The Summer I Became a Nerd - By Leah Rae Miller Page 0,22

stay in the back,” Logan says in a low whisper.

Dan drags his eyes from me to glare at Logan. “Well, excuse the hell out of me for trying to help. I heard a crash and thought someone was hurt. You could’ve fallen. On a pair of scissors. Slit your jugular. How was I to know? Next time you’re in need of life-saving action, don’t come crying to me,” he says, then his voice mimics a whiny child. “‘Dan, help me, I’ve broken my spleen,’ because you know what I’m going to say? ‘Sorry about the spleen, dude, I have to stay in the back room for all of eternity.’” He finishes his tirade and crosses his arms.

Logan shakes his head and turns to me. “He can exaggerate sometimes.”

“Me? Exaggerate? That’s a crock of—”

Logan interrupts. “Dan, this is Maddie. You know her, right? She goes to our school?” He raises his eyebrows and stares at his friend.

“Dude, of course I know who Maddie Summers is, I’m not oblivious.” He turns to me and in a low voice—or as low a voice as poor Dan can accomplish—says, “How you doin’?”

Before I can respond, Logan grabs Dan by the shoulders and whips him around. “Okay, Dan, thanks for your help. I just need a minute, okay?”

“But I—”

“Good-bye.” Logan shoves him toward the back room.

“Geez, fine, I’m going!” Dan says and goes through the open door. But he sticks his head back out. “But you got some ‘splainin’ to do!” He ducks back before Logan’s foot can tag his shin.

“Sorry,” Logan says and rubs the back of his neck. Now, not only are his cheeks pink, but so are his ears.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I tackled you. I’ve watched too many football games, I guess.” The moment I mention football, it feels like a weight settles over us. I hurry to change the subject. “So, what is this thing you have for me?”

“You’ll see. You want a cup of coffee or a soda or something? I have a break room kind of thing over here.” He nods toward the side of the store.

“A soda sounds great.”

We go into what is more like a very cramped office than a break room. A built-in corner desk is overflowing with papers and notebooks. Above the desk is a shelf packed full of random action figures, and I find myself gravitating toward it. A short counter on the wall across from the desk holds a coffee maker, a microwave, and a sink. The mini refrigerator sits on the floor by the door, covered in stickers.

I pick up Wendy’s action figure and marvel at the craftsmanship. It’s fully poseable, and her plastic cape sticks out behind her like she’s perpetually standing in front of a wind machine. I pose her with one hand on her hip and one arm stretching above her. I bend one leg slightly at the knee and point her toes. Classic flying pose.

Logan places a cold soda can against the bare skin of my arm, and I jump. “Those are awesome, huh?”

“Yeeees.” I draw the word out to emphasize just how awesome I think they are.

“Speaking of awesome, my radio show is doing really well.” He pops the top off my drink and hands it to me.

I stick the can to my lips and start chugging. Maybe he won’t prod me if I play the can’t-talk-too-busy-hydrating game. “Mmm-hmm?”

“We started off slow the first night, but midway through the show, calls were pouring in. We were so amazed Ben started asking how they heard of the show. As you can imagine, their answers were pretty consistent.”

I can’t swallow another drop of soda by this point because the carbonation is burning my throat.

“Oh really? Well…” I trail off as I feel bubbling at the base of my throat. This is not good.

Before I can stop myself, I let out the biggest burp I’ve ever, ever, ever had. I slap a hand over my mouth and stare at Logan whose eyebrows have reached astronomical heights.

“Dude! So not smooth, man! Girls cannot stand rudeness,” Dan yells from the back room.

There’s a few moments of stunned silence before Logan and I both burst into laughter. He has the best laugh, by the way. It’s unabashedly loud, just like my dad’s.

The bell over the front door rings, and Logan goes to take care of the customer. In the meantime, I drop into the spinning chair at the desk and position Wendy like she’s hanging off my soda can. Terra texts me