by RH Tucker
Courting the Nerd
A Rumor Has It short story
RH Tucker
Copyright © 2018 by RH Tucker
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Melissa Ringsted of There For You Editing Services
Cover design by James at GoOnWrite.com
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
From the Author
Also by RH Tucker
Chapter 1
Sam
You know those dreams where you’re sitting in class, completely naked, and the teacher calls on you to stand up in front of the class to answer some ridiculous question she just asked? No? You’ve never had one of those dreams? Well, me neither. But this has to be exactly what that feels like.
I’m not naked. And I’m not in class either, though I am still on campus, in the school gym. Matt Hillard, our student body president, just called my name. I mean, I knew he was going to. I knew as he was announcing the names for our senior prom court that my name was going to be called. It’s an open secret every year who the joke votes are—one guy and one girl—and I’m the lucky guy this year.
I feel like I want to puke.
Quinton, my best friend, nudges me in the side. “Get down there, man.”
He and a couple of my other friends start to clap. A few other seniors applaud, too, but it’s definitely the quietest reaction from the crowd of any senior who’s been called up for the prom court. Izzy, Woodbridge’s resident YouTube star, received a huge ovation, especially after she revealed a hot cosplay outfit. She’s the girls’ joke vote for this prom court, but there is definitely a difference between us. She seems to have half of the school pulling for her, while I, on the other hand, probably have less than a dozen. And those are my friends.
As I make my way down the bleachers, the clapping dies out, and I start to head toward Izzy. As popular as she’s becoming—almost like a beacon of hope for geeks and nerds who’ve felt stepped on by a-holes who run the school like Jeremy McCormick or Yvette Morales—she’s still the joke vote. And the joke votes are always paired together for prom court. So it catches me entirely by surprise as Greg, a member of ASB, guides me away from Izzy and over toward Natalie Frazier.
Natalie’s eyes shoot back and forth between Greg and me, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. What is going on?
“And the final member of the guys’ prom court is … oh. This is embarrassing.” Matt lets out a chuckle. I can tell he’s playing to the crowd. “Well, if I must I must. It’s me, your senior class president,” Matt says, and the entire gym applauds.
As the fifth and final member of the guys’ side of our prom court, he walks by, giving me a head nod, before standing next to Izzy. Putting his arm around her, he leans in close and whispers something to her.
I look around and see Franco do the same with Jen Harris. Are we supposed to act flirty or something during these things? We’re called a ‘prom couple’, but it’s just for the week. Am I supposed to act like I’m into Natalie? If I am, it wouldn’t be a problem. She has light almond skin, gorgeous umber eyes, and today she’s wearing a reddish lipstick that’s bright enough to look nice, but not too much where it’d draw attention to herself. It’s not like she needs any help drawing attention. She’s one of those high school hybrids; super smart, excelling at all things academic, while still being one of the popular girls in school.
I take another look around, and Greg is talking about prom court to the crowd, while Bret is whispering something to Sarah, another court couple. Okay, that must be a thing.
I turn to Natalie, who’s scowling and staring straight ahead, and lean closer to whisper to her. Whisper what, I have no idea, but I should probably say something.
“Don’t even think about it,” she hisses, without even looking at me.
Great. This prom court week is going to be so much fun.
Chapter 2
Natalie
“Sam. Patterson.”
I sit at my lunch table next to Mia and Emily, shell-shocked.
“Girl, I know. I just thought he—”
“No, no,” I cut Mia off, raising a finger to her. “Sam Patterson. Sam. Freaking. Patterson.”
Emily eyes me carefully. “Did you do something to piss off Matt or Yvette? They run student council, so you know they’re the ones pulling strings for prom court couples.”
“No,” I reply, staring down at my bag that sits in front of me. The lunch that I should be eating is still packed away inside, as I try to digest everything that happened last Friday at the pep rally. “I don’t get it. I hung out with Yvette last week, the day before the pep rally. I mean, I know she had to keep it a secret, but I don’t see why she couldn’t give me a heads up or something.”
“Wait, so is Izzy Jacobs the joke vote?” Emily asks. “‘Cause I sure as hell know it’s not you.”
“I guess.” I lift my shoulders. “She has to be, but that ovation she got sure doesn’t seem like it. And have you seen the posters her friends put up already? I think she’s got a real shot at being prom queen.”
“Natti, stop,” Mia says, tapping the table. “We all know Yvette is probably gonna win. You and Sarah have a shot though.”
I’m about to agree with her, even though I’m still not sure how everything’s gotten this crazy, when I see Dustin walking toward us. That dark brown hair sways just a little, as it stands up in a pouf in front. One of his friends calls out to him, and he turns his head, giving him a nod, and I catch sight of his chiseled jawline. Damn.
Looking back over at me, he finds me staring, but I don’t care. I could stare at him all day. He raises his eyebrows over the sunglasses he’s wearing, giving me that smirk that gets me every time, and continues walking toward our table.
“Who are you looking at?” Emily turns and sees him. “Oooh.”
Mia leans closer to me, lowering her voice. “Has he asked you out yet?”
“Shh!” I cast her a quick glance, before looking back over at Dustin.
“What’s up, ladies?” He takes a seat in front of me, next to Mia.
“Hey, D,” Emily says, a little too coolly for my liking, and I cast her another glance.
“Hey, Dustin,” I say to him, trying to sound as calm as I can.
We’ve been doing this for nearly a month now. We’ll talk a little, flirt a little, and then say our good-byes. I think he likes me. I know I like him. So, I’ve been throwing hints out that I’m willing and able to be his prom date. Now there’s only a week until the dance. I would be nervous, but before the pep rally last week he told me he voted for me to make prom court. Then he said, “Who knows, maybe I’ll get to dance with the prom queen.”
Sure, that could’ve meant anything, but he had to have been talking about me. So that means he’s planning on asking me to the dance. Right?
“So, you and Sam, huh?” Dustin
asks, lifting his glasses on top of his head.
“What? Oh, no. No, no, no. Not me and Sam,” I chortle nervously, shaking my head.
“But he is your prom court couple, right?”
“Well, yeah, he is, but that doesn’t mean he’s my date.” I take a breath. “I mean, I still need a prom date.”
“Yes you do,” he answers.
I see his eyes skim over the top I’m wearing, which is a light blue cami, with matching boyshorts for my pajamas. The prom week events started today, and each person on prom court is supposed to wear pajamas today. His gaze meets mine again, and he smiles.
Dustin played water polo and went to state finals for Woodbridge’s wrestling team, receiving scholarship offers from three different NCAA schools. Dressed in his skinny jeans, which are torn at the knees, he also has on a V-neck dark gray shirt that may as well be painted on, the way it stretches and sticks to his chest. The short sleeves show off his biceps that I’ve thought about on more than one occasion. I can’t wait until we go to prom together. And yes, we are going to prom together. I’m sure of it.
“Nerd alert,” he says, looking behind me, and drops his sunglasses back over his eyes.
I turn around and see Sam walking toward us. I’ve seen the pajamas from the other guys on prom court. President McHottie was probably my favorite, in his tight tank top and basketball shorts. Franco Avila’s wasn’t bad either. He opted for regular pajama pants but wore what looked like a workout T-shirt, the sleeves cut off and low, so you could see some of his stomach. Very nice. But Sam’s pajamas scream just what he is—nerd.
He’s wearing matching sweatpants and a sweater that are navy blue. The right leg of the pants has a chess piece on it, one of the castle pieces. On the sweater, there’s a giant chessboard across his chest. Below the graphic, it reads ‘I Got Game.’
I’m so preoccupied thinking about him as my court couple this week and how annoyed I am, that I don’t realize he’s walking right toward us.
“Hey, Natalie.” He waves.
“Hey,” I reply. Glancing back at Mia and Dustin, I see both of them staring at me with the same ‘what’s he doing here?’ look.
“So, um,” Sam says, scratching the back of his head, before pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose. “Just wanted to make sure you knew about the meeting. You know, after school?”
“Yeah, I know, Sam.”
We have a meeting with the other members of the prom court to go over this week’s activities. I’m dreading it.
“Oh, okay. Um, cool.”
There’s a pause. I look up at him, waiting for him to continue, but he simply stands there, awkwardly. I’m not sure if he’s waiting for me to add anything to the conversation or he’s nervous. His eyes dart between Mia, Emily, and Dustin.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Oh, no.” His gaze meets mine briefly before he turns around and walks away.
“Damn, girl, I feel sorry for you,” Emily says loud enough that I’m pretty sure Sam can hear her, but I keep my eyes on the back of him, and he doesn’t act like he does. “That nerd won the jackpot or something. He should’ve bought a lottery ticket over the weekend.”
“Yeah.”
It’s not that Sam is terrible looking. He’s not. If you stripped away his inch-thick glasses with wide, dark brown frames that shield his sterling gray eyes, his braces that he got at the beginning of last year, and his black hair parted to the side that seems to be cemented in place, he could be cute. Not to mention, his constant lugging around of multiple school books. I have school books, too, and use them, but that’s what we have lockers for, isn’t it? All of that, combined with his chess club and debate team duties, he is the quintessential nerd. And now I have to spend a week with him for prom court.
Chapter 3
Sam
Pajama Day. Who thinks up these ridiculous high school traditions? Yeah, like I’m really going to come to school shirtless and in my boxers. Although, Matt basically did, so what do I know? Then again, he’s a starting wide-receiver and commonly referred to as President McHottie. Me, on the other hand, I’ve lettered in debate for the last three years, and I’m usually referred to as nerd-hole. Whatever.
Kelsey and Quinton are my friends who both know I’m the joke vote, but I still can’t believe they honestly think I have a chance with Natalie. She’s, like, a ten. An über ten. I wasn’t going to go up to her at lunch and give her a ‘friendly reminder,’ as Quinton put it, about our meeting after school, but both of them wouldn’t shut up about it. So I did it. Maybe I was secretly hoping she’d give me some sort of sign or hint that she wasn’t repulsed by the idea of me being her court couple. To her credit, she didn’t act like she was disgusted. Still didn’t help the fact that her friend made a stupid comment as I was leaving.
So, as I get to our meeting after school, I just give her a friendly nod and find a desk. Yvette Morales, our senior class vice president, rolls her eyes when I come in. The only ones who acknowledge me when I arrive are Mr. Garrison, the ABS teacher, and Izzy. Also, Matt comes in late and gives me a head nod, before finding a seat next to Izzy. Does he like her? By the way he acted at the pep rally, and the fact that he’s now whispering something to her and she laughs, he must. Yvette glowers at Izzy, before clearing her throat, in a blatant attempt to get Matt’s attention. I see Natalie give Matt a sideways glance, then she looks at me. I wonder if she’ll be mad all week that Matt’s not her court couple.
“Okay, everyone,” Mr. Garrison says, and everybody quiets down.
He goes over the week’s events; tomorrow is Twin Day, and we have a three-legged race event during lunch. Wednesday, we have a whipped cream pie eating contest. And it ends on Thursday with a scavenger hunt. Greg assists Mr. Garrison as he goes over everything and we finish the meeting.
I catch up to Natalie as she heads to the student parking lot. “Hey, Nat.”
She turns and looks at me but keeps walking. “Hey, Sam.”
“So, um, what did you want to wear tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, just the basic stuff I guess,” she replies, still walking.
“Okay, cool. So, like, jeans and a T-shirt or something?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
A car horn honks. “Natalie!”
Natalie waves at her friend and heads over to her car. I follow behind her because my Vespa is parked right next to them.
“What color?” I ask.
“What?” She finally turns around and makes eye contact with me.
“Shirt. What color are you going to wear?”
Opening the passenger side door, she sets her backpack down on the seat. I lift the seat of my scooter and put my bag inside. “Is that yours?” she asks.
“No,” I answer, shaking my head. “I just throw my bag into any Vespa I find sitting around.” Her eyes narrow, and her mouth opens a bit, as if she’s dumbfounded. “I’m kidding,” I say with a grin. “It’s mine.”
“Oh.”
“Let’s go, Nat,” her friend calls out to her from the driver’s side.
“Right,” she replies to her friend and then looks over at me. “Um, I don’t know. Does a red shirt work okay?”
“Yeah, red’s fine.”
“Okay, cool.”
“Cool.”
I grab my helmet and strap it on as Natalie takes a seat in the car. Her friend leans over her, giving me a thumbs-up. “Hey, nice scooter!” Her tone and facial expression make it obvious she’s teasing me. I go along with it.
Giving her two thumbs-up, and the biggest, cheesiest grin I can, I smile back at her. “Thanks!”
Natalie gives a slight scowl to her friend, who giggles and starts to drive away. I’m sure she has no idea that I knew she was making fun of me. Most nerds know when we’re being made fun of. There’s usually two ways we respond. One, is to shrink back in embarrassment and wish popular kids like Natalie and her friends would just ignore us. That’s the way I used to be. All the way unt
il sophomore year. Which is when I started to respond the other way. Just go with it. I made a couple friends sophomore year, Quinton and Kelsey. Under high school classifications, they’re considered nerds, too. But they don’t care what people say or do. When I realized that, it felt like a weight had been lifted. Why worry about jerkoffs when I’ve got actual friends who don’t care about my Coke-bottle glasses or make fun of me for having seen every episode of Battlestar Galactica? Not only do they not care, but they also nerd out over the same things.
For Twin Day, I wear the only red shirt I have; an X-Men shirt. It’s plain and all red, except for a little logo on the chest that has an X in a circle. Around the circle it reads “Xavier Institute: School For Higher Learning”.
Getting to the school courtyard at lunch, I find that everyone else is circled around Greg, and other students are off to the side, waiting for the three-legged race to start. I walk over to Natalie, and she casts a look my way, barely giving me a head nod.
Greg goes over the rules for the race. We have to circle the small course three times, and the winning team gets the extra votes, giving one guy and girl extra votes to try and become this year’s prom king and queen.
Natalie looks over at my shirt as we wait for Greg to come by and tie our legs together. “Xavier’s Institute? Is that where you’re going to college?
I give her a sideways stare. “What?”
She motions to the logo on my shirt with her chin. “Your shirt. It says, ‘school for higher learning.’ Is it a private university? I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”