Geek Charming (29 page)

“Hey, Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for inviting me to join you,” I said. “You’re a really good friend.”

“Not a problem.”

Before I walked out the door, I stopped in front of the mirror in the hall and readjusted my hat. Even though Josh said there probably wouldn’t be any cute guys, you never knew.

 

However, in this case, he was one hundred percent right. Even premakeover Josh would have been considered Calvin Klein underwear model-hot compared to these guys. In addition to rumpled khakis and Mom jeans, everyone there was wearing either a T-shirt with the name of a movie I had never heard of before in my life (a bunch of them seemed to like something called
Taxi Driver,
whatever that was) or one with a
Lord of the Rings
character. Maybe if I had been in the right frame of mind I would’ve looked at it as a way to work on my hobby, but I just found the whole thing depressing. Not because they were so fashion-challenged, but because I no longer felt like I fit in anywhere.

“Hey, guys,” I said after I made my way through the Eau de Seventeen-Year-Old Sweaty Boy crowd.

“Hey, Dylan. You remember Raymond, right?” asked Josh.

“Well, hello there, Dylan,” the guy I had met when I went to pick up Josh at work said in a smooth-jazz-radio-station-sounding voice as he planted a slimy kiss on my hand. “Aren’t you looking lovely this evening.”

“Thanks,” I said as I wiped my hand on my sweats.

Josh gave me a weird look.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. I’ve just never seen you so . . . ”

“Dressed down?” I suggested.

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” he replied.

Raymond took a step toward me and sniffed the air loudly. “That’s a lovely scent you’re wearing. I seem to detect notes of tuberose and gardenia, a combination that seems to work quite well with your particular body chemistry.”

“Really? It must be leftover perfume because I haven’t showered since Thursday,” I said.

He leaned in so close I could smell his own cologne, which resembled a combination of Lysol and cinnamon. “I’d even go as far as to say that for someone who just got pink-slipped in the love department, you look positively ravishing.”

“Thanks. I think,” I replied.

Josh started steering me toward the entrance. “Okay, time to go in,” he said.

 

It turned out he was right—I didn’t like the movies. One was about a giant shark that terrorizes a beach community and the other was about a giant truck that terrorizes a guy driving a car. I’m sorry, but why these movies were considered classics was beyond me. I mean,
The Devil Wears Prada
and
The Nanny Diaries
were
so
much better. At least they were based on reality.

After the movie, we went to Du-par’s. It was strange to see it filled with pimply teenage guys instead of senior citizens and their walkers. “So, Dylan, I heard about the unfortunate turn of events in regards to that intramural school social event that’s coming up,” said Raymond, chewing his tuna sandwich with the crusts cut off.

“Huh?”

“The Fall Foliage dance.”

“Fall Fling?”

“Correct,” said Raymond as he carefully lined up his fries on his plate.

“Hey, Raymond, why don’t we talk about something else?” Josh suggested. “I’m sure Dylan would like to hear all about the horror script about the killer clowns that you’ve been working on for years—”

“No thank you,” I said as I shoved a bunch of fries into my own mouth.

“Josh, I find it rude to talk about myself and my achievements on the first date,” Raymond said.

I may have been desperate, but I wasn’t
that
desperate. “This isn’t a date,” I chimed in.

“Technically you’re right—it’s not,” he replied. “But I’m feeling as if we’re on our way to one,” he said with a wink. At least I
think
he was trying to wink, but it looked more like he was having a seizure.

“Is he for real?” I whispered to Josh.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, sliding down in the booth.

“Dylan, forgive me for being so bold here,” said Raymond, “but what’s your stance on May-December romances?”

“May what?”

“Relationships where one partner is significantly older than the other. Listen, I’m not one of those people who beats around the bush. You can ask anyone at Good Buys—when something’s on my mind, I have no problem saying it. And the fact of the matter is that I’m very attracted to you, Dylan, and I’d say that from what I’ve observed in your body language this evening and from that time you came by the store, the feeling is mutual. Therefore, even though I’m twenty-three, I’d very much like to escort you to your upcoming dance.”

I turned to Josh and gave him a panicked look, but he didn’t see it because his head was in his hands.

“Obviously, a few heads may turn because of the age difference between us,” Raymond continued, “but you strike me as a trailblazer and someone who doesn’t buckle under the weight of social conformity, so I’m thinking you can handle what might be viewed as a potential scandal.” He grabbed my hand across the table. “So what do you think? Are you up for it? Are you ready to take another chance on love so soon?”

I knew life could change in an instant, but is
this
what mine had come to? That the only date I could get for Fall Fling was a twenty-three-year-old guy with adult acne who used more SAT words than I could remember even learning in SAT review class? How had this happened? Maybe my karma really
had
gotten screwed up in some previous lifetime.

“Uh—” I began.

“She’d love to, but she and I already have plans to hang out that night. We’re going to have a Woody Allen film festival. Right, Dylan?”

I turned to him and smiled with relief. “Right.” So maybe it wasn’t the Fall Fling evening I had been dreaming about, and obviously I wouldn’t be adding to my crown collection, but, hey, I’d be with my best friend rather than stuck at home by myself. Not to mention that it took the pressure off having to decide between the three dresses I had bought for the occasion.

 

“So you really want to hang out the night of Fall Fling?” I asked Josh later on the phone as I continued going through photos. After dumping the ones of me and Asher in the garbage, I started organizing the ones of me by school dance. I held up one of me surrounded by May Day court. I couldn’t believe there was a time I had been so happy.

“Sure. Why not?” he replied. “I mean, you know, if
you
do.”

“Yeah. Sure. That is, if
you
do,” I said. Something was weighing on my mind but I didn’t know exactly how to bring it up. “Okay, so I need to ask you something,” I finally said.

“What?”

“I know we already talked about this at the Halloween party, but I just want to make sure it’s not going to be . . . a
date
or anything like that,” I confessed. “I mean, I’ve seen a lot of movies where after getting dumped, someone hooks up with his or her best friend of the opposite sex, but if you think about it, it’s always really awkward afterward, you know?”

“You mean like in
When Harry Met Sally
?”

“Exactly,” I replied. I held up a picture of me being crowned Private School Princess. Everyone in the audience looked so proud to know me.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, but honestly I was just trying to save you from Raymond and I figured that you probably wouldn’t want to be alone that night.”

“Right. That’s what I thought,” I said. “But I just wanted to check and make sure.”

“Got it.” I could hear him yawn. “I think I’m going to get to bed. I want to get some editing done on the doc tomorrow before work.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for letting me come with you tonight,” I said.

“You’re welcome.”

There was yet
another
thing weighing on my mind and I knew I’d have trouble sleeping if I didn’t put it to rest. Having things weighing on your mind made it really heavy. “Hey, Josh, can I ask you one last thing?”

He yawned again. “Sure.”

“You agree with me that going out with Raymond is probably a bad idea, right?”

“What?! He’s, like, a bigger film geek than me, Ari, and Steven put together.”

“That’s what I thought but I was just making sure.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to go out with him,” he replied before yawning again. “Are we done now?

“I think so. Good night. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Oh, hey, Josh?”

“Yeah, Dylan.” He sighed.

“How’s the documentary going?” I asked.

“It’s good.”

“You’re happy with it?”

“Getting there,” he said, yawning again.

As I picked up our junior-class photo taken at a beach in Malibu with me standing smack in the front, I got one of my brilliant ideas. “Wait. Stop the presses. I just got
such
a brilliant idea!” I announced.

“Is there any way we can talk about it in the morning?” he asked.

“No, because it has to do with you,” I replied. “I’m going to have a party to screen your documentary.”

“Dylan, I don’t know—”

“It’ll be great,” I promised. “Not only will people get to see how talented you are, but it’ll also help to remind them that even though I’m no longer dating Asher, I’m still a great example and role model of a popular teenage girl.” I clapped my hands. “Ooh, it’s been forever since I’ve had a party! I’m so excited. Omigod—I have so much to do. I totally don’t have time to be talking right now. Bye,” I said, hanging up.

If I could make Josh over, why couldn’t I make myself over back into the most popular girl in school?

chapter twelve:
josh

After Steven had shown me his cut of the documentary, I had spent every free moment I had holed up in my bedroom (aka the editing room) with iMovie. Soon it even looked like an actual editing room, with soda cans and fast-food wrappers strewn about. I’m normally pretty neat, but you have to be willing to throw that out the window when you’re in the thick of creating a masterpiece.

That Tuesday I was trying to edit together a montage of Dylan, Lola, and Hannah walking down the halls of school like they were Charlie’s Angels when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I called out.

Mom entered with a basket full of laundry and started unloading it on my bed. “So how’s it going?” she asked. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her trying to peek over my shoulder.

“Good. But it’s not done yet,” I said, covering the screen. She had been badgering me to show her some of it, but like any artist, I was very protective of my work until I felt it was in decent enough shape.

“Honey, it’s never going to be done,” she said, rolling my socks into balls.

I turned to her. “What are you talking about? It has to be done by Friday! That’s when Dylan’s party is!”

She shook her head. “That’s not when I mean. You know that quote I have over my computer?”

“Which one? There’s, like, fifty of them.” Mom was big on quotes. In fact, she had taken a Learning Annex course entirely devoted to inspirational quotes.

“The one that says ‘A poem is never finished—it’s merely abandoned.’ The same thing can be said for a movie. You can sit there polishing it and polishing it, but at some point you have to put it out in the world.”

“I guess you’re right.” I sighed. But I bet Woody didn’t release anything into the world until he felt it was good and ready.

“So can I see just a little bit?” she asked. “Please?”

I scooted my chair over. “Okay. But you have to remember that it’s still really rough,” I warned.

She dragged another chair over. “I know. I know.” She kissed me on the forehead. “But I already know it’s brilliant.”

I shook my head. As my mom, what else was she going to say?

I cued up the scene in the car after the UCLA fraternity party.

“I don’t know,” Dylan was saying on-screen, “sometimes it’s like . . . when people see you a certain way, they don’t
want
you to change. They just want you to keep being
that
girl—the popular girl.”

I had intercut this with Dylan walking down the hall, as everyone yelled out hellos to her.

“Believe me, if I were to chuck it all and go all boho hippy and stop shaving my legs, people would freak out,” her voice continued. Here, I had cut in some footage of the boho hippies sitting outside school smoking clove cigarettes. “Not just because it would be disgusting, but because they expect me to be . . . well,
me
,” came the voice again. At this point I had cut back to the footage in the car, close on her face. “I’ve been this for so long I wouldn’t even know how to go be someone else,” she said quietly.

I loved the look on her face when she said that.

“Oh, Josh—it’s wonderful,” Mom whispered, squeezing my shoulder.

“You think?” I said anxiously.

She nodded. “It’s like you managed to capture the vulnerability that all teens feel, but try so hard to hide. And the fact that it’s coming from the most popular girl in school? Well, that alone is going to make people feel so much better. Everyone thinks that the grass is always greener on the other side, but, really, it’s not. Believe me, I know—I used to live in Brentwood and shop at Saks and now I can’t even afford to get my hair colored there.”

“That’s exactly what I was going for!” I said excitedly. After I sat down and watched all the footage, I had realized that while an inside look at the popular kids of Castle Heights would be interesting, what would be even
more
interesting would be to look at the pressures of popularity and how lonely it could be when you were that popular—like those princesses in fairy tales who live in castles and do nothing all day other than play with a golden ball only to find themselves in real trouble when they drop it down a well and have to ask a frog to retrieve it for them.