Geek Girl by Cindy C Bennett Page B

arm, as if she can sense that any more would undo me. That’s why I like her so much, because she just knows .
    I’m feeling a little watery inside, a little self-pity party going on, which wouldn’t be the end of the world, except I hear a noise behind me and turn around to see Trevor standing there, watching me intently.
    He heard—I can see it in his face. I read blatant sympathy there, which I know is genuine because it’s how the geek works.
    I run away from his sympathy, pushing past him and out the front doors of the Senior Center, looking for somewhere to hide. Then he is there. He pulls me into his arms and holds me, just holds me, nothing else, no false words of comfort, no groping, not asking anything of me, just giving me his strength.
    And I’m undone.

12. New Resolve from the Lost Girl
    Trevor doesn’t try to talk to me about what he overheard, and I’m grateful. There are a few social workers who know the whole story, but I don’t think they’ve told any of my foster families. If they have, none of them have cared to mention it to me.
    When I return home after we have a mostly silent dinner at the local diner—a happy medium between the Italian place and the pizza place, which is becoming a regular hangout for the two of us—it’s to find the cheerleader sitting in my room. She’s at the vanity looking at the picture of Trevor and I from the camping trip that’s hanging on my mirror, right above the one snapped by Beth at Morp. I let out an unwelcoming grunt.
    “What do you want? I’m not in the mood,” I say, walking in and throwing my jacket across the bed. She doesn’t say anything for a minute, just looks at the picture. Then she turns around and takes in the rest of the room slowly, eyes finally coming to rest on me where I’m sitting on the bed.
    “Why don’t you have any other pictures hanging in here, or anything at all that’s yours?”
    “What do you care?” I shoot back.
    “Just seems odd to me,” she murmurs.
    “Well, if you have to know, I don’t exactly have a lot of personal things.”
    She looks at me, a bit surprised that I’m so candid. I’m a bit stunned myself. I didn’t mean to be, not with her.
    “I don’t think Mom or Dad would care if you wanted to get some things to put up. This room feels so . . . I don’t know, like a showcase or something.”
    I shrug. “Doesn’t matter; I’m not planning to be here all that long anyway.”
    She looks at me questioningly, but amazingly enough doesn’t pursue that line of questioning. She has something else on her mind.
    “Did you do it just to make a fool of me?” she asks, and I struggle to understand. What does moving out or hanging up a picture have to do with her? I guess I look confused because she clarifies.
    “With Trevor, when we were camping? Did you steal him away just to make me look stupid? Or was it some kind of thing where you wanted to prove you were . . . I don’t know, better, or sexier, or more appealing, or whatever, than I am?”
    I think about telling her yes and letting her live with that. She doesn’t seem angry or upset, though, just curious, and after the emotions of tonight, I find I don’t care if she knows the truth. I’m not in the mood for games just now.
    “No, I didn’t. We didn’t. Honestly. Trevor and I were already kinda . . . together, I guess. We were just trying to keep it on the down-low, you know? And when you asked me . . . I guess I just wanted to see what you could do, see if his head could be turned.” I think about my words, what they are implying, and shy away from the thought.
    “I’m sorry, it was a rotten thing to do to you,” I say. Oddly enough, the words are the truth.
    She nods, believing me.
    “I guess he must really like you, huh?” Then she laughs. “I guess that sounds really conceited, like I’m so desirable that he must really like you to resist me. I didn’t mean it like that.”
    I look at her, trying to figure out