into my head, kind of the-dog-ate-my-homework of make-out excuses. She either knew I was lying and didnât appreciate it, or she believed me somehow and just didnât want to be making out with some dude with an eye infection. Either way, that was that. She said she had to go and she went.
I asked for her phone number or e-mail or something before she left, because I pretty much knew she wouldnât be coming back to the lake that summer.
âIâll give you all of that stuff tomorrow,â she said.
I knew she wouldnât but I biked down there early anyway. I sat on that climbing wall half the day. Sucks to be me sometimes. It was about two or three days later that I started to think about Jenny #2 again. She was cuter anyway. Cuter and nicer, but Iâd blown that, too. Iâd seen her a few times over my four days with Jenny #1, and more to the point, sheâd seen me with her. What was I supposed to do? The timing was all wrong. God hates me.
But I did get Jenny #2âs last name during that one day with her, and it was kind of a funny name, so I had no trouble remembering it. Well, it wasnât funny so much as really unfortunateâIâll just tell you: It was Butts. Even Monday, like eight months later, I still remembered it. And thatâs when I looked up her profile online and sent her a message.
I did a search by name, and hers came up: right name, right town, right high school. The age said seventeen, but everyone put that so they could have a public profile. Private profiles were for little kids. There was no picture, her page was as crappy as mine, but I figured it was her. So I wrote and sent the stupidest, lamest message in the history of electronics. And now I was in the library to see if sheâd responded. I guess that makes me an optimist.
âI need a computer,â I said to the librarian. I said it in the way youâd say âIâm a loser,â and thatâs pretty much the way she took it. She asked me what I needed it for.
âHomework,â I said, even though I didnât understand why she was sweating me about it. She wasnât even our real librarian, just filling in until Ms. Moreno got out of the hospital.
She gave me a look like she didnât believe me, and I gave her a look like I didnât care, and she said, âNumber three is open. Fifteen minutes.â
I signed on to my e-mail. There were a few messages but they were all junk. I went to my profile and checked my âpending requests,â and there was just one there: Jenny #2. I clicked on her profile and saw that sheâd logged on already today, which meant sheâd read my stupid message. I felt a little queasy for a second, like someone had just jabbed a pool cue into my gut. Sheâd read it and she hadnât answered it. Sheâd seen my friend request and she still hadnât accepted it.
I sat there feeling like a dumbass for a little while, but then I was like, Hey, itâs only been a day. And as dumb as that message had been, I still worked hard on it and mustâve said a few things right. Maybe she was just thinking about what to write back. Like I said, an optimist.
4
After school, I called Tommyâs house. He hadnât been around for the rest of the day, and so it seemed like, yeah, theyâd gone ahead and suspended him for flipping that desk. There was no answer, which wasnât all that surprising. His mom and his stepdad would still be at work, and heâd probably be at McDonaldâs or something. I called his cell and it went straight to voice mail. I figured maybe he was talking to someone, so I called back a little later, but it was voice mail again. By then, I was a little surprised. I thought heâd be ready to give me the lowdown, the blow by blow between him and Trever, because it was pretty clear that it hadnât gone well.
Plus, someone wouldâve had toâve picked him up from school. They
I asked for her phone number or e-mail or something before she left, because I pretty much knew she wouldnât be coming back to the lake that summer.
âIâll give you all of that stuff tomorrow,â she said.
I knew she wouldnât but I biked down there early anyway. I sat on that climbing wall half the day. Sucks to be me sometimes. It was about two or three days later that I started to think about Jenny #2 again. She was cuter anyway. Cuter and nicer, but Iâd blown that, too. Iâd seen her a few times over my four days with Jenny #1, and more to the point, sheâd seen me with her. What was I supposed to do? The timing was all wrong. God hates me.
But I did get Jenny #2âs last name during that one day with her, and it was kind of a funny name, so I had no trouble remembering it. Well, it wasnât funny so much as really unfortunateâIâll just tell you: It was Butts. Even Monday, like eight months later, I still remembered it. And thatâs when I looked up her profile online and sent her a message.
I did a search by name, and hers came up: right name, right town, right high school. The age said seventeen, but everyone put that so they could have a public profile. Private profiles were for little kids. There was no picture, her page was as crappy as mine, but I figured it was her. So I wrote and sent the stupidest, lamest message in the history of electronics. And now I was in the library to see if sheâd responded. I guess that makes me an optimist.
âI need a computer,â I said to the librarian. I said it in the way youâd say âIâm a loser,â and thatâs pretty much the way she took it. She asked me what I needed it for.
âHomework,â I said, even though I didnât understand why she was sweating me about it. She wasnât even our real librarian, just filling in until Ms. Moreno got out of the hospital.
She gave me a look like she didnât believe me, and I gave her a look like I didnât care, and she said, âNumber three is open. Fifteen minutes.â
I signed on to my e-mail. There were a few messages but they were all junk. I went to my profile and checked my âpending requests,â and there was just one there: Jenny #2. I clicked on her profile and saw that sheâd logged on already today, which meant sheâd read my stupid message. I felt a little queasy for a second, like someone had just jabbed a pool cue into my gut. Sheâd read it and she hadnât answered it. Sheâd seen my friend request and she still hadnât accepted it.
I sat there feeling like a dumbass for a little while, but then I was like, Hey, itâs only been a day. And as dumb as that message had been, I still worked hard on it and mustâve said a few things right. Maybe she was just thinking about what to write back. Like I said, an optimist.
4
After school, I called Tommyâs house. He hadnât been around for the rest of the day, and so it seemed like, yeah, theyâd gone ahead and suspended him for flipping that desk. There was no answer, which wasnât all that surprising. His mom and his stepdad would still be at work, and heâd probably be at McDonaldâs or something. I called his cell and it went straight to voice mail. I figured maybe he was talking to someone, so I called back a little later, but it was voice mail again. By then, I was a little surprised. I thought heâd be ready to give me the lowdown, the blow by blow between him and Trever, because it was pretty clear that it hadnât gone well.
Plus, someone wouldâve had toâve picked him up from school. They
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