I laugh, picturing him doing that because I think he actually would if I keep putting up a fight. “Fine, but I still don’t want cake. Get more creative than that. And cheaper.”
“She compromises!” He fist pumps the air. “It’s a miracle!”
“Shut up!” I give a good hook into his shoulder.
“Ouch, damn woman.” He drops his arm. “I know I look like I’m made of muscle, but looks are deceiving.”
I laugh again, and it feels really good. I try not to let my mind wander to how he’s leaving at the end of the year, and I’m not sure who will make me laugh when he does.
He reaches out for one of those really elaborate candles, and I almost smack his hand because there are perfectly good ninety-nine cent ones, but I’m going to let him this time. Just this once, because this will probably be the last one we spend together, I’ll let him do whatever the hell he wants to do for my birthday.
His arms are too full by the time we check out, and I wrinkle my nose at every beep the register makes as the items slide across. Adam leans over to my ear, his voice going low so the cashier doesn’t catch it. “Will you stop worrying about it? I’m not spending my life savings on candles and a lighter.”
“You don’t have to do this for me, though.” Especially since his car is practically dead in the parking lot.
He shakes his head and slides his VISA through the credit card machine. My stomach loads up with jagged rocks. What if he needs three bucks tomorrow, and too bad, he spent it on me instead? I’ve been there. Three dollars stood between Mom over drafting the account or bouncing a check. Three. Dollars.
Adam collects the bags, thanks the cashier—because he’s always polite to everybody, even though the cashier said nothing to him while scanning his items—and he waggles his eyebrows at me as we get back to his piece o’crap car.
“What are you going to wish for?”
“You know I’m not going to tell you.”
“Okay…then tell me a whole bunch of stuff you want to wish for, then I won’t know which one.”
He leans in his window, tossing the bags on the seat and pops the hood. He works the cap off the oil and raises an eyebrow to me.
I set my butt on the edge of the car, watching him work. “I wish for a lot of things. I wish for a car. A bigger bank account for my mom. A piece of Reese’s pie from Marie Calendars.”
He chuckles at that one while working under the hood. I smile at him before gazing to the dark asphalt. “I kind of want an impossible wish to come true,” I admit, because I know I can tell him and he won’t give me shit about it.
“Like what?”
I shrug, even though I know exactly what. “I want to turn eighteen this year, not sixteen. That would be a good one. So I could get out of here like you guys.”
He pulls his dipstick out, running it along a rag he keeps in the car all the time for this stuff. I pop my gum, stare back at the ground and keep rattling off my impossible wishes.
“I wish Mom would stop floating around temp jobs and find one that sticks, so we can get out of that trailer. I wish I could grow a tree that solves everyone’s problems. I wish I could stop being so cynical and bitchy all the time, maybe I could get my first kiss before I’m twenty-five.”
Adam straightens up so fast he bangs the back of his head on the hood. He rubs it as he gives me this funny look, like maybe I’m blowing smoke up his ass.
“Wait…you’ve never been kissed? Or are you trying to be funny?”
“That’s what you took from my list?”
“I thought you had a boyfriend.”
What? “Adam, you’ve known me since I was fourteen. You know I haven’t had a boyfriend.”
“Before that. Sierra said when you guys first met that you’d leave for a couple hours to hang out with your boyfriend.”
Well, that was a flat ass lie. All I wanted was to get away from my house and everyone for as long as possible. It worked. Levi didn’t give me crap about leaving because he thought I was with Sierra and that whole school project thing, and Mom was unbearable when she got back from interviews. I wanted out, so that was my excuse.
Not that I would’ve told anyone that.
“I lied.” I pop my gum again. “I don’t lie to her anymore though.”
“So…you’ve never been kissed.”
“Seriously Adam, it’s not a big surprise. I have like three friends. Four if you count my brother. People don’t talk to me and I don’t talk to them.” I shrug and kick a loose rock across the lot. Adam’s hood creaks like his door as he shuts it, and I can’t help but giggle…again.
“Is that why you think it’s an impossible wish?” He slides next to me, arm bumping mine as he cleans his hands off.
“If it hasn’t happened before I’m sixteen, doubt it will happen before I’m seventeen.” I roll my head over to look at him and smile. “Maybe eighteen though when I’m forced to socialize with people my own age. And that’s if I find someone to stand me long enough to kiss me.”
“Stop that.” He tosses the oil rag over his shoulder into the open window. He folds his arms, but not before he pushes his glasses back in place. The look he gives me is similar to the one I get from Levi when I’m being a real pain in the butt. “You’re not as bad as you think, you know.”
Only Adam would say that. He finds the good in everybody, I swear. Even me, who has about an ounce of it in my whole body.
“Thanks. I guess.”
“Was that gratitude? See, you’re getting better at it.”
I knock him with my hip, and pick up his wrist to look at his watch. 10:22.
“I’ll be officially sixteen in three minutes. Want to take bets on if I’ll get my wish this upcoming year?”
“Did what you wish last year come true?”
I grab my boobs and give them a nice squeeze, and then wiggle them up and down. “Sure feels like it.” I smirk back up at Adam who has gone Hawaiian Punch red. Just the reaction I wanted.
“So, are you going to wish for a kiss this year?” he mumbles out of his adorable blush.
“No. If it’s not going to happen by the time I’m sixteen, it won’t happen. I said that already.”
“Stop being so cynical. You’re a beautiful girl, and you’re funny. You’ll find someone to kiss you this year.”
His hand lightly taps the skin by my elbow, letting me know he’s about to lean over me. He reaches inside the car to the Target bags and dumps the contents over the hood. I watch him rip the candle package four times before he actually gets through the cardboard to the big huge “You’re Sixteen!” decorated wax.
“I think you’re the only one who sees that in me. But thank you.”
A grin quirks at the corner of his lips, but his eyes are focused on opening the big Reese’s cup he got me. “More gratitude. You’re doing real well tonight.” He checks his watch and cranks his head over his shoulder. “And we still have one minute before you’re officially sixteen. I’ll find someone to kiss you before then.” His eyes frantically search the empty parking lot, and when he gazes back at my not-so-amused expression, he snaps his fingers and goes back to my impromptu birthday treat. “Damn, guess I’ll have to make sure it happens next year for you.”
Because I have no idea what’s going through my head, and I like seeing his ears flame red, I say, “Why don’t you do it?”
“That’s what I just said.” He laughs. This is my chance to take it back, but next year…he won’t be around. Why does he keep talking like he’s going to be here forever? Whatever big time university he ends up at will be far from me, and my seventeenth birthday.
“I meant, why don’t you kiss me?”
Just like I thought they would, his ears go up in smoke. “Huh?”
“Give me my first kiss. And do it quick. Before I’m sixteen. Then I can wish for something else when I blow out my candle. Win-win.”
He scratches the top of his head, smooshing several of his reddish spikes and still holdin
g the candle in his hand. “You serious? I can’t tell.”
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
“And you’re okay with that? No weirdness?”
“No weirdness. Promise. I just, want to feel like maybe less lame about it. I don’t know. Forget it. We’re running out of time anyway.”
He lets out a breath, setting down the candle and turning toward me. “You can’t tell Levi. He’d beat the shit out of me.”
I laugh, because that’s very true. Adam gulps and looks me straight on, his brown eyes light and friendly, but also kind of nervous.
“And you gotta promise me you won’t get mad that I took something that could’ve been highly special for you. First kisses are big. But they’re awkward too, so don’t expect fireworks, ‘kay?”
I roll my eyes, because he should know better. I’m not that girl. I don’t get bubbly or excited about this kind of stuff, even though everyone and their mom thinks I should. I want my first kiss from someone I trust. And before I’m fifty-two and losing my hair.
“It will be special, Adam. You’re my best friend.”
He smirks, checks his watch again, then settles his hands on my cheeks. “I do know how to be a friend,” he says, right before his lips press mine.
I’m not sure what I expected. I don’t dream about this stuff, but it seems important, and I can see why now. I feel connected to someone on a much deeper level than I ever thought I could. Like it’s just his lips, but it’s a part of Adam I haven’t seen before. And it makes me happy that he’s letting me experience it. That he trusts me enough to know how his lips move when he kisses. How gentle his hands are. How controlled he is, yet uncontrollable too. He breaks from me before I really have a chance to respond, but I felt every moment of that as if it were a million moments.
Adam grins, drops his hands, and immediately plops the candle into the Reese’s Big Cup. He clicks the lighter on and puts it in my face as he lights it up. “Now that I’ve proved you wrong, you can wish for another wish that you think is impossible…but really isn’t.”
I bite my smile back, focusing on the reflection the flame makes in Adam’s glasses. Maybe this year, I can find it in me to let go of the attitude, make friends who are my age, and try to be happy. I wonder if Adam laces his kisses with Ritalin or something, because I feel like I’m on a major high. Closing my eyes, I suck in a breath and hold it.
I wish for a better heart so someone will want a piece of it.
Then I let the air out, the flame disappearing into smoke that floats over Adam’s head and into the night sky.
END OF SAMPLE
Chapter 1
If I say I’m sick, don’t kiss me!
Rules of keeping up your popular rep:
Number one, the shorter the skirt, the better.
Number two, natural hair color is a thing of the past.
Number three, high heels are an extension of your foot. To go without them would be like losing a toe.
Number four, guys are disposable, and should never be used more than once or for an extended period of time.
And number five, never ever reveal you collect Star Wars memorabilia, you know every line to Lord of the Rings, and you actually know the birthdates of all the Harry Potter cast members.
Yeah. I’m a total closeted nerd.
I'm not cool with pity glares in the hallways, painful jabs, and social scars. No thanks. It's much easier to keep my true nature hidden beneath layers of eyeliner, skimpy outfits, and even I must admit to myself, a rockin’ body. Though the pushup bras tend to do most of the work.
Welcome to high school. Where everyone tries to be someone else.
Well…everyone except Zak.
Here’s the DL on my next door neighbor. He’s labeled King Dork because he wears nerdy shirts and talks in geek code. His front pocket of the plaid overshirt he wears always has at least three or four Pokémon cards in it. And if it’s not that then it’s a graphing calculator he has to keep shoving down so it doesn’t fall out. There’s a Star Wars keychain always clipped to the back of his holey jeans and he sometimes carries a Wii controller in his back pocket.
And I’ve got it bad for the boy.
It’s not just the fact he was the one to introduce me to the awesomeness of the Elvish Language, the hidden mysteries of World of Warcraft, and the magical world that lies beyond Platform 9 ¾, but really, he pulls off sexy geek so damn well! His dark, like super dark eyes and his matching hair that flops around his forehead when he’s laughing too hard, combined with his nice height, swoon… he’s like the Peter Parker of my high school.
I may be the only person who finds his nerdiness so hecka irresistible. Everyone else treats him like some dead bug on the sidewalk. I know how it is, and I have no idea how he handles all the verbal abuse.
Middle school Zoe—Geek Zoe, I like to call her—was made fun of and tormented so much she spent most nights crying into her pillow. High school was the break I was totally looking for. A chance to freaking rewrite myself into someone who’s socially acceptable. Summer before school started, I grabbed loads of magazines and watched all those teen movies that so aren’t as awesome as Star Trek, but they were for my status education. And apparently, I was doing this popularity thing all wrong. I gotta be like a major bitch to people, and I’ll end up getting the hottest guy in the end.
Took some work, but I think I got it down. I should win an Oscar with how awesome I am at the fake personality.
But freak, it’s been two years since I was de-geek-a-fied, and I still find myself trying to stifle the urge to buy Comic-Con tickets, and try not to act jealous when I see Zak dressing up for the event.
Don’t get me wrong, my life is pretty darn fantastic and a whole heap lot better than the alternative, which is getting my emotional butt kicked around. So the fake persona is definitely worth it. People think I’m awesome, so that makes me feel awesome.
There’s a huge party tonight. Lots of alcohol and boys, but like every party night, I try to show off first to my neighbor, who can see straight into my open window.
I strip down to my underwear so Zak can get a good look and turn up the music on my iPod. If he sneaks a peek, I can always throw my hands up and be like, “Whoops! I’m changing with the window open again, aren’t I? So sorry.” Then make a nice sexy show of closing the curtains. It looks perfect in my head, even though it’s completely pathetic I have to resort to this. I’m trying way too hard to get his attention, but I don’t care. It’s not like I can flirt with him at school. Social suicide bomb right there.
Stealing glances out my window into his, I flaunt around my room pretending like I’m getting ready for the party. But I can’t get a good view of him, and I don’t want to be more obvious than I already am.
Nothing.
Huh, maybe he’s not…
Yikes! I’ve reached my LOST playlist and my heart stumbles over itself as I quickly turn the music back down until I can get a more trendy song on.
“Hey, I was listening to that,” a voice says from outside my window. I knew he was home. Darn boy ignoring a prancing half-naked girl next door. Gosh, I thought I was doing this right. I adjust my bra to make my boobs look extra luscious, and then smoothly appear in his line of sight.
Zak is at his computer, books piled next to him. He rubs his eyes and blinks a couple times before staring back at the screen, brow furrowed. Totally not looking at me or my boobs.
“What exactly were you listening to?” I ask, using my seductive voice guys, well, most guys fall over.
Looking at me—about time—he shakes his head at my revealing attire before reaching over to a cord I can’t see. His blinds shut with a rejected smack!
Youch.
I examine my boobs, but there’s nothing wrong there. Maybe I have a booger or something.
Nope. No booger, no drool, nothing.
Just me.
Great, now I’m all self-conscious. What’s wrong with me? I turn around in circles trying to examin
e my butt, but all I can think is I miss my Star Wars panties. These lacey ones are okay, Popular Zoe 101, but there’s nothing cooler than having a big Storm Trooper head slapped across my butt cheeks. Well, if I can’t even impress my nerdboy, I’m not going to even attempt a party appearance.
I throw on my pajamas—the big unflattering ones—and slouch on the bed. Stupid geek boy and the hold he has on me. I shouldn’t care what he thinks.
But I do. Because I care what everybody thinks.
I sigh and look out the window again. The sun dips below the horizon casting orange and yellow streaks across Zak’s blinds, like something out of Harry Potter. Just super full of cool magic beans. I wonder if Zak’s still sitting there at his computer, typing away or plunging his nose into one of his thousands of books.
I shake my head. What does it matter what he’s doing? I. Should. Not. Care.
I hop off the bed, slam my own blinds shut and whip the curtains together. My gaze flicks to the shelves lining the wall. They have been carefully constructed to conceal accusing material, with colorful doors that slide across it, revealing some things, and hiding others. Out of habit, I check over my shoulder before I slide open one of the doors, hiding the lines of lip-gloss and compact mirrors and opening the section of the shelf holding several books about the X-Men.
I quickly grab the desired book and a flashlight and slam the door shut. Some of the lip-gloss topples over, but I make no attempt to straighten them. Must get under the covers stat! I curl up in the middle of my bed and throw the comforter over myself.
My sanctuary lies here as I open the book I’ve read thousands of times and purge my mind with paragraphs about Dark Phoenix. Jean Grey is my idol. No one will ever know, but I base most of my wardrobe off her.
I don’t know how long it’s been before my phone buzzes on my nightstand. Yeah, my mind turns off to the rest of the world when I nerd-out. I turn off the flashlight and pull the comforter off my head, keeping the book hidden as I reach over for the cell.