The Summer I Became a Nerd - By Leah Rae Miller Page 0,6
Amazible? Whatever. It was awesome, the perfect ending to a spectacular series. Of course, the story was left a little open at the end to allow for future spin-offs and things, but that’s to be expected.
I turn the final page of #400 to read the “Letter from the Author” and the receipt paper with Logan’s number on it slides into my lap. I don’t look at it until I’m completely done reading every last word of the author’s “this couldn’t have happened without the fans” thing.
I write down my final thoughts in my comic journal, ending with a quote from the book: Be true to yourself and others will be true to you, too. It’s a nice thought, but so not realistic.
Now that I’m done, I can return the book and forget I almost exposed my dark side to another living person. I’m about to dial the number on the slip of paper when I read what else he wrote:
I know your secret identity.
“He what?” I jump off my bed, still staring at the note.
How could he know who I am? I was adequately disguised. I told him I didn’t live in this town.
This is a disaster.
What do I do? Call him up and pretend like I have no idea what he’s talking about? Try to bribe him to keep his mouth shut? I find myself glaring at #400 like this is all its fault but quickly look away, mentally apologizing to the book.
He’s expecting me to call him tonight. He’s probably sitting by his phone with that knowing smile spread across his perfect boy-lips.
My phone rings, and I jump about four feet in the air. He couldn’t wait for me to call? He just had to rub it my face as soon as possible that I’m just like him and don’t have the guts to admit it? Of course, this is true, but it’s not polite to rub anything in anyone’s face unless it’s… Well, now that I think about it, it’s never polite.
I lean over, eye the screen on my phone, then relax. It’s just Terra. I should have known. We have a standing appointment of a thirty minute phone call every night.
I lucked out when it comes to Terra. She’s awesome, plus she moved here after The Costume Incident. We’ve been best friends since ninth grade, cheer-sisters since tenth grade, and soul-sisters since we were born. Or, at least, that’s what we’ve decided. We are proof positive that opposites attract. Where I’m stand-offish and shy, she’s charismatic and balls-to-the-wall outgoing. I mean, seriously, who has inside jokes with their English teacher? The girl could make friends with an armadillo. And I’m so thankful she’s as awesome she is. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
“Hey, Terra.”
“Oh my God, Maddie, did you hear?” she asks, and my breath hitches.
Someone knows. Someone saw me leaving with that bag or talking to Mr. More Money.
“Hear what?” I ask in a weak voice.
“Allison Blair is doing a concert in Shreveport next month!” she screams, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Cool, very cool,” I lie. Like most people around this area, I like country music, and Allison Blair is the biggest thing to hit the country music scene in years. But I just don’t get it. Her songs are too sappy with no meat to them, and they’re so overplayed. All of my friends love her to bits. Little, tiny, microscopic bits. Which is why I have both of her CDs strategically placed on the backseat so everyone thinks I’m a fan when they pass my car.
The things I do to fit in.
“So?” Terra prods.
“So?”
“So, are we going? I have to go, I mean, when will we ever get this chance again?”
Actually, we’ll probably get this same exact chance next year or the year after that or, hell, maybe in a few months, considering how often these tours happen, but I don’t tell her that.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask my parents.” I look at Logan’s note again. How can I think of an adequate excuse to not go to this concert when I hold my potential downfall in my hand? It’s just a simple one sentence note, you might say, but I see it for what it really is.
A threat.
“Well, ask them. Tickets go on sale in two weeks, and people are going to snatch them up. If I find some good ones, I’ll grab you one, okay?”