Cloudy with a Chance of Boys Part 6

"I can't believe you. You fake sick and don't come to school because you think you didn't get the part and now you want me to find out for you? I've got problems of my own, you know. I can't. Even if I wanted to, I have to stay after. For detention. Comprende?" Just then, Happy Nails walked past with a stack of papers.

"Stevie, just run down there as soon as the bell rings, please? It'll take two seconds."

"Sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to worry you. I know I forgot my lunch, but Olivia gave me half of hers. And, no, I don't need my violin. Orchestra is on Thursdays."

"Stevie . . ." Alex urged.

"Okay. Love you too. I'll see you at home. Bye, Mom!"

I walked back to cla.s.s, fuming about Alex. But before I reached room 11, the bell rang and everybody poured into the hall. I rushed over to Olivia, who was s.p.a.cing out in front of her open locker.

"What do you mean you're not going to be at detention?" I practically screamed. "How can you skip detention? It's detention! They'll give you another detention for missing detention."

"Stevie, I think you just got the Guinness world record for saying 'detention.'" Olivia glanced around to see if anybody was staring at us.

Right-left-right. I spun the dial on my lock, yanking open my own locker so hard the door vibrated angrily. "You had all day to tell me this. You couldn't have told me on the bus or at lunch or this morning in Language Arts?"

"I'm telling you now. I have an orthodontist appointment and I had to wait months to get it. And I'm not about to miss my one chance to get the last of these braces off." She flashed the s.h.i.+ny silver on her four front teeth at me. "No way am I waiting one more day. One more minute. Look out, popcorn, here I come!"

"And Ms. Carter-Dunne said that was okay?"

"I told her I had a dental emergency. She said I could make it up Friday."

"Sheesh. Faking sick sure is going around. Maybe I can catch it too."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." I turned to my friend and pleaded. "Liv, please. I'm your best friend. Please don't leave me alone with him."

"Who him?"

"You know who him." I lowered my voice. "Wire Rims."

"Oh. Him. So that's what you're all bent out of shape about?"

"h.e.l.lo!" I said in a voice that came out high and shrieky. "I told you, I don't know the first thing about boys." She knew when it came to boys I hadn't the foggiest. But she pretended like it wasn't a big deal.

"So?" She shrugged. "I already told you. They have big clown feet, they grunt instead of talking, they're always hungry, and they like to burp."

"Be serious," I told my friend.

"I am being serious. See?" She sucked in her cheeks to keep from smiling. Her eyes popped out at me.

"Okay, now you just look like a demented circus clown. C'mon, Livvie. I don't know what to say to the guy. You know I'm bad at this stuff." Not like Olivia. When it came to trying new things, she did not hesitate to dive right in. Brave. Fearless.

"It's detention. You don't have to talk. You can flirt with your eyes." She blinked her eyes, fluttering her eyelashes madly.

"Okay, now you look like a demented circus clown with something stuck in her eye."

"Look, trust me, there's nothing to stress about. First of all, you're not supposed to talk in detention anyway, right? So, you don't have to talk to him."

"I can't just not talk to him. Then he'll think I hate him."

"Guys aren't like girls. They don't read a bunch of stuff into talking, or not talking. When it comes to boys, it is what it is. Simple."

"There's nothing simple about it."

Olivia stepped back, studying me up and down.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just . . . why do you care so much?" Olivia gave me a hard look. "Time out! You like him. You are so crus.h.i.+ng on the Gla.s.ses Man!" she teased.

"Shh! I'm not crus.h.i.+ng on anybody!" I said, keeping my teeth clenched. I glanced around to make sure n.o.body heard us.

"You'll be fine. I promise. Just remember, if he cracks his knuckles, that means he wants to hold hands. And if he takes his gla.s.ses off, that means he likes you."

"Wait. What?"

"Kidding! But not about the first thing."

I couldn't tell if she was making fun of me or not.

"Besides, it's better this way. Without me there, he'll have to talk to you. Instead of talking through me to talk to you."

Dear Ms. Carter-Dunne, Unfortunately, Stevie Reel had to go home sick and won't be able to make detention after school today. I'm afraid she has a bad case of Boyitis.

I wish.

2:55.

Detention (noun) [di-ten-chn]

confinement, imprisonment with a boy punishment by being detained after school with a boy locked up, incarcerated with a boy Okay, so I added the "with a boy" part. But still!

3:01.

So far, no Sudoku in sight. Maybe the real punishment is just to worry about what our punishment will be.

Outside, the rain had stopped. But fog had swallowed up the mountains and settled over the parking lot, turning the playground into a scene from Macbeth.

I sat at my regular homeroom desk. Wire Rims slid into the seat next to me.

"Hey, Stevie."

"Hey . . . Wire Rims."

"So, you like the gla.s.ses, huh? I get that a lot. Comments on the gla.s.ses, I mean." He took off his gla.s.ses and rubbed them with the hem of his s.h.i.+rt. He smiled a crooked, goofy smile.

Ms. Carter-Dunne told us we could sit quietly and work on our Language Arts homework for cla.s.s - a five-paragraph persuasive essay. Mine argued against hunting wolves in Oregon. But I found it hard to concentrate on wolves when I could feel Wire Rims looking at me.

Why hadn't I used my peppermint body wash this morning? Now I just smell like dumb old soap.

Why did he have to sit so close?

Why were my ears turning red for no reason?

Why was he cracking his knuckles?

Why was my heart beating in my throat?

Why was he not pretending to do his homework?

Why was he looking over at my essay? What was his essay about?

Why did I even care about any of this?

Forget detention. This felt like a cla.s.s in Lame-ology 101.

Stare straight ahead, I willed myself. Stop stealing glances at him.

Forget wolves. I took out my Science notebook and tried to concentrate on homework. But instead of observing clouds, I observed the specimen sitting next to me.

OBSERVATION: s.h.a.ggy blond hair CONCLUSIONS:.

Surfer dude?

Skateboard dude?

Band-member wannabe?

Yeti tendencies?

OBSERVATION: Wire-rimmed gla.s.ses CONCLUSIONS:.

Geek potential? Nouveau geek?

Wants to look smart?

Techie?

Trying to hide eyes?

Can't afford contacts?

Entering John Lennon look-alike contest?

Has ommetaphobia: fear of eyeb.a.l.l.s?

OBSERVATION: Faded T-s.h.i.+rt: THAI ONE ON CONCLUSIONS:.

Likes chicken on a stick?

Family owns Thai restaurant?

Older brother hand-me-down?

Likes puns; wordplay freak?

OBSERVATION: Absence of burping CONCLUSIONS:.

Hasn't eaten since early lunch?

Trying to be polite around a girl?

Has burpophobia?

3:17.

All of a sudden, Wire Rims reached over and tapped me. "Ah!" I nearly jumped out of my skin. Ms. Carter-Dunne glanced up. When she looked down at her papers again, Wire Rims pointed to the door.

Scott Towel! What in the world? He was hovering just outside the doorway, gesturing like a crazy person. I glanced over at Wire Rims. He shrugged. Scott was mouthing words and motioning for me to come out into the hallway. I couldn't tell what he was saying, but his eyes were about to pop out of his head, which looked positively volcanic. I figured I better get out there before his head exploded or something.

"Excuse me," I said, clearing my throat. "Ms. Carter-Dunne? Can I go to my locker and get a book I need?"

"No problem," she said, glancing up at me.

I hurried out into the hall. A hand grabbed my elbow and dragged me into the empty cla.s.sroom next door.

"Where's Alex?"

"At home." His T-s.h.i.+rt said WILL POWER and had a picture of William Shakespeare's head.

"What do you mean 'at home'? There's a Drama Club meeting today. Right now. They just posted all the parts for Romeo and Juliet."

"She's still at home."

"Is she sick? Oh, man. This is so not good. You're not gonna believe this. C'mere. I have to show you something."

"Are you insane?"

"C'mon. Five minutes. You gotta come with me. You're not gonna believe it," he said again.

"I'm in detention!" I told him. "Ms. Carter-Dunne thinks I just went to my locker. I'm already in enough trouble. Do you want me to get another detention for ditching detention?" I glanced toward the door.

"What'd you do?"

"Nothing. I mean - I gotta get back."