My Fake Summer Boyfriend (12 page)

"
Rebecca Bidwell."
She uses my full name only when she's scolding.

Ray, with his huge blue eyes, freckle-face and wavy brown hair that always falls casually over his forehead, is the picture of innocence. Mom calls him her "Little Ray of Sunshine." That clues you into the fact that while maybe he can't get away with a felony, misdemeanors are usually pardoned.

Living in a big old storybook house in the flats of Franklin has its advantages. It's not only a pretty shade of pink, with cross-hatched windows and a roof that curves under at the edges. It also has plenty of room, so I can be miles away from my knows-everything (in his own mind) brother, which contributes greatly to having the okay relationship with him.

The disadvantage is Mom and Dad like the place to look storybook on the inside too, so the bathrooms have pedestal sinks and antique mirrors. Yeah, it looks cute, and guests ooh and aah over the "charm." But there is almost no place to put anything, such as a comb, curling iron or lipstick. Not that I can ever do anything with my hair, or figure out a flattering shade of lipstick. Still.

Maybe I just use lack of bathroom storage space as an excuse to wear my drab brown hair in a ponytail, and a barely-tinted-pink lip gloss on my slightly-too-full lips. In any case, that's what I'm going with for the (drum roll, please)
First Day of High School
. Plus a bluish-green T-shirt (concession to one of my few
Attempts at Beauty
—I think the color sets off my hazel eyes), my favorite jeans and a totally new pair of all-purpose sneakers with green cotton canvas uppers. They have thick, grippy rubber soles and are almost as comfortable as my fuzzy bedroom slippers. For the most part, though, it's,
Fade into the background. Fade!

I retract my tongue and give Mom and Ray a sunny smile, proof enough to Mom that I don't actually have a cold, hard heart. "Okay, Mom. Gotta run!"

I give Mom and Dad a quick kiss, rap Ray on the head with my knuckles, which elicits only a minor-chord
tsk
from Mom and a cross-eyed look from Ray. He's probably more interested in food at the moment than retaliation, because eating is his passion as well as his hobby. Fortunately, for him, he skateboards, plays soccer, shoots hoops and hikes up the reservoir just to make sure the view hasn't changed, sometimes all in the same afternoon. A fat molecule wouldn't dare hang out on his body.

"Have fun at school," Dad says, just as deadpan as when he brought up the subject of penis enlargement.

He may not know I actually want to time-travel past high school and college, but he's heard me complain about homework ever since I brought home my first assignment sheet with circles, triangles and squares and instructions on how to color them. I do get good grades, but it's not because I love homework and studying. It's because I have this annoying inner sense of duty to do all my assignments and do them well and on time. If only I could be normal and casually ignore schoolwork with no sense of guilt.

The early morning, first-day-of-school snap of cool air hits me as I step out the door. It's probably been this chilly at this time of day for a couple of weeks, but I haven't been heading outside this early since school let out in June. I hurry down the block because I see Randi standing on the corner in front of her
so
perfectly painted and landscaped that it's trendy
bungalow style house, cell phone to her ear. She looks completely together in a button-up shirt over a bright pink T and a rhinestone-belted mini.

Randi's mother, owner of Rising Star Talent Agency, coaches her on all the latest fashions, as well little tricks to catch a guy's interest. The
stick out the boob region while combing hair
ploy is one of them. Randi's dad split when she was seven and lives on the other side of the country, so, while those tricks might get a guy's attention, it's not clear they hold that attention forever.

My cell phone rings. "Sorry I'm late, I'm on my way," I tell Randi, even though she can see me coming. I don't explain that I was forced to sit down and eat. Randi wouldn't care. Patience is not one of her virtues.

Randi starts walking the second I'm even with her. "That's what you're wearing?"

"Uh. Yeah. I thought I'd, um, be, uh...neutral. 'Til I see what everyone else is wearing."

We click off our phones and start addressing each other directly.

"Becca, you should've gone shopping with me and Tanya on Saturday," Randi says. "You so need to take more
interest
in how you look."

"Hey, thanks."

"You know what I mean."

"Mmm." I
think
she means she cares about how I look because she cares about
me
. I
worry
maybe she cares about how I look because it reflects on
her
. She wouldn't want me to look
better
than her, I'm sure. I mean, on the rare occasions I actually have gone shopping with her and Tanya it felt like a competitive sport. "Yeah, I know what you mean," I say, making sure my voice rises at the end of the sentence, so it sounds positive.

I am such a wuss.

We stop in front of Nina's house. The old Victorian looks pretty, despite the faded paint and scruffy yard. The one time I slept over I was surprised at the state of disrepair inside. Despite having a brother and a sister, Nina, like me, has space to herself, except hers is a tiny room that makes up the third floor. It's almost more like an attic. Trouble is, the room has no heat and the extra blankets didn't really keep me warm during that middle-of-February sleepover last year.

I hope she'll be right out. We can't call her, because she doesn't have a cell and her dad gets pissy if anyone calls this early in the morning. We don't want to knock on the door for the same reason. Nina's mother's already at work pulling green-chain at Weyerhaeuser. My Dad pulled green chain summers back in college. He says it was the toughest job he ever had, pulling green wood off a conveyor belt. At the end of the day his hands felt like pin cushions, and his ears rang from guys yelling whenever someone didn't pull off a piece of wood exactly on time. He says he's glad he's an accountant now, even at tax time.

Nina's dad works part-time delivering the Franklin Weekly, which must take him all of five hours a week, tops. Otherwise, from what I've seen, he sits around, smokes, drinks beer and gripes to Nina about how the dishes are still in the sink or the living room is a mess or the laundry is piling up. It's not totally clear if he and Nina's mother are actually married.

The door opens. Unaware I've been holding my breath, I let out a little sigh of relief. Nina floats toward us. A breeze gently fluffs her long platinum hair. Tall and lithe in a filmy, flowing top and skirt, she looks like the ballerina she once wanted to be until she started focusing on making jewelry and saving money for college. Pink ballet slippers complete the look. She makes half her clothes, gets the other half at thrift stores. Knowing how to put everything together combined with being naturally beautiful makes it all work. "Jewelry 101 and Beginning Russian. I'm absolutely ready for this day."

"Me too." Randi snorts out a laugh. Her real laugh, not the practiced one that sounds like tinkling bells she uses when guys are around. "I'm ready for freedom and gorgeous older guys."

On the corner sits Tanya's split-level, looking like something straight out of a Brady Bunch rerun. The Moreaus, who both teach Folklore at the university, have filled the house with kids (five girls), numerous cats and seventies furniture rough-and-tumble enough for all the occupants.

I see Tanya peek out the front window, and
like-that
she is on the sidewalk with us, before Randi can even whip out her phone again. She poses for a moment as Randi inspects her lilac brocade jacket, lilac pleated top, floral print shirt, brown chiffon skirt and white stockings. Tanya also sizes up Randi's clothes. They do their hug/squeal/air-kiss thing, which I conclude means they approve of each other's clothing while each secretly thinks she looks better. "Hi," Tanya chirps, "I think I know who I want for my next boyfriend!"

No one is surprised Tanya is so over Colin already, but we all try to sound impressed as we simultaneously chime, "Who?"

"Del Jara."

"He's cute," Randi says, giving her stamp of approval.

"Del? Dark curly hair?"
Just like Colin,
I do not add.

"Yeah, he was in our Ancient and Medieval History class." Tanya gets this dreamy look on her face. "Remember? He moved here in the middle of the last term. I figure that means he won't be moving
away
any time soon."

"Good thinking." Nina turns so only I can see her
close one eye, roll the other eye
expression.

In a way, Nina and I are kind of alike when it comes to guys—we don't plan our days around them. Nina does like guys, and she's often trailed in the distance by love-sick admirers, one or two of whom she will let walk her to class or sit next to in assemblies, but she's always so busy earning money and stuff that she's not
obsessed
. With me, partly it's because I'm too shy to go after guys and, in any case, they aren't interested in me. But, also, I think there's way more to life than
constantly
worrying about guys. For one thing, I want to dedicate myself to my Purpose on Earth—as soon as I figure out what that is. Besides, I don't want just
any
guy. I want somebody totally great and I'm willing to wait.

With Nina, though guys are interested,
most are so nervous around
her
that only a few dare to get close, as if there was some invisible shield around her. Maybe there is, one that maybe she puts up. Though Nina's never said anything, I've kind of had the feeling she's also waiting for someone more ...
something
, I'm not sure what. Great, of course, but most of the guys she attracts are great. Well, our-age-level great. It's just that she seems to be waiting for that
something I haven't figured out
that none of the guys who hang around hoping she'll give some sign it's safe to approach her have.

Suddenly we are dead even with the front door of the school. We pause, silent. Then Randi says, "This is it!"

We move forward as a unit. We could be synchronized swimmers, except, of course, we're not in water. Two Really Cute Older Guys stand ready to the open the doors. Guy One has dark eyes and a ruggedly-handsome type face. Something about him screams
jock.
Guy Two has a pale gold, sensitive face and compelling blue eyes that seem to sparkle as he smiles at us (well, at Tanya, Randi and Nina, anyway). Suddenly, my whole being fills with
hoping for Golden Guy to notice me
. Yikes—is he The One?

The Really Cute Older Guys open the doors and gesture for us to enter the school. Randi and Tanya stifle giggles, Nina ignores Guy-One's leer and I alternate between wanting to be invisible to wishing I had a clue about guys. I set foot inside and think I'm safely on my way, when my shoes hit the floor and make a huge
fart
noise.

Cue the screeching music!
I am going to die of embarrassment.

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