Geek Girl (30 page)

Tonight is no different as she pulls me in for a hug, telling me how much she’s missed me. When I introduce Jane, she winks at me with a grin, and I know Brian’s been extolling Jane’s many virtues to his mom.

When we walk in, almost everyone is already there since we had to wait for Jane’s toes to dry before she could slip her sandals on. I think it’s ridiculous, but then I see the look on Brian’s face when he spies them and decide maybe she knows what she’s doing. Not that she needs painted toes to capture his attention—his attention isn’t anywhere else, which is highly unusual for Brian because he generally can’t be distracted from the TV when there is a sci-fi movie running.

Of course, my eyes unerringly seek out Trevor first thing. This is a mistake because now my stomach is in knots. He stands at the fridge, handing out drinks. As if he can sense me there, he straightens and looks right at me. I freeze—but so does he. He only stares at me for a few seconds, then turns back to the fridge. I wince—guess the politeness is over.

But then he closes the fridge and walks right over to me, handing me a diet Coke. He doesn’t say anything as I numbly take it from him, just offers me an unreadable look, turning away as soon as I have it in hand. Just like that, I’m off-center again.

I watch the movies blindly. My entire focus is on Trevor, who laughs and talks with his friends and who always seems to be near enough to me that I can’t ignore him but far enough that it’s clear we aren’t together. He even talks to two of the other girls that Brian has invited, making my stomach roil.

He’s definitely not ignoring me, though. Because I’m so focused on him, I see each time that his eyes flick my way. It’s fairly frequently. If I was confused before by his behavior, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now.

Finally, the eternal night ends, and people begin leaving to go home, except for us—Jane’s trying to lengthen her time spent with Brian—and Trevor. Like there could be a more uncomfortable grouping.

“Hey, did you guys walk?” Brian asks Jane.

“Yeah,” she tells him. Brian only lives a few blocks from Jane, and neither of us has a car, so how else would we get here? Fly?

“Want me to walk you home?” he offers gallantly. I would have said no, but Jane glows at the suggestion, so I just shrug.

“I’ll come with you,” Trevor suddenly offers, and my heart flip-flops. Why would he even want to?

“Okay, let’s go then,” Brian pipes in before I can say anything.

We walk through the house so Brian can let his mom know where he’s going, then out the front door. The sidewalk is not wide enough for three across but not narrow enough for only one, which means that Brian and Jane go ahead, holding hands, leaving me and Trevor side by side. I figure it goes beyond Trevor’s ability to be so rude as to walk in front of or behind me when it would be so obvious, which explains why he falls into step beside me. Our arms swinging by our sides accidentally brush—we both flinch. Trevor immediately shoves his hands into his pockets; I fold my arms across my belly.

Brian and Jane are in their own world, walking close, heads together as they talk quietly. Their intimacy makes for an uncomfortable silence between us.

“So . . . how’s Tamara liking school?” Trevor finally asks. I guess he’s as uncomfortable in the silence as I am. Odd question, though, since he’s seen her recently.

“Good. She’s doing all the typical Tamara stuff—sorority, clubs, that kind of stuff. She’d be a cheerleader if she had the time, I’m sure.” I smile.

“Yeah, that sounds like her. Seems like you guys get along a lot better these days. I remember when you used to call her ‘cheerleader’ like it was a bad thing.”

I’m stunned that he’s bringing up anything from our time before. I take a breath to calm my heart.

“There were a lot of things I thought were bad back then.” I shrug nonchalantly, though I’m feeling anything but. “Tamara’s not so bad. I like having her for my sister.”

“That’s good,” he replies. Silence descends between us again.

“I think you—”

“I wanted to say—”

We look at each other and smile uncomfortably at having both spoken at the same time.

“Go ahead,” I say.

He clears his throat.

“I just wanted to say thanks—you know, for coming over to see Todd. It means a lot to him. He doesn’t talk about anything else for two days after you’ve come.”

I think about the precious time I’ve spent with Todd—and seeing the trampoline in the backyard, bleak and empty. Kinda like me.

“Oh.” I don’t quite know how to respond. “That’s okay. I like Todd.”

“He’s easy to like. Still, you don’t have to do that.”

It occurs to me that maybe he’s trying to tell me
not
to come to his house anymore.

“If you don’t want me to . . .”

“No—no, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s . . . it’s fine. It’s a good thing. It’s . . . Todd likes having you there.”

I take a deep breath again. My heart aches for the days when it was easy between us, when I could reach out into that small space between us, take his hand, and have him glad of it. Not this strained awkward politeness. I look away and quickly wipe the tear that spills.

“It’s, um, it’s nice of you to come to the senior center too.”

My stomach clenches at his words. I know he isn’t happy about my continued appearance there.

“If that makes it bad for you, having me there, I could maybe come a different time or something.”

He’s quiet for so long that I begin to regret my words. While I would come a different day rather than not at all to see my friends there, it’s also one of the few times I get to see Trevor still acting like the old Trevor.

“No, it’s okay. We need all the help we can get.”

Not exactly the enthusiastic response I might have hoped for, I think. But also not the harsh rejection it could have been—only a mild one. We arrive at Jane’s house, and I’m both relieved and disappointed. From the sound of Trevor’s sigh, he’s only relieved. I try to ignore the cracking of my heart at the sound.

Trevor reaches out and grabs my elbow, and I stop cold. He releases me almost as soon as he touches me, pulling his hand back as if burned. He looks embarrassed but nods toward the porch where Brian and Jane stand close together.

“Uh, maybe we should give them a sec.”

We stand in the taut silence. Trevor is standing close to me, and I can’t help but think about the dance and the kiss—and all of the kisses that came before that. I’m torturing myself with these thoughts when I glance up at him and see him staring at me intently. He’s remembering as well.

The air around us is charged. Trevor leans in a hairsbreadth. I match him.

“Trev,” I breathe—like an
idiot
because that breaks the spell. He takes a step backward. “Trevor, I—”

“What was that?” he interrupts. “Before, what was it that you were going to say?”

I blink a couple of times, trying to clear my head, wondering how I almost had him kissing me again and now he’s stepping away.

“Oh, um, I was just going to say . . . I think you’re doing a really good job as the student body president.”

He looks at me oddly.

“Really? That’s what you were going to say?”

I shrug. “I didn’t know what else to talk about.”

Sensing dangerous territory again, he takes another step backward.

“Okay, well, thanks, I guess. Hey, Brian!” he calls. Brian turns toward us. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” he calls back, reluctant. He gives Jane’s hand a squeeze, then bounds down the stairs toward where we stand.

“Bye, Trevor,” Jane says.

He waves at her, then turns and begins walking back down the sidewalk. I stare after him, hurting. Brian gives me an odd look as he hustles to catch up with Trevor.

“See ya, Jen.”

“Bye, Brian,” I say.

“Bye, Trev,” I whisper.

Three miserable weeks later, I’m standing in front of my lonely, messy locker, trying to locate a paper that I know I put in here yesterday, or thought I did anyway—kinda hard to know for sure without any organization to speak of going on in here.

“There you are,” I grumble as I catch sight of the paper. I pull it out from beneath the stack—which then goes tumbling to the floor. I growl as the rest of the papers hit the floor and scatter around my feet. I’m still scowling at them, as if that would cause them enough fear to quickly jump up, reassemble themselves, and fly back onto the shelf in my locker when I hear laughter behind me—laughter I know better than my own.

I slowly turn around and see Trevor standing a few lockers down, leaning against one of them casually, hands in his pockets.

“Think that’s funny?” I mean it to come out sounding sarcastic, but it sounds pathetically whiney instead.

“Yeah, I do.”

He grins as he straightens and walks toward me, the grin that brings out the dimples and nearly takes my knees out. I’m
such
a marshmallow. He stops right in front of me, stooping to gather the papers into a quick, tidy pile. He hands them back to me, still smiling while I’m trying to play catch-up with this new development. Then he pulls a paper out of his nicely organized backpack and sets it on top of the stack in my hand. I give it a cursory glance, but none of the writing registers. I’m much more interested in looking at him.

“I’m playing at the Theater Group’s show this Saturday.”

At the what? He reads my silent confusion and taps the paper that he has given me. I look back down and see that it’s a flyer, the same as all the others that are hanging around the school. I know about the Theater Group, of course, and am dimly aware that they have some kind of event coming up. Beyond that I haven’t really paid attention.

“You’re playing in the show?” I repeat inanely.

“Yeah.” He smiles at me again, scattering logical thought.

“Oh, cool,” I mumble.

At least, I think that’s what I say.

“Will you come?”

“Come?” I echo. “Where?”

He rolls his eyes, grinning.

“To the show.”

“To . . . the . . . ?” A flicker of intelligence lights in my brain, and I glance back down at the paper. “Come to the Theater Group’s show?”

For the first time, he looks a little uncomfortable.

“To see me play,” he says with a wry grin, shrugging.

“Oh. Yeah. Okay. Sure. I’d . . . I’d like that.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No!” My interruption is a little sharp. “I mean, no, I know I don’t have to. I
want
to.”

“Good. I’ll see you there.” His grin is back as he glances past me into my wreck of a locker. “You should clean that out,” he laughs as he walks away.

I watch him go, my mouth hanging open. I begin chiding myself for my lack of clever conversation while I had the chance, then suddenly it sinks in. Trevor just invited
me
to come see him play this weekend. A slow smile crosses my face as I turn to shove the papers back into my locker. It stays even when I realize that the paper I had been hunting for is now buried somewhere back in the stack.

⊕⊗⊕

Typically, I begin to doubt Trevor’s intentions for inviting me. It has to be something bad, right? Some new way to torture me, make me suffer. So in the end, I don’t tell anyone—not even Jane. My lame excuse for being unable to hang out with her on Saturday night as I usually do barely registers with her as she enthusiastically assures me that it’s okay. Brian has asked her if she wants to do something with him that night.

I change my clothes six times until I finally decide downplaying is the way to go: plain, fitted gray T-shirt and jeans. I’m still insecure about his reasons for inviting me, so I don’t want to make it seem like I’m expecting anything. That I happen to know he really likes the gray T-shirt on me doesn’t mean anything.

I arrive just a few minutes late. I don’t know where he’s at in the program, so I don’t want to miss it; I also don’t want to run into anyone I know and try to explain my sudden interest in the school’s Theater Group. I pay for my ticket and sneak into the darkened auditorium. It’s only full about two-thirds of the way back, so I’m able to sit alone in the back, unnoticed.

The program they handed me as I walked in tells me that Trevor will be about halfway into the program. The program is mostly a mishmash of dancing, singing, and acted-out play scenes. It’s actually pretty good, but because it’s all a bunch of gooey romance, I feel like closing my eyes and plugging my ears. Romantic-type things don’t sit too well with me these days.

Then Trevor walks out on stage, not in a geek tuxedo as I had expected, but dressed simply in a long-sleeved black Henley and jeans. He looks incredibly sexy. He sits at the piano, sideways to the audience. As if these things weren’t enough to take my breath away, he begins playing. Recognition shoots like a lightning bolt into my belly.