Summer of the Geek (9 page)

“Like this.” Charlie lifted her chin and tipped her head to one side. This made her look like an inquisitive, purple-haired bird. “When you see a girl doing that around a guy, it’s a definite sign that she’s interested in him.”

“I can’t remember if she did that,” I said miserably. “But trust me, she’s interested. I could tell. And they have this whole history together. It just makes me . . .” Insanely jealous. Absolutely miserable. Engage in wild fantasies about Wendy’s perfect complexion breaking out in huge, pus-filled pimples. “Uncomfortable.”

“What did Dex say about her?” Charlie asked. “Has he given you a reason to think there’s something to be concerned about?”

“No, not really. But . . .”

“But what?” Charlie was starting to look impatient. She crossed her arms and pinned me with a sharp stare.

“It’s probably nothing. But I keep having the feeling that there’s something he’s not telling me,” I said.

“What about?”

“That’s just it. I have no idea,” I said. My stomach clenched nervously. Maybe Dex wanted to break up with me and wasn’t sure how to tell me. But no, that didn’t sound like him. After Charlie, he was the most honest person I knew. And when he called me last night, his voice had been warmly affectionate, and he’d been really supportive when I told him how well things had gone with Amelia at the pottery studio. But I couldn’t shake the lingering worry that there was something he wasn’t telling me. I just hoped that the something wasn’t five-foot-nine with golden blond hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a crazy-good body.

“What’s she doing back here again?” Charlie muttered, eyes narrowing. I followed her gaze and saw Phoebe McLeod walking through the front door of the bowling alley. Today, she was wearing her strawberry blond hair loose around her shoulders, and she looked bright-eyed and expectant.

“She’s meeting Finn,” I said.

“What?”
Charlie asked, with such ferocity, I almost took a step back.

“They have a date. Although I told him it was totally lame of him to take her bowling on a first date. He has this delusional idea that he’s going to impress her with his bowling prowess,” I said.

“But Finn can’t bowl. He does that weird thing where he shakes his hips right before he throws the ball,” Charlie said.

“That’s exactly what I told him.”

We watched Phoebe’s progress as she passed by the shoe rental and walked toward the lanes. She paused, glancing around until she saw Finn, who was still chatting with Amelia. Finn looked up, saw Phoebe, and stood to wave at her. Phoebe grinned back, tossed her hair over her shoulders, and waited for Finn to walk over to meet her.

“Hey, you,” I heard Finn say when he reached her. “Are you ready to get beaten by the God of Bowling?”

“You wish,” Phoebe replied, giggling. She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m going to crush you.”

“Hey, you’re right about that neck thing,” I said to Charlie as we watched Phoebe tip her head back, exposing a creamy expanse of neck.

“What does he see in her?” Charlie hissed.

I didn’t think Charlie really wanted to hear the answer—that Phoebe was pretty, and flirty, and obviously liked Finn. I looked over at Amelia, who now stood alone at our lane, one arm wrapped around her body. I felt a surge of pity for her, as well as a flash of anger at Finn for deserting her. He might not think there was any harm in chatting Amelia up, but I knew only too well how painful it was to have an unrequited crush. It was especially hard at Amelia’s age, when you wanted so badly for everyone to stop seeing you as a little kid.

“I have to go,” I said.

Charlie didn’t answer, and I wasn’t even sure if she heard me. She was too busy staring at Finn and Phoebe, who were now walking toward the shoe rental counter.

“I wonder what size shoe she wears,” Charlie muttered. “I’m going to give her the ugliest pair of bowling shoes we have.”

I left Charlie to her date sabotage and headed back to Amelia. I could see her eyes shining, and wondered if it was just reflected light from the overhead halogens, or if she was holding back tears. I hesitated, wondering what to say. I didn’t want to embarrass her.

“Do you think you’ve gotten the hang of bowling?” I asked. “Do you want to take down the bumpers and see if you can beat me?”

Amelia didn’t say anything for a minute, and I wondered if she was going to return to the hostile silence she’d been treating me to all day. But then she surprised me by giving me a shy half smile, shrugged, and said, “Okay. Why not?”

I shut my laptop without replying to Sadie’s e-mail. Was my mother right?
Was
I reluctant to go to London because of Dex?

I was also distracted by Sadie’s mention of Henry. I’d met Henry Wentworth when I visited Sadie over the Christmas holidays, and we’d hit it off. Because of a misunderstanding with Dex—I’d accidentally given him the wrong e-mail address, and then when I didn’t hear from him while I was in London, I thought he was blowing me off—I’d allowed my friendship with Henry to blossom into a brief romance. I’d put that all behind me once Dex and I sorted out our relationship, but Henry and I were still friends, e-mailing each other on occasion.

I shook off these thoughts. I was going to have to make a decision about London—and soon—but I really didn’t want thoughts of Dex, Wendy, or even Henry to come into it. I needed to think about what was best for
my
future—my education, college prospects, career path. That, I reasoned, was what I would tell a friend who was in a similar situation.

I glanced at the clock and wondered what time the pool opened. I had weekends off from my job at the Fishers’, but Dex had a more erratic work schedule. Sometimes he was on the early shift at the pool, sometimes the evening, and he rarely got two days off in a row, unless he specifically requested them. He’d told me the night before that he’d be on duty at the pool that morning.

I put on my boring navy blue tank suit, wishing, not for the first time, that I had enough style sense to pick out a trendy little bikini. The problem was, I had no idea what would look good on me. I made a mental note to ask Hannah for help when she returned from her trip to New York City. I might attend a school full of geniuses, but none of them matched Hannah’s brilliance when it came to clothes and shopping.

It was ten past nine when I biked into the parking lot at the public pool. The temperature was just starting to heat up, the sun blasting down through a cloudless sky. By two, it would be painful to be anywhere near the blacktop parking lot. I dismounted my bike, locked it to the bike rack, and headed through the gate in the chain-link fence to the pool inside.

The pool was a large rectangle with half of the space roped off into lanes and the other half left open for the kids to noodle around in. There were already a few dozen people in the water—some serious-looking swimmers cutting easily through the water as they did their laps and a bunch of kids paddling and splashing around one another like a family of playful otters.

There was a cement deck surrounding the pool, and a number of chaises lined up on either of the long sides. On the short side closest to the parking lot, there was a snack bar, changing rooms, and an office where the lifeguards hung out when they weren’t on duty.

I immediately looked up at the guard chair to see if Dex was there. He wasn’t. Instead, there was an athletic-looking girl with short brown hair and wearing an orange tank suit, sitting in the guard chair. She had a whistle on a cord around her neck, and looked very capable and professional. I gave her a smile—she didn’t return it, but then again, maybe she didn’t see me—and then headed over to one of the empty chaise longues. I spread my towel over the chaise, took off my T-shirt and shorts, and lay down, feeling incredibly self-conscious. I glanced around.

Dex was nowhere to be seen. He’d told me that the guards only spent a half hour at a time in the chair. It was hard to keep up the constant vigilance needed while sitting out in the hot sun for longer than that. Once a shift was over, the lifeguard coming off duty would head into the air-conditioned office, to cool off, rehydrate, and wait for his or her next shift.

I could already see that Wendy had been right about the bikini girls. There were already quite a few of them at the pool, despite the earlyish hour. They were stretched out on chaises, their hair fanned out behind them and golden tanned skin on display. How many of them were there just to flirt with my boyfriend? I worried.

And then, as though I’d conjured her out of my thoughts, I saw her. Wendy Erickson. She and a friend were occupying two chaise longues on the side of the pool opposite from where I was. She was sitting up on her chaise, talking animatedly to her friend, but occasionally glancing around, as though checking to see if anyone was admiring her. And, as much I hated to admit it, there was a lot to admire. Wendy was wearing a tiny white-and-pink-striped bikini and large round sunglasses that made her look like a movie star. Her long blond hair was tied back with a brown tortoiseshell hair clip. Her friend was pretty, too—she had long, straight brown hair, a heart-shaped face, and a cute figure—but she wasn’t nearly as glamorous as Wendy. Wendy’s head swiveled in my direction, and before I had a chance to look away, she caught me watching her. She smiled and raised a hand in greeting. I gritted my teeth and waved back.

A wave of sickly hot insecurity washed over me. Why was she here? I wondered. How much time did she spend at the pool? Was she here to see Dex? And, if so, why hadn’t he told me he’d seen her here?

“Miranda? Is that you?”

I looked up at the familiar voice, and my heart fell even further. Felicity Glen and Morgan Simpson were towering over me, both wearing unpleasant smirks on their faces. I’d been so busy worrying about Wendy, I hadn’t seen them approach.

Felicity and Morgan went to school with me at Geek High. Felicity was petite with thick dark hair, catlike green eyes, a button nose, and Angelina Jolie lips. Morgan was short and square, with a round face and an unflattering dirty blond bob. They’d never liked me, which was fine by me, because I’d never cared for them much, either.

“Hey,” I said without enthusiasm.

“What are you wearing? That bathing suit looks like something a seventh grader would wear,” Felicity said. She smirked. “I guess if you don’t have anything up top, it limits your options.”

Was it any wonder my nickname for Felicity was the Felimonster? To make matters worse, Felicity was wearing a chocolate brown bikini edged with a thick band of turquoise that showed off her figure perfectly, including her more than adequately endowed top half. Even Morgan was wearing a bikini, although hers had a red tank top that came down over her belly button, exposing only a few inches of pasty white belly flesh.

My bathing suit—a boring navy Speedo—was so old I might well have had it since seventh grade. A hot flush spread over my face.

“Don’t get too close to the pool, Felicity,” I said.

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“Haven’t you seen
The Wizard of Oz
?” I asked.

“Of course I have,” she snapped. “Duh, who hasn’t?”

“Well, then you know what water does to witches,” I said sweetly, enjoying the flash of rage that contorted Felicity’s pretty face.

“Whatever,” Felicity said. She tossed her dark highlighted hair back, turned on one perfectly pedicured pink toe, and stalked off, Morgan hurrying behind her.

I lay back in my chaise, trying to relax. It was hard to do. Between Felicity’s and Morgan’s hostile glares, and Wendy looking golden and gorgeous as she sunned herself on her chaise, my entire body was stiff with tension.

Maybe I should just go, I thought. I could slink back to the beach house and set fire to my horrible bathing suit. Could you burn bathing suits? I wondered. Or would the resulting smoke be too toxic? Maybe I should just throw it out instead. Less dramatic, but probably safer.

Yet at the same time, I didn’t want to leave. Despite my ugly bathing suit and general insecurity about how I would fare in a direct comparison to the gorgeous Wendy, I knew I had to see Dex’s reaction to Wendy and all of the other sunbathing girls. I needed to know if there really was something to worry about, or if I was just blowing it all out of proportion.

Then suddenly I saw a flash of red in the corner of my eye. It was Dex, emerging from the lifeguard office, his copper red hair gleaming in the sun. He was wearing a loose white T- shirt that had the word LIFEGUARD printed on both front and back, orange swim trunks, a black butt-pack that all of the lifeguards seemed to wear, and sunglasses to shade his pale blue eyes from the intense sun. I wasn’t sure if I was just imagining it, but it seemed to me that as he began to walk around the perimeter of the pool, there was a general stirring of interest among the girls.

“Hi, Dex,” I heard one of them call out.

“Are you here to save us?” another asked flirtatiously.