How Not To Be Popular (15 page)

Minnow arranging my marriage?

Tomorrow I’m definitely staying under my bed.
If
I survive tonight.

After a long shower and some peppermint tea to settle my stomach, I head up to the roof with my Nokia.

After this month, my Portland account will lapse. I could transfer it to an Austin area code, but there’s no point, since we’re leaving here soon. So I figure I’ll use it while I can.

I settle into my shady spot by the door and power up the phone. I plan to check the news and maybe toy with sending a text to Trevor, but to my amazement there’s a message flashing in the lower left-hand corner.

I’ve got e-mail.

Incredible. I haven’t heard from anyone since I got here.

I wonder if it’s from Trevor. My gut goes all twisty-tight and my hands are trembling, making it hard to click on the envelope icon. But of course it isn’t from him. Because today is Everything-Goes-Wrong Day.

It’s from Lorraine.

HEY MAGS!!!!!!

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I can’t help smiling. Lorraine is one of those all-caps people. Everything she does is big and loud and screaming for attention, and exclamation points are like her lovers.

GOD IT’S BEEN FOREVER!!! HOW IS TEXAS? IS IT HOT? HOW ARE THE GUYS?

ARE THEY HOT? MEET ANY CUTE COWBOYS YET???!!!!

BENNETT MILLER ASKED ME OUT!!! SO DID TERRYL BOOTH, BUT I SAID NO

WAY JOSE!!!! BENNETT TOOK ME TO THE CARNIVAL AND GOT ME A PINK

GIRAFFE. THEN WE MADE OUT BEHIND THE HAUNTED HOUSE. HE’S SO HOT!!!

I’M SURE ALL THE GUYS ARE TOTALLY SALIVATING FOR YOU!!!! YOU HAVE TO

TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT. AND IF THEY ASK YOU OUT, YOU HAVE TO SAY YES!!! I
HOPE YOU AREN’T ALL MOPEY ABOUT TREVOR. HE’S A JERKWAD AND A HALF.

CANDACE THINKS SHE’S GOT IT GOOD WITH HIM, BUT SHE DOESN’T KNOW HIM

LIKE WE KNOW HIM.

WELL THAT’S ALL FOR NOW. I GOTTA GET SEXY FOR TONIGHT. BENNETT IS

TAKING ME TO A PARTY BY THE UNIVERSITY. IF I MEET A HOT COLLEGE GUY, I
MIGHT BLOW HIM OFF!!!! HEE HEE!!!

BYE SWEETIE! MISS YOU!!!! BFF 4-EVER!!!!!!!!!

LORRAINY

Candace thinks she’s got it good with him
?

Tears are dripping all over my lap. One slides down my face and perches on the end of my nose. It itches and yet I can’t swipe at it. I can’t move at all.

I stare at Lorraine’s message until the letters go all squiggly.

Trevor is with Candace Jacobi? Candace, who never met a lacy camisole she didn’t like? Candace, with her too-tight jeans and stilettos and bloody lipstick shades? He went from me to
her
?

Trevor and Candace? Candace and Trevor? Trevace?
Candor?

Maybe that was why he broke it off. Maybe it wasn’t the distance but me. Maybe I just wasn’t
Candace
enough for him. In fact, I’ll bet that’s why he was kind of weird on the phone the other day. He’d already hooked up with her!

My left hand shakes as it grips the phone, making Lorraine’s message wiggle like a live, pulsating thing. I feel like screaming into the treetops. I want to break something, just really crush something into a chunky powder. The Nokia is the most logical victim, not to mention the only one in reach, but I still have enough sense to prevent that from happening. Or maybe I’m just too much of a wimp.

Finally I set the phone onto the gravelly surface of the roof and turn it so that her message is hollering at the building across the street. Then I pull my knees to my chest and fall forward, sobbing into my crossed arms.

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I cry because my ex-boyfriend left me for someone cheap and obvious. I cry because I know I’ll probably never see him or Lorraine or anyone from that chapter of my life ever again. And I cry because there’s absolutely no one I can talk to about this. I can’t write a mopey-dopey letter to Lorraine. All she would do is tell me to throw myself at the nearest rodeo star. I can’t tell Penny because she’s, well…

Penny.
I can’t tell Drip or Mrs. Pratt or anyone from Lakewood High. And most of all, I can’t tell Rosie or Les—because they’re the main reason I’m in this sorry-ass state.

Clearly the peppermint tea didn’t help that much, because it feels like a giant bear claw is squeezing my stomach. It’s the Stabbies—only they seem to have morphed into something more monstrous.

One thing is made totally clear in this whole nuclear winter of a mess: I can’t go through this again. No matter what, I can’t let down my guard and get comfortable here in Austin. No friends, no fun, and
definitely
no love life. I’ll still go out with Jack tonight (if I cancel, Mrs. Pratt might get all suspicious again), but I’ll make damn sure I don’t enjoy myself.

And Jack won’t either.

T
IP: Boyfriends are strictly forbidden. If you find yourself accidentally out on a date, sabotage
it with all your might.

If all else fails, show pictures of your bare butt.

You’d think
I’d somehow magically reunited the Beatles and asked them over for tea. Ever since I informed my parents that someone would be picking me up later—and that the someone was a guy—they’ve been all super-charged and extra weird.

Rosie is especially squealy. She keeps burning various incenses and draping the furniture with different-colored silk scarves.

“Do you think he’d like green tea? Or Red Zinger?” she asks, holding up a tin in each hand.

“Uhhh, neither? Because he’s only picking me up,” I reply, kind of irritably.

“What did you say this young man’s name was?” Les asks me for the third time.

“Jack!” Great Gandhi. How can the name Jack be so hard to remember?

In keeping with my Strangest Day Ever on Record, my parents are doing more to get ready for my date than I am. Of course, that’s not too difficult, since I’m doing nothing.

After letting my hair dry in the wind to obtain an electroshocked disco queen–type look, I went downstairs and grabbed the ugliest, most antidate outfit I could find: a hairy-looking wool skirt and matching jacket, both the color of lemon-lime Gatorade. I then added rhinestone-studded cat’s-eye granny glasses and a pair of white nurse’s shoes.

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“I hope he likes Dylan,” Les says, starting up
Blonde on Blonde
on the old-fashioned record player.

I hope he doesn’t.

Rosie has apparently decided on green tea and has already started the kettle going. Now she’s skipping about the apartment, spraying her rose oil–scented water.

“You guys! Why are you doing all this?” I whine.

“He’s only going to be here for a few seconds.”

“Oh, honeybee! We’re just so happy you’ve made a friend!” Rosie dances over and gives me a chest-compressing hug. When she lets go, she spritzes me a little with her water.

Just then, the downstairs buzzer sounds.

“I’ll get it!” I shout, sprinting down the stairs in my thick-soled shoes. Rosie and Les come tromping after me.

It’s Jack. I can see the stick-straight part in his hair through the transom window as I go down.

Okay. Let’s just get this over with. I try on an expression I hope isn’t too glum or too eager and yank open the door.

“Hi, there,” I say.

“Hi,” says Rosie.

“Hey,” says Les.

Jack leans back a little, taking it all in. I can’t tell if he’s overwhelmed by the sheer ugliness of my outfit or the fact that my parents are grinning at him over my shoulders. I must look like a three-headed, windblown senior citizen.

“Hi,” he says, reverting to his young bureaucrat self. “I’m Jack. Jack Krebs.” He gives my parents a little wave.

“Rosie,” my mother says, thrusting her arm out through the space beneath my right sleeve. Jack grabs her hand and shakes it.

“And I’m Les.” His arm comes out the other side.

“Nice to meet you,” Jack says, shaking his hand as well.

“Won’t you come upstairs for some tea?” Rosie asks.

Say no!
I command mentally.
No. No!

“Sure. We have time,” Jack replies with a quick glance at his watch.

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He steps inside and gives me a smile. “You smell great,” he says.

“Thanks.” I can practically hear Rosie beaming behind me. At least he didn’t say I
looked
great.

Unlike me, Jack has obviously taken extra care with his appearance this evening. His yellow shirt and khaki slacks seem freshly ironed and his cheeks have the faint gleam of a recent shave. He’s even wearing a tie—dark blue with black slanted stripes. And as he heads up the stairs in front of me, I notice the glow given off by his loafers. Did he shine his shoes?

“Come on in!” Rosie sings, sweeping her arm toward the inside of the apartment.

“How do you like your tea?” Les asks Jack. “With sugar? Honey? Lemon?”

“Uh, just plain is fine. Thanks.”

As Les disappears into the kitchen nook, Rosie practically pushes Jack into the fabric-draped armchair.

“Please make yourself at home,” she commands.

Rosie settles onto the overstuffed pillow at his feet and proceeds to grin at him. I perch on the ottoman directly across from Jack, enjoying his bewildered expression. It occurs to me that my parents’ insisting on his having tea might not be a bad thing after all. What better way to show him how weird my home life is—how completely the opposite of his own?

“Look at that,” Rosie mutters as she gazes at Jack. “You have the greenest aura I’ve seen in a while.”

“I…I do?” Jack shifts his eyes toward me as if to ask “Is she for real?” I just smile back.

Rosie reaches toward him but doesn’t touch him. “Do healing powers run in your family?”

“Well…I have an older brother who’s studying to be an immunologist….”

“See that? I just knew it.” Rosie presses her hands together in front of her and nods at him—her ultimate sign of acceptance. “What about you? Are you going to heal people too?”

“Ah…no.” He chuckles nervously. “I’m actually going into law.”
Figures,
I think.

Rosie keeps nodding. “I see. And why is that?”

“I don’t know. I just find it interesting.”

“Heeeeeeere’s your tea!” Les steps into the living area as if he were bounding onto a stage and hands Jack a cup and saucer.

“Thanks.” A confused look flits across Jack’s face and I realize he’d been expecting
iced
tea.

“Isn’t our baby beautiful, Jack? Isn’t she a moonbeam?” Les walks over and grabs my nose, wriggling it until my granny glasses go all crooked.

“Yeah, she is,” Jack replies, smiling at me.

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Les has let go of my nose and is now gazing down at me all misty-eyed. “The midwife told us she’d never seen such a blessed-looking infant. Here. Let me show you.” He hops over to a nearby shelf and pulls out a cloth-bound photo album.

“Oh no. Les, don’t. Please?” I protest.

But as usual, my father doesn’t choose to hear me. He plops down on the arm of Jack’s chair and opens the book, holding it sideways for Jack. Rosie climbs onto the other chair arm and starts giggling and clapping her hands. “Oh, I just love these pictures!” she exclaims.

“See there? And there,” Les says, pointing. “Doesn’t she look wise?”

“So in tune with the Universe,” Rosie muses. “And the most adorable dimpled butt!”

“I can see that,” Jack says with an amused smile.

I let out a small groan and throw back my head, preferring the swirl patterns on the ceiling to the sight of the three people gawking at my naked newborn posterior.

“Wow. Where was that taken?” Jack asks.

“Mirror Lake, Alaska.”

“And there?”

“That was in Little Falls, Minnesota.”

“Wow,” Jack says again. “Maggie said you guys have moved around. You’ve really seen a lot of the country.”

“The world has so much to offer,” Rosie says.

“See those shots?” Les goes on. “They were taken when we lived in Harpers Ferry. And these were from that Buddhist lodge outside Colorado Springs.”

The campouts by the waterfall. The tepees in Sedona…
Since it’s one of our few material possessions, I have the entire scrapbook memorized.

All of a sudden I jump to my feet, remembering what’s on the next page: our shots from the nudist colony in Palm Springs. Mind you, I was only ten years old at the time, but still. It’s not the same as baby butt shots.

“Hey! Uh…don’t you think we should be going?” I nod, gesture, and basically lean my whole body toward the stairwell. “Traffic can get kind of slow around now.” I have no idea about the traffic. It just seems like an urgent thing to say.

“Right,” Jack says. “The restaurant isn’t far, but I don’t know about their parking.” To my relief, Les closes the photo album and sets it back on the shelf while Rosie takes Jack’s cup and saucer.

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“Thanks so much for the drink,” Jack says as he stands and smooths out his pants. “It was nice to meet you.”

I see him start to offer his hand, but Rosie throws her arms around him and kisses him on the cheek.

Then Les comes over and does his best Yogi bow. It’s all I can do not to laugh at Jack’s stunned expression.

“Come by whenever you like,” Rosie says as she and Les walk him to the stairs.

“Thanks,” Jack says.

They stop at the doorway and Jack joins me on the top step.

“You kids have a great time,” Les says.

“We will. And don’t worry”—Jack looks right at Les—“I won’t keep her out late.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s a beautiful night,” Les remarks. “You two should do some stargazing.” Jack doesn’t seem to know what to say to this, so I gently tug on his sleeve. “Let’s go,” I say.

“Right.”

“Bye! Have fun!” Les and Rosie call after us as we head down the stairs and out the door.

Jack pauses on the back stoop and shakes his head, staring into the distance. “Your parents…,” he mumbles. “They’re…”

Out of touch with reality?
I finish mentally.
Full of nutty goodness?

“…nice,” he says finally.

“Yeah,” I mutter as I walk toward his truck. “That’s one way of putting it.” Jack takes me to a semiswanky Japanese restaurant called Yin-Yang on the west side of town. The decor is all black-and-white funky and everywhere you look there’s a giant aquarium. We’re seated by a beautiful hostess in a kimono not too different from the one I wore to school. I wonder if that outfit made him think I’d like this place.

“I hear the fish is excellent,” he says in an authoritative voice, pressing the end of his tie against him as he plops into his chair.

“I’m vegetarian,” I declare loudly.

Just so you know, I am not one of those vegetarians who think anyone who eats meat should be made into burgers. I just figure my saying so will make Jack feel uncomfortable. Which it does.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, clapping his hand to his forehead. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”
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I shake my head. “No. It’s fine.”

“Man, I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I should have asked. That was stupid of me.”

“Really. It’s okay. They have nonmeat dishes here.”

“Then I won’t order meat either.”

“Order whatever you want.”

“But if it will upset you—”

“It’s all right,” I interrupt. I’d wanted to stress him out, but now it’s just getting annoying. “Really. Don’t have a cow.” I start laughing. “Or
do
have a cow. Or a chicken. Or pig.” He smiles. “Mmmm. Sounds so appetizing when you put it that way.”

“Hey, it’s your colon,” I say with a shrug.

“All right.” He sighs. “Bean curd it is.”

I manage not to laugh, but my mouth still boings up into a smile.

We sit and stare at our menus and listen to the gurgly noise of the aquarium beside us. Jack keeps yanking his shirt cuffs, and his Adam’s apple bobbles with repeated swallows. Strange that he should be so nervous and extra careful when all I want is to have a horrible time and go home.

A waitress in a bright red kimono walks up to take our order. I envy how easily she moves in her outfit.

I watch her to see if I can pick up any pointers, but all I can figure is that her body must have better contours for it.

I order the vegetables teriyaki and a cup of shiitake mushroom soup, and Jack orders the assorted vegetables in ponzu sauce and the miso soup.

“See? I can do the no-meat thing,” he says after the waitress sashays off to another table.

“Actually, you didn’t. Ponzu sauce has fish in it.”

His face falls so quickly and completely that I crack up.

“Aw, man! I’m sorry,” he says. “Maybe I can bring her back.” He twists around and starts to raise his right hand.

“Stop!” I screech, reaching forward to grab his other arm. “It’s okay! The sight of ponzu sauce won’t make me faint. I promise!”

“All right, all right. Sorry,” he says, facing forward again. Then he looks down at my hand on his wrist.

I quickly let go and pull my arms under the table. “No big deal,” I mutter, rubbing my palms on my itchy skirt.

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He grins another one of his top-hat-and-tuxedo smiles and I realize I’ve just given him some hope. I should have let him freak out about the fish.

“You know,” he begins, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, “it was nice to meet your parents and see all those pictures.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. I want to know more about you.”

“Why?” The word just sort of pushes past my lips. It’s been darting around inside me ever since he asked me out.
Why me?
I’m doing everything I can to be ugly and weird. He should see me as the world’s most embarrassingly bad date, and yet here he is. Here
I
am.

His eyes blink wide. “Uh…because I just do. I think you’re…fascinating.”

“Why?” I repeat.

“I don’t know. Because you’re you.” He shakes his head and lets out a meek little chuckle. “That was lame, huh? Some lawyer I am. What I mean is…I’ve never met anyone like you.” Oh. So
that’s
it. I’m different. I’m a case he wants to crack open. A debate he wants to win. An Eagle Scout’s wildest merit badge. As president of the Helping Hands and all-around brownnoser, he cannot resist the chance to adopt a poor, unenlightened savage like me.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while, but…” He trails off and shrugs.

“But what?” I ask, unable to help myself.

“I thought you’d say no.” The grin returns, as if he suddenly remembers that I
didn’t
say no, and that I really do want to be out with him.