"Do you and Justin Hayes talk?" Tori asked, looking up from her large spread of fashion magazines to stare at me, her hands resting on her cheek.
We're in her room, which is practically the LARGEST teen girl room I've EVER seen—and I've watched every episode of Homely Houses for five years to know that. She's got like, two walk-in closets, each twice the size of my room, a pink canopy bed with lots of frills, lots and lots of frills. She's got this table she calls the 'fashion shrine.' It's basically where she keeps pictures of her favorite models, collections, autographs, and fashion magazines, which are like three times the number of books I have on my shelf.
If you've SEEN my shelf, you'd totally FREAK.
All in all, Tori's like the typical American teenage girl, while I'm the dorky, socially-invisible geek who just follows her around, hoping some of her epic cool girl vibes can rub off on me. You see, Tori's like the hybrid between cool, snazzy, popular, and nice all at once. And if you've read every Dork Diaries, Geek Girl, or Mean Girls series, you'd know that's a combination that's pretty hard to find. It's so hard to find people like that, sometimes I fear that one day she'll just wake up from her daydream and realize she's been hanging around with a one-eyed book-geek, mismatched-sock freak.
Then SHE'D freak.
And then scream her way to safety.
Just saying.
People say I have self-esteem issues, and Dad's all about me believing in myself and building self-confidence. I just like to be honest with myself because living in denial is the brain's way of coping with shit.
I can't let my brain cope with shit. I'm still having a field day coping with physics, chemistry, trig, calculus, and every other BORING subject that I find interesting.
So, simply put, I'm a geek, and I'm NOT proud.
I rolled over on my belly, staring at Tori's perfectly manicured toenails and tossing the comic magazine I'd somehow scavenged out of Tori's fashion shrine. Tori abso-positively HATES comics.
"Justin Hayes? What'd make you think that?"
"I've seen you two talking. Twice, actually," she said, sitting up and nudging my arm with both hands on her cheek. "Don't tell me you have the hots for him too!"
I shook, trying to hide the quiver in my voice with a shaky laugh.
"Justin Hayes? I do NOT have the hots or the colds, whatever that is, for Justin Hayes. I mean, I tripped all over him at a catwalk show." I chuckled. "He probably thinks I'm an alien freak, a fact that I can't oppose."
She laughed, plopping down on her small fountain of pillows. She popped her head close to mine, letting out a deep breath. I rolled over to stare at her.
"What?"
She laughed. "What?"
"What are you thinking about?"
She shrugged. "Nothing. Just thinking about the way forward. I've always wanted to be a model so bad I've never thought of doing anything else if that didn't work out."
"What? No. You can't give up on modeling. It's your life dream! You wear heels in your sleep so you can walk in your dreams and NOT fall. And yeah, I thought it was like, SUPER weird, but this is what you want. And you can't let it go." She laughed and ran her hand through her hair.
"I don't know, Daisy. I don't know." She let out a sigh, running her hand over my phone. "Your phone is SO boring, Daisy. I can't believe you still keep dictionary apps on it."
"And an encyclopedia, facts journal, and every chemistry text variation," I added. She shook her head.
"You need help. You are... Oh my god!" she yelled, sitting up. I rushed up to her. "What? Did something happen to my Longman dictionary copy? Damn, I should have downloaded the GB version."
"Oh my God, no, Daisy. Look!" She held the phone in my face. "It's Justin Hayes. Daisy, Justin Hayes has your number?"
I snatched the phone out of her hand, crawling back and clicking reject. She stared at me, shocked, amused, probably betrayed even.
"No, no I... he probably dialed the wrong number."
"His name showed up on your phone. He gave you his number."
"N... no he didn't."
"Yes, he did!" she squealed. "OMG, Daisy, how come you never told me?"
Told you what? That I like him? That I might want to snatch him if I had a chance? That he paid for my food at a café and has agreed to let me take him out for lunch?
I went for the simple you-don't-have-to-know-what's-going-on version boiled down to four simple letters.
"What?"
"That you guys talk. Come on, you could connect me."
"Oh!" I said, heaving an internal sigh of relief. "S... sure." She squealed and snatched my phone out of my tight, vice-like grip, typing his number in and grinning at her phone screen. She beamed at me, and I forced a smile, feeling my heart wrench in two.
"This is AMAZING!" she yelled, hugging her phone to her chest. "You don't like him too, right? 'Cause it'd be weird if..."
"No. Zero weirdness there. I don't like models, remember?"
"Yeah, sure, I know. Just wanted to be sure that I'm not doing anything wrong here..."
"You're not," I said, leaning against her bed and thinking through which'd be the fastest way to die. Death by hanging or choking? Choking was having the upper edge here. I've always wanted to die with a cheeseburger in my mouth.
"This is WONDERFUL!" She sang. "WONDERFUL!! I've waited like FOREVER just to get his number!"
"That's something you can get from the internet," I muttered. She shot me a look, rubbing on a fresh layer of lipstick.
"Personal contacts are a figment of the fashion world, Daisy, and don't look at me like that's the most reasonable thing I've ever said."
"No, no, it's just... philosophical for... you."
"Anything for fashion, miss. Anything."
"Yeah." I let out a fake yawn. "I think I'll just head home. Big job tomorrow."
"Yeah." She smiled sadly. "Miss you."
"Kiss you," I said, grabbing my bag, and she shoved me back playfully.
"My lips belong to and only my sweet, sweet heartthrob," she said, making dreamy eyes, and we both chimed in, "Justin Hayes."
"Hey!" she yelled, "nobody gets to say his name but me!"
"Justin Hayes... Justin Hayes... Justin Hayes," I hummed, dodging the pillows she threw at me and scampering down to the door. I slammed it shut behind me, trying to keep my breath in check.
Cookie crumbles.
YOU ARE READING
GEEK RELOADED
Teen Fiction"I like to think of myself of a walking accident waiting to happen. I'm like the human version of a sitcom character, always in the wrong place at the wrong time and still always managing to make things more hilariously awkward, as it already is." ...
