by Kaila Glass
When Nerds, Inc. voted on the V cards, it was unanimous. Blake voted because he didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t vote. Though his friends seemed sincere in their quest to lose their virginities, he wondered if any of them felt the same as he did. There was no doubt that Quen did, with the way he wore his cross to school every day. Maybe he, like Blake, thought it futile to vote against the V cards, that they would be outvoted and mocked otherwise. But what if everyone shared the same view and voted out of insecurity? If they’d owned up to this, maybe they could have put the V cards to rest and the lightning storm in Blake’s belly would cease.
Nonetheless, he had a feeling that that storm was going nowhere.
16
Asian Ginger
Phoenix left AP World History at the sound of the bell and followed the mass of juniors to the cafeteria. While the other teens lined up for food, he sat at an empty table and withdrew his lunch box and staff paper from his bookbag. He filled in the notes with one hand and held his BLT with the other. As he took a bite of his sandwich and drew a sixteenth-note run, a pair of shadows cast over him and his work. He glanced up to see Asian Kid and Ginger standing over him; they shared the same nervous smile. “What?”
Ginger spoke first. “My name’s Robbie Daniels.”
“And I’m Fang Wei,” said Asian Kid.
“Fang?” said Phoenix.
“Yeah, that’s my real name. It’s Chinese.”
“Okay, Fang, Robbie… what the hell do you want?”
“We want you to join our band,” Robbie answered.
“No,” Phoenix said flat out. “Now, go away. I’m busy.” He took another bite of his BLT and continued drawing notes.
“We need you,” said Robbie. “You’re the best musician in class!”
Phoenix dropped his pencil. “I don’t need anyone,” he retorted, “especially not you two losers. Now get the fuck out of my face before I throttle you.”
“You need to join a band, or you’ll fail our class,” said Fang. “And you can choose not to join us if you want, but no one else in class wants to work with you.”
“Yeah, you have this, like, ‘fuck off’ look in your eye, y’know?” Robbie added. “Everyone’s scared you’ll bite their head off if they look at you the wrong way.”
Phoenix leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. “Who are you guys, anyway? Feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
“We were at the competition this spring,” Robbie answered, “the one for the scholarship. We go every year to see the new talent. That’s probably the only time you could’ve seen us.”
“Your audition was amazing!” said Fang, grinning. “I still get goosebumps when I watch the livestream at home.”
“Not that we’re surprised,” said Robbie. “You’re Dr. M’s nephew, right? Those other guys didn’t stand a chance!”
“And I think you’ll really like working with us,” said Fang. “We’ve got, like, ten years under our belt.”
“Yeah?” said Phoenix, unfolding his arms and sitting up straight in his seat. “What do you play?”
“Drums.”
Phoenix nodded at Robbie. “What about you?”
“I play eleven instruments,” said Robbie, “but bass is my favorite.”
“What genres do you play?” Phoenix asked.
“Tons!” Robbie answered. “We’re classically trained, but I think rock is our favorite.”
“We love punk,” Fang added. “Pop punk and metal, too. We can’t do screamo, though.”
“Oh, I can,” said Phoenix with a shrug. “It’s not too hard.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?” Fang asked. “Your vocals were fucking amazing at that audition.”
The corner of Phoenix’s mouth twitched.
“Speaking of, me and Fang sing, too,” said Robbie. “We’re not as good as you, but I think we’ll make decent backup vocals.”
Phoenix’s blue eyes darted back and forth between Fang and Robbie, his heart fluttering. “Okay… I’ll do it. I’ll join you.”
“Yes!” Fang and Robbie exclaimed in unison, high-fiving each other.
Phoenix thumbed his chest. “But I get to be the leader. I get creative freedom.”
“Fine with me,” said Robbie. “What about you, Fang?”
Fang nodded. “So, what should our name be?”
“I dunno,” said Phoenix, shrugging. “What was your name before?”
“Asian Ginger.”
“Don’t worry,” Robbie assured, “we’ll come up with a new one soon.” He turned to Fang. “Why don’t we go to the library and do some research on band names?”
Fang nodded. “Sounds good. Bye, Phoenix, see ya Wednesday!”
The pair left before Phoenix could say another word. His heart’s fluttering ceased. He slumped back in his seat, watching them go, fighting the urge to follow them. But why would he even think of leaving, anyway? They’d been bothering him, distracting him from his work.
Phoenix picked up his pencil but paused before the lead could stain the staff paper. He found it difficult to resume his work when the smiling, eager faces of Asian Ginger swam through his mind.
17
Good TV
After homeroom on Friday morning, Blake went to the library with Nerds, Inc. where they found an empty table and tackled the mountain of homework with which their teachers had burdened them.
“This is how they keep us abstinent,” Jamie Tru declared after a half hour of studying. “They crush us to death under the weight of all this work just so we die virgins!”
“You’re right,” said Julio, looking at his math book as if for the first time. “Those clever bastards.”
Rodney nodded. “I wanted to be homeschooled, but my mom said I needed to work on my ‘social development.’”
“Seven Hills is the most competitive school in the state,” said Quen, looking up from his binder. “Kids come to this school instead of skipping a grade, so of course the workload is heavy. What did you expect when you applied to this school?”
“To lose my virginity to the most beautiful body money can buy,” answered Rodney, pounding his fist on the table. “Isn’t that the American dream?”
“No,” Izzy disagreed, “it’s to die of a heart attack at thirty-five and leave your family crippled with unpaid student loan debt.”
The other members of Nerds, Inc. murmured their agreement.
“Y’know, the faster we get done with our homework, the more time you’ll have to come up with a game plan to burn your V cards,” Quen told the group.
The friends looked at one another before answering, “Fair enough.”
When they’d completed their homework, they went to the cafeteria for lunch, after which they went their separate ways to participate in their mandatory clubs. Izzy left for the gym for the girl’s gymnastics team, Jamie Tru and Rodney went to join the Robotics club in the Science and Technology wing, Quen went upstairs for the Beta club, Julio joined his soccer team outside, and Blake left for Theater club in the Performing Arts department in the basement.
The students gathered in the black box theater, where they sat in the audience. Blake sat in a black folding chair away from the others. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw MacKenzie Powell at the other side of the theater.
She’s not with her friends today? he thought. That’s a first.
“Good afternoon, students!” boomed a voice from the entrance. The short, balding, beer-bellied theater teacher strutted to the middle of the theater, where he opened his arms wide in greeting, a stack of papers in hand. “Since this is our first club meeting, we’ll be doing something fun today. We’ll be performing these funny, short scripts, so everyone pair up with a partner.”
Right, Blake thought, nodding. Operation: Ask MacKenzie to Be My Partner is a go!
He got up and approached MacKenzie, his body shaking. “Uh… hi,” he muttered, standing over her.
She smiled. “Hi. Aren’t you in my acting clas
s?”
“Yeah.” Blake stared as an awkward silence hung between them.
Say something, Brainiac! yelled his Inner Critic.
Okay, okay!
“Uh, my name’s Blake. It’s MacKenzie, right?”
The curly-haired blonde nodded.
Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “Cool, so… Do you…? I mean, if you don’t already have one… uh…”
“Are you asking me if I’ll be your acting partner?”
“Yes!” said Blake with a sigh of relief. “Will you be my acting partner?”
“Sure.”
Blake’s face broke into a smile and he lowered his arm.
The theater approached them. “You two are partners, right?” He handed each of them a short script. “You two are an elderly couple trying to figure out how to send an email to their grandson. Good luck!” The teacher walked away and MacKenzie stood from her seat.
“I hope I don’t ruin this for us,” she said, looking over the script. “I’m not so great at memorizing lines.”
Blake shrugged. “It’s easy for me. I have photographic memory.”
“Really? That must make school so easy.”
“Pretty much. That’s why I’m here.”
“So, is this school hard for you?”
“Depends on the class. I just memorize dates and events in History, so that’s easy. But in my French class, we’re not allowed to speak English, so it’s kinda hard.”
“I bet you’ve been here forever.”
Blake shook his head. “This is my first year here.”
“Mine, too! Let’s be friends. Newbies gotta stick together, right?”
Blake nodded, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.
* * *
“What’s with that stupid look on your face?” Julio asked Blake as he and the rest of Nerds, Inc. descended the school’s front steps with the rest of their class.
Blake looked away. “Nothing. I heard a funny joke, that’s all.”
Julio stopped in his tracks and sniffed Blake’s shirt. He crossed his arms, X-raying Blake with his piercing grey eyes.
“What?”
“You reek of bullshit.”
“Ooh, what’s her name?” asked Izzy, swinging her arm around Blake’s neck. “C’mon, you can tell us!”
Rodney punched his arm. “Yeah, spill it!”
“Okay… MacKenzie Powell. She’s in my acting class and Theater club.”
“The one with the braces?” said Rodney.
“That’s the one.”
The group exited the stone archway, where Jamie Tru’s black SUV waited at the side of the road. One by one, the friends climbed into the car.
“We were acting in a pair today,” Blake continued when he’d settled himself in the back. “We did a short routine about some old people who—”
“When are you gonna ask her out?” Rodney interjected beside him.
“I’m not! She’s… just a friend.”
“That’s how it always starts out. Your friends at first, and then you fall madly in love.”
“Then you accidently knock her up on prom night,” said Julio from the middle row, “thinking you’d be safe so long as you pulled out. Dumbass.”
“Next thing you know,” said Jamie Tru from next to Julio, “you’re talking her into an abortion you know she doesn’t want.”
“Then halfway to Planned Parenthood,” Izzy chimed in on Blake’s other side, “she changes her mind. You start planning to push her down a flight of stairs, but you chicken out at the last minute ‘cause you still love her and you think you can make it work.”
“Except you can’t,” added Rodney, “and you end up paying out your ass in child support even though you only get to see Junior on the weekends.”
“And eighteen years later, you find out the kid isn’t even yours!” said Jamie Tru.
“And then—” Izzy began.
“Guys, cut it out!” said Quen from beside Julio. “You’re scaring Blake.”
Blake knew that, even though he didn’t have a mirror to check, he was much paler than usual.
Quen turned back in his seat and smiled at Blake. “If you just wanna be friends, that’s fine. No pressure.”
“Sure, if you wanna be the second to last guy to burn his V card,” said Julio with a roll of his eyes.
While his friends laughed amongst themselves, Blake sat in silence. Quen was insane if he thought Blake could be just friends with the girl he liked. But then again, MacKenzie was a delicate flower and the last thing Blake wanted to do was scare her away with all his crazy teenage hormones.
What makes you think she’d wanna be with someone who’d willingly abandon his family, anyway? his Inner Critic spat.
The heavy sadness on Blake’s shoulder swelled in size.
Nerds, Inc. pulled up to a magnificent wrought iron gate that made the one at Julio’s house look like an oversized doggy door. The gate swung forward and the car sped down the long driveway. Blake watched as the trees lining the driveway waved in greeting outside his window. When the car came to a halt at the towering estate’s front doors, the friends hopped out of the car, one after the other. They followed Jamie Tru inside, their footsteps echoing off the marble flooring.
“Welcome to Blair Manor, Blake,” he said. “C’mon, HQ is this way.”
They followed the host past the grand spiral staircase in the living room, through the expansive kitchen—which looked like it belonged to a gourmet chef—and walked through a backdoor that led to the backyard. A small house the size of a shed stood in the middle of the green field. Perched in a holder by the door was a little flag that rustled in the breeze, their clique’s name printed on the front.
“So, this is headquarters?” said Blake.
“Yep,” said Jamie Tru. “We come here every Friday night and we only use our codenames when we’re inside. Let’s go.”
They marched across the grass and entered HQ. It held all the amenities a teen could ask for: a massive flat screen, a leather sofa made for seven, a full-sized fridge, and every videogame known to man.
“Wild Card?” Blake asked Izzy as he set down his bag in the corner. “How did you convince your parents to let you sleep over with a bunch of boys?”
“Easy. I told my mom I’m genderfluid.”
“And she bought that? I just told my parents you wouldn’t be here.”
“It’s 2017, Assassin,” said Julio from the sofa, controller in hand. “‘Course she bought it.”
“During the week, I’m Isobel,” Izzy explained, “but on the weekends, I’m Isadore. It’s perfect!” She bowed her head and brought her hands together. “Our Father, who art in heaven, kickass be thy name for founding Tumblr. Amen.”
“Has Genius ever come to a sleepover?” asked Blake
Quen shook his head. “His mom won’t let him.”
“If she keeps coddling him like this,” said Julio as he exploded a zombie’s head with his shotgun, “he’ll turn into a rabid teen and knock up the whole neighborhood.”
“But if he never eats lunch with us and never comes to sleepovers, why is he still in Nerds, Inc.?” Blake asked.
“‘Cause we like him,” said Jamie Tru. He stood behind the counter pouring a bag of Doritos into a large glass bowl. “We only get to see him during the summer, but he’s an important member of Nerds, Inc. Always helping us with our homework and helping me dissect stuff around my room and giving us expert videogame advice… We don’t call him Genius for nothin’.”
Jamie Tru placed the bowl of Doritos on the coffee table at Julio’s feet. At the ding of the microwave, Quen opened the door and removed a steaming plate of pizza rolls. He carried the plate to the coffee table and set it down next to the Doritos. Izzy placed a plate of brownies with the other snacks. When she removed the saran wrap, Jamie Tru, Julio, and Quen each reached for a brownie.
“Wanna know how I really got my codename?” she asked Blake. “Take a brownie and find out.”
“Don’t tell me…” Blake began, watching his friends devour the sweets. “That’s not… they’re not laced with…?”
“Bingo,” she answered with a wink.
“Sweet!” said Rodney. He reached for a brownie and took a big bite. He closed his eyes. “Mmm…”
“When we first started doing sleepovers, it was just me, CEO, Ref, and Watchdog,” Izzy explained. “We played videogames like we do now, but I thought it was kinda boring, since we do that every day anyway. So, I brought these brownies. Swear to God, it was the most fun we’ve ever had! I didn’t tell them that I laced the brownies until the next morning. And that, Assassin, is how I got my codename.” She finished her tale with a bite of her brownie.
“Where did you get weed brownies?” Blake asked, watching his friends eat.
“I grow the weed in my closet and I bake the brownies myself. I’ve been doing this for a few years, so I think it’s safe to say that I’ve perfected the art of weed brownies.”
“I second that,” said Rodney, helping himself to seconds.
“Ditto,” said Jamie Tru, Quen, and Julio in unison.
Blake stared. “You have a weed farm in your closet? How have your parents not found it by now?”
Izzy raised her hands and shoulders. “My mom mostly pretends I don’t exist, and even on the rare chance that she acknowledges me, my room is off limits. Anyway, what’s the holdup? Take a brownie, already. I worked hard on these!”
“You’re not afraid we’ll get in trouble?”
“Not unless one of us snitches,” said Julio.
“And even if one of us did snitch,” Jamie Tru added, “we’d just hide the evidence.”
“After that, it’s our word against the nark’s,” Izzy finished.
“But what about honoring thy mother and father?” Blake asked Quen.
“My mom just wants be to be a good kid,” Quen answered, “and the only thing my dad cares about is grades. My grades are great and I stay out of trouble, so I’m still honoring my parents.”