That Girl, Darcy

by James Ramos

  “Well, Bridget, Darcy, it’s been fun,” I said quickly, hoping they would leave before—

  The porch light flicked on, and a second later my Mom—wearing her big purple bathrobe and matching Crocs—swung the door wide open and came out to wave at us with a huge grin on her face.

  Too late.

  “Back so soon?” she asked. “How was the movie?”

  “It was great,” I muttered, hoping she wouldn’t say something—

  “There she is.”

  Too late again.

  Mom waved at Darcy, who froze while my mom shuffled down the driveway and began circling her, inspecting her like she was a piece of furniture. “Don’t you look fabulous tonight, Darcy? Elliott, doesn’t she look fabulous?”

  “Sure,” I mumbled, staring up at the night sky, thinking to myself that this would officially take the top spot on my list of moments I would like to scratch from existence.

  “And Bridget, you are positively glowing. What lucky boys you are.”

  Bridget beamed, Jake turned so red he looked like he was actually glowing, and Darcy took a not-so-subtle step back toward her car. “Thank you,” she managed.

  “You two be careful out here,” Mom called as they both climbed into the car. “And stop by any time! We can trade makeup secrets—did you see the lashes on that one?” she nodded toward Darcy and nudged me with her elbow.

  Darcy tried to smile, failed, and grimaced instead as she started the car and backed out of the driveway. Mom waved at the car until they were out of sight.

  There have been more than a few moments throughout my life where I was sure I would die from sheer embarrassment. This was by far the worst of those moments.

  Chapter 13

  “I don’t even know why I’m here,” I moaned as I stepped off the bus and into the blinding sun. “Here” was the Phoenix Convention Center, a large open complex downtown that was built at odd angles that reminded me of the Fortress of Solitude.

  Lucas hopped off the bus behind me. “It’s a ‘get out of class free’ card, remember?”

  I scanned the scene in front of us. There had to be nearly a thousand people here, every one of them here for the same reason we were: the college fair. Or, as Lucas said, a way to skip class without technically skipping. I found it ironic that people would skip school to go to a place where they could explore further school options.

  Liam and Kyle jostled off the bus and joined us in the slow procession inside. “Is it hot in here,” asked Liam, “or is it just me?”

  “We’re in Phoenix, dummy,” Lucas told him, reaching over to shove him into the path of some other kids. “It’s always hot.”

  Liam sidestepped the group, taking time to give one of the girls a quick up and down. “You know what I meant.”

  “Two words, dude,” I muttered. “Cold shower.”

  The four of us came to a stop inside, forcing the flow of traffic to curve around us. Everywhere there was to look there were booths with big glossy banners, manned by men or women with big glossy smiles, handing out big glossy flyers. ASU, U of A, all the Maricopa Community Colleges, and tons of out of state institutes, all fighting for our attention. Most of them even had give-away items; pens, folders, candy—all labeled, of course, with their respective school logos.

  “Anyone know where to go first?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Kyle said.

  “Not really,” added Liam.

  I had no idea what I was supposed to do at one of these functions, beside meander the aisles and hope something caught my attention. Which I knew wouldn’t happen. What would I look for? The school with the best mascot, maybe? The best colors?

  Lucas veered down one of the aisles.

  “Where are you going?” called Kyle.

  “Swag bags,” Lucas said over his shoulder. “Later, losers.”

  We watched him leave before going in our own direction. “So,” Kyle began, “you’re skating, and a horde of zombies start chasing you. Do you stay on your board, or do you bail and run?”

  “I’m not letting a bunch of zombies have my board,” I said.

  “It’s not like they can eat it,” said Liam.

  “Pretty sure we can run faster than we can skate,” I countered.

  “What kind of zombies are we talking about here?” I asked. “Shufflers or runners?”

  “Whoa, guys, wait a minute,” said Liam with an urgency in his voice that startled me. He raised a reverential finger. “Who’s the fox?”

  Just like that both he and Kyle snapped into high alert.

  “Guys,” I groaned, “can we go one day without drooling over some girl? One day?”

  “Elliott!” The voice came from far off, and though I couldn’t see her yet, I knew who it belonged to. I spotted her waving hand, and then Gabby emerged from the crowd.

  Every time I saw Gabby, she was wearing shorts. And they seemed to be getting progressively shorter each time. She walked with long, swaying strides that were almost a dance, like there was music playing somewhere only she could hear. She wore a tiny red T-shirt that said “Han shot first.” Her hair was a curly halo around her face, and when she flicked her head, it too seemed to dance. She kept right on coming and didn’t stop until she was right underneath me.

  “Hey, Gabby,” I said, smiling in disbelief. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

  “Ditto.” She smiled, and waited.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what she was waiting for. “So . . .”

  “Aren’t you going to give me a hug?”

  “Oh, right, sure.” I tried to give her a quick, friendly hug, only for her to press herself into me. She grabbed my hands and slid them down to the small of her back. My arms went rigid, and she giggled.

  “You’re boring me,” she whispered before pulling away.

  Boring? Me? Before she could get far I reached for her, pulled her back and wrapped her into as tight a bear hug as I could. I lifted her up in my arms and spun in three quick circles. She laughed into my shoulder, and when I set her back down, her face was flush, and she was grinning from ear to ear. “That’s more like it,” she said.

  “My turn,” Liam said, and then he laughed, as if he’d been joking.

  Without a football game to distract them, both Kyle and Liam were fully enraptured by Gabby. But she either hadn’t heard Liam or was choosing to ignore him, and the effect of her presence appeared to be lost on her. “You guys mind if I tag along?” she asked merrily.

  “Absolutely!” blurted Liam. “I mean, not. Absolutely not. I mean, yes, please, tag along with us.”

  Beside me, Jake shook his head. Gabby laughed. “Perfect, this actually works out great. See, me and my friends were having this debate, and I need a guy’s opinion.”

  “About what?” I asked her.

  “The friend-zone. What do you guys think about it?”

  “I think I get stuck there way too often,” said Kyle.

  “I know, right?” added Liam.

  As usual, Jake said nothing. Gabby looked at me. I thought for a moment before answering her. “I don’t think the friend-zone exists. I think if a guy says he’s been friend-zoned, it’s only because he had ulterior motives to begin with.”

  Gabby shrugged. “See, that’s what Carla was saying. But I think some girls do put guys in the friend-zone. I mean, if it’s a guy who she thinks is really sweet, but she doesn’t see herself dating him, and she wants to be just friends, what else would you call it?”

  “I think I’d call that a friendship, not being friend-zoned.”

  “I dunno, Elliott,” said Liam. “She’s got a point. I mean, it’s happened to me.”

  Gabby spun to give him a sad, puppy-dog face. “Oh, you poor thing. I hope she didn’t do any lasting damage.”

  Liam blushed. “No, I’m good.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What about you, Gabby? You ever put a guy in the ‘friend-zone?’”

  She l
aughed. “Sure. I mean, sometimes a guy is too nice, or too, I dunno, safe. I like safe guys, but I don’t like safe guys, you know?”

  “But how good of a friendship can it really be, knowing that he wants something more than what you do?”

  She shrugged. “It seems to work out fine to me. I think that’s what counts.”

  “True.” It wasn’t, at least to me, but I didn’t want to argue with Gabby. I was happy to see her here, and there was no need to sully her being here with an argument.

  “Hey, is that U of M?” she asked suddenly. “I need to ask them about their forensic science program; I’ll be right back.” She skipped away.

  “I’ve always thought about going to Minnesota,” said Liam. “Think I’ll have a look, too.” He followed after her, a little too eagerly.

  Kyle glanced at me. “Don’t they have that huge mall up there? Maybe I’ll check it out, too.” He rushed to catch up with them, and I just shook my head. I didn’t bother telling them that this was the Michigan U of M, not the Minnesota one.

  Jake, who this whole time had been on his phone, finally said something. “So that was this elusive Gabby girl you’ve been telling me about.” His tone was disapproving, and it irritated me.

  I frowned. “Don’t say it like that.”

  He feigned innocence. “Like what?”

  “Like I’ve spent a lot of time telling you about her,” I answered.

  He shrugged. “If you say so. I mean, you do talk about Darcy a lot more than you do her. I think I like Gabby a little less, though.”

  I frowned, firstly because he had mentioned Darcy and Gabby in the same breath, and secondly because of his not liking her bit, which was strange because Jake liked everyone. “What’s not to like?”

  He gave me a wary eye. “Well, it could just be me, but there’s something, I don’t know, ulterior about her. And did you hear what she was saying about the friend-zone? I’d steer clear if I were you.”

  “Who made you a relationship expert?” I asked dryly.

  He shrugged and said nothing. Together we circled most of the center, not really going anywhere. It felt like a bazaar, and all of these college representatives were vendors fighting to sell us their institute. They also reminded me of fishers, casting their nets with their fancy lures in the form of colorful gift bags, hoping to catch one of us undecided fish with the promise of cheaper tuition, the most qualified instructors, or a more rigorous curriculum.

  “Hey! You with the cool T-shirt!”

  I looked up before I could stop myself. A man at a booth with slick hair and a tan that looked fake, but I wasn’t really sure, was waving us over. I bowed my head and went to see what sort of sales pitch he had for me, already trying to come up with ways to tell him I wasn’t interested.

  “You strike me as an artistic kind of guy,” he said in a tone like he was talking to a middle-schooler. “Do you like art? Graphic design, drawing, painting, anything like that?”

  No. “Sure.” I didn’t know why I’d said sure, but I figured I was already here, I may as well hear him out.

  He smiled victoriously. “Well, the University of Texas has an excellent undergraduate program . . .” The man rambled on, but he may as well have been blowing bubbles at me for all the lasting effect his words left. I eventually managed to escape, but only after he’d insisted on giving me his business card, which, like everything else in the booth, was burnt-orange and white and emblazoned with a longhorn.

  “Look at you, being all interested,” Jake said with a laugh.

  “You know something? Why are all these college representatives good-looking people in their mid-twenties? Where do all the ugly people go?”

  “Maybe college makes you pretty,” Jake said with a laugh.

  “Or maybe these places are discriminating. But I guess . . . I mean, how many people would go to a booth that was manned by Quasimodo?”

  “I would,” said Jake. “That’d be awesome.”

  “Yeah, it would be, actually.” We did two more laps, imagining the curriculum for a school taught by the hunchback of Notre Dame. Bell Ringing 101, Interpersonal Communication with Gargoyles . . .

  When Gabby joined us again she was laughing. “Elliott, you never told me your friends were so funny.”

  Because they’re not, I thought to myself.

  “Care to join us?” she asked. Her eyes flickered between me and Jake, and while I couldn’t be sure, I thought her gaze lingered on his face longer than necessary.

  “Yeah,” I told her. I must have imagined it.

  “I’ll catch up,” said Jake as our group moved away.

  “You sure?” I asked, giving him a look.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  I frowned. What was with everyone disliking Gabby?

  “Have you been using your longboard much?” I asked her once we were walking again.

  “No. For a while I was, but then I fell. In front of everyone. It was so embarrassing that I haven’t gone since.” She paused to give me an expectant look. “You can laugh if you want to. Everyone else did.”

  “Falling’s not that bad. People expect skaters to fall.”

  “Beware the Kraken,” Liam said ominously, which made Kyle and I laugh.

  “Beware the what?” Gabby asked.

  “The Kraken,” I explained, “is what we call random cracks in the sidewalk or on the pavement that occasionally come out of nowhere and snatch your board out from under you. Happens to everyone.”

  “Last time the Kraken caught me I ended up having to get my lip stitched up,” said Kyle.

  “I owe a twisted ankle to the Kraken,” said Liam.

  “Very reassuring, guys,” I mumbled. “It’s really not as bad as that,” I said to Gabby. “Especially with a longboard. Those things are like magic carpets.”

  “Martin’s been trying to teach me,” said Gabby, “but he’s always busy.”

  I slowed down. “Who?”

  Gabby stopped, and her mouth became a perfect “O.” “That’s right . . .” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I guess I never told you. Martin goes to my school. We’re kind of . . . seeing each other.”

  It took me a few seconds to absorb her words. “Like . . . dating? You guys are a couple?”

  “No,” she said. “Not officially, at least. We’re just talking for now.”

  “I see.” I nodded like I knew what she meant by “talking.”

  Gabby linked her arm in mine. “You’re not mad, are you?”

  I shook my head and forced a smile. “Of course not.”

  I wasn’t mad. At least I didn’t think I was. Just numb. And a little confused.

  Gabby sighed in relief. “I’m glad. I hate when my friends are mad at me. Speaking of, I should probably find Carla. Text me?”

  “Sure.”

  She smiled. “Cool.”

  She hugged me, and I made myself hug her back. Then she bounced away. I stayed rooted to that spot long after she was gone, a hollow feeling spreading through me. I felt like a balloon that was slowly deflating. Who was Martin? How long had they been “talking?”

  “Are you okay, Elliott?”

  I vaguely heard the question, but I was too dazed to answer. Gabby and I were just friends. That was all. Why should it matter to me that she was dating some other guy? It wasn’t like we’d ever even talked about dating.

  “Elliott, are you alright?”

  Kyle’s voice jarred me from my thoughts. He and Liam were waiting for me with worried faces. “Yeah, sure,” I told them. “Peachy.”

  It took the entire bus ride back to school for me to figure out exactly what I felt. I decided it was disappointment. Because even though Gabby and I hadn’t been dating, I’d be lying to myself if I said I hadn’t wanted to. Gabby was funny, and fun to be around. I liked that we were into the same things. She knew the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek, unlike certain other people I knew. She got along
with my friends. Unlike a certain someone. She laughed and made jokes and smiled. Again, unlike Darcy.

  Darcy. Her name filled me with confusion to add onto my disappointment. Why did Darcy have to be the one that lived in my neighborhood? Why was she the one that went to my school? It was unfair.

  Chapter 14

  By the time we got back to school it was lunch time, and I spent most of it brainstorming superlatives. Not exactly what I wanted to be doing, but it kept my mind off both Gabby and Darcy. Most likely to succeed? That went to Lucas, easily. Cutest couple? Jake and Bridget, hands down, even if they still weren’t technically a couple. Most likely to end up single forever? That would be a tie between Liam, Kyle, and Mark. But what was I? I was nothing, because I was lost. A runner.

  “I love a man who’s deep in thought,” said Nicole, and I looked up to see her strutting toward our table. She stopped right behind me and leaned over until her chin was resting on my shoulder.

  “Is there any particular reason you’re here right now?” I asked.

  “Christian wanted to talk to you about something. He asked me to come get you, since I always know where to find you.”

  Great. But on second thought, Christian and Nicole would probably have to share the “most annoying” title.

  I waited for her to leave, but she hovered behind me. “He wants to talk to me now?”

  “He said it was important.”

  I bet it is. “Give me a minute. I’ll catch up.”

  “Christian doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she said. “We have that in common.”

  I took my time gathering my things while Nicole waited by the door like a prison guard about to lead me to my execution. I couldn’t care less about Christian’s preferences.

  “Good luck,” said Lucas with a small chuckle.

  “Thanks,” I muttered as I dumped my tray. “I’m going to need it.”

  Christian was sitting alone in the newsroom, marking up someone’s poor article with a red pen. “Thank you, Nicole,” he said as she propped herself against his desk and I took the seat in front of it. “I find it much better to make revisions in long-hand. Feeling the pen in your fingers and the paper under your hand makes for better work, if you ask me.”