The Summer I Became a Nerd - By Leah Rae Miller Page 0,3

mad dash to hide all nerdy evidence every time a friend shows up at my house unannounced… I’m in a constant state of “no one can know,” and it sucks.

But…can I go two months without knowing? Can I last two months without going on the comic book forums, Twitter, or Facebook for fear of spoilers?

Of course I can’t.

Damn your awesomeness, Super Ones.

I grab a hoodie, my dad’s green Boston Celtics cap, and I make double sure my shades are in my purse.

Drastic times call for drastic measures.

#2

There it is. The Phoenix.

You know how some people say Paris is one of their favorite places even though they’ve never been there? The Phoenix is like that for me.

An image of a yellow and orange flaming bird hangs above the door, and through the windows I can see row upon row of comics in all their Mylar-encased glory. I don’t know how many times I’ve driven by here and almost rear-ended someone because I was trying to ogle the newest life-size cardboard cutout of Wolverine or Captain America or whoever.

And now I’m here. Of course, I’m not actually parked in their parking lot. I’m technically in the Mes Amis lot next door. My friends and I love this restaurant but for different reasons. My best friend, Terra, loves the low-fat cheesecake. Eric loves the double bacon cheeseburger. I love the fact that I can see the display windows of The Phoenix from our usual booth.

I turn my car off since I don’t have an air conditioner. It’s just blowing hot air in my face, making me sweat like I’m about to do a toe-touch off the top of the pyramid at halftime. I put on my dad’s cap, my big, retro sunglasses, and my sunshine-yellow hoodie. Satisfied with my incognito ensemble, I jump out of the car and duck between the other vehicles to sneak my way to the small, shaded alley separating Mes Amis and The Phoenix.

I set up camp and wait. If I peek around the edge of the building, I can see The Phoenix’s front door, but no one is coming in or out. I wait some more, passing the time by doing a little positive visualization: me, sitting in my air-conditioned room with The Super Ones #400 in my hands.

Just then, I hear someone pull up.

Out of the small Toyota Corolla steps a guy, probably in his thirties. He’s balding and has a stain on his red T-shirt. Before he can make it to the door, I let out a loud, “Psst!”

He stops and looks around, then notices me. I wave him over and duck back down the alley. After a second, his head appears around the corner, one eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“Want to earn five bucks for two minutes of work?” I try to sound as unconcerned as possible.

“What do you want?”

“I give you money, you go in there”—I shove a thumb at the wall behind me—“and buy me a copy of The Super Ones #400. You get the change and five extra bucks. Deal?” I stare at him over the tops of my sunglasses.

“Why don’t you buy it yourself?”

“I just can’t, okay? So, do we have a deal?”

“Make it ten dollars, plus the change.” He crosses his arms like he’s haggling at a swap meet.

My mouth drops open. “But I don’t have any more cash. Just ten dollars, three dollars for the book, leaving seven dollars for you. Come on!”

“Nothin’ doin’.” He shakes his head and walks away.

The bell rings as he goes inside, and I flop against the brick wall of the store. What a jerk!

“It’s okay,” I say out loud. “Someone else will be by any second.”

After a few minutes, the bell rings again, and I hear, “Psst.”

The guy is standing there with a thin paper bag. The Phoenix’s emblem blazes across it. He slowly pulls out a comic, lifts the plastic flap, and presses his nose to the opening. He takes a deep whiff.

“Ahhhh,” he says as he releases the breath. “Pictures and words. All that brand new ink. It’s intoxicating.”

“What is that?” I blurt out and take a deep breath, too, hoping somehow that beautiful smell will reach me.

“The Super Ones #400.” He smiles and puts it back in the paper bag.

“Just show me the cover, please,” I say as he unlocks his car door.

“Sorry. No time. I have reading to do.” Before he leaves, though, he rolls down his window and yells, “You might want to man up and go in there. There’s