The Queen of Cool (15 page)

I realize that I have scooted my sleeping bag way close to Sheldon. I’m right next to him.

Tina comes out of the bathroom. She climbs into her sleeping bag, which she’s moved over to the other volunteers.

Sheldon and I are alone on this side of the room. The lights go off. I wonder if I should move.

“Maybe I should go over by Tina,” I say.

“No, it’s okay. Stay here,” Sheldon says. “We could keep talking. You could tell me what kind of jeans I should buy, or something.”

Then I think, right. Now he wants to make out with me, or
something.
But now that I know that he doesn’t hate me, I think maybe that would be okay. Even though he’s not my type. Even though he’s a pizza face.

But he just falls asleep. He doesn’t touch me, or keep talking, or anything.

I wake up in the morning all mad. What’s his problem? Doesn’t he know?
Everybody
makes a pass at me.

Then I think, wow, maybe he was
respecting
me.

Then I think, wow, maybe he was
rejecting
me.

Then I think, wow, it’s the second time I’ve been rejected in less than two days.

“Nothing happened.”

“But you slept next to him.” Tina has a glint in her eye.

“Nothing happened. Gosh, he’s like the only guy ever to not try to stick his tongue down my throat.”

Besides Sid, I think, but I don’t correct myself. And I certainly don’t tell Tina that.

“Mochaccino,” I say when we get up to the counter. “No whipped cream.”

Tina sidles up to the barista, who is West Hollywood dreamy, and says, “I’d like a large double shot of
you.
”

He laughs.

I am embarrassed. She looks back at me as we leave the store and shrugs.

“What?” she says. “If I don’t make people notice me, then they’re not going to notice me. Besides, he was totally cute! You never know, maybe he would ask me out.”

I don’t tell her that he slipped me his phone number on a napkin and didn’t charge me for my banana bread.

“You know, Sheldon is a catch,” Tina says. “He’s like a diamond in the rough. He’s going to make someone a great boyfriend.”

“I’m sure he will,” I say. “But it’s not going to be me.”

But Tina is right. Sheldon
is
the nice guy who finishes last. He’s the one you overlook. The one who’s been sitting right in front of you the whole time, as plain as the nose on your face.

“Sheldon is a gentleman and a scholar. He’s adventurous, loyal, kind-hearted, smart, and a good friend.”

“Yeah. I just don’t see it,” I lie.

I know she’s talking about Sheldon, but it sounds kind of like she’s talking about herself.

Isn’t that something they say in all those magazine quizzes? Your friends are a reflection of who you are or how you feel about yourself?

Well then, maybe I
could
like a nice guy.

He is mesmerized, leaning against the fence looking straight at the orangutans when I spot him.

“Dad?”

“Look at that little guy,” he says.

He is looking at an orangutan with a bag over its head.

“Maybe I should put a bag over
my
head,” he says under his breath.

“Dad, are you okay?”

He pulls out a little black notebook with an elastic band around it and jots something down. Then he turns and looks at me, finally noticing that I’m there. He pulls me in for a hug.

“This was the best Christmas present you ever got me,” Dad says. “The zoo passes are even better than the paperweight you made me in the first grade.”

I stand with him and watch the orangutans. Just looking at them soothes me. I prop up my elbows on the fence and stare out blissfully at the apes, forgetting that I have a list of tasks to finish.

I observe the way one sits and stares at us.

Then moves to a quiet corner.

Then swings the length of the cage.

Then settles in a shady spot.

Then decides to join its friend.

Then points to the other orangutan’s chest, where a piece of hard candy is stuck.

Then takes the hard candy off the other orangutan’s chest and pops it into its own mouth.

“Are you on a break, Libby?” asks Mrs. Torres. She’s leading a group of prospective volunteer docents through the zoo.

She’s interrupted my zen.

“Oh, sorry, Mrs. Torres. This is my dad,” I say.

“Hello,” Dad says, sticking out his hand to shake.

“Okay,” Mrs. Torres says, nodding, making her koala bear earrings tremble. Then she continues on with her tour.

But I know it’s not okay.

“Guess I have to get back to my duties,” I say. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Dad says. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“No, no trouble. I’m glad you came.”

I start to walk away, then I remember that Dad doesn’t have a car.

“Dad, do you want to meet at five? I could give you a ride home.”

“I’ll walk home.”

“You’re
going to walk
?”

He shrugs and stands there looking like a little boy. I should bring him to the lost and found.

Then he turns back, hypnotized by the magnificent beasts and the words he’s scratching into that Moleskine notebook.

Sheldon is hovering outside the zoo exit. He’s fiddling with his shoe or something, but he looks like he’s biding time. I know what he’s doing. He’s waiting for me.

He stands up when I get to him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I say.

We both kind of stand there. He looks like he’s going to explode with a stream of things to say, but instead of talking, he keeps swallowing.

What if I made it easier for him? I wait five more seconds, to give him a chance.

“Wanna go do something sometime?” I say, finally.

He smiles. Bad skin. Nice teeth. He licks his chapped lips.

“Yeah,” he says. “How about I come over with my telescope later?”

“I would like that,” I say, feeling a little bubble of joy float up to my mouth in the form of a smile.

“Okay,” he says, and he takes my hand and squeezes it. “Thanks.”

It’s nearly midnight.

I am standing outside at the top of my dead-end street wearing a too-thin coat. I want to take the coat off because I’m wearing a pale blue angora sweater that makes my boobs look nice, but it’s too cold. No wonder Sheldon is always wearing those clothes. They might look bad, but the layers of flannel and thermal and wool must keep him warm while he’s waiting for the stars and planets to rise. Maybe he’s not clothes-challenged. Maybe he’s just practical.

And regardless of what I think, he does actually kind of have his own style going on.

I pour myself some cocoa from the thermos Sheldon thoughtfully brought with him.

“That was so smart, to bring something hot to drink,” I say.

“It gets chilly at night,” Sheldon says.

He dials up numbers on the telescope.

“The great thing about your street is that there are no streetlights,” Sheldon says.

He keeps looking into his telescope and not over at me. He’s nervous. It kind of makes me glad that I’ve aroused such feelings in someone. Because the way that he tenderly cares for his telescope and the way that he gently longs for the sky is nice.

“So, can we look at the moon?” I ask, moving closer.

“Sure. But it’s really bright. We should look at that last. You can get light-blinded afterward,” Sheldon says.

I notice that I don’t have to strain to hear Sheldon anymore. Lately it seems as though my ears have adjusted to his soft-spokenness.

Finally he finishes adjusting his telescope, and then steps away from it.

“Wanna look?”

I put my eye on the viewfinder and point myself up to the stars. I see nothing but a small, fuzzy-looking ball. It looks like a smudge on the lens.

“Am I supposed to be seeing something?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Sheldon says.

“Am I looking at something that looks like a little blurry blob?” I ask.

“It’s a globular cluster,” Sheldon says.

“Globular cluster! Ha! That sounds like it’s related to phlegm. Like someone’s hocking a loogie,” I say.

I stop looking in the telescope and look straight at Sheldon. I expect his look to be different. Romantic. Expectant. But it’s not. It is just Sheldon.

“God, you’re a hopeless stargazer,” Sheldon says. “You should stick to observing animals.”

“It’s still romantic, don’t you think?” I say. I move closer to Sheldon. He doesn’t notice.

“Romantic in what way?” he asks.

“I mean, you know, it’s late. The stars are out. The universe. I mean, here we are, under the stars.”

And then Sheldon starts to laugh.

“Are you laughing at me?” I say.

“Well, I asked you out . . .”

“
I
asked
you
out,” I say, correcting him.

“Libby. I wanted to hang out so I could talk to you. I was hoping maybe, you know, since you’re like the Queen of Cool, you could show me some pointers on how to be cool enough so that Tina would like me.”

“Tina!” I say. “You like
Tina
?”

“Yeah, I’ve liked her since I met her in fifth grade.”

And then I remember the way that Sheldon looks at Tina, and I know that he never gazes at me with those soft brown eyes. He only uses that look with her.

He loves her.

I get this tightening in my chest. This squeeze of horrible envy.

I think I’ve hit my limit with the stargazing.

“I’m sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding,” he says. “Gosh. I never thought I’d be the guy stuck between two girls.”

He smiles. He’s like a deer caught in headlights. That’s when I start laughing. How could I ever think that I had feelings for Sheldon? He isn’t my type at all.

But he could be my
friend.

I put my arm around his shoulders like a friend, and Sheldon starts laughing too.

“Yeah, you’re a real sexpot, Sheldon,” I say.

“My mom always said I had it in me,” he says.

“So you really like Tina?” I say.

He nods.

“Well then, Sheldon,” I say. “I think you have to tell her.”

“Hey, Libby.” Perla snaps her gum behind me. I am emptying an overfull trash bin. “I didn’t realize you were a janitor.”

“I’m not. It’s just part of my duties to clean,” I say.