My Awesome/Awful Popularity Plan (5 page)

“Justin, wait for me!” It was Pamela, but she was busy wrapping up all of her fifty inches of hair to put underneath her beret.

I’ve seen this process before and it takes five to ten
minutes. “No time!” I said, turning my head briefly, causing me to bump into Ms. Horvath’s desk.

“Ow, my sciatica!” she yelled raspily, which of course led her into a coughing fit. I had no time to wait around and read the angry note she was undoubtedly writing a rough draft of in her head.

Aha! As I raced outside, I saw the loving couple on the front steps of the school.
Uh-oh
, I thought as I skidded to a stop. Once I reached them, what would I do? Even if I asked Chuck for the homework assignment again, I’d get the answer in ten seconds. I needed a reason to hang out with them. I suddenly thought of one as I saw Becky pick up her cell phone and start dialing.

“Hey!” I panted as I walked over and stood next to them. “If either of you needs a lift home, my mom’s coming for me.”

Becky hung up her cell. “That’s sweet of you, Justin.” She looked over at Chuck, who shook his head, and then said, “I don’t think Chuck does ’cause he lives right behind the school, but I’d love one. If you’re sure your mom won’t mind.”

“Not at all!” I said, proud of my quick thinking.

“Thanks,” said Becky.

Silence.

I wanted to talk to Chuck but I couldn’t think of anything to say besides “I love you.”

“Hey, Becky,” I said, to prevent myself from declaring something that was, perhaps, too soon to say, “congrats on that A in Advanced Bio.”

She sighed. “I had to study so much for that test my eyes still hurt.”

“Really?” I asked. “I didn’t think it was that hard.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you didn’t. You always get As in bio, even on surprise quizzes.” She laughed without humor. “Maybe my father could adopt you so
you
can be the doctor in the family.” She looked over at Chuck and brightened. “Hey, Justin,” she said with a wink. “Wanna practice for Mrs. Hall’s class?” Mrs. Hall was our theater teacher. I knew immediately what she meant.

“Sure!” I said.

I aggressively grabbed her and dipped her for the fake make-out.

“What the hell!” Chuck yelled.

I suddenly felt on my body two hands I had been fantasizing about touching me. Unfortunately, instead of caressing me, they were forcefully pulling me away from Becky.

“Relax, Chuck!” Becky said, laughing as I caught my breath. “We’re practicing stage kissing … for acting class. It’s not real.”

Chuck looked embarrassed … and gorgeous.

“Anyway,” she said, obviously for my benefit, “why should you care? We’re broken up.”

I already knew the real deal but didn’t comment.

Chuck nodded and said stiffly, “You’re right, Becky. We are.”

Ouch. If that was his version of convincing, maybe
he
was the one who needed acting class.

“OK, Becks,” he said awkwardly. “So, uh … I guess I’ll see you when that report is due. Around eleven.”

That didn’t make any sense, but I knew what his clunky cover-up really meant. I was annoyed that he was about to leave. My plan was not to wait here with Becky but to get some quality time with Chuck. I heard a car turning into the school lot. I looked and saw that it wasn’t my mom’s. It was some kind of red sports car.

“Oh no!” said Becky in a frightened whisper. “It’s my father!”

“I thought his car was broken,” I said.

“He’s driving my mother’s car. She must have come home early.”

She suddenly looked at me and we both realized that she never told me about her father’s car being in the shop. I had read it on Chuck’s computer screen.

She looked at me quizzically. “How did you know—”

“Becky!” Her dad walked up with a big smile. He was an imposing six foot three with a youthful, handsome face but completely silver hair. “I’m so glad I caught you. You called a cab—”

He cut off abruptly when he saw Chuck. He turned toward Becky. His whole face changed. What had been open and friendly was now closed and steaming mad.

“What is he doing here?” he demanded.

“He’s a student in this school, Dad!” Becky said, exasperated.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. You know that your mother and I forbade you from seeing him anymore.”

Chuck stepped up to her father. “Dr. Phillips, we broke up last June like you wanted. We just happened to have detention today.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “You also just happened to be at Ben and Jerry’s that night I saw both of you. And at the Gap. And at the footbridge by the lake.”

Becky looked nervous. “Dad, stop! Chuck lives in this town. I can’t help it if he sometimes goes for ice cream or to the mall.”

Her father was silent. Then it looked like he made a decision.

“No, Becky, you can’t control the fact that he’s always nearby. However,
I
can.” He pointed his finger at her. “I’m taking you out of this school and enrolling you somewhere you can focus on your academics and
not
on the local quarterback.”

Becky looked stricken. So did I. If she transferred, it meant that Chuck would transfer, too. I couldn’t lose my boyfriend before I stole him.

“Dr. Phillips,” I said desperately, “you have to believe that Becky isn’t dating Chuck anymore.”

He looked at me quizzically. “Aren’t you Dr. Goldblatt’s son?”

I smiled. “Yes, sir. I am.”

He looked pleased. “I see your father at conferences often. Apparently”—he winked at me—“you’re a bio whiz.”

Oy. I hated it when my father bragged about my bio grades. Especially since I didn’t care about that crap at all. I wanted the Great White Way, not the alimentary canal.

He looked me up and down. “You’re a nice kid. Academically sound, obviously a gentleman … unlike some students.” He glared at Chuck and then looked back at me. “But why should I believe you?”

I looked at Chuck. He looked blank.

I looked at Becky. She looked devastated.

I realized what I had to do.

I stood next to Becky. “I know for a fact that Becky is through dating Chuck because”—I gave Becky an intense look, hoping she knew where I was going with this—“your daughter is now dating me!”

I turned toward her and immediately pulled her into our stage kiss. We held it for ten seconds and disengaged. Becky grabbed my hand and turned toward her father.

He was smiling.

RIGHT AFTER I “KISSED” BECKY
, I said a quick goodbye to her and excused myself to her dad by saying that I had a big bio exam to study for. I called my mom and told her I didn’t need a lift, and sprinted home. I had to make an emergency escape before her dad could question me. What if he asked me if I was serious about Becky? Or if we were going to the Spring Fling together? I didn’t want to give the wrong answer, so I skedaddled. I assumed her dad would very quickly see through our charade, but hopefully I had impressed Chuck with my quick thinking so that he’d feel he owed me something … something like a night on the town or a severe make-out session.

I stayed in my room for hours waiting for the phone to ring, my thoughts alternating between fear of Dr. Phillips yelling at me for lying and hope that Chuck would want to thank me. Finally I decided to go to bed and fell asleep replaying everything that had happened in front of the school,
sometimes substituting Chuck’s face for Becky’s in the final embrace. And by “sometimes” I mean “every time.”

Walking to school the next morning, I saw Becky waiting in front of the Roasted Bean.

“Here,” she said with a big grin while holding out a large to-go cup.

I took a sip and smiled. “How’d you know I love vanilla lattes?”

“How would I
not
know what my boyfriend drinks?” she asked.

Ha ha. I thought it was sweet that she wanted to thank me for yesterday.

I took another sip. Wow! She even put in six packets of Sugar in the Raw, just the way I like it. “OK, spill. How long did it take your father to figure it out?”

She laughed-snorted. “Are you kidding me? He’s so desperate for me to be with a future doctor, he’d believe I was dating Dr. Phil.”

She clutched my hand.

Wait a minute. Did
she
think we were dating?

She looked apologetic. “I know you usually like a double shot in the latte, but I ran out of money.”

What was happening? How did she know so much about me? Was I starring in an M. Night Shyamalan flick? And is that how you spell his last name? And does the
M
. stand for “Mid”?

She laughed. “Don’t look so scared. Chuck and I went to your Facebook page last night, and he quizzed me until I
memorized everything.” She started counting off things on her fingers. “Favorite drink: vanilla latte. Favorite all-time comedienne: Lucille Ball. Favorite all-time Broadway star: Patti LuPone.”

Not quite …

“… tied with Betty Buckley.”

Wow! She was good. “I’m impressed!” I said. “And confused.”

She grabbed my hand again. “Listen, Justin,” she said as we started walking, “I know it’s a big imposition, but if you and I could pretend that we’re dating, even for just a little while, it would really help me out.” Her pleading face looked so beautiful in the early-morning sunlight, I could see why Chuck loved her. “If my dad thinks we’re dating, he won’t keep checking up on me.”

The latte started to make sense. “I get it now. You were memorizing my Facebook profile so if your dad asks you questions about me, you’ll know how to answer.”

Her eyes lit up—that is, they went from shining to sparkling. “Exactly!”

We passed by the park where Spencer and I first revealed to each other that we were gay. There was a group of young moms wheeling their babies in expensive carriages while wearing designer sweatpants and ankle weights.

I thought about it. I liked her. She’d always been nice to me. But I didn’t feel like spending a month, or however long
she wanted, tricking her dad. It would definitely require some work on my part and take me away from my real goals—leaving my loser status and snagging Chuck. How would being her pretend boyfriend help me become his real one?

She kept talking. “Every time I leave the house, I’m scrutinized. But if my dad thinks I’m meeting you, he won’t care. I can go out every night.”

“And you’ll meet Chuck instead,” I said enviously.

“Well, I’ll meet both of you.”

WHAT?

“Both of us?” I managed to get out.

“Well, I can say I’m meeting you for dinner with some friends. Those ‘friends’ will be Chuck.”

I’d be hanging out with Chuck every night? “Um …,” I said slowly. I didn’t want to sound too desperate. Plus it’s hard to talk with drool in your mouth.

I swallowed. “What if your dad finds out Chuck is with us?”

She shook her head. “I actually don’t think he’d care. He is so certain you’re perfect for me, an actual bio whiz, he couldn’t imagine I’d still be interested in Chuck.” She looked me up and down. “You represent total trustworthiness to him. I don’t think he sees you as a threat to my virginity.”

That was truer than he even thought.

“As long as people think we’re dating, he’ll let me off his tight leash.”

“What do you mean ‘people’? Who besides your parents?”

“Justin! The only way to make this valid is for everyone to believe it … not just my dad.”

All the kids in school were supposed to believe I’m dating Becky? I’m known as the school poster boy for gayness. And out-of-shapeness. No one would believe that Becky was into me.

She snapped in front of my face to bring me out of my trance. “I know what you’re thinking, and we just have to do that Nazi shtick.”

What? I’m Jewish! I’m certainly willing to pretend I’m straight to gain popularity, but a member of the Third Reich? Am I that desperate?

“What kind of a Nazi shtick?” I asked. “The fun Mel Brooks kind? Or the unfun Joseph Goebbels kind?”

Becky laughed. And an angel got her wings. “I don’t
literally
mean be a Nazi, silly!” She said it kind of loudly, prompting a glare from a passing elderly couple. “I mean we have to adopt that technique we just learned about in social studies.”

Oh! She meant the Nazi Big Lie technique. The Nazis would make up a lie and repeat it over and over fervently, without wavering, until people started believing it. We also learned that it was a technique used by our own Bush administration. Hmm … I guess that was one way they kicked it old-school. I tried it only once on my mom (“I was
not
on YouTube watching old Tony Award clips until three a.m. on a school night!”) but discovered that it doesn’t work when your
mom literally walks in on you watching said Tony Award clips at three a.m. on a school night. That was my only foray into using that technique and it had failed miserably. Dare I try it again? Would any kid in this school buy me as being straight? Or believe that Becky would choose me after the hotness that is Chuck?

As if Becky read my mind, she said, “Let’s see if it works. Here comes Savannah Lichtenstein.”

Savannah is wealthy and gorgeous, with perfectly highlighted blond hair, but despite her money and looks, she’s stuck in a high-middle social echelon because her mom fancies herself an undiscovered designer and makes all of Savannah’s school outfits. Her clothes are actually always great-looking but obviously never have any of the designer labels that the girls at our school covet. In fact, the only label her clothes sport is a big
Lichtenstein
that her mother sews onto every outfit, always in a different spot. It doesn’t quite carry the same clout as, say, Versace. But it does have almost double the letters for maximum awkwardness. This time I spotted the
Lichtenstein
on the bottom left cuff of her flared pants. She was coming down the block perpendicular to us and we were all approaching the same corner.