My Kind of Crazy - Robin Reul Page 0,14
out who this ‘mystery guy’ is. She’s talking about setting up a website so guys can fill out an anonymous survey of questions only the person who did it would know how to answer.”
I try to act casual even though my mind is racing. I stuff my gym shirt into my locker and slide my red Flash tee over my head. “Seriously? That’s whack.”
His eye drifts to the side as he says, “All the girls are going bonkers over how sweet it is. Meanwhile, it’s pretty much open season for the guys. If you can guess the right answers, you have a shot at Amanda Carlisle. So every idiot and his brother is going for it. Hell, I’m even considering taking the survey.”
I try to process what he’s saying. “Hold up. People are essentially making up a load-of-crap story and entering a contest so they can go on a date with Amanda?”
“Yup. Wild, huh?” He pulls his shirt over his head and I can see the outline of his rib cage, along with a shiny, jagged scar on the side of his stomach. Rumor has it he was stabbed in a knife fight. I quickly avert my eyes before he catches me staring.
I pull on my jeans. “The thing is, anyone who claims to be ‘the guy’ has pretty much confessed to nearly burning down her frickin’ house. While Amanda may be willing to overlook that, I’m guessing Mr. Carlisle won’t. And probably not their insurance company either. Not exactly the way to score points at the beginning of a relationship, if you know what I mean.”
“She promises total immunity, though you raise a good point.” Nick’s brow furrows as he considers all this, and then he shrugs. “She’s smokin’ hot. It might be worth the risk.”
I’m still skeptical, but of course I’m interested. I stack the pros of winning a date with Amanda against the cons of how much trouble my confession could potentially bring. “So what happens if you answer all the questions right? I mean, twenty guys could luck out and guess the right answers. How does she know who’s the real one?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she has a bonus question.”
“And then what? She goes out with the guy?”
“Get this: sounds like she said she would take him to prom.”
Prom.
With Amanda Carlisle.
It might still happen after all. But this is too easy. I mean, I know all the answers. I was there. It sounds so simple and straightforward, but there’s gotta be a catch. Despite her offer of immunity, what if this is all some elaborate plan to catch the poor dumb bastard (me) and then humiliate and punish him publicly? And what if Amanda finds out it was me and bursts out laughing and refuses to go through with it? She doesn’t seem like the type who would do that though. I think that’s why I got the nerve to ask her in the first place.
Any time I’ve ever talked to her, Amanda has always been polite and friendly. Of course, it’s never a deep conversation or anything; more like she says, “Do you know what time it is?” and I say, “Two fifteen.” One time she asked me, “Do you want to sign my petition to get the school cafeteria to start carrying gluten-free entrees?” and I said, “Sure,” even though I didn’t have the slightest clue what gluten was. It seemed important to her so I went with it.
I got the idea to invite her to prom two weeks ago when both our lab partners didn’t show up and Mr. Seitz put us together. She basically sat back and let me dissect our whole frog, but she kept thanking me, saying I was so sweet for understanding that she could never harm a fish, no matter how big or small. She was so emotional about it that I didn’t have the heart to tell her a frog is actually an amphibian. Even the formaldehyde couldn’t mask how good she smelled—like baby powder and jasmine flowers all mixed up.
While I was doing our lab work, Amanda made small talk and asked me if I was going to prom. I said I wasn’t sure, and she said she didn’t know if she was going either. No one had asked her yet. It was almost like she was hinting.
Granted, I knew inviting her was a stretch, but it felt like we’d had a moment. Sometimes in life you have to go for what you want. It’s pretty