She looked thoughtful. “So, what do I have to do? Ban him from ever seeing me perform?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. But now at least we know what it’s about. Once you know something, you can deal with it!” And with that, I took an enormous gulp of my latte and finished it, leaving only a trace of sugar granules on the bottom of the mug. I felt great relief. And saw that Becky finally looked like her old, stunning self again. I looked at my watch.
“We better go, Becky!” I said. “Especially if you want to get in one of your good-night phone calls with Chuck.”
She waved me away. “Oh, we don’t do that anymore.” Then she sighed. “I think we’ve become like those couples who are used to each other and gradually fade out.”
What? Could it be? The field could soon be open for me to snag Chuck? I don’t want to make them break up, but if it happens, it sure is good for me!
Becky put down a tip. “Let’s walk home the lake way,” she said.
There’s a quick route to get home or there’s a longer, more scenic one that goes around the lake.
“OK,” I said, and we headed out.
On the way home, I thought Becky was nervous we’d run into some kids from school, because she held my hand. She was smart. I hardly thought anymore about proving I was her boyfriend, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
By the time we started walking through the park, I assumed she’d want to speed-walk because it was cold, but when we got to Goose Pond she motioned for me to sit with her in the gazebo.
“Thanks, Justin,” she said, looking at the water. “For helping me.”
“Well, it’s semi-selfish on my part,” I said. “I love good singers and I want you to become famous so I can obsessively listen to your CDs on my iPod.”
“You know,” she said, moving closer because it was so cold, “I appreciate all you’ve done and your friendship, and I was thinking … maybe there’s more to it.”
More to what? More to my theory about her dad?
She continued. “Chuck is so wrapped up in football it’s like he doesn’t know I exist. He didn’t even stay after the concert. But you …” She smiled.
I was dazzled. I knew she could be a star. To have so much talent and be that beautiful was rare.
“You’re a real friend, Justin. And lately I’ve been thinking we should continue where this is leading.”
Again with the double talk, I thought. Where what is leading? Why so much mystery?
She stared at me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. I was just cold.
“My point is, if you’re interested, I’m interested.”
She leaned even farther in. And it wasn’t because it was cold. I suddenly realized it was for something else and I didn’t know how to stop it.
No!!!!
Unfortunately, yes.
Well, the goods news is, I won’t be a sixteen-year-old spinster.
I’ve had my first kiss.
SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED IN the last few weeks. And not happened. My popularity, which I was sure was going to skyrocket, is actually at a standstill. And, weirdly enough, the only difference between September and the spring is I’ve gone from having at least a few friends to having none! Yes, now I’m friendly with everybody at school, but I don’t feel I have any actual friends. At least when the year began, I had Spencer as a best friend and our little group at lunch as my other friends. I mean, it wasn’t like I called any of them to hang out (besides Spencer), but I always liked it when they’d confide stuff in me or ask my advice.
This afternoon, I was really needing a dose of connecting with someone who’s known me for a long time and was thankful to see Quincy Slatton ahead of me on the line for the salad bar. Ah! I thought. Someone from the old lunch gang! He’s the science genius who’s only a sophomore but is already taking physics. When we used to eat lunch together, he’d always ask my advice about dealing with his younger brother, who he shares a super-small bedroom with.
“Hey, Quincy! How’s your brother?” I said with a big smile as I took a huge ladleful of honey-mustard dressing.
Quincy got a confused look and glanced over his shoulder, as in, Is there a popular kid named Quincy you’re talking to? He then looked at me like he was asking permission to speak.
Silence.
I didn’t know what to do, so I finally nodded as if giving him permission and he quickly said, “Um … it’s fine. He’s fine.” He then looked away and tried to put some cherry tomatoes on his salad but missed his plate and dumped them all onto his tray.
That’s it? He used to talk to me nonstop about whether he should make a line across their bedroom delineating who had what side or if he should get a permanent marker to label all of his stuff.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I said, wanting to actually have a conversation. “I was wondering if he’s still using your stuff.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Quincy laughed as if I’d made the funniest joke in the world. What was the joke?
“Quincy?” I said, cutting him off kindly. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” I clarified.
Silence.
“I’m really asking you,” I continued.
“Oh,” he said, “uh … my stuff’s fine.” He then gave a crazy smile and had to swallow several times.
Why couldn’t Quincy act normal with me? He sounded like I did when I talk to my aunt Rhonda, who I only see every two years when we go to New Jersey for the High Holy Days. Or how I sounded last year when a senior from Cool U talked to me when we were both on a bus with our moms because it would have looked weird to them if we ignored each other.
I figured Quincy was stressed from some horrible AP science exam and waited for him to launch into a story about his brother wearing his sweatshirt or breaking his gene-therapy experiment.
Silence.
“OK, Justin,” he said as he hurried away, “thanks for talking with me.”
What the—?
I stayed at the salad bar and saw him sit down at our old lunch table. Pamela Austin was there with him and two freshmen I didn’t know. I felt jealous that they got to eat with Spencer. Oh yeah, he still hasn’t really spoken to me. After New Year’s, I was so busy, I didn’t even notice him gone from my life, but now I wish I could talk to him again. I miss how I used to be able to tell him anything, and how we used to make each other laugh all the time. Yes, I make the kids at Cool U laugh, but nobody makes me laugh. And no one ever makes plans with me or shares anything real about themselves. If I happen to be alone with any of them, I try to find common interests, but they always just want to gossip about the other kids. I need to get as close to the Cool U kids as I was with Spencer. I’d hoped that all of them would come see me in Rock and Roll High School last month and be so blown away by my big number that they’d finally want to be real friends. But, even though I’m part of their gang, seeing a musical was still too uncool for them, and only Becky showed up.
Which brings me to the problem I never thought I’d have—breaking up with somebody I’m not really even dating in the first place! Ever since Becky gave me that first kiss, I’ve had to play an exhausting game of never being alone with her. I wish I could tell her that even though she’s beautiful with a great personality, I’m just not interested in girls … but I’ve only had the courage to tell Spencer I’m gay, and that was by accident. Instead, I told her and Chuck that my rehearsals were getting too intense and I couldn’t meet with them until after show weekend.
I thought Becky would cool off after a few weeks and forget she was ever interested in me, but instead she keeps emailing me and asking when we can hang out again without Chuck. I simply don’t reply, and if she brings it up during school, I either feign that my spam filter is acting up or shake my head and say, “You didn’t get my email? I totally wrote back!” and then flee without telling her what I supposedly wrote back.
The problem is, once Rock and Roll High School ended, I was supposed to go back to meeting with them so they could have
their dates, but I couldn’t risk showing up and having Chuck be massively late as usual because that would leave me alone with the mad kisser. I had to come up with another plan, so I’ve started hiding out in front of wherever we’re all supposed to meet and I arrive only after I see Chuck. I get a lot of studying done as I’m waiting, but it’s hard to do a take-home test or write an English essay while crouching behind a bush. My system is I give Chuck an hour, and if he doesn’t appear, I text Becky and say I’m tied up practicing violin or piano or that my mom is forcing me to clean my room/the garage/the yard. She’ll then text back, asking for some private time, and I write her back with nonsense words that look like my iPhone autocorrected them:
We can get together tumeric. What tumor don’t yodel want? I can only meet Freedom and showered night. See you therefore!
I’m exhausted from the multitude of lies I have to keep juggling. This whole “pretending to date Becky” has reached new levels of complicatedness, and it has to end.
Last week I mentally decided that I’d keep it up until the Spring Fling, which, by the way, happens to be tonight. Yes, having Becky as a “girlfriend” made me more popular, but I’m hoping everything’s going to change 100 percent at the dance tonight, because Mrs. Hall is in charge of the entertainment this year, and I’ve convinced her to let me perform!
Since it’s a dance, the school DJ, “JJ Gangsta” (aka Josh Epstein), is going to spin. However, a few weeks ago, I went to Mrs. Hall’s office and told her that when the Spring King and May Queen are crowned, it would be great if there was a live song to go along with it. The king and queen always take a slow walk through the crowd on a red carpet, and every year it’s accompanied by the DJ playing whatever song of the day is popular that has some kind of message about love or specialness. I know Mrs. Hall is always frustrated that the musicals don’t sell out, so I told her it would be a great advertisement for the theater department if we did a live song from Rock and Roll High School. She thought about it and then asked what song. I said, innocently, that there were two that could work: “The Best Night” (which is about a girl who’s having the best night of her life) or “Our Love Will Last” (which was my big number). Pamela sang “The Best Night” and I knew Mrs. Hall wanted nothing to do with that crybaby again, so the next thing I knew, she was asking me if I’d sing my song!
Finally. I’ll get a chance to show all of Cool U my talent, which will hopefully make my popularity reach the level I’ve always wanted it to. And that will lead me to Chuck.
Oh yeah, that’s the big news! Ever since the chorus concert, I’d pretty much given up on Chuck. I shook off my denial and realized that there are some guys, even if they’re totally straight, who will use their good looks with anyone to get what they want. His “flirting” with me was just his way to get some easy cash out of me and have his homework done. Yes, I would still gaze at him in class, but I accepted that my first kiss wouldn’t be from him. And yet, I was still enjoying the little bit of closeness I felt to him by doing his French work. Every day, we’d follow the same system of him surreptitiously putting his French homework into my book bag while I walked in front of him out of class. Thankfully I hadn’t put a stop to that because it led to something that could change everything!
One week ago, I was sitting under one of the trees near the parking lot. I went to take out the French quiz Chuck had slipped into my bag that morning, and I decided to dump my whole bag onto the lawn because I hadn’t cleaned it in months. I’m notorious for using my book bag as a repository for anything I don’t know where to put in my room. Well, lying on the ground, amidst the old Roasted Bean receipts and notes I’ve passed in class for the past few months, was a brand-new book I’d never seen before. Since no one else has access to my book bag, I figured Chuck must have slipped it in that morning, but I didn’t know why. I looked at the cover, which had a picture of a really cute high school baseball player. Oh no. Was this Chuck’s thank-you for me doing his homework? A boring book about sports? Typical. I know he’s pretty self-centered and he probably thinks that every kid loves sports as much as he does. The title of the book was When I Figured It Out. Figured what out?? Sports were a snoozefest? I don’t need a book to tell me that. I looked on the inside cover to see if he wrote anything to me. Nothing. When I turned it over to look at the back cover, I saw another picture of the same cute baseball player from the front cover … but this time his arm was around another boy. And it wasn’t a “we’re just buddies” pose. It was a “we just made out” pose. What the—?
I suddenly became interested and started flipping through the book, and turns out it was filled with essays about kids who were typical straight boys in high school. You know, “playas” with steady girlfriends or a different one every week. But every single one of them … was gay! They were just too scared to be who they were. Why would Chuck put that kind of book into my bag? I guess he could have done it because he thinks I’m gay and he was trying to be caring. But caring isn’t a word I associate so much with Chuck. He’s not mean or anything; he just seems to look out mainly for his own interests.
Then it hit me.
Chuck must have put it into my bag for one reason: to tell me that underneath his typical straight exterior was a gay kid who needed my help coming out!
AH!
It was all I could do to stop myself from running to his locker, screaming, “I’m a-comin’, Chuck!” and giving him my grandmother’s engagement ring she promised I could give to my fiancée one day.
But then I thought there must be a reason he left me a book and didn’t just come right out and tell me. I decided I should read the book. And by “read” I mean “scan.” I looked at the first story, which was about a jock like Chuck (ice hockey, though, not football). He had a girlfriend all through high school even though he’d known he was gay from the time he was twelve. He wrote that he couldn’t admit it to anyone because he was so scared of disappointing his parents. Is that what Chuck’s going through? I’ve never met his folks, but they’re probably typical sports parents and want Chuck to be the All-American straight kid.
Hmm. I couldn’t really identify. With my parents, it’s almost as if they want me to be gay. They keep politely asking about Becky, but I can tell they’re hoping we’re not together anymore.
I continued reading (see previous definition of “read”). Most of the stories had the same themes. The fear of parents turning against them or the fear of losing all of their friends.
I thought about the friends part. I realized that one of the reasons Chuck wouldn’t date me is because I’m not on his popularity level. If he dated me while I was at my current status, he’d definitely lose half his friends. That’s when I realized how perfect my plan is to make everything work out tonight. If my song brings down the house (which I know it will), my popularity could rise to heights I’ve never achieved before. I would be almost at Chuck’s level. If I had that kind of school-wide acceptance, I wouldn’t be scared of coming out to everybody (including Becky). And my newfound status would then open the door to me and Chuck dating! I wouldn’t be able to do anything about his parents approving of him or not, but my soaring popularity would hopefully make Chuck realize he could date me and still be the king of Cool U!
And, yes, I know the relationship will not last a long time. Even if Chuck is 100 percent gay, it doesn’t change the fact that we don’t have much in common. I just want to know what it feels like to kiss him and then have the most popular kid in school as my boyfriend. Even for a few days.
So, the good news is I may finally get to kiss Chuck, but the bad news is, it won’t be my first kiss like I’d always planned. I can’t stop thinking about that night Becky told me it’s something you never forget. Great. I’ll “never forget” the image of trying to avoid those unwanted, incoming lips mixed with the feeling of my butt freezing. It’s so unfair that Becky has the romantic images in the garden with Chuck and I have depressing flashbacks to the horrible night in the gazebo. It’s n
ot really her fault, though. I made her think I had already had my first kiss. She didn’t know she was forever ruining something I’d always fantasized would be perfect. Speaking of perfect, I have to get my outfit ready for the dance. So much is riding on this night, I can’t afford for anything to go wrong!
HMM … IT’S HARD TO KNOW what went wrong first.
I’ll start from the beginning. I got home from school, did my homework, had dinner, and then started a long vocal warm-up. I had only one chance to impress the whole school and I didn’t want to blow it because I had a phlegm attack. I sang through my song twice, took a long shower, and then put on my Spring Fling outfit—dark jeans, new black cowboytype boots, and a gray and black button-down shirt from H&M. I wore the shirt out in an “I’m so cool I don’t have to tuck in my shirt” kind of way, even though it was really in an “If I tuck my shirt in, you’ll see my stomach flab hanging over my pants” kind of way. I may have lost weight in the last few months but not enough to dare tucking anything in.
I went over my lyrics as I walked to Becky’s house and finished the song right when I walked up her driveway.
Her father answered the door and ushered me in.
“Becky!” he called upstairs. “Your prince awaits you.” Then he laughed so hard he had a small coughing fit.
Becky arrived at the top of the stairs in a dress that was tight in the right places but didn’t make her look like she was trying to show anything off. She wore a green necklace that made her eyes even more stunning.
She came downstairs and gave me a little smile. “Hello, Justin … finally.”
“Finally?” said her dad, looking at his watch. “He’s actually early.”
Becky glared at him because he ruined her moment. She was obviously trying to bust me for avoiding her. I was happy he distracted her and took the opportunity to ask if we should go.
“I’ll drive you,” said her dad, putting on his coat.
My Awesome/Awful Popularity Plan Page 12