Call the Shots (6 page)

“I don’t know. My parents said the baby’s going to be born in May. I’m guessing it’ll be around then. Which is why I’ve got about four months to figure something out.”

“That is harsh, dawg,” Coop says. “How are you supposed to do any plug and play with the new lady friend when your Gothed-out sister’s sitting there gawking at you?”

Oh, God. Evelyn. I completely forgot about her! Perfect. Now I’m going to have to deal with the neck suckler today on top of everything else.

“And that’s just the start of the nightmare,” Matt announces. “What about everything else you need privacy for?”

“Right,” Coop says. “No more punchin’ the munchkin into the wee hours of the morning. And you might as well unbookmark all of those
Bridezillas
videos you like to watch.”

I shake my head. “You see? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“No.” Coop points at me. “This is why you
did
want to tell us. Because we feel for you. Which is why we’re going to help you out by making and selling this movie for a chock of cha-ching. Isn’t that right, Matt?”

Matt nods. “Of course. We’re here for you, buddy. One for all, and all for leaping back into the fiery pits of humiliation.”

I look over at Coop and Matt and feel myself getting a little choked up. It’s a pretty good feeling to know that I always have my buds in my corner when all the chips are crumbling to pieces.

And who knows? Maybe we can actually pull this thing off. Make a movie and sell it — if not for millions, then at least enough to get a nice big new room —
my
big new room — added onto our house.

Stranger things have happened.

I
STROLL DOWN THE HALL
with this semester’s schedule in hand. I’ve got a big smile on my face and a bit of a bounce in my step as I head toward our lockers. What started off as a really crummy day seems to be turning around big-time. Not only are my best friends going to help me out with this baby situation, but I also managed to switch out of Web Design and into Drama.

It’s two birds with one bush. First, I don’t have to be in a class with overbearing Evelyn, and two — perhaps even more important — I can scout out the local talent for our film. Maybe even befriend some of the better actors and get them to work for free.

“What about doing a remake?” Coop says as I step up to our lockers. “Something that’s crying out for a gritty reboot. Like
Reservoir Dogs.
Or
Fight Club.
”

“Or
Pokémon
!” I exclaim.

Coop levels his gaze at me. “Right, Sean. A gritty reboot of
Pokémon.
That’s just what the world has been clamoring for.”

“We can’t do a remake anyway,” Matt says. “You have to get the rights to things like that. We have to do something original.”

“Okay, fine, whatever.” Coop spins the dial on his combination lock. “But we should definitely film it in 3-D.”

“Right, and where the hell are we supposed to get a 3-D camera?” Matt asks.

“Where there’s a me, there’s a means, Mattington.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I think 3-D’s been a little overdone.”

“Pfff,
wrong.
” Coop yanks down on his lock and opens his locker door. “What’s been overdone are
boring
3-D movies. Ones that don’t take full advantage of the technology.”

Matt looks at Coop like he’s just spoken Klingon. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Bountiful babes, dawg. Wouldn’t you like to see more jiggling jahoobies in 3-D? You know . . .” Coop lunges at me with two cupped hands. “Comin’ at ya!”

I jerk back as Matt busts up laughing.

“Anyway,” I say, “I seriously doubt we’ll have enough money to film in 3-D.” I shut the door to my locker and suddenly catch sight of Evelyn coming up the stairs at the end of the hall.

Oh, crap.

My heart vaults into my throat as I duck my head and try to hide behind Matt and Coop.

“Hey! Bad touch!” Coop shoves me away from his locker.

“Don’t let her see me. Please.” I shrink into myself and make another attempt to take cover behind my friends.

Matt glances over his shoulder to see Evelyn coming down the hallway. “What’s the deal? I thought you guys were going out.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Why?” Coop grins. “Does she have callused hands or something?”

“I wish. No. She’s just . . . a little nuts.”

“I don’t get it.” Matt clicks open the rings on his binder and puts in some paper. “You guys were all over each other Saturday night.”

“Correction. She was all over
me.
Like a succubus. I swear she was trying to draw blood. I had to ice my neck all weekend long to get rid of the bazillion hickeys she gave me. And she’s texted me
eighty-two times
already! You guys have to do me a solid and break up with her for me.”

“Do you a
solid
?” Coop laughs, clicking his lock shut. “I don’t think so. You asked the girl out; you break up with her.”

“I
didn’t
ask her out. Not really. She just assumed. That’s what I’m trying to —”

“Hey there, polar bear,” Evelyn says, stepping up beside me.

I brace myself for a rabid face gobbling, but she just lays a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“Hi,” I respond warily.

She gives a little cautious smile to Matt and Coop, then looks back at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why? Are
you
okay?”

“I’m a little embarrassed, I guess.”

“Embarrassed? Why?”

Evelyn’s gaze drops to the floor, her stringy red hair falling in front of her face. “I think I came on a little strong on Saturday. And all those text messages yesterday. God.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I’m really sorry about that. I was just . . . I guess I’m just a little overeager is all. My brother’s always on me about how excited I get about things.” She shrugs, then looks at me with this sort of sad, apologetic hangdog expression. “I didn’t . . . scare you off, did I?”

All of a sudden I feel like a royal tool for wanting to break up with her.

Of course she was excited. I’m her first boyfriend. It’s a big deal for her. I probably acted exactly the same way with Tianna. Okay, well, maybe not
exactly
the same. But it’s possible I was a little overzealous. Which is maybe why she ended things with me so quickly. Maybe if she’d just given me a chance, we could have had something kinda special.

“No.” I smile at Evelyn. “You didn’t scare me off.”

I catch Coop rolling his eyes behind Evelyn’s back.

“Phew.” Evelyn’s whole body relaxes. “I thought for sure I blew it with you.”

Coop sputters. “No, no. Sean definitely would have mentioned that.”

I shoot him a death glare at the same time that Matt smacks him on the shoulder.

Evelyn smiles the vacant smile of someone who doesn’t get the joke. “Well, good. I’d really hate myself if that was the case. Can we start over, please?”

I nod. “Sure. Yeah. Okay.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She breathes a heavy sigh of relief, then unfolds her school schedule, which I notice is decorated with a multitude of lavish
SEAN-PLUS-EVELYN
-filled hearts. “So, did you get in to Web Design?”

“Oh . . . uh . . . actually . . . um . . . No, actually.”

Evelyn’s face falls. “Aw, dang it.”

“Yeah.” A nervous laugh escapes my lips. I glance down at my own schedule. “Looks like they switched me into . . .” I look up and meet Evelyn’s big brown eyes. Oh, God, she knows I’m lying. “I mean, they
put
me in Drama instead.”

Evelyn pouts. “I was really hoping we’d get to be in a class together.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Hey!” Evelyn perks up. “Maybe I should switch into Drama.”

“No,” I blurt. “I mean . . . You don’t want to do that, because . . .” Because you’ll find out I was lying to you when I hand the drama teacher my transfer slip. “Web Design is . . . it’s going to be a great class. I
so
wanted to learn about that. You don’t want to miss out because of me.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Evelyn says. “Oh, hey, wait a minute. I have a good idea. Why don’t I be your private tutor?” She beams at me. “You could come over after school and I could teach you the stuff we learn in Web Design. Then it’d be almost like we were taking the class together. How’s that sound?”

“Uh, yeah.” I nod. “That sounds . . . good. Definitely. For sure.”

“Great.” She leans over and gives me another soft kiss on the cheek. “It’s a deal. Well, I better get to class. Later, gators.” Evelyn gives us all a little wave and then strolls off down the hall.

“I thought you said she was a nutcase,” Matt says, snapping his lock shut.

I blink once hard, watching Evelyn go, looking as normal as can be. “She
was.
I mean, she was
acting
like one at the rink.”

Matt shrugs. “Seems pretty normal to me.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I guess it’s like she said. She was just overeager.”

Coop grins. “That’s one of best qualities to have in a girlfriend, dawg. Right after being a gymnast.”

“O
KAY, EVERYONE,” MR. NESTMAN
, the drama teacher, says, walking with long purposeful strides toward the door. “I think we can get started.” He kicks away the wooden doorstop and lets the door swing shut. “Let’s all sit in a circle on the floor.” He makes a circular motion with his finger as if he’s not entirely convinced we know what shape he means. “Girl-boy if we can manage it.”

There are no chairs in the room, and so the twenty of us arrange ourselves — alternating guys and girls where possible — on the scuffed-up black-and-white tiles. By the time we’re through, we’ve formed something resembling a sloppy oval.

My body is here in this cold classroom, but my brain is only half-present. The other half is still back at the lockers, replaying the Evelyn thing over and over. Trying to reconcile the girl who nearly chewed off my neck on Saturday night with the girl who I just met in the hallway. Something doesn’t compute.

Mr. Nestman moves to the front of the room by the tiny stage and presses his hands together like he’s about to pray. “Welcome to Drama,” he says with a little bow of the head. He’s got this wispy white-blond hair that looks like a dandelion gone to seed. “I hope you’ve left all your inhibitions and insecurities out in the hall, because they will not serve you well in my class.”

He’s wearing these saggy-kneed jeans and a rumpled, tucked-in blue flannel shirt. It’s not a great look for him, to be perfectly honest. It really accentuates his dangly limbs and short torso.

“We start this morning with a name game.” He gives us a fleeting closed-mouth grin. “Each person will state their name along with something they wish to bring to our very own desert island. But there are a few catches. And they are as follows: Your item must be useful, must be portable, and must start with the same letter as your name. Oh, and you also must remember all of the names and items previously mentioned. Any questions? No. Good. I’ll begin. I am Mr. Nestman.” He strokes his lumpy pockmarked chin with his right hand, his eyes searching the ceiling. “And I will be bringing to our desert island . . . some nail clippers.”

Mr. Nestman gestures to the well-padded eggplant-breasted brunette on his left.

“Okay.” The girl adjusts herself and sits up tall, her legs crossed. “Hi. I’m Victoria.” A little wave to the class. “And I’ll be bringing Vaseline —”

A couple of meathead-type dudes shout, “Yeah!”

“All right, bring it down a notch,” Mr. Nestman says. “Vaseline along with what, Victoria?”

Victoria’s cheeks have gone rosy. “Along with,” she continues, “Mr. Nestman’s nail clippers.” She turns her head to Mister-Handsome-Guy beside her.

“Me?” The kid smirks. “I’m Ryan and I’ll be bringing a rectal thermometer.”

The entire class breaks up with laughter.

“I’ll allow it,” Mr. Nestman says reluctantly. “But only because it is, technically, useful. But keep it clean from here on out, kiddies.” He motions for Ryan to continue.

“And also”— Ryan clenches his eyes shut —“Vanessa’s Vaseline.”

“Victoria,” a girl across the oval calls out.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Ryan shakes his head. “Her Vaseline. And Mr. Nestman’s nail polish.”