Other Girls of Gilmore Girls: The Lindsay Lister Story

Chapter 5

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Walking into school the next day all I wanted was to be able to avoid Dean. It had been so easy and fun on the phone the night before, and safe with Abby on the line, but we didn't have to actually see each other during that conversation. If I smiled too much or made a weird face, he had no idea. I had also never talked to Dean for that long in my life, and what if he expected the same sort of conversation today at school? At least I had the short passing time to rely on to keep things quick.

"Hey blondie!" I heard someone yell; I turned around and it was Dean's friend Kyle. Kyle was everyone's friend really. Short, goofy, and always kind, I could talk to Kyle no problem. "Oh hey, Kyle. What's up?"

"Could you let me copy your notes from math yesterday? I'll get the notebook back to you real quick. I just wasn't paying any attention at all yesterday, and you know there will be a surprise quiz or something when we walk in there."

I shifted my backpack strap onto one shoulder and unzipped the top. I dug around, pulled out my math notebook, and flipped it open to yesterday's notes. "Here," I said as I handed him the notebook.

Just then Dean grabbed the notebook out of my hand and away from Kyle. "Hey, man!" Kyle fake protested as Dean pretended to flip through the pages. "You know, you should really do your own work," Dean teased Kyle before tossing the notebook back to him. "She's too nice to tell you to do your own work, but I'm not." Dean made eye contact with me even though he was talking to Kyle.

I looked down and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"Going this way?" Dean asked and pointed ahead of us. I nodded yes even though it was the slightly longer way to get to my first class. "So did you decide on cheddar?" Dean asked.

"On what?"

"On cheddar. On being cheddar if you had to be a type of cheese. It's so versatile and loved; it's way better than feta or whatever you were talking about last night."

"Oh!" I laughed. "Cheddar is fine, but I feel like once you start eating feta you can never stop. Plus, people rarely eat it often enough, so it's such a special treat."

"And you want people to eat you all the way up?" Dean laughed as he asked the question.

"I don't know! Is the goal to be cheese that survives being eaten? In that case, make me the nastiest, stinkiest one out there. But is the goal to be the best cheese? That's different."

"You are right. Very smart, Lindsay Lister."

I stopped walking because Dean stopped walking. We were at his first period classroom. He stood in front of the doorway, the frame surrounding him in this perfect moment. I wasn't sure before, but now I think he really liked me, and I wanted him to. I wanted Dean to like me, and to ask me out, and to give me his notes, and to pick me up, and bring me ice cream when my day was horrible, and to let me just feel one of those solid and sturdy arms. He felt safe. So safe.

"See you in history," I said, but I didn't walk away. "Let's hang out this weekend. These conversations are too good."

I didn't wait for Dean to respond; I walked to class, even though I felt like skipping.

* * *

After school that day I had to get back to this history project blog. I had settled on the Peloponnesian War, when Sparta defeated Athens. I was going to pretend to be an Athenian teenager, a girl, throughout the final battles and into the defeat. I thought the story would be more interesting to tell from the losing side.

I stared at the blank computer screen.

I had my history textbook and a library book about life in ancient Athens. I also had the memory of history class that day when Dean confirmed that he would like to hang out this weekend. He said he would think of something for us to do, and he would call me later.

I was trying to distract myself from waiting for that phone call by writing my Athenian blog post, but it was nothing but a blank screen. I went back to the Blogger blog I read the other day. That girl could write about anything. I scrolled down her recap of who she hung out with, who said what, a few inside jokes, and a description of what they snacked on. I could do that. I shifted in my chair and started:

||||     The men always eat separately from us, which is great because they would never let me talk philosophy the way I want to anyway. ||||

What else? That other girl's blog was full of incomplete sentences, random letters and signs, and a spastic energy I couldn't understand. That wasn't me. Was that what they expected? I re-read what I wrote. I was so not a writer, but I had to.

||||     The olives this day were so good that I could forget that half the people I knew were preparing for battle. Except I did remember. Not even the feta cheese could make me forget the war.|||||

Feta cheese. If your goal is to be loved, be feta cheese.

The phone rang.

Finally.