How to Hook a Bookworm (18 page)

A squeak from down the hall jolts us all, pulling our attention to the sound. Adam’s sneakers chirp again as he skids around the corner, glasses slightly tilted on his face and backpack gripped in his fist. He spots us sitting on the ground, and I don’t know what possesses my limbs to move, but move they do. And fast.

I stumble to my feet and speed walk to meet him halfway down the hall. My arms don’t wrap around him, but curl into myself as I smack into his chest and let him wrap around me. The cotton on his shirt is soaked in seconds, and I’m not even sorry or embarrassed about it. Because I realize something else as his cheek comes down to rest on the top of my head and he grips his wrist behind my back to lock me against him…
He’s
the one I need.

“You’re supposed to be in class,” I breathe out between stifled sobs.

His arms tighten around me. “When your friend texts you that someone very important is having a rough day, you drop everything that is less important.”

I nod into his chest, not even caring about Jolie texting him. I’m actually happy she did. “Can you take me…?” I was going to say home, but I can’t. My house won’t help. Seeing Levi or my mom… I can’t go to Jay’s, and Sierra and Jolie are both sitting up against my locker. Where can he take me that will make this better?

He shifts, his backpack hitting the back of my knees. “Yes,” he answers without hearing where, and I guess it doesn’t matter to him anyway. He loosens his grip on me, but doesn’t let go. It’s now just one arm around me and not two. I see him nod over my head to the girls behind us, and before we can walk farther I stop him. I tell him with my eyes to give me just a sec.

Sierra and Jolie are both standing, looking just as scared as they did two minutes ago before Adam got here. I’m not much for the touchy feely, but today I’m doing a whole lotta things I’m not much for.

I walk back to give them both airtight hugs and say, “I’ll be okay, really. Thank you.”

“Please call us or text or anything if you want to talk or hang or forget or whatever, okay?”

I nod and my eyes drop to all the torn tests I threw at the ground. I vow to let them in about Jay, about Mom, and everything else later. Right now, I’m grateful they aren’t pulling it out of me, and they’re letting me seek comfort in the friend who I really need. They get it, and I love them for it.

Adam’s arm goes back around my shoulders when I step up to him. His lips somewhat press the top of my head, and he doesn’t ask if I’m okay. He doesn’t ask me where I want to go. He squeezes me tight to his side and leads me to his Geo.

With a light smile, he sets his iPod to my playlist, and then he just drives.

Chapter 22

Maybe I’m not too young to be in love.

My nose is raw. I’ve sniffled so many times in just the past hour, I’m sure I’m driving Adam nuts. But he hasn’t said anything about it. He’s claimed my hand in his, running soothing circles over my knuckles as I cuddle with him on his living room couch.

“I did something stupid yesterday,” he says, staring at the ceiling. I don’t answer. I do stupid things constantly because I
am
stupid.

He spreads my fingers out to play with the ring on my pointer. “You warned me about
Paranormal Activity
, and I watched it anyway.”

My mouth twitches at the corners, almost as if it knows it wants to smile, but not sure if it remembers how.

“You were up all night, weren’t you?”

His hand moves to my chin, tilting my face up. I see his eyebrows pull together under his glasses as he taps against my cheek. When he examines his thumb, it’s wet.

“Brea, what happened?”

My stomach hollows. Jay asked me the same thing, and I opened up. For the first time, I really opened up to my boyfriend and he… he agreed with me. It hurt having it confirmed. But I know if I heard the same thing from Adam, it’d be devastating. I’d be beyond repair. Which maybe, I already am.

I shut my eyes, feeling small tears slide from my lashes down my cheeks. I shake my head. I can’t talk about it. If I say the words out loud too many times, it solidifies them.

Adam adjusts again, sitting upright and forcing me to do the same. He squeezes my knee. “Please?” he says. “I can’t help you feel better if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“My… my grades.”

He doesn’t make me say it. I slap my hands over my face and choke on my sobs. I hate my brain. I hate my incompetence. I can’t fix it, and he can’t either. He’s tried.

“It’s not test anxiety, Adam,” I say through my fingers. “I’m stupid. I’m a flat-out airhead. I’m the stereotypical dumb blonde who can’t solve a math problem, or string two sentences together correctly. I can’t pull out facts about something that happened a billion years ago. My brain is defective. I can’t get a job. I can’t pass my classes. I never have any brilliant ideas or advice. No wonder things go to hell around me. I’m too stupid to realize what I’m doing is a bad decision or the wrong decision. I’m completely brainless—”

“Stop.” Adam presses a hand to my mouth, his eyes pinched. He looks downright pissed. “Stop, please. You are not stupid, brainless, or an airhead. You are strong, tenacious, and
smart
.”

“No I’m not,” I muffle into his hand, but he pushes it harder against my mouth.

“There are different ways of being smart. Millions of ways.”

“I’m not any of them.”

He growls and pushes from the couch. My hair pops with static as I sit up. I get it; I’m being a pain in the butt. But does
he
get it? I can’t do this. My brain won’t work that way.

After tugging on the collar of his shirt, he presses his eyes closed and says, “There’s this book called
Multiple Intelligences
. You heard of it?”

I shake my head, and even though he doesn’t see me answer, he continues anyway.

“You’re an artist, right?”

My shoulders lift. “I guess… I don’t know.”

“You are. You’re good.” He turns into a crouch in front of me, resting his elbows on his knees. “Did you know that’s a type of intelligence? There’s something in your brain that tells your hand to move a certain way. It sends signals indicating how to hold the pencil, how to stroke the page, how to transfer the picture from your mind to the paper. And not many people have it. But you do.”

He knocks my knees with his knuckles. I’m ready to argue with him. That doesn’t count. Being an artist has nothing to do with being smart, but he holds up a finger.

“People think that you have to be book smart to be smart at all. That’s not true. Not in the slightest. The smartest people I know are smart because of other things. And because you’re being stubborn, I’m going to use you as an example.”

My whole body goes on the fritz when he falls from his crouch to his knees, putting our faces closer. He’s not about to tell me to cheat. He’s not going to feed me some bullshit to make me feel better. He’s about to say something he absolutely means. I hope I can hear it over my thundering heart.

“You have the amazing ability to be yourself no matter what other people think. That’s something in your brain. It’s actually an extremely
developed
part of your brain. You protect yourself from what doesn’t matter and focus on what does. Like caring about your family, your friends, your grades… instead of the superficial things. Even grown people haven’t been able to do it.”

“Do what?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around how my piss poor attitude is actually a good thing.

“Prioritize.”

I shake my head at the carpet, biting back what feels like a smile. “I think you’re reaching.”

“Okay… then I’ll bring up the fact that you have a killer memory. When we studied a few weeks ago, you knew down to the month of when we met. You remembered what pen leaked all over my shirt. Probably could tell me how much that candle was I bought on your birthday.”

“$3.78. Which was way too much.”

He smirks, and I realize I just proved his point.

“Adam, I only remember those things because…”
Because they’re about him.
And that hits me like a brick to the forehead.

I don’t finish that sentence, and he must think it’s because I don’t have a reason, but I do. There’s just no way I’m saying it out loud.

“You recall things quickly. Once they’re up there”—he nods at my head—“it takes a lot for them to leave.”

I throw my hands in the air. “Then why am I failing? If I have this great memory or whatever? Why the hell can’t I take tests?” My hands slam over my face, and I rest my elbows on my knees. “You can’t keep arguing with my grades. No matter what you say, the results say otherwise.”

“You want to know why you’re failing?” he says, and his voice is strong yet soft. He tugs on my hands so I look at him. His warm eyes shine behind his glasses. “Because you refuse to believe that you know the answer. You look at all the choices, notice the familiar one, and talk yourself out of it. You don’t think it could possibly be correct because it’s the one you think is right. It’s your own head. It’s you. You’re so convinced that you’re stupid. But you’re
not
. You’re
intelligent
. You know the answer, you just have to know that you know it.”

He takes my hands in his, and with his touch the confusing world stops spinning. Every piece of my body floats to the ceiling, like the ten thousand pound anvil was finally lifted off my head. I slide my hands out of his and loop my arms around his neck, anchoring myself so I don’t fly away.

“You actually believe everything you just said, don’t you?” I ask. His pulse races near my cheek as he nods, then warm hands circle my waist, pull me in, and I want to be in farther. Deeper. Closer.

We end up lying down on the couch, his glasses pushing against my hair, my hip smooshing a book that’s stuck in the cushions. His breathing is ragged at first, then it evens out after a few long minutes, and then light snores rumble his nose.

I
do
know the answers. I know them all. Not just with school, but with
everything
.

Open up to Mom.

Open up to Levi.

Open up to Jay.

Open up to my teachers.

Open up.

And the biggest answer I know still sits on the edge of my lips, never escaping. Because I can’t tell Adam how I feel. The words won’t come, even though I know what the words are now.

I am completely through the roof, over the moon, skyrocketing through space in love with my best friend.

Chapter 23

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

Jay: I think we need to talk

Brea: Yeah. I was thinking the same thing

Jay: I’m sorry about earlier

Brea: I know

Jay: I don’t think it’s working

Brea: Me neither

Brea: Can I ask you something though?

Jay: Shoot

Brea: Why did you even want me?

Jay: You’re hot

Brea: Well, that’s a good reason ;)

Jay: I dunno, Brea. You made me nervous. No one’s ever made me nervous before.

Jay: Did you EVER want me?

Brea: Yes. But I wasn’t being fair because I wanted parts of you. Not the whole thing. And that’s totally messed up and I’m so sorry about that.

Jay: Why not the whole thing?

Brea: I have a hard time letting people in.

Jay: Guess I get that

Brea: Are we for real breaking up over text message?

Jay: lol. Looks that way.

Jay: Should we even try friends?

Brea: I’m always in need of those

Jay: See you around, then

Brea: See ya

Just like that, my first boyfriend becomes my first ex-boyfriend. Jolie tugs on the end of my hair a little before running a brush through it. I look at her in the mirror while she clips a large chunk of blonde strands to the top of my head.

“Wow,” I say, staring at my phone on top of the makeup table. “I feel… sad.”

“That’s a normal reaction, Brea.” Her fingers slide down a bundle of hair, smoothing it out before she runs the flat iron over it. “You want to talk about it?”

I take a deep breath and inhale the smell of sticky hairspray and heat from the straightener.

“It was my fault.”

Her hands stop on my head. Her eyes pop wide with surprise, and she quickly sets the flat iron down and takes a spot next to me, grasping to the edge of the table.

“Um,” she tries to say calmly, like the shock of me actually saying what’s wrong isn’t causing her brain to short circuit like it is. “Why do you think that?”

“Honestly? I was with him to kind of… I don’t know… forget all the crap I’m going through.” I play with the hem of my shorts. Which are really Sierra’s shorts. Do I own anything?

“Did he help you forget?”

Blush fills my cheeks. “He’s a
really
good kisser.” We sort of laugh, and she runs a reassuring hand over my knee. I’ve never had that before. I don’t talk things out often—other than with Adam, who I
cannot
talk to about this—so having a concerned and genuine response jolts me.

“It helped me forget,” I say. “But it didn’t exactly make me…”

“Happy?” she finishes, and I nod.

“I didn’t let him know anything about me. I never really got to know about him either. So when we weren’t kissing, we’d just get on each other’s nerves, I think. I know he wasn’t cool about Adam tutoring me. And I wasn’t too happy when he suggested I cheat to boost my grades.”

“He
what
?”

I wave my hand in the air and shake my head at my knees. “It’s not a big deal. I wasn’t going to go through with it, and he was fine with that I think. He just didn’t want me turning to Adam every time I had a problem.”

“Possessive much?”

“Yeah… but… he was right.”

Her eyebrows rise, and she leans in. Warmth rushes through my face once more and words I never thought I could say out loud pour from my mouth.

“He was right… because I
do
feel things for Adam. Like beyond the friendship type of things. He makes me go crazy inside all the way to the outside. Look at my freaking arms. Just thinking about him gives me goose bumps. So Jay’s paranoia over me spending too much time with Adam was completely justified. There were times—
several
times—when I forgot all about having a boyfriend and wanted to kiss my best friend instead. I kept remembering how his lips felt, how gentle his hands were, how lovingly he kissed me and I’d—”

“Hold the freak up!” Jolie squeals, her jaw somewhere on her lap. “How lovingly
Adam
kissed you?
When did this happen
?”

My lips refuse to do anything but grin, and my cheeks look like ripe strawberries when I look in the mirror. “My birthday.”

“Shut. Up.”

“You can’t tell Sierra. Then she’ll tell Levi, and it’ll be a mess. I don’t want to mess things up with Adam, please.”

She zips her lips and locks them. Then she bounces on her feet, a clip loosening in her black hair. “I’ve been waiting and
waiting
for you to finally admit that you like him.”

“It won’t do me any good. You guys are all graduating this year.” I twist a hairband around my wrist. “And you know him. He’s a freaking genius. He’ll probably be headed to Columbia or Cornell… somewhere not here.”

“Then you have to tell him.” Jolie’s eyes get big, and she pulls on the wrist I’m fiddling around with. “You need to say something before he’s gone or you’ll never get to.”

I gulp, blink a few times, and shake my head. “I did already. I left him a rambly and embarrassing voicemail last week at our slumber party. And you know what he said? Absolutely
nothing
.”

“You told him you liked him? While you had a boyfriend?”

“Not exactly. I told him he meant a lot to me.”

“While you had a boyfriend,” she repeats.

I let out a sigh. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t have to say it. I’ve caught up to her train of thought already. Adam probably ignored it because of Jay. He probably ignored it because he didn’t want to get involved with another friend only to have her run off with another guy or whatever. I get that. And now I feel stupid again.

“Well, I still think you should tell him. Like, to his face.”

“Fat chance in hell.” I laugh, and she wrinkles her nose at my swear. “It was hard enough telling you.”

“I’m happy you did.” She gives me a quick hug then goes back to standing behind me to finish my hair. “And don’t feel too guilty about Jay. We all make mistakes, and you’ve obviously learned from this one.”

I let myself smile. Yes, I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. My best friend who I’m in love with probably won’t be around next year. My mom and I still haven’t talked, and Levi is nowhere closer to living on his own and doing what he wants. My grades still suck ass.

But you know… I feel better anyway.

***

“Um, wow.” Jolie’s eyes bug straight off her face as we look around the wedding hall. Half the room is decked out in red and black, the other in green and blue. They meet in the middle of an alcove shaped like the Death Star. The ushers at the doors are dressed as C3PO and R2D2, and they
really
love their characters. The 3PO guy cocks his head side to side as he asks us, “Bride or groom?” in authentic droid.

My eyes scan the place for Levi, because holy wow, I need a picture of whatever getup he has to wear for this thing, and I’m posting it all over his Facebook.

“Bride,” Jolie answers, and then drags me along with her as C3PO takes us to our seats on the left. There’s a massive wookie sitting in the front row, adjusting the fur near his crotch. Jolie’s phone is out, and she’s snapping pictures as fast as she can.

“This is epic,” I say as she captures wookie man digging at his penis. “We need to find Sierra and Levi.”

“Right?” she slides off the bench, leaving her jacket to save the seat. “Come on. I want to check out the rest of the place anyway.”

I fix my flowy light pink skirt and follow her through one of the side hallways. The lights are turned off, and red light saber-esk tubes line the floor so we can see where we’re going. “Levi has to be down this way. I think the groomsmen were all Sith Lords.”

“I’d call him, but I think we’re both almost out of minutes.”

We follow the curve in the hallway, and light finally filters in up ahead. I can hear a booming voice say, “Zak, I am your father.” Then a bunch of laughter at the attempted Darth Vader.

“Um, girls on their way!” I call out as we approach a semi-open door. It smells like boy. “Cover up any privates.”

Levi pokes his head out, and I can’t hold in my gut-bursting laughter. He’s wearing a fake bald head, eyes blacked out into starburst looking things, and there’s what looks like a birthmark on his forehead. He ducks out of the room, and the full costume takes effect. I can tell it’s one of Sierra’s creations. Formal, yet still Star Wars. Shredded black fabric and worn as some type of cloak.

“Hey.”

“Oh my gosh.” Jolie can barely talk over her giggles. “Who are you supposed to be?”

He goes to scratch his head, but stops because of the makeup. “Some guy named Darth Bane. Zoe made me ‘Wookieepedia’ him.”

I reach out to poke the bald head, and Levi bats my hand away. Jolie won’t stop taking pictures.

“Do you have to wear it all night?”

“I hope not. This stuff itches.” He points to his eyes. “But I’ll probably keep the outfit. It’s pretty comfortable. Better than a monkey suit.”

I roll my eyes. “You have to say that or your girlfriend will beat you up.”

“Yeah probably.”

“Do you know where she’s at?” Jolie asks, tucking her phone in her bra.

Levi nods down the hall we just walked through. “Bridal is on the other side. Just follow the red light sabers, turn left when you get to the main seating area, then find the blue light sabers.”

I really can’t take him seriously in that thing. My stomach hurts so much from both laughing and trying
not
to laugh.

“Thanks. Have fun out there,” I tease, and he pulls me into a bizarre hug where he pretends to smear all his makeup on my face.

Once we get through the light saber maze, the smells of flowery perfumes and strawberry lip-gloss filters through the hall. When Jolie knocks on the door, Sierra flings it open and dives into our arms, still in her yoga pants and T-shirt. Her hair is in Princess Leia buns.

“Please tell me you visited the guys already.”

“We just came from there, why?”

She pushes us in, and it actually looks like a normal bridal room. Zoe’s sitting in a white gown, her red hair done in these absolutely perfect braids pinned with light purple flowers. Her makeup is done like a Star Wars character, but her eyes bug out and her whole body is twitching.

“Now,” Sierra says, waving at her sister, “tell her that Zak is still here. He still wants to get married, even though Zoe wanted a Star Wars theme and not X-Men.”

Zoe huffs. “You don’t get it. X-Men is
our thing
. I should’ve gone with that instead. He’ll think I’m totally insensitive that I didn’t think of it to begin with. But by the time I did, we’d already planned most of everything, paid for some of it, and set the date. I mean… it’s
May fourth!

I share a look with Sierra who mouths, “May the fourth be with you.”

Zoe pushes her face into her hands. “But then who’d be who? He’d want me to be Jean Grey. I’d want him to be Gambit. And those two do not get together! Star Wars makes sense, but why should I care about it making sense. It makes sense to us. But…it’s too late.”

She starts pulling at her gown, and I feel like I’ve stepped into a soap opera, geek edition.

“Zak’s still here. He was laughing and joking around with the Star Wars stuff even,” I say, trying to be reassuring, but not knowing how the heck to achieve it.

“Joking about our wedding?” Her wide eyes get wider. “I knew I blew it!”

She slams her head down on the vanity, and Sierra gives us a look that tells me she’s so beyond dealing with the drama.

“Look, I have to get ready. Would you guys just make sure she doesn’t ruin her makeup?”

“Do you need help?” Jolie offers, and I about backhand her because
hello
, don’t leave me alone with Princess Illogical.

Sierra shakes her head and disappears into a side room. Jolie and I take opposite sides of Zoe and alternate saying reassuring things, helpful things, jokes. We show her the pics of Levi which make her laugh. Jolie has to fix a little bit of Zoe’s makeup. Then a girl with dirty blonde hair, decked out in white makeup and one red strip on her bottom lip, walks in. Sierra must’ve made her costume too, a red and gold robe-like gown.

“I thought you were Padme?” Jolie asks Zoe, eyeing the bridesmaid I don’t know.

“I’m Sabe, Queen Amidala’s double,” the girl says. “But you can call me Ariana.” She looks pointedly at our non-Star Wars skirts and back at Zoe. “You’re not in the wedding party, right?”

We shake our heads.

“Good,” Ariana says, pinning a loose hair into her bun and grabbing a wig. She settles it on her head. “I was going to say if you were, you’d better get dressed ‘cause wedding bells are in ten.”