The Girlfriend Project (15 page)

I touch nothing.

Ronnie sends me five e-mails and six text-messages and calls seven times.

I ignore them all and tell my parents to tell her I'm dead.

Which I am.

Lonnie comes over four times. Each time I pretend to be sleeping.

On Sunday evening, Grandma knocks on my door. I get up and let her in. I'm still in the same clothes I wore to my sister's
party. The only reason I'm allowing Grandma into my room is because I know how hard it is for her to climb the stairs. I don't
want her to have made the trip for nothing.

She sits next to me on the bed and rubs my back like she used to do when I was small. "Oh, my poor, poor Reed," she says.
"This is the hardest lesson of all. But everyone learns it sometime. Everything will be okay in the end. You'll see. Broken
hearts heal. They do, Reed, really. You know I'd never lie to you."

I thought Marsha broke my heart when she squashed me four years ago. But that was nothing compared to this.

"I need your help, Reed," Grandma continues. "You think you could lend me a hand? I want to make a cream cake tonight. Someone
I know is crazy about cream cake. I think it would cheer him up."

She kisses my cheek. "New Jersey: We May Look Tough on the Outside but We're Soft as Salt Water Taffy on the Inside. That's
a good thing, Reed. Oh, I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but healing is growing. And growing is painful."

I follow Grandma down the stairs like an obedient puppy. As usual, she knows what's best for me. There's something about sticking
your fingers into a huge bowl of whipped cream that makes you forget you're miserable.

By the time Grandma's cream cake is done, I'm feeling a tiny bit better. It's the first solid food I've consumed all weekend.
I gobble up five slices all in a row.

I've never tasted anything so good.

"Reed, you don't have to sit here by yourself," he says quietly. "Ronnie says she'll sit at another table. You can still sit
with me. Come on, I'll treat you to a nice cup of weak coffee."

"No."

"I don't like it that you're here all by yourself."

"I'd rather be here."

He sits down next to me. "I'm still your best friend, Reed," he says. "I always will be. No matter what happens."

I look at him, but say nothing.

He spends the whole period with me. He doesn't say anything to me and I don't say anything to him, but I'm happy he's with
me and I wish I could tell him that.

I take out my laptop, go to
www.thegirlfriendproject.com,
and write a letter to my faithful fans.

Lonnie sits with me in the library at lunchtime every day. We don't talk, but I appreciate it anyway.

Ronnie tries to talk to me at least five times a day. Each time I run away from her, even though she seems upset by it.

"Reed! Please!" she always cries. "Please talk to me!"

But I don't.

On Friday, she grabs the back of my jacket as I'm hurrying off, but I wiggle out of it, leaving her holding it. Lonnie returns
it to me at lunchtime.

"Love stinks," I say to him. It's the first thing I've said all week.

"Yeah," he answers.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He gives me a sympathetic look. "I thought you knew more about it than I did. You were reading all those books, working on
the site, taking all those surveys . . ."

"I don't know squat about it, Lonnie."

"Neither do I."

"I'm going to be a priest."

He lets out a laugh. "Nah, Reed, it won't come to that."

"I'm pretty sure it will."

"Well, if you become a priest, I will too."

We shake on it.

My sister comes over with her family, Mom drapes us all with pink plastic leis, and Grandma whips up pineapple boats with
maraschino cherries, coconut-fried shrimp, papaya bread, and mango sorbet. My dad puts on a grass skirt for the occasion.
I think he does it just to get a laugh out of me. It works.

"What do you think, Reed? Think I got a future as a tiki dancer?"

"Not a paid one," I reply.

We feast on Grandma's tropical dinner, have a hula contest, see who can say King Kamehameha ten times in a row, and watch
an old Elvis Presley beach movie.

Christine sits next to me on the sofa with her arm around my shoulders, like she used to do when I was the baby brother she
took care of.

My family's awesome.

"Reed?" she whispers. 'Are you . . ."

She waits a second or two, then starts to go, but I lift my head out of the covers.

"Marsha?"

She walks toward me. "Hi, Reed," she says awkwardly. "I hope . . . Were you sleeping? I didn't mean to wake you."

I sit up. "No, I wasn't sleeping."

I feel very weird. I guess Marsha does too, because she keeps glancing at her feet.

I point to a chair. "Have a seat," I say too cheerfully.

I think about hopping out of bed, getting dressed, and presenting myself as an actual human being. But I'm in a T-shirt and
boxers, and I feel funny having her see me like that. So I stay in bed with the covers over me.

Marsha sits in my chair and leans toward me. "I know this is strange, Reed. I didn't know if I should come, but. . . It's
just . . . I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to talk to you earlier . . . You looked so sad in school all week. And I read
what you wrote on the site. . . ." She frowns. "You're not a failure, Reed. I . . . I really wanted things to work out between
us. But I can see why you liked Ronnie so much. Because she was always nice to you and I . . . wasn't." She gives me a small
smile. "It's my loss. Really."

My jaw falls to the floor.

She goes on. "Reed, you're gonna find someone else. I know you don't think so, but you will. And, well, the girl who gets
you in the end is going to be lucky. Really, really lucky. I . . . I wanted you to know that. I wanted to tell you. That's
all. That's all I wanted to say. You were so nice to me when . . . well, you know . . . I wanted to do something nice for
you too."

She gets up. When I don't reply, she heads for the door.

"Marsha," I call out after her. "Thank you."

She smiles. "Hey, I heard your grandmother won the state motto contest. That's great."

"New Jersey," I say, "Where Anything Is Possible."

After Marsha leaves, I jump out of bed and get dressed. I'm going to talk to Ronnie today. I'm going to tell her she's right.
We were boyfriend /girlfriend for a little more than a month. We were best friends for a little more than twelve years. Even
I can see the significance of that.

But there's something I need to do first.

"Hi," I say.

"Hi," she answers. "I've been wondering when you'd finally get out of your car."

Great. She thinks I'm a stalker. Or a perv.

I take a deep breath. "Want to get a coffee somewhere?

With me?"

"Yeah, I would like that a lot," she says, smiling.

I smile back. "I'm Reed, by the way."

"I know."

I cock my head to the side. "Do I know you?"

"Yeah, you do. I'm Mallory but you might know me as . . . flowering garlic."