Into the Wild Nerd Yonder by Julie Halpern

desperate smile.
    “Hey,” I respond coolly.
    “I tried calling you yesterday.”
    “Yeah, I know,” I jump in quickly, trying to move this uncomfortable conversation along.
    “I hope you’re not still upset. It was no big deal. . . .” She’snot as ballsy as she normally is, but it’s still so Bizza to not apologize, but to make it seem like I’m the one making something out of nothing. I don’t speak.
    “What are you doing after school?” she asks. An interesting turn: Bizza
asking
, not
telling
me what I’m doing. Still, I don’t feel like talking to her.
    “I have to get to study hall.” I walk off, leaving her to end the conversation by herself.
     
     
    I’m halfway angry, half pumped with pride when I sit down next to Dottie. She’s changed out of her medieval garb, which I’m kind of happy about. I like talking to her during study hall, but that outfit was pretty extreme. Plus, I don’t see how she’d fit into the desk.
    She starts talking at me the second I sit down. “Here’s the deal, Jessie: Fudwhalla is in three weeks, and we desperately need new costumes. We’ll pay for all of the materials, and Doug said he could make you something to make up for your time. He’s wicked with a lathe.”
    “A what?”
    “Woodworking.”
    “Oh. I don’t know, I really only sew skirts. I mean, besides a couple of aprons and some curtains. I don’t know if I can make whole costumes.”
    “You totally could!” Dottie is uncharacteristically animated and speaking too loudly. The study hall teacher’s subtle“ahem” makes her take it down to a yelling whisper. “Can you follow a pattern?”
    “Well, yeah.”
    “That’s all we need! You’re a fantastic seamstress, Jessie. Just look at your hem!”
    No one has ever called me a seamstress before. It feels so official, like I don’t just sew for fun; I sew because I’m good at it. I look at my hem and follow it around with my thumb, the way Van had once done so seductively. My skirts aren’t just cute like everybody has so generically told me; they’re well made. My stitches are even, my hem straight, my zippers undetectable. But whole costumes? “I’ll think about it,” I tell Dottie.
    “Maybe if you come to D&D on Friday, we can convince you.” I know she sees the apprehensive look on my face. “It’s not as dorky as it sounds, Jessie. Really. I think you’ll like it. Everyone is really nice. . . .” I drift off as she continues her sales pitch and think about that guy with the curly hair. He did smile at me. I wonder if he’ll be there. Without tights, of course. “And there’s tons of food.” She’s still going.
    “Okay,” I say with just the slightest hesitation. It can’t hurt. I don’t think.
    “Wow. Excellent. I’ll give you all the details on where and when later on. Cool.” She looks genuinely happy, and I feel good that I have definite plans for Friday night. That jerky voice in my head pipes up before I can stop it and says,
You’re going to play Dungeons and Dragons with a bunch of nerds on a
Friday night. Are those really the kind of new friends you want to be making?
    I glance over at Dottie, who flashes me the thumbs-up. Am I ready for this to be my new social life? I remember Barrett’s reaction when I first told him I was talking to Dottie in study hall. I believe he used seventeen variations on the word
dork
. But it’s not exactly like he’s hanging out with the coolest people anymore. I mean, Chloe’s cool in the popular, homecoming, hottest-girl-in-school kind of way, but not in the freakster, hair-dyed, giant-shoes kind of way that Barrett taught me to covet. Maybe he will be better at accepting my Friday night plans than I expect. Maybe even better than me.

 
     

chapter 17
    I STUDIED AFTER SCHOOL IN THE library until they kicked me out, hoping it was long enough to avoid the punk nasties. Barrett started his new job at the movie theater right after school today, training—with