Romancing the Nerd (14 page)

About thirty minutes before the box office opens, the theater’s manager comes out and asks us if Beth and I want to help them by handing out the 3D glasses. Cara, who’s basically become kind of our agent during this whole thing, barters for free tickets in exchange for our help. The manager easily agrees.

The excitement and anticipation of the crowd becomes almost tangible as Beth and I pass out the glasses, spouting off classic Super Ones quotes.

“As I always say, ‘Go forth and be blindingly beautiful.’” Beth high fives a girl who goes to our school.

“Remember, ‘True friends never falter,’” I say to Maddie and Logan when I come upon them in the line.

“Oh my God, you guys look freaking awesome!” she squeals. “The cape, the hair, and even the utility belt? You nailed it!”

“Thanks, we—” I stop speaking at the sound of a familiar, jerky voice.

“If that’s what the chicks look like in the movie, I’m gonna need a barf bag or something.”

I turn to see Martin Hedge, one of Donovan’s lackeys and the guy who basically asked if I was easy, sneering in my direction.

Logan looks over his shoulder at him, too, scowling. Maddie puts a calming hand on my arm and says, “Did you make this cape by yourself?”

I open my mouth to answer, but Martin speaks again. “I mean, some chicks can pull off a mini-skirt and some can’t. Like, some just really can’t, ya know? Ha! I just made up a joke: what’s red and black and fat all over? That chick!”

My cheeks burn and I’m at a loss for words. Going from such a high to such a low throws off my return-insult game. I’m so used to being on the lookout for burns that I always try to have one on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not ready tonight.

“That’s it,” Logan says and stomps toward the theater entrance.

Maddie pats my back. “Don’t let that asshole get to you.”

I try to answer her, to brush off her insinuation that I care about what this guy says, but my throat won’t let me speak. It’s tight, holding back a sob. All I can manage is a nod and a smile. I can tell neither is convincing at all, because she tilts her head and sighs a sigh that says,
You’re too precious for this horrible world.

She puts an arm around my shoulders and I take a minute or two to get my shit together.

Logan comes back with the manager in tow.

The manager, who’s a tall, burly black guy, slaps Martin on the back. “Excuse me, sir, but I understand that you’ve been harassing my Finity Girl. Is that right?”

“What?” is all Martin says. The girl he’s with tries to defend him, but a bunch of the other moviegoers tell it how it is.

The manager whips out his phone and takes a picture of Martin. “Congratulations, you’ve just been banned from this theater for a year.”

Of course I feel like justice has been served, but Martin throws a stink eye at me and I know this isn’t over. A few people cheer as Martin and his date leave the line and head out into the parking lot.

I try to continue with my job, but every time I hand someone a pair of glasses, they either give me some type of pity comment or they kind of scowl at me. Like I’m a troublemaker or something. It was one thing to get good attention because of my awesome costume, but it’s another thing to get this kind of attention.

I bear with it until I finish with my side of the line, then I leave. I don’t even tell Beth and Cara that I’ve gone. I just text them when I get to my car.

Chapter Seventeen

Dan

It’s hard to do, but I give Zelda some space for the next few days. If she wants to talk to me, fine, but she needs to be ready. I was completely truthful about everything. When Martin started discussing who would be easy to hook up with, I pretty much tuned out until he said Zelda’s name. I had to think fast to get that idea out of his head.

It’s a little past midnight on Thursday night when my phone dings. This is a good thing, because I was having a zombie dream, and because it’s effyeahFinityGirl. The screen almost blinds me as I pull up our chat.

effyeahFinityGirl:
You up?

Me:
I wasn’t, but I’m glad I am now. I was being chased by a zombie Kardashian. It was TERRIFYING!

effyeahFinityGirl:
Oh, come on. I’m sure you could take one of them down easily. Which one was it?

Me:
They’re all kind of the same to me so I think my brain mooshed them together into this huge mega-Kardashian zombie. Scariest thing ever.

effyeahFinityGirl:
Well, it can’t be scarier than what I had to deal with tonight.

Me:
Was it a Bieber zombie? I bet it was a Bieber zombie.

effyeahFinityGirl:
Nope.

Wow, not even an “lol”? My Bieber jokes usually make her laugh. Whatever happened must’ve really been bad.

Me:
What’s wrong?

effyeahFinityGirl:
It’s nothing really. Just some jerk made fun of me. Of the costume I wore to the midnight premier of The Super Ones.

Me:
What a jerk! Does he have any idea the time and craftsmanship it takes to make something like that? Not to mention the bravery it takes to wear it? You want me to hunt him down and kick his ass? I can totally do that.

effyeahFinityGirl:
Ha-ha. No, he’s not worth it. It just kind of ruined the whole thing. I didn’t even stay for the movie.

I’m officially pissed at whoever this guy is now. She’s been looking forward to this movie since it was announced. What kind of monster makes fun of a person’s appearance? A stupid one, that’s for sure.

Me:
That sucks. I wish I could make you feel better, but the usual way I cheer people up is by doing my Ace Ventura celebratory dance. The one he does while wearing a tutu.

effyeahFinityGirl:
I bet that is a wonder to behold.

I don’t know why I pick this moment to ask the big question.

Me:
Maybe you could behold it. Do you have a video chat program or something?

She doesn’t say anything for at least ten minutes. They’re some of the worst minutes I’ve ever had to live through, but I try not to freak out too much. It does happen sometimes. One of us will get distracted by actual real life and won’t respond for a while. But right now, she is the realest thing to me.

After eleven minutes, I have to say something.

Me:
Did I just overstep? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to talk.

A few more agonizing minutes go by and then—

effyeahFinityGirl:
No, you didn’t overstep. My mom just came in and told me to go to sleep. So, I’ll talk to you later, okay?

I’m an idiot of epic proportions. Why did I have to get pushy and ask her to video chat? Looks like I’m just the worst at talking to women in every form and fashion.

Me:
Sure, yeah. Talk to you later :)

I send the message too fast. A smiley face, Dan? Really? No wonder she doesn’t want to talk in real life. I’m a smiley-facer now.

It’s hard to fall asleep after that. I keep checking my phone, thinking she might have something else to say. When sleep finally does come, it’s restless and filled with dreams of a blond girl who doesn’t have a face.

The next day at school, I’m very distracted, to say the least, but I do notice Zelda’s absence. At lunch I ask Beth about it and she just says that Zelda had a rough night. Something must be going around.

Basketball practice does not make me feel better. I sink a total of two three-pointers. No leveling-up today. Even though I’m preoccupied with my very serious problems, in the locker room Martin’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Seriously, I wasn’t saying anything everyone wasn’t already thinking. But who cares, right? It’s not like Parkway is the only theater around. I can go to Shreveport or whatever. It’s a much better theater anyway. But this isn’t over by a long shot. I’m going to get that freaky little bitch.”

Looks like something is definitely going around. I grab my stuff and head for the door, but Martin stops me. “Hey Dan, you can tell your girlfriend that I meant every word of what I said. She looked like lumpy shit poured into spandex. And I’m kind of glad I’m banned from Parkway now. Means I won’t have to see her in any more of her weird costumes.”

I stop. The hamster running the gears in my head is working overtime to figure out what he’s talking about. “What?”

“That Zelda girl, Mrs. Potato Head. She needs to watch her back.” He crosses his arms.

So, last night, FinityGirl got harassed by some jerk for what she was wearing at the movies and so did Zelda. “What was she dressed as?”

Martin scoffs and looks at Donovan. “One of the people from
The Super Ones
movie. It was all red and black.”

My brain-hamster collapses because he can finally take a break. I’ve figured it out. “Well, what d’ya know…”

“What?” Martin asks.

“Nothing, shut up, I’m thinking.”

Zelda was dressed as Finity Girl. Only FG has a red and black color scheme in
The Super Ones
. The dots are all connecting.

While I’m slowly putting things together, Donovan speaks up. “Martin, dude, not cool. That’s called bullying and it’s mean and wrong and messes with people’s minds.”

My jaw drops, and I rename him in my head as Do Right Donovan.

I walk slowly up to Martin until I’m glaring down at his stupid face. “You are a horrible human being. And unless it’s to grovel at her feet for forgiveness, you are not to go near Zelda or all of Hell’s wrath shall rain down upon you. And by ‘Hell’s wrath’ I mean me. It will not be pleasant. It will be the worst experience of your puny existence.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Even if something did come out, it would probably be a physical threat or a curse word or a weird combination of both.

I don’t give him the chance to gather his wits, though. I’m out the door, through the gym, down the hall, out the front door, and throwing my bag into my monstrosity probably before he can formulate a sentence. The Phoenix is my next destination. Maddie has a lot of explaining to do. She must’ve known about this. Hell, she might’ve been the mastermind behind it, with her always pushing Zelda and me together and all that being enamored by our interactions.

The drive to the comic shop is a blur. All I remember of it is having a very loud pretend conversation with Zelda. It involved lots of apologizing on her part. And on my part? It wavered between being so very angry with her that I did all those stereotypical manly things, clenching my jaw, punching a hole in the wall, etc., or I would just kiss her in the middle of her sentence. And if this were a movie, a romantic comedy starring Chris Pine and Emma Stone, I’d go over to Zelda’s house and hold up a boom box and profess my love for her. But that’s not the case.

This isn’t a movie. This is me, super pissed and wanting answers.

And even though the idea that Zelda is effyeahFinityGirl makes me feel like all is right with the world, it still doesn’t make me less upset.

I pull into The Phoenix’s parking lot and stomp to the front door. “Where is she?” I yell, and many nerd-heads turn my way. “Where is that traitorous cheerleader?”

Vera, Logan’s little sister, who is growing up way too fast, pokes her head out from behind one of the comic book racks. “Maddie? She’s not here.”

“Hey, Veer. Well, is Logan here?” My original anger goes down a notch.

“Nope. They went somewhere. Dad’s here but he’s in the office. You want me to get him?” She stands, carefully closing the comic she was reading.

“Nah,” I say and look around, confused at what to do next. It’s one of the worst things in the world, to be prepared for battle and then the opportunity is stolen from you. I’m ready to go. I have arguments and comebacks on the tip of my tongue.

Maddie must’ve had information I didn’t. And it’s so not cool that she didn’t share. That’s like the first thing you learn in kindergarten. Sharing is caring, damn it.

“Is everything okay, Dan?” Vera asks with the air of a psychiatrist.

It throws me off. “Uh…no. Everything is not okay.”

She walks toward the checkout counter and motions for me to follow. “Let’s talk.”

“That’s sweet of you, Veer, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help.”

She puts her hair into a ponytail, like she’s about to do some real work. “Let me guess. Girl problems?”

My eyebrows rise. Despite her being about nine years old, she apparently does know a thing or two. “That’s a lucky guess.”

“No, it’s called an educated guess. My mom taught me.” She plops down in an office chair behind the counter and the contrast of her spouting some pretty wizened things then spinning as fast as she can in the chair makes me laugh.

“Of course she did. Okay, I’ll play along. There’s this girl who’s been pretending to be someone else while we talk online. I just figured out the truth and have realized that not only has this girl been lying to me, but I’m almost positive that Maddie knew about everything.” I lean forward, elbows on the counter, and smirk at her. Let’s see what sort of educated solution she can come up with for me.

She stops spinning by dragging her feet on the floor and takes a second to enjoy the dizziness. “So, you came here to yell at Maddie, right?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“Because I’m pis— Because I’m mad at her.” Language, Dan.

“That’s fine, but I think you’re acting rashly.” She shrugs her small shoulders.

“Rashly? You’re like nine years old. Do you even know what that word means?”

She crosses her arms and tilts her chin up. “I’m nine and three quarters and rashly is an easy word. Do you know what triskaidekaphobia means?”

I scoff. “No.”

“Well, I do.”

I stare at her, waiting. When she just stares back at me, I give up on learning the meaning of whatever the hell she just said and try to get back on topic. “Whatever. Why do you think I’m acting rashly?”

“Mom always tells my brothers, ‘Watch where you’re putting your feet.’ Does that explain it?”

I pace a little. As much as I love this kid, I will not be bested by a fourth grader.

When I don’t answer after a minute or two, Vera sighs like she’s getting tired of explaining things. “It means think before you act. You don’t know the whole story, right? And you obviously like this girl, so you don’t want to screw anything up. Make a plan before you lose your temper at Maddie.”

I give up being shocked at Vera’s beyond-her-age wisdom. “How do you know I like this girl? I’m not even sure I do.”

“You must or you wouldn’t care enough to yell at Maddie first before yelling at the girl.”

My brows knit together as I stare at Vera. “You’re smart.”

She shrugs and stands. “I know.”

She leads my befuddled self to the front door and pushes me out. “Now, go home, relax, and give the whole situation some good thought.”

I’m cranking my monstrosity when I come out of the daze and realize I just got love-life advice from a nine-and-three-quarters-year-old. And what damn good advice it was, too.

Also, I still don’t know what triskaidekaphobia means.

Zelda

It’s one of those rare days that my mom has off. So in the morning, when I tell her I don’t feel well, she’s all over it. She brings me breakfast in bed—a bowl of sweet and buttery oatmeal. She asks if I want more blankets or less. She brings me some Tylenol to take for a fever she didn’t check to see if I had. She just took my word for it. When she asks if I want to lay on the couch in the living room and watch a movie, maybe “play” on my laptop at the same time, I don’t argue with her.

Maybe my having a shitty night then being confronted by Dan to meet in sort of real life was exactly what my mom and I both needed. The last time my mom was able to give me this much attention was eighth grade when I got the mumps. Dad had been around then, too, but he’d had to work. Despite being severely angry/depressed/humiliated about last night and being confused/conflicted/what-the-hell-do-I-do about Dan’s request that we video chat, I’m strangely comfortable.

Later in the day, I’m watching
Pitch Perfect
for the twenty-fourth time (I like to keep my life statistics current) and surfing Tumblr for inspiration for the fanfic I’m working on at the moment when there’s a knock on the door.