and whether if I had one that would lead to twenty, my phone rang.
“Can we just talk about the fact that in about fifteen hours you’ll be standing next to Jason Frank?” Nicola said. “Or maybe you’ll be sitting. Actually, I vote for sitting. I think everyone looks hotter when they’re sitting versus standing, don’t you? And if you do sit, make sure—”
“Nicola, will you stop?! We don’t even know if he’s coming.”
“He said he was.”
“Yeah, but he could, I don’t know, get hit by a bus,” I said. “Or . . . that clown in a tutu statue on Main Street could fall on him and crush his spine and he could never walk again.”
“What a chipper thought,” she said. “A bit of advice? You might want to keep that super-attractive Eeyore part of your personality on ice until you’ve won him over and he’s totally in love with you. In the meantime, Operation Simone’s First Sort-of Date starts at noon at One Person’s Garbage. See you there.”
When I got to the store, Brad had four dresses set aside for me to try on, including this red halter maxidress I had been eyeing for weeks. Because it had belonged to some sitcom star from the seventies who, according to the tag, had been on the cover of TV Guide thirteen times, it was priced pretty high.
“My wardrobe has quadrupled in the last few months,” I said to Nicola as she held up a leather bustier that had belonged to the wife of some action-adventure star from the eighties. “I can’t buy anything else. Especially not for a party.”
Wicked Jealous: A Love Story Page 16