Breaking Up Is Really, Really Hard to Do

“Wow, Holly,” Mads said. “This is our biggest success ever! You made Autumn happy, and everybody in school knows it!”

  “At first I thought it was all in her mind,” Holly said. “I mean, how could Vince have enjoyed that date? All she did was talk about herself. But look—he really seems to like her.”

  Holly, Lina, and Mads gazed across the courtyard to the bench where Vince—the mysterious Mr. V—sat listening to Autumn. He looked like a different person. He glowed.

  “It's funny,” Holly said. “He really does seem handsomer all of a sudden.” Of course, a lot of guys seemed handsomer to her lately.

  “I guess he just wanted someone to pay attention to him,” Lina said.

  “Hi, girls.” Mo Basri stopped by their bench. Holly straightened up. Was Mo really interested in her, as Sebastiano had said? She thought she'd caught him watching her a couple of times, but this was the first time he'd ever come up to talk to her.

  “I read all about you on Nuclear Autumn,” Mo said. “How do you girls know so much about love?”

  He said “girls,” but he was looking at Holly the whole time.

  “Do you think you could give me some advice?” Mo asked. “A friend of mine has a problem.”

  Holly struggled not to glance at Lina and Mads. She could feel them next to her, suppressing giggles. “Well, we don't know everything, but we can try to help. What's up?”

  “My friend likes this girl, but she has a boyfriend,” Mo said. “Should he let her know how he feels, or leave her alone? Is it uncool to tell a girl you like her if she's taken?”

  Interesting. And very transparent. Did this mean Mo's “friend”—obviously Mo himself—had a crush on Holly? Holly knew that if she looked at Mads and Lina now they'd start cracking up. And that would ruin everything. So she must not look at them. Danger. Danger. Do not turn head to left!

  “Well, I guess it depends, Mo,” Holly said. “Sometimes a girl has a boyfriend but she feels ready to move on. Is she sending you any signals?”

  “This girl's kind of mysterious,” Mo said. “I'm not sure how to read her.”

  “Hmm. I guess you might as well take a shot. You've got nothing to lose. If she's still into her boyfriend, the worst she can do is say no. If she's not and says yes, then it was worth the risk, right?”

  Mo grinned. “Right. Thanks, Holly. Oh, one more thing. I don't have this girl's phone number. Is it-okay to ask a girl out by e-mail?”

  “If you don't have her number, sure, I guess it's okay,” Holly said.

  “Cool,” Mo said. “See you later.” He crossed the courtyard and went into the school. Lina and Mads started laughing as soon as he was out of earshot.

  “Guess you'll be getting an e-mail from him soon,” Lina said.

  “You think so?” Holly said.

  “How obvious could he be?” Mads said.

  “We'll see,” Holly said, but she had a feeling they were right.

  “You're good at giving advice, Holly,” Mads said. “You really sounded like you knew what you were talking about! You should do an advice column on the site.”

  “You could be the Love Ninja,” Lina said. “Attacks love problems by stealth!”

  An advice column. Holly liked the idea. It would be fun to obsess over other people's problems for a change.

  “I'll do it,” Holly said. “The Love Ninja…It's a nice combination of sentiment and violence. Like love itself.”

  A few days later, after she finished her homework, Holly logged onto the Dating Game blog to check her inbox. It was jammed with matchmaking requests and letters to the Love Ninja. They'd announced the column on The Dating Game site with a link to Nuclear Autumn. Holly sifted through the e-mails, chose the best ones, and wrote her first column.

  Dear Love Ninja,

  My best friend is very pretty. Boys are always hitting on her. One night at a club these two boys came up to us. The cuter one started flirting with my friend and his friend asked me to dance. When we got back, my friend was gone. Since that night, the cute boy has been dating my friend but I haven't heard a word from his buddy. What happened?

  —Second Banana

  Dear Second Banana,

  What happened is you've been the victim of the old wing play. I think it comes from soccer terminology, or maybe ice hockey. The cute boy liked your friend and asked his pal to be the “wing man.” In other words, he pretended to like you in order to distract you—so his friend could get some face-time with your girlfriend. It's one of those sneaky boy tricks that you have to watch out for. Some boys roam in packs like dogs and take turns playing wing man for each other as the situation arises. It stinks, doesn't it? Now that you know, warn others!

  —Love Ninja

  I really am good at this, Holly thought. Look how much effect I'm having on everybody's lives! I'm making people happy left and right. Solving their problems. Helping them face reality and find love. And the more I do it, the better I get at it. By the end of the school year I could be as wise as Dr. Drew Pinsky.

  Her computer beeped to let her know another e-mail had come in.

  To: Love Ninja

  From: Mbasri

  Re: question for you

  Hey Holly,

  The Kevin Eleven are playing the Rutgers Roadhouse this weekend. Want to check it out one night? Maybe Saturday? They really rock.

  Mo

  P.S. The advice you gave my friend the other day was really smart.

  Holly felt excited and nervous. She knew Mo was interested in her, and she was right. But what should she do? She was Rob's girlfriend. She couldn't just go out to concerts with other guys.

  Or could she? After all, what was the big deal? She was only sixteen. She and Rob weren't married. And she really had no reason to think Mo was asking her as anything other than a friend. Deep down—not even so deep down—she knew better, of course. But she told herself that going to the show wouldn't mean anything.

  She shouldn't have to think about this at all. She should be free! And that's when she realized that she wasn't facing the truth. Rob wasn't “it.” He couldn't be. If he were, would she be having this conversation with herself? No, she'd reject Mo immediately. If Rob were “it,” she'd know by now.

  That left her with a big problem. She had to dump Rob. But how? She really liked him. She didn't want to hurt him. And she didn't want him to hate her. She wanted to stay friends with him and date other guys.

  This was a job for the Love Ninja. Too bad she had no answer for her own problem.

  I'll take it to the blog, she thought. A Dating Game poll. A few good solutions usually turned up among the garbage and jokes. But she had to disguise it so Rob wouldn't figure out what was going on. So she composed a fake letter to the Love Ninja.

  Dear Love Ninja,

  My girlfriend is very sweet but too clingy, and I've got a crush on another girl. I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I need my freedom. Is there any way to dump her without hurting her?

  —Jailbird

  Dear Jailbird,

  Your problem is a common one, but hard to solve. I'm going to take it to the readers and see if they have any advice for you. Good luck!

  —Love Ninja

  Dear Readers: The Love Ninja needs your help! What's the best way to dump someone—without hurting his or her feelings?

  jen88: There's no way to do it without hurting her. Just get it over with fast.

  koala: Jailbird, is your real name Jonathan? Are you trying to dump me????

  sami666: Lies, lies, and more lies. Tell her you're dying, you're moving to Siberia, you're becoming a monk. Anything to get her off your back. By the time she figures out that you lied, it will be too late.

  poydog: write her a letter. If you dump her in person and she starts crying, you might weaken and change your mind.

  spoony: tell her you love her so much it hurts—literally. You're on painkillers all the time, and the doctors say if you don't stop seeing her you'll be a vegetable by the time you're 18.


  dollface: Before dropping bad news on anyone, it's a good idea to feed them. Make a nice meal for her, then gently tell her you need space. She'll be hurt, but her full stomach will help blunt the pain.

  All right, one sensible answer out of six, not bad. Holly decided to take dollface's advice. She and Rob would go on a picnic together—with all of Rob's favorite foods. Holly felt a pang when she thought of the way he'd forced down that Sham Ham sandwich, just for her. Maybe she shouldn't be so quick to dump him. But no, it was the only humane thing to do. It would hurt him much more if she cheated on him.

  This wasn't going to be easy.

  “Where should we put the blanket?” Rob asked. He pointed at a patch of grass and said, “How about over there? Unless you want to put it somewhere else.” It was late afternoon, and she and Rob had driven to La Paz State Park for the big breakup picnic.

  “No, that spot is fine,” Holly said.

  “As long as it's okay with you,” Rob said. “I mean, it's your picnic. Maybe you were thinking of a sunnier spot.”

  “This spot is plenty sunny.” Holly tried to keep a lid on her annoyance. Did everything have to be a U.N. debate?

  She unfolded the picnic blanket and opened the basket. “Ham sandwich?” she offered. “It's real this time. I promise.”

  “Thanks.” Rob bit into the sandwich and nodded. “Mmm,” he said through a mouthful, “blows that Sham stuff away.”

  “Glad you like it.” She'd made the sandwiches herself, with lettuce, tomato, mustard, and fresh country bread from the best bakery in town. She'd also packed pasta salad, shrimp salad, fruit salad, iced tea, and homemade brownies for dessert.

  “Wow, Holly, this is so nice of you,” Rob said, settling back on the blanket. “What's the occasion?”

  “No occasion,” Holly said. “Do I need a reason to do something nice for my boyfriend?”

  Rob appeared to think this over for a second, which annoyed her even more. “Well, you're usually pretty nice, but not this nice. Not that you're not very, very nice. But this is above and beyond.”

  He wore a t-shirt that said, BORN TO BE MlLD, with a cartoon of a lamb on it. The highly irritating sight of it gave Holly courage.

  They finished their suppers. Rob polished off three brownies, lay on his back, closed his eyes, and rubbed his stomach contentedly. It was time.

  “You know, Rob, I really like you,” Holly said.

  “I really like you, too,” Rob said. He opened his eyes and turned toward her, reaching out to pat her hand but slapping her knee instead.

  “Sometimes I forget how young we are,” Holly said. “We're still really young.”

  “Yep. Whole lives ahead of us,” Rob said. He closed his eyes again and let the sun warm his face.

  “Too young to confine ourselves to one, uh, path,” Holly went on. “One academic track, one career path, one, you know, person.”

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes were still closed. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

  “Do you ever feel like you need, I don't know, more space?” Holly asked. “More time to yourself, to do what you want?”

  “Sure.”

  “I feel that way, too, sometimes,” Holly said. “That's why I think maybe we should take a break. From each other.”

  Rob didn't move. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't say a word.

  Holly picked a blade of grass and nibbled it. What was he thinking? Was he about to leap to his feet and beg her to stay? Sit up and start crying? Calmly tell her he felt the same way?

  “Rob? Did you hear me?”

  He opened his eyes at last. “Yeah. Sure, I heard you.” He sat up and took a sip of iced tea.

  That was it? Was that his reaction?

  “So, what do you think?” Holly asked.

  “Um, sure, whatever you want,” Rob said. “Sounds okay to me.”

  This was too easy. She never expected him to be so cool about it. Frankly, she thought he liked her more than that.

  “So we're agreed?” she asked.

  “Agreed,” Rob said. He started gathering up the picnic things. “Great picnic, Holly. I'm stuffed.”

  “Thanks.” This was almost weird. What was he, some kind of heartless Stepford boy?

  He helped Holly fold up the blanket and they walked to his SUV. “I'm going to have to go for a run later,” Rob said. “Or I'll be floating like a beached whale at swim practice tomorrow.”

  They loaded up the car and he drove her home. By now it was early evening. He sure was taking the breakup well. It was almost too good to be true.

  They pulled up in front of Holly's house. Rob got out and opened the back so Holly could get her picnic basket.

  “Thanks again for the picnic,” he said. “Mind?”

  He leaned close and kissed her. She was used to kissing him, so it didn't surprise her at first. But in the middle of it she thought, Better enjoy this, because it may be your last Rob kiss.

  When it was over, she stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds, waiting for something to happen. He smiled and got back in the SUV “See you tomorrow,” he said. “Want to catch a movie or something this weekend?”

  What? Catch a movie? Wasn't he taking this breakup thing a little too casually?

  “Um, I can't,” Holly said. “I promised Lina and Mads—”

  “No problem,” Rob said. “I'll call you later.”

  She clutched her picnic basket as he drove away. Exactly what was going on here? Hadn't she just broken up with him? Why did he seem to be completely unaware of it? How clueless could he be?

  8

  Badminton Smackdown!

  To: linaonme

  From: your daily horoscope

  HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: I look in my crystal ball and see…another crystal ball. That's weird. You figure it out.

  Dear Lara,

  How was your day today? Seen any good movies lately? Ha ha. I look forward so much to hearing from you every evening. Especially after a bad day, your e-mails really brighten things up.

  Did your professor like your paper on Latvian animation? I have to admit I've never seen any Latvian films, so I don't know much about it other than what you wrote me, but it sounds fascinating. I had no idea that Gilmore Girls was based on Latvian folktales.

  Today was one of those days where I wanted to walk out and quit teaching forever. One of my tenth-graders did an extra credit report (his midterm project was so hopeless I had to give him the chance to make it up with extra credit or he'd fail, god forbid) on a book he apparently found on his mother's night table called Erotic Fantasies for Women. I stopped him before he'd read too much out loud but it seems that every boy in the class has already memorized the whole book. They kept asking me leading questions about what they should do if a cute, shirtless handyman wants to comein and wash up or the pool guy wants to take a dip. It was a nightmare. I wonder if I should talk to the kid's parents but I'd have to go through “Rod” first, and I don't think I can take another half-hour lecture on the paradigms for empowering students to leverage their developmentally-appropriate higher-order thinking.

  Sorry for going on and on about school—you must find it boring, but it feels good to have someone to vent the day's frustrations to. Write back and tell me all about your day. I love to hear about your world—it takes me away from my own dreary reality. I know you have your difficulties but you handle them so gracefully.

  —Beau

  Lina was hooked on Dan's e-mails like a hyperactive kid on sugar. They wrote at least once a day now. When Holly and Mads asked her about it, she told them the e-mails were petering out. She just couldn't share it with them anymore—not if Holly and Mads were going to make fun of them. And Lina knew they would. She couldn't bear that. The e-mails meant too much to her.

  She could tell he was hooked on them, too, and that made her pulse race. She always knew he'd like her if he let himself get to know her—and she was right. She had proof. He clearly liked and admired her, or “Larissa,” anyway, and
Lina thought she sensed a romance budding between the lines. He wanted to ask Larissa out, she knew he did. If Larissa gave him the tiniest crumb of encouragement, he'd snatch it up. But without her encouragement he was shy. Maybe she had made Larissa a little too glamorous. She had the feeling he was intimidated by her.

  But that glamour was Lina's disguise, and she wasn't ready to drop it yet. Besides, she loved being Larissa, going to gallery openings and movie screenings and bistro dinners with visiting filmmakers. No wonder Dan had stars in his eyes. Lina did, too.

  Meanwhile, back in “dreary reality,” Lina had been in the class Dan described, where Karl Levine tried to read from his mother's book. She'd seen the discomfort on Dan's face and felt terrible for him, but the boys just wouldn't let up. It was as if some bug had gotten inside them, all at once, and nothing would calm them down. But it felt so strange to come home and read about it in Dan's e-mail. He played it cool in class, but the problems that came up bothered him more than she'd realized.

  Hello Beau,

  I'm so sorry you had a bad day. Don't let your students get to you. I'm sure they like and respect you. But sometimes one boy starts trouble and it snowballs, and even the greatest teacher in the world wouldn't be able to stop it. It happened lots of times when I was in high school.

  I had a frustrating day today, too. I really wanted to take a seminar called “Freddy Prinze, Jr.: From Shaggy to Shakespeare,” but the class was full before I had a chance to sign up. And Professor Stockhauser said he hasn't had a chance to read my Latvian animation paper yet. And a friend of mine is having a big party, but I have too much reading to do and can't go.

  I hope you have a better day tomorrow. Maybe you should watch a movie tonight. I know that always takes my mind off my troubles, at least for a little while. Why do you think I'm going to film school?

  —Lara

  Where is this going? she wondered as she sent her e-mail off to him. How would it end? She could hardly stand to think about it—yet she couldn't stop thinking about it.

  “Can't anybody in this school write a decent poem?” Ramona complained. Lina sat in the Inchworm office with her and the other members of the Dan Shulman Cult, Siobhan Gallagher, Maggie Schwartzman, and Chandra Bledsoe. Together they made up the entire editorial staff of the magazine, except for Dan Shulman, Faculty Advisor. Ramona had invited Lina to sit in with them and read through some submissions.