Nerd Girl

by Jemma Bell

  Yanking off my glasses, I hang my head on the steering wheel and cry my eyes out. I grab a tissue to wipe my nose and through my sniffling, I hear my phone ring with Layla’s signature ringtone. She’s the only one I’d talk to right now. I need my friend, so I grab the phone off the passenger seat and accept the call.

  “Jenks, that you?” Her voice sounds concerned and just a little bit pissed off. My answer is a sniffle. “Ok, honey, Riven called me, he told me what happened.” Good old Riven sure doesn’t waste any time. I need to thank him next time I see him. Smart thinking on his part that I would need Layla right now. “Jenks, I’m about three seconds away from grabbing my brass knuckles and a sock full of change to use on that son of a bitch. He’s going to get a swing to the face and a brass knuckle to his junk the next time I see him.” I sniffle again. “Are you still driving? If you’re driving while this upset, I’m going to be a tad bit displeased with you.”

  “No, I’m pulled over a few blocks away from the guy’s house.” I grab another tissue and gently wipe my eyes and blow my nose. “How could he do that to me, Layla? I thought we had something special. I feel so stupid.”

  “Don’t you dare insult yourself. He’s the one that pursued you, not the other way around.”

  “Why, Layla? Why give me that bracelet? Those beads were each supposed to mean something. I was supposed to mean something to him.”

  “I don’t know, honey, but we’ll get to the bottom of this. If I ever see that bitch face, Mitzi, again, she better start running for the freaking hills.” Layla grumbles on and on, describing in vivid detail the things she’s plans on doing to Mitzi, should they ever come face to face again. “You need a hug, Jenks, come on over and we’ll figure this shit out. Can you drive ok? I can come get you if you can’t.”

  “No, I’ve calmed down enough to drive. I wouldn’t leave my car here anyway, give me ten minutes and I’ll be over.”

  “Alright, be careful; I’ll be waiting right here.” I’m so lucky to have a caring best friend like Layla. She’s always been there when I’ve needed her. Through thick and thin, through sick and sin. We are quite the pair; the nerd girl and the moxie girl.

  “I’m on my way.” I hang up with Layla, turn on my car and crank up the stereo to drown out my thoughts. Loud music is always good for that. It’s only a short drive to Layla’s apartment.

  She lives on the second floor of an old Victorian house. The house is a little rundown on the outside and could use a new coat of paint and some TLC. It’s what’s on the inside that makes this place worth the rent. Original stained glass windows, hardwood floors, crown molding, antique fixtures, and lights. It really is beautiful. Layla’s apartment has a bay window overlooking the front yard with a cushioned bench seat. It’s the perfect reading nook and the two of us have spent many lazy days relaxing there reading books and magazines. The driveway is for tenants only, so I park my car at the curb and scuffle up the sidewalk to the porch. I climb the narrow stairs to the second floor and before I can even raise my fist to knock, Layla wrenches the door open and wraps me in her arms. I can’t help it, I start to cry some more. My body is filled with tension and the stress of the day. She just holds me and lets me cry it out. I don’t even notice when she guides me inside and over to the couch. Together we sit, and I’m comforted by my friend.

  After a good long cry, Layla and I spend time watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory. She’s a sweetheart for trying to cheer me up with some comedy. Who wouldn’t laugh at Sheldon? My cell phone was blowing up with text messages and calls for a long time. Text message, call, text message, call, repeat. I don’t want to listen to his explanation, so I just turn the stinking thing off. We’re on our third or fourth episode when Layla’s cell starts ringing. She grabs it off the coffee table and looks at the caller ID. Has Derrick started calling her now? Surprisingly, she answers the call.

  “Hey, Cara,” Cara? Why would she be calling Layla? I sit quietly and listen to Layla’s side of the conversation. I’m surprised when Layla gives her the address here and says we’ll see her in a half hour. “Jenks, Cara’s coming over to hang out with us.” So I gathered.

  “Why Layla? I’m not in the mood for company right now.” I grump. Layla looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

  “She was concerned about you because of last night. She has no idea of what went down this morning.”

  “Fine, fine. Whatever.” Looks like I’m going to have to change my reservation for pity party table for one to table for three. I fluff up one of the throw pillows and grab the chenille blanket off the back of the couch to snuggle up with. Layla leaves me to go make something to drink. She comes back shortly with a steaming cup of dirty chai for each of us. As we start sipping, there’s a knock on the door. Layla gives me an encouraging smile and goes to answer. Cara is on the other side, dressed in destroyed skinny jeans, an off the shoulder coral sweater, and white flip flops. She is a striking woman with her black hair and chocolate colored eyes. She smiles at Layla and then notices me peeking over the back of the couch.

  “Oh, Amy, how are you doing?” She asks while flipping and flopping over to where I’m currently hiding.

  “I’ve had better days, Cara.” She gives me a funny look and sits down on the couch next to me.

  “Ok, what happened?” Her face is full of concern.

  “Cara, I don’t want to talk about it.” Even just thinking about it, makes me want to cry again.

  “Nuh uh, sweetie, spill the beans. What happened?” Cara crosses her arms over her chest and starts drumming her fingers on her arms. Layla sits next to me and I explain to Cara everything that happened last night, at the party and what I walked into this morning. Her facial expressions range from shock to pity to boiling rage. She even grumbles a few times under breath “that bitch” or “how could he be such a dick?” I’m wondering the same things, Cara. Both Cara and Layla get angry with me when I start to doubt my worth. They simply won’t have me insulting myself or bringing myself down. Having this help from my friends is a balm to my wounded heart.

  “Thanks for being here for me girls. It’s just going to take a while for me to bounce back from this. I should have known better. The nerd never gets the hunk. Girls like Mitzi are made for guys like Derrick. They deserve each other.”

  “I don’t think anyone deserves Mitzi, but if Derrick wants to think with his dick, then I hope they’re happy together,” Cara declares.

  “Amen, sister!” Layla preaches. They’re just trying to make me feel better. I give each of them a pathetic smile and pull the throw blanket closer around me.

  “You know, the best way to get back at Derrick would be to show him exactly what he just gave up. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a new guy and can flaunt him in front of Derrick. Make him jealous.” Cara has a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. What the hell could she be plotting?

  “What did you have in mind, Cara?” Layla questions, looking intrigued. I’m just nervous.

  “Amy, you should enter the pole dancing competition that I’m running at the gym.”

  “Um, I don’t think so. No, way!” That’s my final answer. Why would she even suggest something so ludicrous? I’m lucky I can make it through her class without hurting myself or someone else. The last thing I need is to enter some dumb contest and embarrass myself in front of hundreds of people instead of just a dozen. Worst idea ever!

  “Why not? Amy, I’ll help you choreograph your routine and get you ready. You’ve come so far in the class and show great potential.”

  “Cara, wouldn’t that be like cheating? If you helped me, that is?” It so would be cheating. She’s the one hosting the contest.

  “Not at all, I’m your instructor; I taught you all the moves you know. So what if I give you private lessons.”

  “Jenks, I think it’s a good idea. You’re already a lot better than some of the girls in the class.”

  “That’s because we’re all beginners, Layla. Yeah, I can do the fireman better than you. Wo
ohoo! Sign me up for a contest. Not!” I roll my bloodshot eyes at these two schemers. Me competing with all the advanced class girls, never going to happen. “Even if I considered this hair brained idea, why would I go to the gym where Derrick works, risking running into him or that bleach blonde bitch?”

  “I’m his boss, I can tell you when he’s not there and have you come for private lessons or you can come to my place. I have a pole installed in my bedroom.” Wow! Cara is one kinky little lady. A pole in her bedroom, interesting. Both Layla and I look shocked at the information she just shared. “Amy, doing this. Competing. Will do wonders for your self-esteem and make you feel good about yourself,” Cara pleads with me to agree, “let him see what he just pissed away and show him he didn’t break you.”

  “No, he didn’t break me, just my heart.” I blow my nose and readjust my glasses before I continue. “I’ll only agree to this on two conditions. One, I don’t want to see Derrick, and two, please don’t let me embarrass myself.”

  “I promise,” Cara says pulling me in for a hug. I’m crushed by both of them when Layla joins in, making it a group hug. Call me crazy for letting them talk me into this.

  The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blur of junk food, girl time, and a marathon of The Big Bang Theory. Cara has never heard of this hilarious show, but after one episode, she’s now a fan. I’m going to allow myself to hang with my friends and wallow in my heart break today. Tomorrow, when I wake up, I’ll be ready for a new outlook and attitude.

  ***Derrick***

  Twelve hours, 24 voice messages, 48 text messages later and I still have yet to speak with Amy. I understand her wanting to avoid my calls and refusing to talk to me, but I don’t like it and keep trying. I attempted to go out and look for her earlier. I was going to drive to every place I knew of that she could be at. I didn’t care if I made a scene or appeared to be an obsessive jerk. The need to find her was overwhelming, and I just couldn’t sit around any longer. The only downside to my plan was Riven. He didn’t want to sit around all day and watch me wear out the carpet pacing back and forth, waiting her to respond. I could tell he was livid with me, and he kept looking at me like I was a piece of shit. He grabbed his car keys and left, taking my keys and my spare set with him, effectively stranding me here at home. When it dawned on me what that douche bag did, I found myself googling how to hot wire a car. I was that desperate.

  After shorting out my instrument panel, I decided that wasn’t such a good idea. Who the hell knows what I just did to my car? It’ll be just my luck that I fucked up the brakes or some shit and will crash the stupid thing. I’m such an idiot. Why did I let her leave? I should have done everything in my power to stop her and make her listen. The whole scene was incriminating, but false. What was I going to say? “It’s not what it looks like,” or “nothing happened.” Two of the biggest clichés in history and Amy’s not an idiot. So here I sit, in the dark, alone, trying to figure out a way to get my girl back and feeling sorry for myself. I’m so absorbed in my thoughts, I almost don’t hear my phone ping with a new text message. I can’t open the thing quick enough and after punching in the wrong code, twice, it finally displays the message. For a second, I had gotten my hopes up that Amy finally sent me something, but it’s not her.

  Cara: Are you that much of a dumb shit? WTF is wrong with you?

  Why on earth would Cara be sending me irate messages? Has she seen Amy? Talked to her? I need answers and don’t like her tone.

  Derrick: Explain your message!

  Cara: I’m not the one who has explaining to do. Tell me you didn’t sleep with that harpy.

  She must have seen Amy or talked to Layla or Riven. How else would she know that information?

  Derrick: Honestly, I didn’t sleep with her. I got drunk and passed out. She must have come over while I was shit faced and stayed until morning. She says I puked on her dress.

  Cara: LOL serves her right! Amy isn’t in good shape, Derrick, and she’s not prepared to talk to you anytime soon.

  Derrick: Have you seen her? Where is she? I need to explain.

  Cara: Yes, Layla’s and she won’t want to hear it. Give her some time.

  Derrick: This is bullshit, Cara! I didn’t do anything wrong. If she won’t let me explain, how can I fix things?

  All of these meddling people are screwing me over today: Mitzi, for fucking up and answering the door in her underwear; Riven, for taking my keys, stranding me home; and now Cara. I’m probably going to have to move to another state once Layla starts in on me. I feel like I’m on trial and am guilty until I prove my innocence. If I weren't in love with this silly girl, I’d say fuck it all and just give up.

  Cara: Put yourself in her shoes, Derrick. Leave her alone, maybe when she’s ready, she’ll answer you.

  Derrick: Yeah, easier said than done. It’s not your heart breaking right now.

  Cara: Yours either, Derrick. That girl gave you her all. I should knock you out for doing this to her. Leave her alone until you get your shit together.

  Derrick: She’s mine, Cara! I’ll get her back. See if I don’t.

  I didn’t freaking do anything wrong! If these people don’t quit accusing me of stuff I didn’t do, I’m going to lose it. Amy’s heart is broke? Yeah, well, so is mine at the moment. I might be guilty of being egotistical and arrogant sometimes, but I do have a heart. Since the moment I ran into Amy in that men’s room, she’s captured my attention. The more I got to know her, the more time I wanted to spend with her. My mom always told me that when the right girl comes around, that I’d know her just by looking at her. Mom was right. Amy is that girl. I know I’m going to go insane if I can’t talk to Amy or see her face. Maybe she just needs some time to digest everything that happened and then we’ll talk. If I stay here, I’ll turn into her personal stalker. I’m a complete mess and need some advice. My mom’s always been good for that. I haven’t seen her or my sister, Star, in a long while, so a trip home to West Virginia sounds pretty good right now. When I get back in a few days with a clear head, I’ll try to make things up to Amy again. I get a sick feeling in my gut every time I picture her face as she tossed those beads into mine. She was devastated. I swear I’ll make it up to you Amy. With that plan of action decided on, I book a plane ticket, call a cab, and pack a small bag to take with me to Moms. Three days baby and I’m coming back to you.

  Chapter #15

  Nerd Girl Problem #115

  Getting over my first love is easier said than done.

  It’s been three weeks, two days, and six hours since I last saw Derrick. After that horrible day and my phone being blown up with text messages and voice mails, he slowly reduced his persistence and just sent me one or two a day. I know from Riven and Cara that he hopped a plane back home for a few days. Layla called him a coward for doing that. She said if he couldn’t stay here and face the music, he wasn’t worth shedding a tear over. I had given myself a whole week before I felt brave enough to read through some of the texts and listen to a few messages. They were filled with apologies and I miss you’s and pleas for me to answer just once. I did finally give in and send a text message. I know, I know, I took the coward’s way out. I figured I’d said enough already, but I needed the closure. I thanked Derrick for taking a chance on a Nerd Girl and that our time together was something that I would always cherish. Not once did I tell him I had been in love with him. I’m not that big a fool. I also wished him good luck with his job at Fitnexx. He deserves all the success in the world. I admired him before I even knew him and admire his drive and ambition to make a name for himself now. Once those words were read, he left me alone for the most part. I do get a weekly text or voice message from him recapping what’s going on with him and asking how I am. They always go unanswered. Eventually, he’ll get the hint. I’ve picked up the pieces of my broken heart and scotch taped them back together. My friends have all been there for me and I am so grateful for their support. It just feels like my world is upside down.

  Th
e last three weeks they’ve kept me as busy as possible. Between work, studying, and finally taking my finals, I can finally graduate next month and get my degree. Cara and Layla have been doing their best to help me create a routine for this pole dancing competition. If I’m not at Galaxy working out on the pole, I’m over at Cara’s house practicing on hers. We’ve successfully avoided Derrick since he came back. I also heard he would be leaving again to start shooting the commercials for Fitnexx. With any luck, he’ll be away the weekend of the competition. This way I don’t have to worry about running into him. His days at the gym are numbered anyway. As a spokesman for Fitnexx, he’ll be traveling all around the country, promoting his product.

  Today I’m at Galaxy. I’ve signed up to practice with the advanced class, and I must say I did a pretty good job holding my own with them. A few of my moves are still clumsy, but I’ll work them out and put my own touches on them. It’s so crazy; I always looked at pole dancing as seedy and something I’d never do in a million years. That’s so not the case. My body feels great, I’m getting toned in all my problem areas and its doing wonders for my confidence. Do I think I’ll win this competition? No, not a chance, but I’m going to do it for me. I’m more than just a nerd girl. Look out world, because I’m about to change my destiny.

  *****

  “I hate that song, Layla. You know I hate that song.” I shriek. Gah! We’ve been at this for hours, trying to pin down the perfect song for my competition routine.

  “Jenks, the song needs to be sexy. You’re dancing on a pole, for shit’s sake.” Layla is adamant that my song choice be Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” I disagree. I think the song choice should reflect the person I am and that song is so not me.

  “Absolutely not, Layla. Cara said I can choose my music, and this is the song I want.” Katy Perry’s “Roar” is my personal theme song lately. The words of the song reflect my new attitude and the fact, that regardless of the obstacles thrown at me, I’ve grown stronger and I’ve realized I like the person I am. “I can barely keep up with the fast paced songs and this one has a slower beat. It’ll make it easier for me to keep up and transition from move to move safer.” I argue. Layla rolls her eyes, throwing her hands up in the air.