weekend.
Only I’m not. I feel like one of those Russian dol s you take the top o and there’s another, smal er dol beneath it. The outside of me is the same, but the inside …
NIGEL
No, dude. You’re de nitely not.
ME
Well, so what if I’m happy? Is that such a crime?
DUKE
No. It’s just not you. You’re Henry Arlington. Tall. Brooding. Man-slut.
ME
Wow, such compliments.
NIGEL
Is it a girl?
My stomach lurches, but they can’t possibly suspect that anything is actual y going on between Garret and me. Can they? I haven’t even told them that she works at the movie theater.
DUKE
Is it her?
I assume that Duke is referring to Garret , and our IM conversation on Friday. I shake my head.
ME
What makes you think that?
A look passes between Duke and Nigel that I don’t exactly understand. I know I’l have to tel them about Garret at some point, but right now
—while things are stil fresh and exciting—I don’t feel like opening myself up to their criticism.
DUKE
Whatever it is, dude, snap out of it. We need you in top crasher form for Destiny’s Sweet Sixteen. You’re still in, right?
Destiny’s party is the upper echelon of Sweet Sixteens. It’s going to be lmed by MTV, and pret y much anyone who’s anyone wil be in at endance. The three of us wil get invites, for sure, but it’s not about get ing in the door. Not for us. It’s what happens afterward that mat ers.
What we’re going to do that wil guarantee a debacle of epic proportions broadcast on national television.
We’ve pul ed a few pranks before at other parties, but nothing major. Usual y the plan is to not draw at ention to ourselves and simply have a good time. This time, though, is di erent. Not only is the event for a girl at our school, but there’l be an actual television crew recording everything; eventual y, the whole country wil see what happens (at least, whoever tunes in wil ). Destiny’s Sweet Sixteen is not about blending in
—it’s about standing out.
Duke, Nigel, and I have been hyping up this party for months. At this point, there’s no way I can tel them I’m not real y into it anymore without losing their friendship (and their respect).
ME
Of course.
DUKE
Sweet. We need a major planning session this week. This shit needs to be hard-core.
The bel rings, and I’m a few feet away from homeroom.
ME
All right. Let’s talk about it later.
Duke and Nigel salute me, and I begin the day.
I can’t think about anything—or anyone—other than Garret al morning. I have never had a single person take up so much space in my brain. I scribble her initials in my notebooks and remember the softness of her body and how we talked about movies for hours and didn’t fal asleep until six in the morning. The only women I have ever daydreamed about this much are Britney Spears (before she had kids) and my mother (after she left, but not in a sexual way); clearly, this thing with Garret is new territory for me.
Before lunch, I slip a note inside Garret ’s locker asking her to meet me in the courtyard. I could text her, but this note-in-locker thing seems romantical y old-fashioned, and that’s the kind of mood I’m in.
The courtyard at East Shore is pret y self-contained—as, by de nition, courtyards are. It’s stil warmish outside, and some people choose to eat lunch out here instead of in the cafeteria. Most seniors go out to Wendy’s or Taco Bel or this bagel place a lit le farther away, but I hate rushing around.
I sit on a wooden bench and wait. I wonder if she’s going to stand me up. It’s one thing to be friendly at the movie theater, or in the privacy of my house, but being seen in public together is a big step. I’m wil ing to give it a shot, though, and see what happens. Risk the wrath of Duke and Nigel. I don’t know if she’s happy about the fact that we hooked up, or upset. Maybe a lit le of both.
I’ve never worried about what a girl wants before.
I’ve never worried about what
Only I’m not. I feel like one of those Russian dol s you take the top o and there’s another, smal er dol beneath it. The outside of me is the same, but the inside …
NIGEL
No, dude. You’re de nitely not.
ME
Well, so what if I’m happy? Is that such a crime?
DUKE
No. It’s just not you. You’re Henry Arlington. Tall. Brooding. Man-slut.
ME
Wow, such compliments.
NIGEL
Is it a girl?
My stomach lurches, but they can’t possibly suspect that anything is actual y going on between Garret and me. Can they? I haven’t even told them that she works at the movie theater.
DUKE
Is it her?
I assume that Duke is referring to Garret , and our IM conversation on Friday. I shake my head.
ME
What makes you think that?
A look passes between Duke and Nigel that I don’t exactly understand. I know I’l have to tel them about Garret at some point, but right now
—while things are stil fresh and exciting—I don’t feel like opening myself up to their criticism.
DUKE
Whatever it is, dude, snap out of it. We need you in top crasher form for Destiny’s Sweet Sixteen. You’re still in, right?
Destiny’s party is the upper echelon of Sweet Sixteens. It’s going to be lmed by MTV, and pret y much anyone who’s anyone wil be in at endance. The three of us wil get invites, for sure, but it’s not about get ing in the door. Not for us. It’s what happens afterward that mat ers.
What we’re going to do that wil guarantee a debacle of epic proportions broadcast on national television.
We’ve pul ed a few pranks before at other parties, but nothing major. Usual y the plan is to not draw at ention to ourselves and simply have a good time. This time, though, is di erent. Not only is the event for a girl at our school, but there’l be an actual television crew recording everything; eventual y, the whole country wil see what happens (at least, whoever tunes in wil ). Destiny’s Sweet Sixteen is not about blending in
—it’s about standing out.
Duke, Nigel, and I have been hyping up this party for months. At this point, there’s no way I can tel them I’m not real y into it anymore without losing their friendship (and their respect).
ME
Of course.
DUKE
Sweet. We need a major planning session this week. This shit needs to be hard-core.
The bel rings, and I’m a few feet away from homeroom.
ME
All right. Let’s talk about it later.
Duke and Nigel salute me, and I begin the day.
I can’t think about anything—or anyone—other than Garret al morning. I have never had a single person take up so much space in my brain. I scribble her initials in my notebooks and remember the softness of her body and how we talked about movies for hours and didn’t fal asleep until six in the morning. The only women I have ever daydreamed about this much are Britney Spears (before she had kids) and my mother (after she left, but not in a sexual way); clearly, this thing with Garret is new territory for me.
Before lunch, I slip a note inside Garret ’s locker asking her to meet me in the courtyard. I could text her, but this note-in-locker thing seems romantical y old-fashioned, and that’s the kind of mood I’m in.
The courtyard at East Shore is pret y self-contained—as, by de nition, courtyards are. It’s stil warmish outside, and some people choose to eat lunch out here instead of in the cafeteria. Most seniors go out to Wendy’s or Taco Bel or this bagel place a lit le farther away, but I hate rushing around.
I sit on a wooden bench and wait. I wonder if she’s going to stand me up. It’s one thing to be friendly at the movie theater, or in the privacy of my house, but being seen in public together is a big step. I’m wil ing to give it a shot, though, and see what happens. Risk the wrath of Duke and Nigel. I don’t know if she’s happy about the fact that we hooked up, or upset. Maybe a lit le of both.
I’ve never worried about what a girl wants before.
I’ve never worried about what
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