Every Girl's Guide to Boys

Torn.

But
at this moment, I do not know what I want. I cannot even make a list of the
pros and cons of being with Nathan versus being with Nico, because who they are
and what they mean to me are already starting to blend into each other, the edges
and boundaries blurring into a massive wad of indecision that I will never
fully grasp. I know a million girls would sell their souls to be in my position
(poor Chrissy, two hot boys are fighting over her, boohoo)
, but
this situation is something I wouldn’t wish on even the most pathetically
lonely person in the world. Because it is easy and logical enough to decide
between what is right or wrong, or what your mind is saying versus what your
heart is feeling—but how do you decide between two things you value in a
similar manner and an almost equal amount? It is simple enough to let go of the
past in favor of the present, but now that Nico is back and I realize that I am
genuinely thrilled about it, I don’t know where that leaves Nathan. I don’t
know where that leaves me.

Every Girl’s Guide To

BOYS

Marla
Miniano

SUMMIT
BOOKS

This
book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, some places, and incidents are
products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Summit
Books are published by

Summit
Media

6F
Robinsons Cybergate 3

Pioneer
Street

Mandaluyong
City

Philippines
1505

Copyright
© 2009 by Marla Miniano

Book
design by Studio Dialogo

Cover
illustration by Abi Goy

All
rights reserved.
 
No part of this
book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means
including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in
writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages
in a review.

www.femalenetwork.com/summit-books

For
Marcy, my favorite teenager.

Rule number 1:

Not having (boy) problems is

A Good Thing.

My story begins
with Hugh Grant.

Yes, Hugh Grant. He
might seem like a strange person to start a story with. You’d think someone my
age would start a story with Chace Crawford, or Justin Timberlake, or Zac
Efron, or Sam Concepcion, or (please feel free to insert the name of your young
heartthrob of choice here, in case I’ve missed anyone). You’d even think
someone my age would say, “My story begins with my crush smiling at me,” or “My
story begins when I snag the perfect pair of jeans on sale—one that just
happened to fit three of my best friends as well.”

But no, my story begins
with Hugh Grant.

Let me explain. I don’t
know if you’d remember, but there’s that scene in
Music and
Lyrics
,
when Drew Barrymore told Hugh Grant that he had such amazing insight, and he
said, “Thank you. I’d use it on myself, except I don’t have any problems.” That
scene—that’s where it all begins. But you’re probably wondering, “Why
would this girl’s story begin with an announcement that she doesn’t have any
problems? What kind of a story would that be, and why would that even be of any
interest to me? And surely, she must have at least some form of conflict in her
life. Nobody is born
that
lucky.”

Again,
let me explain, and let me explain by introducing myself. My name is Chrisanta
Carmela Legaspi. Most people call me Chrissy. When they’re feeling too lazy to
add in that extra syllable, my friends (and feeling-close people who
think
they’re my friends) call me Chris. I turned
sixteen a couple of months ago, and I’m a junior in high school. I’m Student
Council vice president, and I get good grades—mostly As, a few B+s,
nothing below a B.
I have two best friends: Anna, who’s smart and sarcastic but
secretly a softie, and Rickie, who’s tall and slim and gorgeous and absolutely
aware of it. I’ve been on a few dates (the most recent one with Long-Time Crush
Nathan), but have never had a real boyfriend (or a fake one, for that matter),
and therefore have never gone past HHWW or the perfunctory goodnight
beso
. I’ve had my heart
broken by the occasional guy who won’t like me back, but have never harbored a
grudge and have always believed that true love is worth the wait. My family is
fully functional: my mom (a Literature professor) and my dad (a part-time
writer and full-time chef) have been happily married for eighteen years, and
have always been around for me and my brother Justin, who is five years old and
totally adorable. I like Rachel Cohn, vanilla milkshakes, rainy afternoons, pretty
summer dresses, smiling at strangers on the street, MGMT (my dad was a huge fan
of them back when they were still The Management—he’s cool like that,
yo), David Archuleta, and watching YouTube videos demonstrating the Japanese
brand of humor. My biggest self-esteem issues? That my feet are too small and I
can’t sing to save my life. I have never tried recreational drugs in any form
and I don’t intend to. I cannot stand parties, or the taste of beer, or the
smell of cigarettes. My idea of fun is a weekend shopping trip with Anna and
Rickie, a game of
Taboo
with my parents, or a Michael Cera marathon.
Grown-ups describe me
as “responsible” and “mature” and “level-headed.” I am so “responsible” and
“mature” and “level-headed” (I feel the need to keep using the quotation marks,
just to clarify that I am not tooting my own horn here), in fact, that this is
how a typical conversation with my guidance counselor would go:

Counselor:
Hello, Chrisanta. How
are you today?

Me:
   
I’m great, thanks. How are
you
po
?

Counselor:
I’m great too. You
seem like you’re in a good mood. Big party this weekend?

Me:
   
Oh no, actually, I just got a
text message from my dad. He says we have tickets to a special movie
premiere on Saturday
night.

Counselor:
You’ll be watching the
movie together, as a family?

Me:
   
Yes, Ma’am.

Counselor:
That’s nice. And you
don’t mind spending your Saturday night with them?

Me:
   
Not at all. I love going to
the cinema with my parents—their running commentaries are hilarious.

Counselor:
I
see. (smiles, jots something down in her notebook)

Me:
Oh-kay. You’re
smiling, Ma’am.

Counselor:
Yes,
I am. I’ll let you in on a secret: You make this job so much easier for me.
Your disciplinary record is spotless, you are always so honest and open, and
you don’t feel the need to misbehave just to get attention.

Me:
   
But I don’t want attention if
it’s
that
kind
of attention.

Counselor:
Exactly. (smiles,
scribbles, scribbles, smiles)
 

See what I mean? I am
not your everyday emo angsty rebellious teenager. In short, I am completely,
disgustingly well-adjusted. I think in some cultures they call this boring.

Everything in my life
makes sense, and someday, if some hotshot director were to make a movie of my
life, he’d probably say, “She’s such a nice girl, but I wouldn’t have enough
material for a full-length film. There’s just not enough drama and conflict in
her life to build a happy ending upon. Oh well. Maybe I should call Lindsay
Lohan instead, at least she gets people buzzing.” Ouch. What harsh words you
speak, hypothetical hotshot director. I’ll show you. I’ll make my own drama and
conflict. I’ll make my own happy ending, just you wait.

And so I guess what I’m
trying to tell you is this: upon watching that scene in
Music and
Lyrics
,
I had the great-grandmother epiphany of all my tiny baby epiphanies. I realized
that it would be such a shame to let the fact that I was issue-free go to
waste. I realized that like Hugh Grant, I have amazing insight, or at least I’d
like to think so, but the problem is that I don’t have problems of my own. Let
me slightly rephrase that, for further emphasis:
I have a problem, which is that
I don’t have any problems.
You got all that? Okay, good. Let’s see where this little
quest leads to.

Rule number 2:

Gather information.