Tell Me Three Things - Julie Buxbaum Page 0,25

you would think I’d be cool here, but no. Then again, I casually reference things like the transitive property, so maybe there are other, more valid reasons for my lack of popularity.

“So, what the hell happened to your face?” Theo asks.

CHAPTER 11

Ethan: You. Me. “The Waste Land.” Library. Friday 3:30. Work for you?

Me: Sure.

Ethan: Cool beans.

How does he make something like “cool beans,” perhaps the dorkiest expression ever uttered, sound acceptable? Do I write more to keep the conversation going? I’m better writing than I am talking in person. Maybe this is my shot to show who I actually am, not the weird loser I morph into around people who make me nervous. Will I still have this bulbous bruise on Friday?

This is ridiculous. This is so not a big deal.

We are working on a project together.

He doesn’t like you. You certainly do not like him.

Get over yourself, Jessie.

Grow up.

Scarlett: School sucks balls without you. I had to sit with Deena today and hear all about her gymnastics meet. How’s your head?

Me: Swollen. Blue. I took your hat suggestion. Got alternately mocked and complimented.

Scarlett: If I were there, I’d give those two girls a knuckle sandwich.

Me: Not worth hurting your hands.

Scarlett: You okay? I worry.

Me: Don’t. Fine. Making friends with Dri.

Scarlett: Just don’t like her better than me.

Me: Never.

Scarlett: And how’s Mr. Holmes?

Me: No idea. He’s always with the stepmonster. Rather not deal.

Scarlett: Adam Kravitz wants to take me to homecoming.

Me: WHAT?!? Took you long enough to tell me. And?

Scarlett: We’ll see.

Me: How’d he ask?

Scarlett: Text. But cute text. You know. He’s shy.

Me: I bet he’s a better kisser now.

Scarlett: I’ll let you know. Maybe. You know he only asked me bc you’re not here.

Me: Not true.

Scarlett: I bet we spend the whole time talking about how much we miss you.

Me: No way. Go forth and prosper.

Scarlett: Nerd.

Me: If I used the expression “cool beans,” I’d sound like an even bigger nerd than I already am, right?

Scarlett: OMG. Seriously, unless you want to be bullied forever, DO NOT USE “COOL BEANS.”

Me: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

• • •

SN: nice hat.

Me: Thanks. Actually, that’s kind of creepy. You know what I wore today, but I still have no idea who you are?

SN: jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers. same as yesterday and tomorrow. you missed nothing.

Me: Not the point.

SN: what happened to your head? do I need to beat someone up for you?

Me: You know, that’s the second time today someone has offered to defend my honor. Makes a girl feel special. But no. Culprit was a guitar case.

SN: OUCH.

Me: Not my finest moment. I’m not usually that clumsy. Felt like a rom-com heroine, except it wasn’t romantic or funny. And I hate that trope.

SN: sorry for delay. was looking up the word “trope.” don’t think less of me.

Me: Ha. I’m not a word snob. I just like them.

SN: me too. who else offered to defend your honor? do I need to beat him up?

Me: No. My best friend from home. Scarlett.

SN: I like her.

Me: Is it weird for me to say that I think you actually would?

SN: Nope.

Me: How was your day?

SN: fine. just some stuff on the home front.

Me: Want to talk about it? Or write about it, I should say?

SN: not really. just my mom. she’s…going through a tough time.

Me: Yeah. I know how that is.

SN: going through a tough time? or having a mom who is?

Me: Both, actually.

Me: Well, sort of.

Me: It’s complicated.

SN: me too. it’s all f’ing complicated.

Me: Hey, what’s your favorite word?

SN: why.

Me: Just thought it was something I should know about you.

SN: no, I mean my favorite word is why.

Me: It’s a good word. Why.

SN: right? right. a word and a whole question. and yours?

Me: Waffle.

SN: huh. a great breakfast food. and of course dictionary.com reminds me that it also means “to speak or write equivocally.”

Me: exactly.

SN: i think one day we should eat waffles together.

Me: equivocally yes.

—

Next day at lunch I sit with Dri and her friend Agnes, who is probably her Scarlett. I’m still too new here to see where this table fits into the high school hierarchy. It seems none of my old rules apply. Back in Chicago, the athletes, who gathered Saturday nights in the bowling alley parking lot to sit in open hatchbacks and drink cheap beer by the case and toss their empty cans at the Dumpster were the popular kids, and the theater dorks, who had ill-placed piercings and one silly streak of cotton-candy-colored hair, were, well, the dorks.