The Boy Project

by Kami Kinard

  Me: I know.

  And I do know. I spent a long time observing Alex out of the corner of my eye today. (It’s the only way you can look at him because Maybelline is super-jealous and she sits right behind me in most classes since her last name is McCarver.) Alex is stunningly, deliciously gorgeous. If he were a movie star, big-time directors would say stuff like this about him: I must have Alex Brantley for that role so thousands of girls will pay to see my wonderful movie over and over and over just to look at him. Then my film will be a box-office hit and I’ll win an Academy Award! I can see why Tabbi likes to dream about him. But it’s only a dream.

  Tabs: Sigh. He’s such a nice person.

  Me: Nice, yes. But have you ever noticed that he doesn’t look at girls like us the way he looks at Maybelline?

  Tabs: Meaning . . .

  Me: I always feel like he’s looking at me like I’m something absolutely boring. Like a chair. Or a dictionary.

  Tabs: I’m pretty sure he doesn’t look at me that way!

  Me: Uh-huh.

  Tabs: He’s perfect.

  Me: Not.

  Tabs: Name one thing about him that isn’t perfect.

  Me: Maybelline.

  Tabs: Besides her.

  Me: He chews gum NONSTOP. I’ve heard the bottom of his desk has so much gum stuck to it that it’d bounce like a superball if you threw it down on the sidewalk.

  (I think I could overlook the gum chewing though, if I had a chance to date someone like him. Not that I ever will.)

  Tabs: I wish I was a piece of gum.

  Me: Ewwww.

  Tabbi wasted a lot more time talking about Alex, as if talking about him would increase her chances with him. Which it won’t. I fell into barely listening and interjecting an “uh-huh” or “yep” every now and then. It was hard to concentrate. Probably because the more she talks about her crush, the more I think I should confess mine. But every time I get ready to tell her how I feel about Evan, something holds me back. I guess I don’t want to jinx it.

  Wednesday, January 3

  Early. Too early.

  It’s still mascara black outside. But I can’t go back to sleep after that disturbing dream I just had about James Powalski — the boy Tabbi kissed during the spin the bottle.

  It was one of those forgot-my-homework type of dreams. I was scrambling through my locker, tossing papers over my shoulder. Then someone handed me the exact paper I was looking for. I turned around and found myself staring into James Powalski’s face. (If you could smell things in your dreams, I’d have known it was him before I turned around. Thankfully, though, smells don’t creep into dreams.)

  James’s face isn’t monster-terrible or anything. Still, it’s pretty disturbing to have someone like him show up in your head when that head is resting on a satiny pillow and attached to a body wearing spaghetti-strap pj’s. At first I wondered if my dream meant that I was still jealous about Tabbi’s kiss with him. But luckily I realized that he probably just popped up because he’s the last guy I took notes on yesterday. I’m going to have to be more careful about who I study last. Here is the card I made for him.

  Normally I wouldn’t even pay attention to someone like James, but I’m forcing myself to be objective because I want reliable results. Plus, some of the things I don’t like about James are fixable.

  For example, I heard that all of the guys at the other middle school have to line up after gym and reach for the stars. Then the coach goes down the line and sprays every pit with Right Guard. Now, if someone happened to leave an anonymous note for Coach Little giving him that idea, I’m sure he’d jump on it. He never misses a chance to humiliate us, and standing with your pits exposed is not exactly a confidence-building exercise. So if I ever decided I had a crush on James, I might just have to author such a note. (And forever after, shave my armpits on a daily basis in case Coach Little got the bright idea to give the girls the same treatment.)

  But there’s one thing about James that I will not be able to change and that thing is going to make him off-limits to me forever. The thing is named Gina Johns. Tabbi and I call her “The Vine” because she’s always climbing all over the trunk of some guy or another.

  While I was observing James yesterday, I couldn’t help noticing that it looks like The Vine was trying to put down roots near him.

  Hmmm. I might need to start getting ready for school. It’s getting lighter — charcoal gray — outside. Besides, I smell bacon.

  Bus stop (AKA my front yard)

  Great. The bus is about to stop and here comes Julie breezing by on her bike. I hate when she does that! Because you pretty much suffer in comparison when your cute, athletic older sister (who already went jogging at the crack of dawn) blows by you on two wheels while you’re standing as still as a lawn ornament, waiting to board the slowest and most embarrassing form of transportation possible. I’d rather ride a camel to school. Seriously.

  First period

  Dear Mrs. Willis,

  Please stop talking. I’m missing a great opportunity to continue my research. See, I have an awesome view of Phillip Bernard’s profile right now. I would very much like to make a few notes about He Who Will Soon Be Known As Subject #4. But if I get out my index cards, it’ll call attention to the fact that I’m not taking notes on your lecture. Which I am not.

  You are too far away, however, to realize that I use this particular notebook as a journal, so you probably think that I’m writing about General Lee’s surrender, when instead I’m writing about the most important thing in the world: finding a boyfriend.

  You talk a lot about democracy, Mrs. Willis, but if we took a vote, I’m pretty sure everyone would rather learn about relationships than the Civil War. But we won’t take a vote, will we? One thing school has taught me is that American democracy pretty much dies at the classroom door.

  It’s not that I think Phillip Bernard is “the one for me.” But you never know. He does have one feature that I’m really into. His eyebrows! I have a good view of the right one from here. It is perfectly arched — almost like an elf’s.

  Guys say stuff like “I’m a face man” or “I’m a leg man.” (Okay, guys don’t really talk like that around me, but I’ve heard them on TV.) Given the face-man/leg-man thing, I guess I have to say that I’m an eyebrow girl. I always notice a guy’s eyebrows.

  I think the world is full of closet eyebrow women. If not, how do you explain all of those celebrities with great, unusual, or highly arched eyebrows? Robert Pattinson! Orlando Bloom! Zac Efron! And it can’t be mere coincidence that lead singers are usually whichever band member has the best eyebrows. Like Joe Jonas! Anyway, Phillip has some very nice eyebrows. Way better than Evan’s, by the way.

  Oh, Mrs. Willis. You are still talking. Talking about people who are not eligible to participate in my boyfriend study because they are . . . dead. I’ll have to take notes on Phillip later. Thanks a lot.

  Signed, but never to be delivered by,

  Kara McAllister

  P.S. Ha! Was able to get these notes during the last five minutes of class! Your filibuster didn’t bust me, Mrs. Willis!

  Lunch

  I had just enough time to update my data on Subject #3 before Tabs joined me.

  Yep. James and The Vine are definitely an item! She’s giving him a hug right now. He seems to be enjoying it, too. Probably because he’s never had a girlfriend before. Not one that I know about, anyway. (Thanks to Tabbi, however, he’s an experienced kisser. Apparently.)

  Gina, on the other hand, has had so many boyfriends that it absolutely proves one thing: Life isn’t fair!

  These charts show exactly how life isn’t fair. Because The Vine keeps having more and more relationships, her growth chart shows a steady increase. But mine is always the same. Stagnant. Dormant. Dead. Can you even call it a chart if nothing changes?<
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  HOW can The Vine have had so many boyfriends when I haven’t had a single one? It’s as if bad luck is following me around like that cat in Bad Kitty, which is a book about a girl whose life gets pretty crazy after a cat crosses her path.

  I mean Gina Johns isn’t even that cute. She does what my mom calls “overcompensating.” Too much flirting. Too much makeup. Too much giggling. Too much jewelry. She has very black hair. (It was brown last year.) She uses very black eyeliner. And she wears very black boots all the time. Even in summer.

  I just don’t understand what the attraction is. Well, maybe I do. But I can’t be like that. If James likes the kind of girl Gina is, he’s definitely off of my list of possibilities!

  Homework time (According to my parents)

  I didn’t have a chance to take notes on anyone else during school. But I was determined NOT to let James Powalski be the last guy I studied. Let’s just say I’m hoping for sweet dreams tonight.

  So when I heard Chip Tyler laughing in the back of the bus, I decided to focus my powers of unobtrusive observation on him, even though he:

  is not a huge improvement over James.

  got on my very last nerve today.

  cannot possibly be right for me, according to my mimi.

  I know Chip isn’t right for me because one time I asked my mimi how she knew to pick my grandpa, and she said: You don’t pick who you love the most. You pick who annoys you the least. Well, if that’s the gold standard, I can absolutely strike Chip Tyler off of my list! That boy is so annoying. He’s the type that taps your left shoulder if he is standing on your right. Then he snickers about it when you turn your head and look into the eyes of . . . no one. Plus, I still can’t forgive him for shaking my hand in that closet.

  If that isn’t enough evidence, what he did during Mrs. Hill’s class third period proves that he’s the most annoying guy on the planet. Or at least in the seventh grade. Today the sub passed around a sheet for us to sign to prove to Mrs. Hill that we were in class. Lucky for me, Tabbi was the last one to sign it — because she noticed my name wasn’t on it. When she passed the paper back to me, I saw that my name had been erased and Anita Bath was written in place of it.

  Chip was bent over, acting like he was tying his shoe, but I could see his shoulders shaking so I know he’s the one who wrote it. Typical. With his head down, I had the perfect chance to erase his name and write Stu Pitt instead. I did this quickly, before I could talk myself out of it, then ran the sheet up to the sub.

  I really don’t think Mrs. Hill will suspect that I wrote the phony name, because I never do anything wrong. Honestly. I’m that boring. I hope boring people can find love, too. Never mind. I know they can. Look at my parents.

  Taking notes on Chip is probably a big waste of time. But it will be worth it if I don’t see James in dreamland tonight.

  Thursday, January 4

  Waiting for first bell to ring

  Evan and I were walking into the building at the same time today and he said, “Hi,” and I said, “Hi.” No big deal, right? Wrong! I’m trying to get up the nerve to talk to him at lunch.

  First period. After the test.

  I just turned in my test on the Battle of Gettysburg and I figure as long as I look down, Mrs. Willis won’t claim I’m not keeping my eyes on my own paper. If she does call me out, it’ll be totally hypocritical because Tiffany Davidson never has her eyes on her own paper. She always has them glued to Alex. Not Alex Brantley. Alex Langford. I took a good long look at him, too, while I was walking back to my seat.

  Alex Langford is like a watered-down version of Alex Brantley — just like his girlfriend, Tiffany, is a watered-down version of Maybelline. Tabbi and I call Tiffany “The Sponge” because if Colleen is the makeup, then Tiffany is definitely the applicator sponge! She soaks up everything that is Maybelline.

  I don’t like Maybelline at all, but I have to admit that she has a personality. It’s a mean, nasty, vain personality — but no one can deny that she has one.

  The Sponge’s only personality trait, on the other hand, is that she wants to be just like Maybelline. I mean, if there were a body-size Maybelline tattoo, Tiffany would be tattooed from head to toe. In fact, I think the only reason Tiffany likes Alex Langford is that he has the same first name as Maybelline’s boyfriend. She’s always talking to Maybelline about “my Alex and your Alex.”

  Anyway, Alex Langford doesn’t have much of a personality either. All he does is stand around next to Alex Brantley with his arm around The Sponge, smiling at what other people say. So it’s fine with me if he’s The Sponge’s boyfriend. I just don’t want someone like that for mine.

  Homework time (According to my parents) Daydream time (According to me)

  I love my room. Last summer, Mom said I could “celebrate my creativity” by decorating it any way I wanted (within reason). And despite the fact that I think it is perfectly reasonable to paint a ceiling black before covering it with glow-in-the-dark stars and Mom does not, I like how my room turned out. We bought this thick, shaggy cream rug, and Mom helped me make cool roll-down shades out of old jeans. (The really great thing about those is that I can store small things that I don’t want Mom to see in the pockets. Like notes. And no, they don’t fall out.)

  Dad helped, too, by covering the old pink walls with indigo paint. We strung little Christmas lights around the crown molding for the finishing touch. So even though I was vetoed on the black-ceiling thing, I still have the feeling of being wrapped in a night sky when I roll down the shades, turn off the overhead lights, and relax on my cloudlike, fluffy shag rug, looking up at the twinkling Christmas-light stars.

  Because my room is so cool, I never really mind going there to study. Or to do things that are more important than studying. Like trying to figure out how to get a boyfriend.

  What I mostly want to figure out right now is how I can get Evan Carlson to ask me out. I think I’m getting a little closer to that goal! Today at lunch I casually suggested to Tabbi that instead of sitting at our usual table with Anna Johnstone and Dianna Leroy, we sit at Evan’s table. It’s right next to the “popular” table, where Alex Brantley and Maybelline sit, along with their ever-present groupies, Alex Langford and The Sponge. Tabbi thought it was a great idea!

  I felt a little guilty using Tabbi’s obsession with the unobtainable to obtain my obsession. But we ended up having a great conversation with Evan! Tabbi even stopped drooling over Alex B long enough to join in the discussion, thank goodness, because I was having a hard time thinking of stuff to say. I let Tabs do most of the talking until the conversation turned to track.

  Evan wants to join the team this spring. He’s even going to weight training after school. Luckily, this is a subject I know something about, being the sister of a track star and all. Who knew those hundreds of butt-numbing hours on metal bleachers would come in handy?

  So. I may not have found a boyfriend, but at least I’ve found the courage to approach my crush!

  Friday, January 5

  Lunch

  There is no one — NO ONE — left in the cafeteria. And I wouldn’t be here either except that if a teacher keeps you in for lunch detention, they’re obligated to let you out for at least the last ten minutes so you have a chance to eat. You read that right. Detention.

  This was my first experience with detention ever, and it was totally mortifying. It turns out that Mrs. Hill is capable of suspecting a completely boring student who never gets in trouble of creatively altering an attendance sheet. Actually, the detention itself wasn’t so mortifying. But what Mrs. Hill said in front of the whole entire class was. I’ll never forget those words.

  “Kara and Chip need to stay seated when the bell rings. The two of you have lunch detention for that little stunt you pulled yesterday.”

  Thankfully, the brrrriiiiiiiiiiiing cut her off.

  Did y
ou know that out of a class of twenty-three students, eighteen look back over their shoulders when they leave a room? At least they do when two of their classmates are in trouble. Tabbi gave me a sympathetic backward glance. She was the only one who knew that we were guilty of what Mrs. Hill later called “tampering with the substitute’s role.” Everyone else just seemed curious. Even Evan.

  See how many nosy people there are in my class? See?

  Will this ruin my chances with Evan? Stunt could mean anything. What if he thinks Chip and I were kissing or something? What if he’s incapable of loving someone who’s served detention? I felt sick.

  I felt even sicker when Mrs. Hill told us our punishment was to “talk and discover something to like about each other.” Then she left the room!

  As soon as she was gone, Chip said, “What’d you replace my name with — Justin Credible?”

  “No,” I said. “I went with Stu Pitt. But I should have used Yul B. Sari.”

  “Actually, Jed I. Knight would have been perfect.” (Apparently he’s a huge Star Wars fan. Figures.)

  “Nah,” I said. “But Ima Moron suits.”

  Chip suggested a few more names. So did I. The more crazy names we came up with, the funnier it got.

  We eventually made a list of twenty-three names. One for each of the students in our class. Next time we have a sub, we’re going to replace the entire class list with our bogus list.

  By the time Mrs. Hill came back, we were cracking ourselves up. She gave us what mystery writers call a “knowing smile” and said, “It’s just as I suspected. You two have solved your differences!”