Romancing the Nerd (16 page)

Chapter Twenty

Dan

I’m trying, really I am, but I can’t seem to come up with the perfect romantic gesture. And it has to be perfect. I’m desperate, so I decide to go downstairs to ask Mom for advice. I’m just about to put my foot on the bottom step of the stairs when a bone-chilling yell comes from the kitchen. “Daniel Jordan Garrett, get down here right now!”

Since I’m Todd Garrett’s son and very used to hearing his angry voice, I spin on my heel and head back up to my room. Maybe if I hide he’ll think I’ve been kidnapped, and then turn into some Liam Neeson type of dude and focus his fury on the fictional kidnappers. Then I can plan my escape to Mexico.

Unfortunately, he’s at the bottom of the stairs before I can round the corner at the top.

“Dan, what is this?”

I turn slowly, wondering what in the hell I missed. Between his thumb and forefinger he holds a small container of garlic butter that came with the pizza I ordered when they were away. I forgot I put it in the refrigerator. Like an idiot.

“I, uh…” I kind of snicker because I can’t believe I’m about to get laid into for eating pizza. Any normal teenager would just apologize and go on about their business. But I think it’s pretty obvious that I am not a normal teenager. I’m a fed up teenager. “You know what? I ordered pizza. And then I ate it. And it was the best freaking pizza I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

His eyes begin to bulge and his face reddens. “We discussed this. You can’t slip up. If you slip up once, you’ll slip up again and again and you’ll lose focus and—”

“I also went to a party during the Christmas Festival. It was a rager! There were tons of people there and the cops showed up. Now, let me ask you: which is more important to you? The fact that I cheated on my diet or the fact that I could have been arrested by your good friend, Mr. Bobby? Because I’m not sure which one makes you more upset. And, I’m sorry, but that can’t be good.” I get louder as I go on. “And you know what? I—”

He stops my ranting by waving a hand, then squints at me, probably to keep his eyes from popping out of his head. “I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this!” He moves forward to come up the stairs, but Mom stops him.

She touches Dad’s shoulder. “Let Dan talk, Todd. I want to hear this. Go ahead, honey, say what you want to say.”

No turning back now. I’m banking on Zelda’s wisdom. “Dad, I love you, but you’re putting too much pressure on me. There’s the diet, the basketball that I only started doing because you wanted me to, and the stress of getting good grades. I mean, you won’t ease up on anything. You won’t let me go to a movie, you won’t let me even go to a LARP game, which has always been something I love to do, and you degrade it and call it a waste of time. I swear if this keeps up, I’m going to explode. I’m going to snap. Maybe I’m snapping right now.”

The silence stretches, and I don’t break eye contact with Dad. He turns to Mom with a confused look on his face. She just shrugs, and I get the feeling that she actually agrees with me. Dad turns his baffled face to me then walks away. I hear the glass doors to the backyard close, and I’m just thankful that he didn’t slam them.

Mom crosses her arms. “Were you safe at this party?”

“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t even have a drink.”

She nods slowly. “Good.” Then she lets out a long sigh. “You should probably go hang out somewhere else for a while. Give your dad a little time to think.” The relief I feel at her words is the best thing ever.

I grab my keys and am out the door in seconds.

For a moment, I feel liberated. I feel like skipping through a field of freaking daises and stuff. With bunnies and squirrels and maybe some badass cheetahs. I’ve finally come clean with Dad and all I can do is hope he understands.

But what if he doesn’t? How do we go forward from there? I think the only solution for the way I feel right now is obvious. Sushi.

Once sushi has been thoroughly consumed, I go over to Logan’s house. Monday night is family night for the Scotts, so they’re probably just finishing up dinner and are about to play some board game. Martha has gone all out this season with her landscaping. There are all these decorative cabbages lining the front walkway and the only reason I know what they are is because I used to spend a lot of the summer with my grandparents. My MeeMaw was and still is the light of my life, so I would always listen when she told me about her gardens. I could totally own as a horticulturalist.

I don’t knock, I just walk in because I’m practically a member of the Scott family. And just as expected, they’re setting up a game of cards.

“Hey Dan, would you like to play Nertz with us?” Martha asks as she digs out decks of cards from the junk drawer in the kitchen.

Nertz is a fast-paced multi-solitaire that can get very dangerous especially when the Scotts play. And I mean ‘dangerous’ literally. I’ve seen blood drawn and fingers jammed.

“Good Lord, no. I’d like to keep all my phalanges, please.” I wiggle my fingers at her and she laughs.

Logan comes down the stairs and plops his lucky
Star Wars
themed deck on the table. “What’s up, dude?”

I take a seat, leaning back on the rear two legs of the chair. “Oh, ya know, same old stuff. Just had a huge fight with my dad, can’t figure out what to do about Zelda. Had some sushi. Another beautiful day in the neighborhood, my friend.”

He frowns at me. “Well, that…sucks?”

“Yes, of course it sucks,” I snap at him.

“Is everything going to be okay with your dad?” Martha asks, ever the caring mother, even to people who are not her children.

“I hope so. I took FinityGirl’s, I mean Zelda’s, advice and told the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I kind of went off, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

“That’s all you can do. I’m sure it’ll work out. But what’s this about calling Zelda FinityGirl?” Martha motions for me to stop leaning back in the chair.

Logan sits next to me. “It’s a long story, Mom. What’s happening with Zelda?”

I rub my hand down my face, still frustrated. “I can’t think of what to do for her. It has to be perfect and it’s driving me crazy. I’m going insane, dude.”

Logan shakes his head. “Why don’t you just tell her that you know?”

“She runs off anytime I come near. Besides, I want this to be big.” Vera comes downstairs then, and I glare at her. “And it’s all this one’s fault.” I point an accusing finger at her.

Her mouth drops open. “What did I do?”

“You told me to go home and think about things.”

Logan turns on Vera. “You told him to ‘think about things’? Don’t you know what happens when he over-thinks? Bad things, that’s what.”

I wait for Vera to turn into Dr. Scott, but it never happens. “I didn’t do anything. I just told him what Mom always says, ‘Always watch where you put your feet.’”

Logan rolls his eyes. “That just means don’t trip over stuff. Ya know, don’t be clumsy.” Vera and Martha share a look, and Logan catches it. “That is what it means, right?”

Vera opens her mouth to explain, but Logan holds up a hand to stop her. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. So what are you going to do, Dan?”

“I’m never going to take advice from your sister again, that’s for sure.”

He snorts. “Good idea. And Zelda?”

“No clue.”

“You want to know what I think?” he asks, and I nod. “Stop being an idiot, number one. Do something nice for her, then be honest. Tell her how you feel. Women do not like games, dude.”

Martha goes to speak but stops. She smiles at Logan and pats him on the back. “I raised you so well.”

Zelda

Step one of the new and improved plan was to find an inside man. Back in our junior high days, Olivia Rachelle, Beth, and I were the troublesome trio, the triple threat, the trifecta of awesome. Then puberty hit us all, Olivia harder than Beth and me, and her inauguration into the popular circle was quick. Even though Beth and I have always felt a little hurt by her change in friend circles, we never wished her any ill will because she tried so hard to include us. It was a weird situation. Really, it was us who shunned her. Of course, this happened long ago, and Beth and I didn’t know any better. We’ve been civil to each other over the past few years.

Olivia and I quickly fell into an easy conversation when I called, further proving how stupid my beliefs were. She’s a cheerleader and was happy to get the squad to team up with the band.

Step two was obtaining all the equipment needed, which meant talking to Mr. Drew. I was lucky that I hit him up on a good day, meaning his rant level was at level yellow instead of red.

“Do you have a projector back there in the radio room?” I asked between classes one day.

“Of course I do. What kind of media teacher do you think I am? I have electronics of all sorts. Including the ones your Insta-twitter-chatsnap generation has forgotten about.”

I wait for his rant to end because there’s no stopping him once he gets going. “Good job, Drew, preserving the artifacts and all, but I was hoping to borrow the projector, maybe some speakers?”

His face scrunches up as he decides, which is weird because he has a lot, I mean
a lot,
of wrinkles and every one of them seems to be helping him choose whether or not to trust me with expensive equipment. “Okay, but I’m going to need you to grade some papers for me.”

“How many papers?” Last time, when I asked to borrow some speakers for the annual Natchitoches Small Business Festival, I didn’t lock down a specific number and I ended up staying late to grade papers for five Fridays in a row.

“Make it two Tuesday tests and you’ve got a deal.”

We shake on it.

Step three was the scariest. I wanted to talk to Cindy LeDeaux. She’s kind of a queen bee at school. She’s gorgeous and talented at many things, including coming up with disses aimed at my fashion choices. It took most of lunch to build up the courage to approach her. Finally, just before the bell was about to ring for class, and people were milling around their lockers, I closed my eyes tight and pictured little equipment manager Colin. I remembered every cringe-inducing scene I’d witnessed that involved one person embarrassing another just because they were different. If this plan could make even one person think about changing their ways, then it was worth talking to Cindy.

“Hey Cindy?” My voice was barely above a whisper at first and she didn’t hear me. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey Cindy?” This time it came out much louder, almost a yell.

She turned to me, her brows knitted together, and they didn’t unknit at the sight of me. “Yeah?”

“I have a favor to ask you.”

She scoffed. “Oh, this should be good. Go ahead.”

I let out a sigh, trying my damnedest to hold onto my courage and not run away like a frightened Neville Longbottom. “Do you think you could help perform a song at the pep rally this Friday?”

She opened her mouth to deliver some prepared insult, then she paused and her eyes lit up. She’s been a pageant girl since she was in diapers and to hear her tell it, it was Jesus’s grand plan for her to entertain the world. “Will I be singing?”

“Yes.”

“Lead?”

“Of course. No one else has a voice like you.” It never hurts to grease the wheels.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

And that was that. Relief flowed through me so hard.

Then the only thing left was talking to the yearbook committee, which was a breeze, since Beth is on it.

Throughout the week, I went from many highs to many lows. I wavered between feeling proud and excited to feeling downright terrified. What if we don’t get a routine down in time? What if the equipment doesn’t work right? What-ifs are a bitch.

By the end of school on Friday, I’m a ball of nerves.

“Are you going to puke? You look like you’re going to puke,” Beth says to me now as I hoist my tuba.

“No… Yes… Maybe… Probably.”

“It’s going to be great. Don’t worry.”

The students have been gathered in the gym, and the level of excitement, or rather the lack thereof, makes me think this whole thing will be a total failure. But it’s too late to pull the plug.

The principal steps up to the podium in the middle of the court and taps the microphone, causing it to pop and squeal. I have to give the man credit, Principal Brockner tries really hard. He wants the student body to participate and get excited, but what he doesn’t understand is that no one really gives a crap. Our team isn’t anywhere near hitting the finals this year, and even in years when we did, there still wasn’t that much interest from the students. During the games, the stands were populated by parents, siblings, family, and close friends. They were not full of people bursting with school pride.

“All right everyone, settle down. Settle down.” And when people still aren’t paying attention, he puts on his big-boy voice. “Settle down!”

The gym goes could-hear-a-pin-drop quiet, and Brockner continues. “Tonight we face off against—” The lights flicker and murmurs start. Brockner looks confused as he’s led away by two cheerleaders and the podium is dragged to the side of the court. Everyone’s looking around, then the lights dim and the music starts.

It’s just a voice at first, then Cindy LeDeaux walks slowly from the double doors. She hits that note perfectly and the rest of the band prepares to hit the next beat. We step out onto the court from the same door that Cindy made her entrance. Right on cue, the band sings out the chorus of a song the entire audience definitely knows the words to. It’s a song that’s all over the radio right now. It’s about being young and going through life and just trying to make it. It’s also a song about friends and being a part of something bigger.

The cheer squad makes their entrance with backflips and tumbles and confetti. The projector kicks on and Colin the equipment manager’s big grinning face stares back at the audience. The drums unleash, pounding beat after beat, as the cheerleaders find a shocked Colin and lead him to stand next to Cindy. She wraps an arm around his shoulders, encouraging him to sing along. The projector shuffles to the next picture and the next in time with the rhythm of the music, each one a happy image of one of our very own students. The cheerleaders find each person in the stands and pull him or her forward even if their target is reluctant. But about halfway through the song, people flood the court whether their picture has been shown or not.