The Boy Project (8 page)

I now have the surveys in my hands and the memory of the look in Mr. DeLacey's burning ice-blue eyes (after I asked the “Is it legal?” question) seared into my brain. I sure hope he doesn't know how to make voodoo dolls or anything.

Tabbi asked if I wanted to go out to eat pizza and go to a movie with her and Evan. Um . . . NO! I'd rather eat asparagus soup at Mimi's. Besides, I really want to finish compiling my surveys. I'm done with the girls' one. The results turned out a little differently than I expected.

I thought that most of the girls would have circled at least eight or nine of the same letter, so that they would clearly fall into one group or the other. But that's not what happened at all. A lot of girls picked almost even combinations of letters, like four As, three Bs, and three Cs. When that happened, I would put them in whatever group they had most of, but it made me wonder: Is a girl really Type A if she only picks four A answers? Maybe my test needed to have more questions.

Out of sixty-three girls, here is the number of girls in each type:

Type A:
22

Type B:
13

Type C:
28

By the way, almost
no one
thinks their friends describe them as unusual (think again, girls!) and almost
everyone
has a cool laptop on their desk at home. Right.

Well, I compiled the results of the boys' survey. Then I did it again to make sure I'd calculated right the first time. Unfortunately, I had. Mr. D may be a jerk, but he has to be right about one thing. This “survey” (imagine air quotes around preceding word) cannot possibly be scientifically accurate! No way! Because here are what the results look like:

And that's not even the bad news! The bad news is that of the subjects who were secretly identified using my seating chart + number-for-initials code, here are the ones who liked Type B girls: Jonah Nate, Alex Langford, and Mr. D (I know because it was the only one in green ink). Only three! Since I've already ruled all three of those guys out as potential soul mates, this survey is just as worthless to my soul mate project as it is to my science fair project. Ugh! Now I have to come up with a totally new idea!

At least this week's advice from Bebe gave me something to do for a change. Here is her latest e-mail:

To: Kara M

From: BebeTruelove

Subject: Tip #3

Dear Soul Mate Seeker,

Know what you want! Think about the qualities you would like to find in a soul mate. Now make a list. Once you know what you are looking for, it will be easier to find.

Tip #3: Know what you want!

Good Luck in Love,

Bebe

Buy Bebe's Book!

Don't know what you want? Try reading
Great Soul Mates
. Bebe's newest book has just been released by Truelove Publishing, Inc. Click here to order now!
♥
Great Soul Mates
♥

(Must be 18 years of age to order.)

Okay, Bebe. I can handle that one!

The Perfect Soul Mate: A List

by Kara McAllister

My one and only soul mate will

1. be a nice person.

2. have a sense of humor.

3. like to read.

4. appreciate art.

5. think I'm great.

Well, that's all I have so far. But that's only because I don't know enough about kissing or anything to have added “be a good kisser” for number 6.

Until around 3:30 this afternoon, there was only one word I could use to describe my weekend:
depressing
!

My survey results were disastrous. My best friend is with the only guy I liked. And judging by the height-challenged middle column in the chart I made, I, Kara McAllister, am apparently the least attractive type of girl possible to the opposite sex.

Then I remembered something that gave me hope. I call him Subject #11. That's right. Guy at the Mall. He, at least, has not taken my survey! Maybe he's mature enough to like girls like me: Type B!

Once I remembered this detail, I had to find a way to get back to the mall. And I could only think of one surefire way: Tell Mom I was taking up running so I'd need a pair of track shoes. I knew Mom would have a very hard time turning down my request because she's obsessed with not showing favoritism between Julie and me. And yes, I do use this information to my advantage sometimes because I think Julie already has most of the advantages. It's only fair. Besides, information isn't worth having if you don't use it.

So I walked into the family room and said, “I want to try out for track this year.”

Mom, Dad, and Julie looked at me. But apparently an evil fairy had just visited the room and blasted my family with a spell that rendered (new vocab word) each of them mute. No one said a single word.

Ignoring the possible presence of a malevolent (new vocab word) fairy, I forged ahead. “Track has been such a great experience for Julie. And I really need to do something to get more involved with school.”

Silence.

“Can you take me to the mall so I can get some track shoes like you got Julie?”

Family still mute.

“I promise to start running with Julie every morning.”

“What?!” yelled Julie. “You've never been interested in track!”

I guess I was wrong about the voice-stealing fairy.

“But I'm older now,” I said. “You had a chance to prove yourself in track. I should too.”

Julie, now mute again, rolled her eyes.

Mom sighed. “Are you sure track is your thing, Kara?”

“You never even go jogging,” added Dad.

“You guys are always saying I should try new things.” (When the going gets tough, use your parents' own words against them.)

“Why don't we go to Michaels and get some new craft supplies instead?” asked Mom.

“Because craft supplies can't buy you love,” I said.

Julie made a sound that resembled a raft deflating. “And track shoes can?”

“They seem to be working for you.”

Julie's face turned pink, for some reason. She tossed her ponytail and stomped from the room. What's up with her?

In the end, Mom took me to the mall like I knew she would. Unfortunately, however, my mom doesn't believe in “dropping young girls off at the mall by themselves.” So she was totally unreasonable and insisted on coming along.

And since I wasn't about to drag Mom into A&F, I only had about fifty seconds to dash in there while she was looking at half-price baking dishes. Guess what. No Justin. I asked the salesclerk if he was working today and she said, “How do you know Justin?” (As if it's any of her business!!!!)

Then two things happened at the exact wrong time. Justin walked in from the back of the store (he looked even better than before, if that's possible), and my mom showed up at the front. I ran out, pulling her toward the food court. But I heard the clerk say, “Do you know that girl? She was looking for you.”

“Who,
her
?” he asked. He used a tone that means “NO!” in about eighty-two different languages.

What a narrowly avoided disaster! But do I think there's still a chance he could be my soul mate? Sure! Because you never know. . . .

Usually I'm just rolling out of bed at this time in the morning. But not today. That's because today's the first day I had to
pretend
to want to go running with Julie since I made Mom buy me those shoes. So at 6:00 this morning Julie shook me awake, not too gently either. “Mom says I
have
to take you running. Thanks. I'm leaving in five — with or without you.”

The last thing I wanted to do at 6:00 a.m. was to go running with my resentful sister (especially since I'm no closer to knowing if Justin is my one and only soul mate), but I knew if I didn't make a good show of it Mom would never buy me anything again.

Really, I had no choice but to whip on some shorts and a T-shirt, throw my hair into a ponytail, and hurry downstairs without even brushing my teeth! As I was heading downstairs, I thought it would serve Julie right if I blasted her with a very breathy “hellllooo.”

I didn't get a chance, though, because Julie shot down the driveway as soon as she saw me. I practically had to break my neck to stay even ten paces behind her, which was as close as she wanted me to get, evidently, since she never slowed down OR looked back.

We jogged down to the end of Mill Street, a pretty long street, and then turned the corner onto Hobby Lane. Julie went the length of Hobby Lane, then turned back and did the street again. I just followed along slowly — trying to catch my breath so I could run
with
my sister instead of
after
her. But when we got to the corner of Hobby and Johnstone, she doubled
back
to run down Hobby Lane
again.

“What gives?”
I called as she passed me. She didn't answer. But she really didn't have to because just about then, Lyle Bernard came out of his garage on a bike.

I have to admit that seeing something that looks like Lyle makes getting out of bed ridiculously early in the morning almost worth it. That's because there's only one word to describe him:
sleek
.

His tan legs show off long, defined muscles, but not the bulging bodybuilder type.

His shoulder-length hair is thick, straight, and the color of coffee —without cream. His face is sculpted looking. There isn't a line in is body that looks out of place. And seeing Lyle today made me realize what a long way those twelve-year-old guys, like his brother Phillip, have to go. Maybe I'm gathering data on the wrong-aged subjects. . . .

Lyle paused at the end of the driveway to pull his hair back into a short ponytail before putting on his helmet. Julie picked up her pace about then and in a second she was jogging in place in front of him as he fastened his chinstrap.

I was too far away to hear what they were saying, so I shifted into high gear. I swear I've never run so fast in my entire life! My legs felt like they were being sunburned from the inside out. The sting of a new-shoe blister on my right heel made every step excruciating. Sweat poured down my forehead at white-water speed and blurred my vision. But did I let a little major discomfort get in the way of potential eavesdropping? No!

Finally, I got close enough to hear what they were saying.

“Really?” asked Julie.

“Yep,” said Lyle. Then he hopped onto his bike. He looked back over his shoulder and waved as he rolled away.

Julie turned around and slowly jogged backward, watching him.

“So — you — like — Lyle?” I panted. It was what Mrs. Hill calls “a rhetorical question.”

“Shut up, Kara,” said Julie. She left me in her dust. Again.

But at least I had a chance to do some unobtrusive observing of Lyle. With Julie talking to him, he didn't even notice me staring. When I thought about how easy it was for me to stare unnoticed, it was kind of depressing. . . .

Anyway, there's no point in doing any future “observations” on Lyle, unless it's for my own personal enjoyment, because Julie is obviously in love with him. But here's the data I got on him. Just in case.

I got to school early today and I'm soooo glad I did because I would have missed all of the action if I hadn't.

But I didn't miss Alex Brantley getting out of his dad's SUV. And I didn't miss seeing him walk up to Maybelline like he does every morning and I didn't miss seeing him say something to her that made her start crying, grab The Sponge, and hurry away. And I didn't miss seeing Alex Brantley turn to Alex Langford, shrug, and start motioning with his hands like he was explaining something. But you really don't have to explain anything when you've said something to the girl you've been going with for almost three years that makes her cry, grab her BFF, and run away. Because everyone knows what that means. Alex Brantley just broke up with Maybelline.

Maybelline
still hasn't come to class. I bet she's in the bathroom doing one of two things:

1. Bawling her eyes out (What girl wouldn't when she loses the cutest boy in school?)
   
2. Reapplying the makeup that was ruined when she was bawling her eyes out
   

I'm sure it must be upsetting for Maybelline to lose a catch like Alex, but since she's kind of a rotten person, it's hard to feel bad for her.

And I'm thinking this breakup is a good thing for every other girl at Spring Valley Middle. Alex Brantley, the best looking boy in school, is now available.

Just turned in my work. It was hard to get it done, let me tell you, with all the sniffing that was going on behind me. But at least Maybelline
has her head on her desk with her eyes closed, so it's safe to write.

Since Alex is a free man, I've been observing him again. He doesn't seem upset at all. He even caught me looking at him once and smiled. It wasn't a really great smile though. His eyes didn't light up. They still looked like they were focusing on a dictionary.

Well, that didn't take long. I guess The Sponge so desperately wants to be like Maybelline that she just broke up with Alex Langford! I was walking behind her and Maybelline
and I heard her say, “Isn't this great, Colleen? Now that we're both single, we can do a lot more stuff together.”

I guess this breakup is good news for all vapid (new vocab word) girls searching for soul mates who have no personality whatsoever — like Alex Langford.

I'd think anyone would be happy to be free of The Sponge, but Alex actually looks bummed about it. And I have to say that The Sponge is being pretty harsh. She walked by him in the cafeteria talking loudly about there being “more fish in the sea.” I swear there was a tear in Alex's eye when he jerked his head to the side, trying to pretend he didn't see her.

I found myself feeling a little sorry for him. I guess vapid people have feelings, too.

Things are looking up! I just had my first really normal conversation with Tabbi since she started dating Evan. I realized that even though it's uncomfortable for me to be around my crush, I still need Tabbi as my best friend. I came to this realization after hearing the juiciest gossip of the year. I had to tell someone. And it had to be Tabs.

See, Julie just asked me, “Do you know a guy named Alex Brantley?”

I said, “Yeah, why?”

“Amanda Bodie can't stop talking about him.”

“The cheerleader? Isn't she in ninth grade?”

“Yeah and yeah. Everyone's teasing her because she's dating a middle schooler. But Amanda says she doesn't care. She says Alex is hotter than anyone at the high school. So . . .”

“So what?”

“So tell me,” said Julie. “Is it true? Is the guy really that hot?”

“Hotter than Mouth of Hades chili at Texas Steakranch,” I said.

“Bring tears to your eyes?”

“Oh yeah.”

Then Julie made me dig out last year's yearbook and show her a picture. When she saw it she said, “Yummy.”

“Julie!” I said. “You're drooling over a sixth grader!”

Julie tossed
her ponytail. I hate when she does that. “Am not. He's in seventh grade now.”

And I realized I really didn't want to talk to Julie anymore because I had to call Tabbi and give her the dirt. Alex broke up with Maybelline for an older woman!

Tabs was thrilled to be one of the first to know. We talked just like old times. We agreed that it wouldn't be so weird if they were old like my aunt Mona and uncle Mike (he's thirty-eight and she's forty). I mean after they reach a certain point, all adults kind of seem the same age. But Alex is only thirteen and his new girlfriend is fifteen! She can drive! We only quit talking when Tabs's mom yanked the phone out of her hand. Like I said, she's waaay strict about bedtime.

So now I'm sitting here wondering about how Alex's choice of an older woman impacts my soul mate search. While I'm secretly glad that Maybelline is getting her due (okay, not so secretly), I also find this totally unfair! Alex is the cutest boy in seventh grade and possibly the cutest boy in the ENTIRE school and I can't even compete with other seventh graders for guys like him, so how am I going to compete with ninth graders? Especially one who looks great in a skimpy cheerleading uniform.
Rah! Rah! Blah!

Seriously, what if Amanda is Alex's one and only soul mate? I mean, if my one and only soul mate is two years younger than
me
, then
he's
still running around with those little fifth graders on the elementary school playground. And I can tell you one thing. There's no way I'm going out with a fifth grader. Seriously. I'm taller than most of the guys in my own grade as it is. So if my soul mate is down there in fifth grade right now, I guess I'm just going to have to miss out on him.