The Boy Project (2 page)

I arrived at school today armed with index cards, my pen, this journal, and the determination to get a social life. Or at least a boyfriend.

So it was pretty hard to concentrate while Mrs. Willis was lecturing about the Civil War. Again. Today the topic was General Lee at Gettysburg. I was looking around at the guys in my class and taking mental notes while she talked.

Now that I'm observing them as a researcher, I'm noticing things that I've never noticed before. Malcolm Maxwell was doodling on his Chucks the
entire
time Mrs. Willis was talking, for example. Does he do that every day? I wouldn't know. I am usually paying
way
too much attention to what the teacher is saying.

I also noticed Chip Tyler putting tiny pieces of paper into the curly hair of Dianna Leroy. See how mature he is? The back of her head was practically white, but she didn't seem to feel a thing. It was weirdly fascinating to watch. A lot of other people seemed to think so, too.

When Mrs. W finished talking, she made us write three paragraphs from the point of view of a soldier following Lee as he retreated back to Virginia. I turned in my paper first.

Normally, I'd pull out whatever book I'm trying to escape into at this point. This week it happens to be
Bras and Broomsticks
, which is a book about a girl whose little sister is a witch. A real one. But the good kind. Anyway, the older sister wants to improve her social life, so she convinces her kid sis to use her magical powers to help. What I wouldn't give for a sister with useful skills like that! But since I'm stuck with Julie, whose only skill seems to be making me look like the second-best sister, I am forced to take matters into my own hands. Which meant it was time to seriously study. Study boys.

I looked around. Who should be my very first subject? Cool Phillip Bernard? Nice Evan Carlson? Handsome Alex Brantley?

“Kara McAllister! Keep your eyes on your own paper!” snapped Mrs. W.

What? She thought I was cheating?! I politely told her I'd already turned in my paper.

“Then get out a book and read. Stop looking around at your friends.” Everyone did the stare-at-whoever-is-being-yelled-at thing, so my face started heating up like it does when I eat Mouth of Hades chili at Texas Steakranch. In my head I could hear Lee yelling, “Retreat! Retreat!” But there wasn't anywhere for me to go.

So much for unobtrusive observation.

Thankfully, Dianna stood up just then and a blizzard of paper snow fell from her head. That drew attention away from me in a big way. Poor Dianna.

I was trying to be objective about which guy to study first, but I think, deep down, I already knew it'd be Evan Carlson. I've known him since kindergarten and have had a crush on him for months.

What's
really great
about Evan is that, even though he's gotten a lot cuter over the past year, he's just as nice as ever. (Not like
some
people, who, once they start getting a little attention, act like they never used to play tag with you every single day.) Evan still looks right at me with his big gray eyes when we talk, and he has this gorgeous smile, even if he does wear braces.

Since Evan
is
so nice, it makes me wonder: WHY DON'T I HAVE THE GUTS TO GO TALK TO HIM? I am NEVER going to find a boyfriend if I can't even make myself talk to a nice guy I've known for over seven years!

At least I'll have an excuse to study him now. I pulled out a note card and jotted down my observations, and then taped it in here for safekeeping.

I managed to gather some more data today. This was because we had a sub in third period, which pretty much meant we could do whatever we wanted. Quietly. And I wanted to do some unobtrusive observing.

I slumped down in my chair, pulled the hood of my hoodie over my head, and held my index cards under my desk so I could write without anyone seeing. It worked! No one noticed me at all. I was so successful at going unnoticed that it was kind of depressing. . . .

I figured since I made
my
crush Subject #1, I should make Tabbi's crush Subject #2, even though she is wasting her time longing for the totally unobtainable Alex Brantley. He's the best-looking boy in school. And guys like that never go for girls like Tabbi. I'm not being mean! He wouldn't go for a girl like me, either. It's like he's a different species or something.

Besides, even if he did show interest in Tabbi, it wouldn't do her any good because Alex's girlfriend, Colleen, will claw the eyes out of anyone who comes between them. She has the nails to do it, too. Trust me. They're long, gorgeous, and manicured. My nails have never looked that good! The only thing I've ever managed to get a good coat of nail polish on was a wooden pencil. I have to admit, it did jazz it up! Especially after I stuck those little rhinestones around the eraser. There's something super-satisfying about transforming an everyday object like a pencil into a fabulous writing tool.

I guess Colleen feels the same way about her nails. You can tell she's proud of them because she's always clicking them together, drawing attention to how glam they are. Tabbi and I make up names for girls like Colleen and when it came to picking her name, I was arguing for “Keyboard.”
All that nail clicking makes it sound like she's constantly typing.

But Tabbi said “Maybelline” was more appropriate because in addition to wearing perfect polish, Colleen also wears a ton of makeup. Not that she needs it. She's really pretty. She actually needs makeup
less
than the rest of us . . . but she wears
more
of it. Her lips are always rosy. Her eyelids — pale green. Tabbi claimed the name Maybelline covered the nails AND face, but Keyboard
only the nails. I guess she's right. It wouldn't matter if she wasn't though. She never backs down.

Speaking of Tabbi, she's calling now. . . .

Just got off the phone, but only because Tabbi's mom came and yanked hers out of her hand. She's waaaay strict about bedtime.

Tabbi and I had the usual conversation. It always goes something like this:

Tabs:
Do you think he'll dump her?

Me:
No.

Tabs:
Ever?

Me:
Nope.

Tabs:
But he's been with her since fifth grade. Don't you think one day he'll wake up and see how awful she is?

Me:
Tabs, guys like that don't try to see more than the surface. Maybelline may be mean, but she's gorgeous.

Tabs:
(
Groan
) So is he.

Me:
I know.

And I do know. I spent a long time observing Alex out of the corner of my eye today. (It's the only way you
can
look at him because Maybelline is super-jealous and she sits right behind me in most classes since her last name is McCarver.) Alex is stunningly, deliciously gorgeous. If he were a movie star, big-time directors would say stuff like this about him:
I
must
have Alex Brantley for that role so thousands of girls will pay to see my wonderful movie over and over and over just to look at him. Then my film will be a box-office hit and I'll win an Academy Award!
I can see why Tabbi likes to dream about him. But it's only a dream.

Tabs:
Sigh.
He's such a nice person.

Me:
Nice, yes. But have you ever noticed that he doesn't look at girls like us the way he looks at Maybelline?

Tabs:
Meaning . . .

Me:
I always feel like he's looking at me like I'm something absolutely boring. Like a chair. Or a dictionary.

Tabs:
I'm pretty sure he doesn't look at me that way!

Me:
Uh-huh.

Tabs:
He's perfect.

Me:
Not.

Tabs:
Name one thing about him that isn't perfect.

Me:
Maybelline.

Tabs:
Besides her.

Me:
He chews gum NONSTOP. I've heard the bottom of his desk has so much gum stuck to it that it'd bounce like a superball if you threw it down on the sidewalk.

(I think I could overlook the gum chewing though, if I had a chance to date someone like him. Not that I ever will.)

Tabs:
I wish I was a piece of gum.

Me:
Ewwww.

Tabbi wasted a lot more time talking about Alex, as if talking about him would increase her chances with him. Which it won't. I fell into barely listening and interjecting an “uh-huh” or “yep” every now and then. It was hard to concentrate. Probably because the more she talks about
her
crush, the more I think I should confess mine. But every time I get ready to tell her how I feel about Evan, something holds me back. I guess I don't want to jinx it.

It's still mascara black outside. But I can't go back to sleep after that disturbing dream I just had about James Powalski — the boy Tabbi kissed during the spin the bottle.

It was one of those forgot-my-homework type of dreams. I was scrambling through my locker, tossing papers over my shoulder. Then someone handed me the exact paper I was looking for. I turned around and found myself staring into James Powalski's face. (If you could smell things in your dreams, I'd have known it was him
before
I turned around. Thankfully, though, smells don't creep into dreams.)

James's face isn't monster-terrible or anything. Still, it's pretty disturbing to have someone like him show up in your head when that head is resting on a satiny pillow and attached to a body wearing spaghetti-strap pj's. At first I wondered if my dream meant that I was still jealous about Tabbi's kiss with him. But luckily I realized that he probably just popped up because he's the last guy I took notes on yesterday. I'm going to have to be more careful about who I study last. Here is the card I made for him.

Normally I wouldn't even pay attention to someone like James, but I'm forcing myself to be objective because I want reliable results. Plus, some of the things I don't like about James are fixable.

For example, I heard that all of the guys at the
other
middle school have to line up after gym and reach for the stars. Then the coach goes down the line and sprays every pit with Right Guard. Now, if someone
happened
to leave an anonymous note for Coach Little giving
him
that idea, I'm sure he'd jump on it. He never misses a chance to humiliate us, and standing with your pits exposed is not exactly a confidence-building exercise. So if I ever decided I had a crush on James, I might just have to author such a note. (And forever after, shave my armpits on a daily basis in case Coach Little got the bright idea to give the girls the same treatment.)

But there's one thing about James that I will not be able to change and that thing is going to make him off-limits to me forever. The thing is named Gina Johns. Tabbi and I call her “The Vine”
because she's always climbing all over the trunk of some guy or another.

While I was observing James yesterday, I couldn't help noticing that it looks like The
Vine was trying to put down roots near him.

Hmmm. I might need to start getting ready for school. It's getting lighter — charcoal gray — outside. Besides, I smell bacon.

Great. The bus is about to stop and here comes Julie breezing by on her bike. I hate when she does that! Because you pretty much suffer in comparison when your cute, athletic older sister (who already went jogging at the crack of dawn) blows by you on two wheels while you're standing as still as a lawn ornament, waiting to board the slowest and most embarrassing form of transportation possible. I'd rather ride a camel to school. Seriously.

Dear Mrs. Willis,

Please stop talking. I'm missing a great opportunity to continue my research. See, I have an awesome view of Phillip Bernard's profile right now. I would very much like to make a few notes about He Who Will Soon Be Known As Subject #4. But if I get out my index cards, it'll call attention to the fact that I'm not taking notes on your lecture. Which I am not.

You are too far away, however, to realize that I use this particular notebook as a journal, so you probably think that I'm writing about General Lee's surrender, when instead I'm writing about the most important thing in the world: finding a boyfriend.

You talk a lot about democracy, Mrs. Willis, but if we took a vote, I'm pretty sure everyone would rather learn about relationships than the Civil War. But we won't take a vote, will we? One thing school has taught me is that American democracy pretty much dies at the classroom door.

It's not that I think Phillip Bernard is “the one for me.” But you never know. He does have one feature that I'm really into. His eyebrows! I have a good view of the right one from here. It is perfectly arched — almost like an elf's.

Guys say stuff like “I'm a face man” or “I'm a leg man.” (Okay, guys don't really talk like that around me, but I've heard them on TV.) Given the face-man/leg-man thing, I guess I have to say that I'm an eyebrow girl. I always notice a guy's eyebrows.

I think the world is full of closet eyebrow women. If not, how do you explain all of those celebrities with great, unusual, or highly arched eyebrows? Robert Pattinson! Orlando Bloom! Zac Efron! And it can't be mere coincidence that lead singers are usually whichever band member has the best eyebrows. Like Joe Jonas! Anyway, Phillip has some very nice eyebrows. Way better than Evan's, by the way.

Oh, Mrs. Willis. You are still talking. Talking about people who are not eligible to participate in my boyfriend study because they are . . . dead. I'll have to take notes on Phillip later. Thanks a lot.

Signed, but never to be delivered by,

Kara McAllister

P.S. Ha! Was able to get these notes during the last five minutes of class! Your filibuster didn't bust me, Mrs. Willis!

I had just enough time to update my data on Subject #3 before Tabs joined me.

Yep. James and The Vine are definitely an item! She's giving him a hug right now. He seems to be enjoying it, too. Probably because he's never had a girlfriend before. Not one that I know about, anyway. (Thanks to Tabbi, however, he's an experienced kisser. Apparently.)

Gina, on the other hand, has had so many boyfriends that it absolutely proves one thing: Life isn't fair!

These charts show exactly how life isn't fair. Because The Vine keeps having more and more relationships, her growth chart shows a steady increase. But mine is always the same. Stagnant. Dormant. Dead. Can you even call it a chart if nothing changes?

HOW can The Vine have had so many boyfriends when I haven't had a single one? It's as if bad luck is following me around like that cat in
Bad Kitty
, which is a book about a girl whose life gets pretty crazy after a cat crosses her path.

I mean Gina Johns isn't even that cute. She does what my mom calls “overcompensating.” Too much flirting. Too much makeup. Too much giggling. Too much jewelry. She has very black hair. (It was brown last year.) She uses very black eyeliner. And she wears very black boots all the time. Even in summer.

I just don't understand what the attraction is. Well, maybe I do. But I can't be like that. If James likes the kind of girl Gina is, he's definitely off of my list of possibilities!

I didn't have a chance to take notes on anyone else during school. But I was determined NOT to let James Powalski be the last guy I studied. Let's just say I'm hoping for sweet dreams tonight.

So when I heard Chip Tyler laughing in the back of the bus, I decided to focus my powers of unobtrusive observation on him, even though he:

1. is not a huge improvement over James.
   
2. got on my very last nerve today.
   
3. cannot possibly be right for me, according to my mimi.
   

I know Chip isn't right for me because one time I asked my mimi how she knew to pick my grandpa, and she said:
You don't pick who you love the most. You pick who annoys you the least.
Well, if that's the gold standard, I can absolutely strike Chip Tyler off of my list! That boy is
so annoying
. He's the type that taps your left shoulder if he is standing on your right. Then he snickers about it when you turn your head and look into the eyes of . . . no one. Plus, I still can't forgive him for shaking my hand in that closet.

If that isn't enough evidence, what he did during Mrs. Hill's class third period proves that he's the most annoying guy on the planet. Or at least in the seventh grade. Today the sub passed around a sheet for us to sign to prove to Mrs. Hill that we were in class. Lucky for me, Tabbi was the last one to sign it — because she noticed my name wasn't on it. When she passed the paper back to me, I saw that my name had been erased and
Anita Bath
was written in place of it.