Going Geek by Charlotte Huang Page B

performance by the a cappella group the Of Notes, or meals at expensive restaurants in Boston. Everywhere I go I’m surrounded by grinning parents dressed in sports coats and loafers, wrap dresses and slingbacks.
    This is one of the few weekends when the library is guaranteed to be empty. Since the silence of my dorm is driving me a little batty and the risk of running into Leo is low, I pack up my laptop and walk over there.
    When I turn onto the path that runs between the Field and Main Street, I spot Whitney getting into a town car with her parents and sister. And Lila. She never mentioned that her family was coming. I don’t realize I’m staring until Whitney happens to glance in my direction. We make eye contact, and she gives me a small wave.
    Every other year, she would’ve insisted I go with them. The Lamberts always invited me to tag along when they came for a visit. One time my parents even gave permission for me to spend a weekend in Boston with them. We went to a Celtics game and had dinner at a fancy French restaurant called L’Espalier.
    I wonder if any of them has asked about me or is curious about where I am. But they don’t notice me. I struggle to keep my face neutral as I wave back and watch them drive away.
    —
    “How’d it go?” I ask Opal when she gets back from her first Yoga Connection class. She’s glowing, grinning from ear to ear.
    “It was great! The roster’s almost full. A lot of boys came.”
    “Really? Like who?” I ask, although I’m really not surprised. After a lot of cajoling, I finally got Opal to pose for the club photo in her Lululemon gear. But she still balked when I showed her the flyer with a picture of her sick body and the headline that read SAY HELLO TO YOUR FUTURE.
    “Believe it or not, it seemed like a lot of jocks,” she says, tilting her head. “They were all pretty coordinated and in good shape. Not flexible, though. Maybe you should switch to the morning.”
    Her meaning doesn’t slip by unnoticed, but I ignore it. “No way. Then I’d still have to do aerobics. But I’ll come sometimes.” No part of me even wants to think about another boy, let alone put myself in a situation where I’d potentially have to hang out with one. That’s the problem with having a perfect boyfriend: everyone else pales in comparison.
    “Why did we cap membership at twenty-five? I can teach way more people than that.”
    “Exclusivity is very enticing. When people are knocking down our doors, we can open up to new members.” I’m actually getting excited about this. This is how I imagine it feels to start a new dance club or the latest exercise trend in Hollywood.
    Opal gives me an appraising look. “Thank you. I’ve been trying to start this thing for the last three years. It never occurred to me that I should try a more basic route.”
    “Like I said, sex sells.” She rolls her eyes. “The key is to get them in the door. Then you’ll have a captive audience for all your nonsense.”
    “How long do you think until I can spring chanting and veganism on them?” she asks, all excited.
    Um, never?
“At least a couple of months, probably,” I say. No need to burst her bubble while she’s enjoying this victory.
    “Marshall couldn’t believe this came together so fast,” she says, referring to the school president, which is Winthrop’s version of student body president. “I’ve put in the application so many times before, he was sure it was going to be another vain attempt.”
    “Well, you showed him,” I say. Marshall’s well liked by everyone, but in my personal opinion he can be a teensy bit affected.
    Opal heads off to take a shower, humming along the way. I finish getting dressed and realize that, for the first time in weeks, I feel almost okay. Maybe Opal’s right about yoga.

I realize too late that it’s Club Raks night. As I stand in the dorm foyer, trying to figure out a plan B, Bettina comes downstairs wearing a grimace and carrying a giant