The Boy Problem

by Kami Kinard

Me: Yeeeessssssss?

  Kara: Well, I knew you were worried about your family, so I went ahead and posted the survey for you.

  Me: WHAT?

  Kara: You’re welcome. And if you go online now, you can check out the results.

  Me: Hold on.

  I flipped open my laptop, and the survey popped up in my inbox.

  Me: Wow. A lot of these girls did things to get their boyfriends to notice them.

  Kara: It’s called being proactive, Tabs. Embrace it.

  Me (groan): And look how many of them used physical contact to get noticed.

  Kara: Works for The Vine.

  Me: I can’t be like her.

  Kara: I know. But you have to admit that it’s hard not to notice someone who’s touching you, even if they just tap you on the arm.

  Me: True. My problem is there are no guys at school I want to tap on the arm!

  Kara: I think you’d better start looking for potential again.

  Me: I guess….

  Kara: And this time try to notice at least one good thing about each guy you check out.

  Me: What if there’s nothing good —

  Kara: Taaaaaabbiiiiiiiiiii!

  Kara handed me the Cupcakes 4 Catastrophes application as soon as I stepped onto campus. It looked great except for one thing. One big thing.

  “We need a faculty sponsor?!!!!!” I yelled. “Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”

  “ ’Cause I knew you’d freak out. But no worries. I’m sure we can get someone,” said Kara. “Mrs. Hill might do it.”

  “The same Mrs. Hill who gave you detention last year?”

  “Okay, so maybe not Mrs. Hill, but we’ll figure it out at lunch, okay?”

  We didn’t have time to decide right then anyway, because the first bell rang.

  It was pretty easy to update Pri. I’d started sitting behind her in algebra so we could talk about our probability project. We only had four more days to decide on a topic and turn in our note card! Plus, sitting over on her side of the room let me get as far away from James and his stupid hands as possible!

  I mean, I can’t believe his GF, Kaitlin, is using the skin on his hand as her own personal canvas!!!!!

  Because that’s MY thing!

  Now I can never write “Property of Tabbi Reddy” on another hand again, even if I do find a boyfriend, because that copycat newcomer has started writing on her boyfriend’s hand.

  I bet James put her up to it so he could flash his big fat hands around to irritate me. For the first few days of class, every single time there was an empty seat in front of me, James sat in it. Then he’d slowly raise his hand, giving me plenty of time to notice it, EVERY time he knew the answer to Mr. G’s questions. And sometimes when he didn’t.

  And here’s undeniable proof that he’s using his fake hand tattoo to get my attention: The other day he PRETENDED to trip so he could “catch himself” on my desk. How convenient that his big, fat scribbled-on hand landed right under my nose so that I couldn’t help but see his relationship status!

  Well, James, your efforts to make me jealous aren’t working because I am OVER YOU!

  Anyway, the point is, moving to the seat behind Pri minimizes my exposure to James, even if it means I have to read T-shirts instead of hands. Today her royal-blue tee said Just a Cupcake Looking for a Stud Muffin. Yikes.

  Before class, I filled her in on the matching-funds plan. She was so excited you’d think it was her birthday or something.

  “Tabbi!” she squealed. “This is really going to happen! We will make tons of money for your cousin’s library!”

  “Well, I think it’s going to happen, but we need a teacher to sponsor us, and then Principal O’Neal needs to approve it.” I showed her the form with the two blank spaces.

  Pri flew out of her seat like a pebble from a slingshot. I noticed, too late, that our fund-raising form had gone with her.

  What I wanted to do when I saw her gesturing wildly to Mr. G, the white form flapping in her hand, was to scream.

  I swear! Pri is so impulsive that she makes a squirrel look calm and calculating.

  She slapped the form down on my desk triumphantly. “Now all we need is Mr. O’Neal’s John Hancock!”

  I didn’t have to look down to know what I’d see.

  “Tabbi, what’s wrong?” asked Pri.

  “I just wish you’d asked before getting Mr. G to be our sponsor. I mean, he’s new here. I don’t really even know him, do you?”

  “No, but …”

  “This is important to me, Pri. I don’t want to mess it up by having the wrong faculty sponsor!”

  “He was nice about it,” said Pri in an unusually small voice.

  I sighed. “How nice? What’d he say when you asked him?”

  “Um, he said, ‘Cupcakes? That’s different from the others.’”

  I groaned. “Different from the others? Why’d he say that?”

  Pri cringed in a way that let me know I wasn’t going to like the next thing out of her mouth. Not. A. Good. Sign. And when those words started coming out, they got smaller and smaller and smaller.

  “What?” I said. I couldn’t hear her. I didn’t want to hear her. But I needed to hear her.

  “Itoldhimweweregoingtousecupcakesforaprobabilityprojecttoo.” These words sped out of her mouth like a moon-bound rocket.

  Know how you rip off a Band-Aid fast so the pain won’t last long? Well, the speed of an unwelcome sentence does not reduce the pain of hearing it. Trust me.

  I was steamed like a Maine lobster! Pri had just locked us in to doing the probability project she wanted to do when just two days ago she agreed to go along with my boy probability project idea! So now instead of using the project to find out useful, life-changing information about guys, we’re stuck spending even more time with cupcakes. Things that will never love you back. Very convenient, Pri.

  “On Saturday you said it’d be okay to do our probability project on boys,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but we were going to talk about it,” she said, “and we never did, so …” Her voice trailed off.

  “I guess this means you’ve figured out exactly how we are going to use cupcakes for our probability project?” I said.

  “Well,” said Pri, looking down, “I told him we were still deciding that part. I’m sure we can come up with something great.”

  I was glad she was sure, because I wasn’t. I was about to say so, too, when Mr. G stepped up to the front of the class and started his dramatic pausing, so we had to drop the convo.

  At the first tiny ting of the bell, I soared from my seat. I had to get AWAY from Pri. The sooner, the better. Thank goodness we didn’t have any other classes together.

  Despite my wishing a name besides Mr. Gheary’s was on it, I went ahead and turned in the form to Mr. O’Neal before heading to lunch, where I am now, sitting across from Kara and Chip. They’re ignoring me while I look engrossed in my journal. It’s okay. I want to be ignored. I’m too irritated to talk. To anyone!

  Grrrrrr. (That’s not the grrrrrr of a territorial dog, BTW. Think bear. Kodiak bear. With cubs.)

  Okay, I’ve cooled off a little. Just a little. Like a single raindrop has fallen into my steaming, angry brain.

  It’s hard to stay in a rotten mood when you’ve received one of these:

  It’s only an invitation to the BIGGEST PARTY OF THE YEAR! Dianna Leroy always has the best parties, and she said this year her parents are letting her invite almost everyone.

  Right before band, I told Kara about the Mr. Gheary sponsor thing. She didn’t say anything at first.

  “Pri is so clueless sometimes!” I complained.

  “She really shouldn’t have done that without asking,” said Kara.

  “I know, right?!”

  Kara seemed thoughtful. “Yeah,” she said, “but she was pretty great to you when you were worried about your uncle. You know, checking in on you. Inviting me to bake with you guys. Even introducing you to baking cup
cakes in the first place. Without her, we wouldn’t even be worried about a sponsor.”

  Dang. I hadn’t thought about it that way.

  “Still!” I said.

  “You have to give her cred, Tabs,” Kara went on. “I’m not thrilled about using a teacher I’ve never even met before as a sponsor, but we can’t waste time fuming. We need to plan out how to make C4C a huge success.”

  When we finished talking, I realized three things:

  I didn’t want to think about C4C.

  I wanted to stay angry.

  Kara was right. We had to make a plan.

  (Have I mentioned how much I HATE it when Kara’s right?)

  But I figured I didn’t have to do ANYTHING until we knew whether or not Mr. O’Neal approved our fund-raiser.

  What I needed right now was a distraction. And I couldn’t think of anything better to distract me than boys. Pri might have made sure that we used cupcakes for our probability project, but that wasn’t going to keep me from doing an independent study!

  * * *

  My prediction: My probability project on boys is gonna get some serious attention. From me!

  I knew an awesome place to scope out guys at my school: my locker! It’s the perfect location because it’s one of the first lockers on the main hallway. EVERYONE passes by it in the morning.

  So before the first bell today I spent a very long time messing with things in my locker, leaning against it, and, you know, checking out the traffic. Mostly I saw guys I’ve already eliminated. Malcolm, for example. He still looked cute and mysterious, especially without his new accessory (The Vine). But I glanced away as soon as the green eyes beneath the hang-bang met mine.

  I also saw that cute dark-haired guy I’d seen on the first day of school (the one I thought was in sixth grade). I heard him before I saw him, actually, because he was dribbling a soccer ball down the hall. It looked like he really knew what he was doing, too.

  I took a good look at him as he passed by. Up close, this guy did NOT look like he was only in sixth grade. Or maybe I just didn’t want him to be. His hair was gorgeous. It was fairly short, but his loopy black curls bounced when he walked. His skin was olive. He smiled and waved at someone farther down the hall, so I could see he had at least one irresistible dimple. I swear I heard birds singing. I smelled cupcakes baking. I felt the wind rushing through my short flowing hair.

  He went on by me, tap, tap, tapping the ball, and I watched his back for a moment, noticing how straight he held his broad shoulders. Shoulders too broad for a sixth grader? I didn’t know. But I was going to find out! I felt a rush of excitement as I slammed my locker closed and started down the hall after him.

  “Earth to Tabbi,” said a familiar voice.

  Chip was suddenly standing right in front of me. Groan. He grinned. “You were really spaced-out there. What were you thinking about?”

  “You know. Stuff,” I said.

  “Awesome! I know tons of stuff,” he joked. “For example, I know that a jellyfish is about ninety-five percent water. So why don’t they call it a waterfish?”

  “I don’t know,” I said absentmindedly. I stepped around Chip to see where Soccer Boy had gone, but it was too late.

  He and the ball had both disappeared.

  Mr. O’Neal approved our fund-raiser! He said we could start Cupcakes 4 Catastrophes on Monday. Six days away. This meant we had to do a lot of planning — and baking.

  I texted Pri.

  Me: Mr. O says ok. Want 2 come over 2 plan?

  Pri: Yes!

  Me: 3:30?

  Pri: Ok! I’m sorry about Mr. G

  Me: k

  It really wasn’t okay, but we had a lot of work to do for C4C. Plus, like it or not, Pri and I still had to do a probability project together. It’s hard to move forward when you’re carrying around the extra weight of a grudge.

  I’m up here having a “bathroom break” because I want to write this stuff down before I forget it. Kara and Pri are still downstairs waiting for Mom. She’s giving them a ride home.

  We’d started planning as soon as we walked in my front door. I had good news to share. Since we were doing this to help her brother, Mom offered to donate the baking supplies. Hooray!

  “Great!” said Kara. “We’ll earn money faster without having to deduct costs from expenses.”

  “What kind of cupcakes should we bake first?” asked Pri.

  “In order for our fund-raiser to make the most money possible, we need to figure out which flavors people like best,” I said.

  “Let’s brainstorm,” suggested Kara. “You know — make a list of our favorite flavors and go from there. Chocolate and vanilla for sure,” she said, scribbling them down.

  “And red velvet,” I added.

  “Hmmm,” said Kara, holding the pencil still. “We probably shouldn’t do red velvet and chocolate, since red velvet has chocolate in it.”

  “No way!” I couldn’t believe those red-and-white cupcakes were made with chocolate.

  “Way!” said Kara.

  Pri was sitting on the sofa, messing around with the laptop. She hadn’t contributed to our list at all up to this point. “Kara’s right,” she piped up. “Red velvet often calls for cocoa powder, which is chocolate.”

  I hate it when Kara is right!

  I looked at Pri. “You said often, not always, right?”

  “Usually. Cocoa powder is usually used,” said Pri.

  Grrrrr. Still, I wasn’t exactly wrong. Time to change the subject. “So what other flavors are popular?” I asked.

  Pri shoved a piece of paper into my hand. Most Popular Cupcake Flavors was written across the top. Twelve different flavors were listed beneath.

  “Pri,” I said, rolling my eyes, “your favorite flavors aren’t necessarily everyone else’s favorites. We’re trying to come up with a list together. That’s what brainstorming is.”

  Pri put her hands on her hips. She actually looked irritated with me. Then her hands left her hips and started waving around exasperatedly. “I KNOW what brainstorming is. I Googled favorite cupcakes while you and Kara were arguing over stupid red velvet. This list was created after over fifteen hundred people were surveyed … so it should be more accurate than any list the three of us can come up with!”

  I winced apologetically.

  “As for the red velvet argument,” Pri added, “you were wrong and Kara was right!”

  Ouch.

  Kara broke the ice. “Great list, Pri!” she said, pointing to it. “But pumpkin? Seriously?”

  “I know, right? Who eats pumpkin cupcakes when you can have chocolate or red velvet?” Pri didn’t look at me when she said it, but her not looking at me told me something: I had crossed a line with her. I needed to dive into the conversation and try to rescue our partnership. I gave the list a serious look-over.

  “I can’t believe anyone would eat a peanut butter cupcake, can you guys? BLECH!” I said.

  “Not everyone objects to peanut butter, Tabs,” said Kara. “Then again, most of us haven’t slathered it in our hair.”

  Pri looked confused. Of course, she didn’t know about the jet tub incident. Actually, Kara’s the only one besides my mom who knows about it. But it seemed like the right time to share an embarrassing story about myself.

  By the time I got to the part about Mom’s bloodcurdling scream when I chopped off my hair, Pri was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

  Things went pretty much back to normal between Pri and me after that.

  GTG! I hear Mom’s car pulling into the driveway. She’ll accuse me of being rude if she finds my friends alone downstairs, even though they are perfectly FINE!

  * * *

  My prediction: When someone gets mad at you and lets you know it, and you can still get along afterward, you’ve stopped being project partners and started becoming friends.

  Sometimes my mom ROCKS! She’s so happy to see us working on a fund-raiser for Maddie’s school that she offered to treat Kar
a, Pri, and me to dinner at the Golden China Garden. (The General Tso’s chicken was awesome, as usual.)

  Know what was even more awesome? The four fortune cookies that came with our check! One look at them and I had a fabulous idea.

  “Nobody touch the cookies!” I demanded.

  Three sets of eyes looked at me as if I was crazy. And I guess I am, but still.

  “Why not?” asked Pri.

  “Because these cookies contain fortunes — ways to predict the future. Maybe one of THESE will point me to the right guy!”

  I considered the positions of the cookies. It definitely matters what cookie ends up with which person. I mean, what if the fortune I got was actually meant for someone else?

  The one closest to me seemed like the most obvious choice. I grabbed it and broke it open, before Kara and Pri picked up theirs. The fortune inside was absolutely perfect!

  I looked over my shoulder at the entrance to Golden China Garden. Guess what color it was? Golden!

  I pointed to the doors and handed the fortune to Kara. “The right guy should be walking through those doors any time now,” I whispered to her.

  At that point, Pri shrieked. “A-MAZE-ING!!!!!” She slapped her fortune down on the table.

  “Awesome. Cupcakes 4 Catastrophes is ready to go!” I cheered. Pri and I beamed at each other.

  “Hmph,” said Kara. “It was already going to come to fruition because we’re being proactive about it. The fortune cookie has nothing to do with it.”

  “Oh yes, it does,” I said. “This is a sign that we’re on the right track! I, for one, believe in these predictions.”

  Kara snorted with laughter. “Then I guess you’ll agree that your Mr. Right just stepped through the golden doorway.”

  “It’s Mr. Rinehart from the office,” said Mom, waving awkwardly. I wanted to put my fortune right in her hand, but I didn’t think she’d be amused by that.

  “Is that his son?” I asked.