How to Date a Nerd (19 page)

Hopin4lovin: where were u?

Zoester: on a date.

Hopin4lovin: WHAT?? with who?

Zoester: :)

Hopin4lovin: oh! did u slap some sense into that boy of urs? how did it go????

Zoester: AH-MAZ-ING!

Hopin4lovin: ?????

Hopin4lovin: come on! u hafta tell me who he is.

Zoester: nope. ;)

Hopin4lovin: y not? u make him up? lol.

Zoester: NO! :) I’m not sure I wanna tell ppl, u kno? we haven’t had the talk yet.

Hopin4lovin: well, have it soon. ur killing me!

…

…

Hopin4lovin: u still there?

Zoester: ya, sry. just thinking.

Hopin4lovin: ?

Zoester: do u remember me from middle school?

Hopin4lovin: wut r u talking about?

Zoester: like, do u remember wut I was like?

Hopin4lovin: I dunno. u hung out with ur loser neighbor, I kno that. y?

Zoester: say I was into that dorky stuff. would u still hang out with me?

Hopin4lovin: LOL. R U kidding? wut did u drink last night & is it makin’ u crazy?

Zoester: yeah, I guess. :)

Hopin4lovin: look girl, u kno I got ur back no matter wut. ur too cool to de-friend.

Zoester: u mean that?

Hopin4lovin: OF COURSE! Now knock it off! I gotta run, but ttyl?

Zoester: yup.

Hopin4lovin: good luck w/ur boy toy :)

I click off my browser and stick my laptop back under my bed. I had to talk to Hope so I could feel some normalcy. Like maybe I’m not as bad as Ariana thinks.

Yeah, it didn’t work.

When we got back to my car, I didn’t say much to Zak. I really tried to be upbeat and not let the conversation with his gal pal get to me, but I’m sure he could tell something was bugging me. He hugged me on the porch, and I went inside before I lost my mind and kissed him again. I don’t deserve to touch him or be like that with him until I can freaking get my head on straight.

So I’ve had a lot of time to think. Like way too much time. My brain feels like mush now. And I’m anxious for Dad to get home. After talking with Zak and all the thinking, I want to give my dad a big hug and thank him for not ever running out on his girls.

I feel like I’m about to puke out my thundering heart when I see the headlights in the driveway. Don’t know why I’m nervous. I mean, it’s just Dad, but I haven’t been the uber sweet Daddy’s Girl so that may have something to do with it.

I hop downstairs, and when I hear the door click, I jump over to greet him.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Uh, hi.” He sounds tired, and I don’t blame him. I think today was a twelve-hour shift.

“How was work?” I ask, taking his coat and hanging it up. His brow creases as he watches me, but he otherwise doesn’t acknowledge my sudden interest.

“Long.”

He plops down on the couch, stretching his limbs and rubbing his eyes. I really do feel bad for him. He works such long hours all the time. I take a deep breath before sitting down next to him. Tucking under his arm, I rest there, squeezing him around his large middle.

Either he’s too tired or too stunned to react right away. But eventually he squeezes back and nestles his scruffy face against the top of my head.

“Thanks, sweetie. I needed a hug.”

I nod, and hold back all the tears building behind my eyes. He doesn’t even know how much
I
need a hug from
him
right now.

“Now, what do you want?” His smile tugs my hair as it attaches to his whiskers.

I chuckle. “Nothing. I wanted a hug.”

He laughs, and I jiggle around on his belly. “Really?”

“Is it that hard to believe?”

He laughs again. “Well, you have me a little worried.” He squeezes my shoulders. “Is something bothering you?”

Yes. No. Kind of. My head’s too mushy to think anymore and the Advil is wearing off. I want my daddy to hold me and tell me everything is gonna be okay, even though I’m pretty messed up.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you… like do you ever feel like people look at you differently? ’Cause of your job?”

He shifts, and I move with him so he can look me in the face.

“You mean, because I’m a welder and I don’t work in the office?”

I nod.

“You know, I used to worry about that. But I don’t anymore.”

“Why not?”

He smiles and tucks me back around his stomach. “Because I’m good at what I do. And no matter how little money I get for it, it’s enough to give my girls what they need. That’s all that matters to me.”

We sit there in silence for a few minutes before he says something.

“Why so curious?”

I shrug.

“Zoe…”

My gulp gets stuck in my throat, and I start choking. Dad gives me one good smack on the back, allowing me to clear the airway of my spit.

“It can’t be that bad.” He laughs again, but his face falls when he finally sees my expression. “What is it, sweetie?”

My eyes swim with tears, and Dad’s face gets crazy with worry. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m, I don’t know, confused I guess.”

“About?”

I gulp again, this time it goes down the right pipe. “Dad, do you ever wish you were someone else? Like you could change your personality?”

“Why would you want to be someone you’re not? Are people… are they making fun of you at school?”

“No. I… I don’t want them to.”

“Why would they? From what I’ve noticed, you’re rather popular.” He chuckles lightly, and gestures to my cell sitting on the couch. “That phone gets a lot of attention. More than it did a few years ago.”

Yeesh. I’m so popular even my parents who work all the time know it? I shrug again. “I guess that’s not really me.”

His face goes the color of grape juice. “What do you mean?”

“I think… I miss who I really am.”

“Who have you been, if not you?”

Oh gosh. Maybe I shouldn’t have spilled so much. I don’t know how to stop either, and next thing I know, I’m telling him everything. All the things people called me in middle school. Crying myself to sleep. Wanting to be accepted and popular. What I did to get that way. I almost spill about Cody, but I keep that in. I’m sure Dad would freak. After each new confession, a torrent of apologies escape through the tsunami of tears and snot.

“Dad, I’m afraid this is who I’m really becoming, and I don’t want that. But how can I be myself without getting made fun of for it?”

He lets me fall onto his stomach and soak his shirt. I’m not sure if he’s returned to his normal color yet, or if he’s pissed or anything because he’s so quiet. We sit there for a long time. He occasionally rubs my back and that sends fresh waves out my eyes. Like, I’m so crazy lucky to have a dad who cares, who listens, who works freakish hours for his family, and I cry my eyes out over that alone.

“Zoe?”

I sniff. “Um, yeah?”

He takes a deep breath while I wipe my flooded face with the back of my hand, but it’s not doing much good.

“I wish I was around more. You know, to spend more time with you girls. But I can’t. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this on your own.”

I hear my breath catch as I see the water rise in his eyes. Oh no. He’s going to cry. I
hate
when he cries. I have to stop this. Make it better somehow.

“Dad. It’s not your fault,” I repeat. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I promise, I’m trying to make it better.” And I mean it. I don’t ever want him to feel he’s the reason for me being so fake all the time. Because he’s so not. He wasn’t the one throwing food at me whenever I read comics at my lunch table. He didn’t gossip behind my back, saying I had some sort of incurable nerdy disease that will make me a lifelong virgin. He didn’t force me to sit in the back of the classroom so no one would stick gum in my hair. This is NOT HIS FAULT.

He seems to be thinking. And whatever goes through his head takes a long time to figure out. The silence in the room reminds me of that
Star Wars
scene when Obi-Wan has to sit there and watch as Darth Maul slices through Qui-Gon Jinn. I gotta sit here and await my own death sentence, because I
know
it’s coming. I’ll really be grounded this time, and probably for the rest of my teenage life. I think I blow up my cheeks and let the air out about fifty times before he finally says something.

“Zoe, no matter what you do, or who you are, there will always be people who don’t understand.” He picks up my chin and gives me an awkward smile. “Are
you
happy with yourself?”

Wow, not what I expected. And it takes me a minute to figure out which
me
he’s asking about. I guess the answer is the same either way, and if my head wasn’t so foggy, I’d go through the pros and cons list of Popular Zoe vs. Geek Zoe.

“Sometimes.” It’s about as honest as I can be.

He sighs, slowly returning to his normal color. “Then erase the part that makes you unhappy.”

Is it really that easy? If I’m happy with myself, then it won’t matter what other people think? I’m not so sure, since I
was
myself in middle school, and it still hurt. But now that I think about it, no matter how many times I was teased, shoved, made fun of, I had things to make me happy: my books, my video games, my best friend. I had the very best of best friends, and look what I did to him. Now when I see myself, I thought this was supposed to be better. Erase the teasing, but what do I have to show for it? Nothing, really.

Nothing that makes me happy.

 “Hey, could someone give me a hand?” Mom asks as she walks through the door. She turns around, and her eyes fall on me and Dad. “Oh!” She blinks a million times, like she can’t decide whether or not she’s dreaming.

I look at Dad and stifle a giggle. He rubs my back and says, “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll help your mother.”

“Okay.” I give him another huge hug and make my way to my room. It’s weird to be relieved and frightened at the same time. Like I’m glad I talked to someone about everything, but it doesn’t make things better or worse. Just unknown, which scares the crap out of me.

Chapter 25

If only girls’ night consisted of playing
Star Trek Trivia.

“So, he let you off the hook?” Keira sticks the toe separator on my foot and grabs the nail file.

“Yup.”

“Wow,” Hope says as she flips through whatever she’s reading on her iPad. “Ron would
never
let me hear the end of it if I told him about the party. What kind of magic potion did you feed your dad?”

Hope calls her parents by their first names, saying it helps her feel more adult. I have no idea where she gets this logic, since my parents still call their parents Mom and Dad, and they’re about as adult as you can get.

Keira chuckles on the floor as she shakes up the Midnight Fury nail polish I picked out. “Magic potion? Hope, are you like four years old? Or are you turning into one of those acne-covered Luke Jaywalker obsessed freaks?”

“Skywa-”
Holy Jedis, Zoe. Shut up!

“What was that?” Keira asks, eyebrow raised.

“Nothing.”

Hope clears her throat and puts her iPad on sleep. “Okay, then if not a magic potion…” she gives Keira a fake glare, “then what happened?”

“She probably used her manipulative charm on Pops. Am I right?”

Not intentionally, no. Even if he hadn’t come to my room twenty minutes after our conversation and told me he wasn’t mad, I would’ve been completely happy with how things went yesterday. I was actually surprised he didn’t put me on lockdown after all the spewage. He told me he was proud of who I am, as long as I’m proud of it. Not sure what he meant by that, but I don’t think it was some pile of crap advice a parent feels like they should say to their kid. He sounded pretty sincere.

Only downside to this whole “confess my fake identity to my dad” thing, was I knew he’d tell Mom. And when she found out, first thing she did was come into my room with a pack of birth control.

Of course my first reaction was
What the hell?!
I tried explaining to her that out of all the stuff I’ve done to make myself popular, having sex was not one of them. Dodged that bullet, thanks to Levi being a better guy than I thought. I should high-five him for that. She insisted anyway, and now I’ve got some Ortho-whats-a-ma-call-it on my nightstand.

Okay, I really don’t think my dad expected me to invite my friends over, but I promised them I would, so here they are. I’ve been dying to hang out with Hope since the party so I could swoon over Zak, and I was really hoping Keira had plans with one of her three boy toys today, but obviously, she didn’t since she’s painting my toenails. I love the girl time, but I kind of wish these girls would be totally up for some nerdy video games or trivia. That stuff would totally ease my head about everything that happened this weekend.

Still, it feels good to have them
want
to be with me, even though by this time tomorrow, I’m pretty sure one of them won’t be talking to me anymore.

That’s right. Tomorrow, Geek Zoe will be going to school. She’s going to pay attention in class, wear something that covers her body, and—gulp—sit at the D&D table and whoop all those wannabe players.

And if she can, give Zak a big Aragorn-and-Arwen-style whopper on the lips in front of everyone.