Waiting for You (21 page)

“Who’s teasing you?”

“It’s a hypothetical question.”

“I see.”

“So . . . what does it mean?”

“Well, it depends on how he’s teasing you. Hypothetically.”

“Let’s assume he sits behind you in a class. Like physical science. And he’s always poking you. And when you turn around, he pretends he didn’t poke you. Is he just being annoying, or would that mean he likes me—the person?”

Was my life ever that simple? Where my biggest problem was whether some immature boy liked me?

“I would say he likes you. I mean, the person. The hypothetical person.” I’m trying really hard not to laugh. “Because if he didn’t, then why would he be paying so much attention to this person?”

“I know, right? That’s what I thought.”

“Not that I’m an expert or anything.”

“You know about these things. You have a boyfriend.”

Derek looks so cute in this photo. The blur somehow makes him look even cuter.

Sandra says, “Okay, so . . . say, hypothetically, this person might possibly like the boy who’s teasing her. What should she do?”

“Um . . . how about nothing because she’s not old enough to date yet?”

“I am, too!”

“Says who?”

“Dad.”

“You asked Dad if you’re allowed to go out on dates?”

“No, but I will.”

“When? I want to be there for that one.”

“When I know for sure that he likes me.”

“Does he have a name, or are we going to keep pretending he’s not real?”

“That’s all the information you will be receiving at this time,” Sandra informs me in a crisp tone. Then she whisks back into her room with an official air.

I pick up my binder and kiss blurry Derek. We had so much fun today. It felt exactly like when we first started going out, when everything was perfect and we had zero problems. And just because he’s on yearbook with Sierra doesn’t mean anything serious is going on with them. She might like him, but love goes both ways.

My IM signal pings.

43

When I told Nash that Derek would understand about going to the Dorkbot finals on Saturday, I was sort of lying. Because I knew he’d be mad. He didn’t say much when I told him I was going—just that I’d be missing a good time—but it was so worth it. The projects at Dorkbot were amazing. There was this really cute one called Warm Fuzzy. It was a heart pillow that lit up in different colors according to your mood when you squeezed it. For his project, Nash made this motion detector that can power small appliances instead of using batteries or electricity. It blows my mind that he actually made something so complex. He totally should have won instead of coming in third place.

Ms. Maynard put us in random pairs in global today because she said we were goofing off too much in our groups. I got put with Tabitha. Everyone’s complaining because we have to do graphs for this activity and we’re only supposed to do graphs in science and math. So then Ms. Maynard tries to explain about concepts that are universal to all subjects and blah di blah blah, but no one cares.

Tabitha says, “How did you set up your x-axis?”

“I put time there.”

“No, I know, but how did you divide your . . . make your divisions?”

“The increments?”

“Yeah, those.”

“I went by fives, with two little lines in between.”

Tabitha leans over my paper. “Oh,” she says. “That’s what I was going to do.”

“I think it’s the best way, because if you count—”

“Yeah, ten would be too much.”

“They wouldn’t fit.”

“Um-hm.” I can never tell how much Tabitha understands. Like, she’ll say she gets something, but then she always has this blank look. As if she’s waiting for you to explain more. But she never comes out and says she’s stuck.

We do our graphs.

“So, yeah,” Tabitha says. “You should have come to Evan’s show. It was hot.”

“I couldn’t go.”

“So I heard.”

“From who?”

“Why? Is it classified information?”

I think that’s Tabitha’s idea of a joke. I’m never sure with her. I can’t quite grasp her sense of humor.

“Not really,” I say.

“No, Derek told me.”

“Oh.”

When I got home from the Dorkbot finals, I called Derek and got his voice mail. I left a message. He never called back. Well, he called back Sunday afternoon when he woke up and said his phone was off all night.

“I didn’t know he was still hanging out with Sierra,” Tabitha says.

“What?”

“They went to the after party together.”

“Are you sure?” That can’t be right. Derek probably just ran into her there.

“Well, they came in together and left together so, yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

There’s no way that’s true.

Except, what if it is?

“Sorry to be the one to tell you,” Tabitha adds.

I go up to Ms. Maynard and get the bathroom pass. I know where Derek is and this can’t wait until after class.

I sneak down the hall to his classroom and stand outside the door so the kids can see me but the teacher can’t. I find Derek, but he’s not looking my way. A few other kids notice me, which means the teacher is going to realize someone’s standing here in a few seconds. I don’t have a lot of time.

Rachel is looking at me. I signal for her to get Derek. She throws her pencil at him.

Derek whips his head around. Rachel points to me. When Derek sees me, I motion for him to come out. I’m about to be exposed, so I run around the corner and wait.

A few minutes later, Derek comes out. He’s like, “What’s going on?”

“Did you go to Evan’s show with Sierra?”

“What?”

“Last Saturday. Did you go to the after party with her?”

“No. Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of does, since someone’s lying about it.”

“Then why did it look like you went with her?”

“I don’t know. She was there, but so were a lot of other people. It was a group thing.”

“Did you leave with her?”

“No.” Derek rubs his face. “Whatever, some of us went out for pizza after.”

“Oh, and by some of you, do you mean she was included?”

“Yeah, but a bunch of us went.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d freak out.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s exactly what you’re doing!”

“I’m not freaking out, I’m just asking.”

“No, you’re accusing me of something I didn’t do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Going to the show with Sierra!”

“You just told me that you didn’t leave with her and then you said you did. Which is it?”

“Okay, now you’re being crazy.” Derek moves closer to me. “Why are you being so crazy?”

“When someone tells me that my boyfriend went out with his ex, I guess that makes me upset. But it’s not crazy. Anyone else would feel the same way.”

“Well, I didn’t go with her. She was just there. It was nothing.”

It was not nothing. It was obviously something that he felt he needed to hide.

When you’re with someone and he really wants to be with you in this way where it’s like you’re the only girl in the world for him, then it’s obvious and everyone feels it. Even people watching you walking down the street feel it. You radiate this kind of happiness that’s infectious, like sunshine. It’s like you light up the whole world just from your own euphoric glow.

And then there’s me. I’m the opposite of sunshine. I’m a thunderstorm. A growling, perpetual thunderstorm, where the threat of rain never goes away and every day is bleak.

“I’m going back to class,” I say.

Even though it’s kind of mean, it makes me feel better to know that other people are suffering, too. Like Dirk. Because Dirk’s identity has been revealed.

Dirk is really Kelvin.

Last night Dirk ranted about how we’re trashing the planet. He totally dissed our country’s environmental policies and complained about how our school doesn’t even recycle. Which are exactly the kinds of things that Kelvin always complains about. Another clue is that Dirk plays these underground New York bands that no one’s ever heard of, and Kelvin always talks about seeing all these cool bands when he lived there. He was even saying how he knew the lead singer from this band Dirk played the night before.

Ever since the show when Dirk read a super-confidential letter that the principal wrote, some school administrators have been listening, waiting for him to slip so they can catch him. And now they’re convinced he’s Kelvin.

Except Kelvin doesn’t agree.

“It’s not me,” Kelvin tells us in global. He burst in late after I came back to class and now he’s just standing in front of the room. Ms. Maynard lets him talk. “But whoever he is, he rocks.”

I’m not convinced. That could just be Kelvin complimenting himself.

“Can I tell you how a roomful of administrators just locked me in the principal’s office and drilled me?” he says.

Of course, we all want to know what happened with that. So Kelvin tells us how he got called into the principal’s office and was questioned for, like, an hour. The principal threatened to have his room searched if he didn’t stop broadcasting his show. Kelvin told him that he’s not allowed to search his room without a warrant, but the principal said getting one wouldn’t be a problem.

“That is a
complete
violation of privacy,” Kelvin says. “Even if I was Dirk, which I’m not.”

I can’t believe Kelvin was just treated that way. Maybe the principal assumed that if he really was Dirk, he wouldn’t tell anyone about the interrogation.

Of course, everyone is ultra-ready for Dirk to come on that night. And right at eleven, he does.

“Okay, people,” Dirk starts. “Evidently, there’s been some debate about my identity. Someone has been falsely accused of being me. Trust me, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. But rest assured, Kelvin Rodriguez and Dirty Dirk are separate entities. And to prove it, let’s give him a call.”

Dirk calls Kelvin. I’m not sure if he called Kelvin earlier to tell him the plan, but Kelvin answers right away. He’s all, “Yo, Dirk, what’s good?”