Ridorkulous (Dorky Duet Book 1)

by Mary Frame

  Annabel’s voice rings out. “Hey, Fitz! Reese? You guys ’bout done? We need help with these seeds.” Her words bounce around the space and kill any and all sensation below the belt.

  The moment broken, Reese jumps back like she’s been shocked, her eyes blinking at me before she turns away.

  “Be right there,” she calls. And then she hurries away and I have to wait a few seconds, gathering my wits and calming my body before I can follow.

  The ride home is just as intolerable as the ride there was. I’m still crunched up on Beast’s giant lap with my head tilted at nearly a ninety-degree angle, except now we’re all full of food, making the space even more cramped.

  I can’t stop thinking about the strange moment in the barn. Or maybe it was only my strange moment. She didn’t seem affected, talking to Annabel and Jude like nothing happened.

  I couldn’t have imagined it though. Could I?

  Annabel drops us off, not even bothering to turn off her car despite Jude asking her to come in for a spell.

  It’s an odd moment, Jude offering out of normal hospitality, Annabel’s shoulders getting tense while she avoids eye contact with everyone. Jude shrugs and exits the vehicle while the rest of us tumble our way out.

  Abby left me a note on the front door.

  After giving it a glance, Jude hands it to me without a word.

  Please call me.

  I crumple it up and shove it in my pocket.

  It’s an unusually quiet night. Beast does the books in the kitchen with Reese. I’m caught up on homework and end up in the living room with Jude, who puts on another romance movie. This one is about two assistants trying to set their bosses up to free up more time for themselves. And of course, they fall in love.

  It’s not too bad. I would be into it more if Jude didn’t keep yelling, “Taye Diggs is the man!” every ten minutes.

  My thoughts are too distracting. Reese. Abby coming over. The note she left.

  I’m not going to be able to keep her away forever. It might be better to I get it over with. I need to tell her to back off and give me space, and I need to do it in a situation I can control.

  I stand up and head through the sliding doors and into the backyard. It’s weird to be out here when it’s empty and quiet.

  Phone in hand, Abby’s contact information lighting up the screen, I stare down at her name. Before I can overthink it, I push the call button.

  She answers on the third ring. “Fitz. I’m so glad you called. I’ve missed you so much.”

  She doesn’t sound drunk at least.

  “I’m sorry about the other night,” she says.

  “Which one?”

  She blows out a harsh breath. “That’s fair. You know I’m sorry about so many things, but I shouldn’t have . . . gone after you after I’d been drinking. It’s just . . . I miss you.”

  I swallow. I can’t really say I miss her too. It’s not the truth. “We’re not getting back together, Abby. And I need some space. You gotta stop coming around here.”

  “I know, but I miss our friendship. Can’t we be friends again? We were once, you know? We were friends first and always.”

  She’s not wrong. An image flashes in my head of Abby in second grade, her blonde hair in pigtails, defending me when another kid accused me of stealing his lunch. “We tried. It didn’t work.”

  “I know. And it’s my fault. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.” Her voice is earnest, almost desperate.

  “I want honesty. Why did you send me that text the other night? The one about going to sleep and not waking up?”

  She’s silent for a few long seconds. “That wasn’t a lie. I really feel that way, sometimes.”

  I sit in the patio chair. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it, it just is. But then . . . if people pay attention to me, I feel better. It’s like a distraction from bad thoughts, you know?”

  “Abby.” I clench a hand in my hair, unsure what to do, knowing I need to say something. “You need help.”

  “I’m not crazy, Fitz.”

  “I’m not saying you are. I’m saying maybe you should talk to someone about these things, someone who understands.”

  “I’m talking to you,” she huffs.

  “I’m not yours anymore.”

  “I know. I thought I’d never lose you. You never give up, on anyone or anything. You’re a great boyfriend and my best friend. I really fucked up. All over the place. And I’m sorry. I hope someday we’ll get back to how it used to be.”

  I’m not sure if she means when we were kids or when we were a couple. I can’t see it happening either way.

  But I also can’t stop the sympathy and concern. She needs help, from a professional, but I’m not sure how to force her to get it. I can’t, really, can I?

  It’s like she’s two different people.

  There’s the Abby she is now, when it’s only the two of us, and the one she is the rest of the time. What if this is all more manipulation? The lines are blurred and I can’t distinguish her from some stranger. Things have gone too far off the rails.

  “I know I’ve treated you badly,” she says. “I don’t blame you if you don’t wanna talk to me ever again, but I promise I’ll do better if you’ll stay in my life.”

  “Talk is cheap. If you can show me you’re not just using me to fill some sick need to control people, maybe someday we can be friends again. But it’s going to take a long time. And I still need some space. A few months, at least.”

  She sniffs a few times, and I harden my heart against her tears. “We’ve never gone more than a few days without talking.” Her voice is small and sad and I have to take a deep breath and stay strong.

  “You’ll be fine, Abby. You should talk to your parents. Or even someone at the school, maybe a counselor.”

  She scoffs. “I don’t need that kind of help.”

  I take a deep breath. She’s still not listening. “Abby—”

  “If it means so much to you, I’ll think about it,” she cuts me off.

  Surprised at her sudden turn, I pause. “Good. I’m glad.”

  We hang up and I set the phone down next to me on the chair.

  I’m raw. Rung out like an old dish towel that should have been trashed three months ago.

  Standing, I turn toward the house, and through the window I can see Jude still on the couch, laughing at the movie. Behind him, through the open doorway, Beast and Reese sit at the kitchen table, books spread out in front of them.

  Reese pushes back an errant lock of hair and frowns down at something in front of her.

  Our moment in the barn comes rushing back and I shut my eyes.

  Is it normal to feel attraction to someone so soon? Maybe it’s because I’ve never spent any time with any other woman that I wasn’t related to.

  I can’t be having any kind of feelings for anyone. Right? Isn’t there a thing, like a rebound thing that’s supposed to be happening?

  Maybe that’s all it is. Rebound.

  Combined with the fact that she is so different from Abby. But not in the way I initially thought.

  She’s smart. Way smarter than anyone I’ve ever met. But it’s more than that. She cares about her family. She helped Granny even though she pulled a gun on her and won’t let her stay in her own home.

  I try to imagine Abby’s reaction and I know she would have thrown a fit. She’s a little spoiled.

  Through the window, Reese points out something to Beast in his notebook. Is he actually talking to her? I doubt it. Yet somehow, she’s found a way to communicate.

  Reese isn’t quite like anyone I’ve ever met.

  That must be why, last night, when she told me she’d never been kissed, I wanted to be the first one, the only person in this world to cup her delicate face in my hands. I wanted to rub a thumb over her thick bottom lip and test the color, see if it’s as soft as it looks, confirm it with my own mouth.

  My teeth grind together.

&
nbsp; So many reasons it’s a bad idea, and yet the thought won’t leave me alone.

  13

  The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.

  ―Mark Twain

  Reese

  Monday, I get home early because my last class is canceled. I run into Jude coming down the front sidewalk on his way out.

  “Hey, babies. Perfect timing. I need a ride.” He doesn’t seem at all surprised to see me.

  “A ride?”

  “Can you drive me to a friend’s house? And then maybe you can help me with a little problem. Come on.” He passes me, walking toward my car where I left it parked at the curb. “I’ll explain on the way there.”

  I have nothing else to do, and to be honest, I’m curious about where he’s going and what he could possibly need from me, and so like the inquisitive cat who was inevitably killed, I follow.

  Except Jude doesn’t really explain much on the way there, only asks me questions about the places I liked to go around town when I was a kid.

  “The library is pretty good. The museum is decent, but I sort of memorized all their exhibits by the time I was eight. They need to change it up more.”

  “Is there anywhere else in town a child with a brain like yours would like to go?”

  I consider the question while Jude directs me down a small street on the south side of town, where the properties are small and the homes manufactured.

  No doubt there’s a reason he’s asking me this question, and I imagine it has something to do with our destination.

  “Maybe to go see the microscopes on campus.”

  “Microscopes?”

  “Yeah. I wish they’d had them when I was a kid. They started a whole mineralogy lab with funding from the mines. They’re using various microscopes to analyze sections of ore to project profitability for mining ventures in certain locations, and to anticipate any problems of a metallurgical nature that may arise during milling and smelting.”

  “Smelting?”

  “Extracting metal from the ore.”

  “Alrighty then. And just anyone can go in and see these microscopes?”

  “Well, no. But one of my professors told us he allows his techs to show them to interested students. I haven’t gone yet, though, even though he said we could drop in any time the lab’s open.”

  Ever since I heard they had brought in a probe-corrected scanning transmission electron microscope, I’ve been dying to go see it, but I have yet to muster up the courage to go to the lab on my own.

  “I knew you were the right person to help me with this.”

  “I’m still not sure what it is I’m helping you with.” Although I’m starting to get an inkling.

  “Is the lab open today?”

  I swallow. “Yes.”

  “Then you, my dear Tootsie Roll, are going to see those microscopes today.” He claps his hands once. “Park here.” He motions to a faded and sagging double wide on the right side of the road, and I pull in next to an ancient station wagon. “I’ll be right back.”

  Jude gets out of the car and lopes up a rickety porch.

  He doesn’t take long. Within moments, he’s back with his friend, pulling the seat forward for him to clamber into the back seat.

  His friend, who can’t be more than ten years old.

  I did expect a child, but watching him high-five Jude and crawl into my back seat is still a bit surprising.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “Hi.” The kid has dark hair and wide brown eyes. And he’s wearing a dark jacket and red tie. The tie has a stain on the bottom and the suit jacket is worn and entirely too large for his thin frame.

  Jude gets in the front seat and shuts the door. “Reese, this is Fynn. Fynn, Reese. She’s taking us somewhere special today.”

  “Hello, Fynn.”

  “Where are we going?” His grin is infectious and wide, his eyes sparkling with interest.

  “It’s a surprise,” Jude says.

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  “You’ll like this one, I reckon.”

  I pull out of the driveway, glancing back at Fynn, who’s now staring out the window.

  “How did you two meet?” I ask.

  “Jude’s my big brother,” Fynn says. “Has been for years.”

  I lift my brows at Jude.

  “Big Brothers Big Sisters. You’ve heard of it?”

  “I have.”

  Jude continually surprises me, but still, I can’t believe he does this. I didn’t even know there was a program like this in Blue Falls.

  Jude turns in his seat to look back at Fynn. “Reese here is really good at numbers. She can do large sums in her head without a calculator.”

  “She can?”

  “Yep.”

  I don’t understand why Jude is telling him this. What does it matter? But then Fynn starts to laugh, and his giggle is infectious.

  “We should see who’s faster.” He’s bouncing in the back seat now.

  “Good idea.” Jude turns back around and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Whoever wins the most gets an ice cream cone from the Frostee Freeze. My treat.”

  And so we spend the entire drive to the university with Jude throwing out numbers and Fynn and I scrambling to answer. It ends up being best out of ten and to my shock and utter delight, Fynn wins.

  By the time I’ve parked near the research building, I’m bouncing in my seat nearly as much as Fynn is.

  When we have to cross the street, he takes my hand as if we’ve been doing this forever. “Do you like science, too?” he asks me.

  “I do. I like literature and history as well.”

  “Eh, not me. I like science and math the best. History is boring.”

  “Maybe you haven’t found topics that are exciting enough.”

  “Maybe.” He doesn’t seem convinced. “School can be rather monotonous.”

  Jude and I meet eyes over his head and I can’t help but chuckle.

  While we go through the lab, he peppers me and the techs with questions. When the lab tech starts talking about measuring the chemical composition of ore with electron energy loss spectroscopy, Jude’s eyes glaze over, but Fynn is just as thrilled and curious as I am about everything and anything.

  After, we go for ice cream at the Frostee Freeze and Fynn and I are both chattering like magpies.

  The interior is like an old fifties-style diner, all gleaming brass and bright colors with mini jukeboxes at each table that only cost ten cents.

  Jude ends up buying us both sundaes and Fynn and I talk. He mostly asks questions about the microscopes. I do my best to answer, and the ones I don’t know, I write down and promise to come back with an answer, something that shocks Fynn.

  “Momma gets real annoyed when I start asking too many questions. She just tells me to look it up and quit being so chatty. But I can’t look it up because we don’t have any internet and the library is too far for me to walk.”

  “Well, I have internet and a library nearby. I’ll look it up and get back to you.” I’m already thinking about how I can remedy the problem for him. Maybe I can call my parents’ manager and set up something through one of their various charities.

  Jude doesn’t say much, just watches us with a smile and eats his own ice cream cone.

  After we drop Fynn off—with promises to bring him some of my old geology books—I have to ask Jude as we’re driving back home. “How did you get into doing this whole Big Brother thing?”

  “Just kinda fell into it, I guess.”

  I get the impression I’m not going to get more than that from him, so I switch tactics. “And how did it happen that my class was canceled right at the time you needed to do your Big Brother thing with Fynn?” Total shot in the dark, but it was extremely unusual that Professor Reyna canceled class. She never misses a lecture. She even taught last month when she had the flu, even though we could barely hear her through the surgical mask.

  Ju
de’s gaze hits me, unblinking and sharp as a razor. Okay, there’s definitely more to Jude Parker than this whole laid-back party guy image he projects. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Really. That’s some luck,” I say, but don’t press him further. “He’s a smart kid.”

  “The best. I knew you two would hit it off.”

  We drive in silence while I navigate down Main Street. Are there more kids like Fynn? Like me? “Are there others? Like him? Locally, I mean.”

  “None exactly like him, to be sure, but if you’re talking about local kids who have an insatiable curiosity and drive to learn, I would say there are quite a few in need.”

  My brain is already ticking ahead. What if I could do something big, like open a school for gifted kids in Blue Falls? A thing like that would have changed my whole life. If there are others, kids like me, kids who want to learn everything but no one around them who understands, if I had had that growing up . . .

  It doesn’t necessarily help me pick my major, but it’s a start.

  It’s still early, not even four. Is my advisor still in her office?

  An hour later, I leave my advisor’s office with more hope than I’ve had in a long time.

  I’m likely going to have to get at least a master’s degree in education, but I’ve done it. I’ve picked a major. Er, two. After discussion with the advisor, I settled on a double major in physics and math with a minor in business.

  My mind is spinning with possibilities. I won’t be able to do it all myself—I might have to use my trust fund to establish the school. And I’ll have to hire other like-minded teachers and get students to, you know, enroll. I don’t want to have to charge much, if at all, so I’ll have to look into getting nonprofit status and potential ongoing funding from the school district, but I’ve got time. And for the first time, I have a glimmer of hope that I’ll be able to do something important with my life. Something where I can continue to learn everything I want about different subjects and also help people who are as different as I am.

  But in order to meet this goal, I have to get over my fears. I’ve already started, but I’ve got more work to do. No more hiding. No more avoiding people.