Anatomy of a Misfit (17 page)

“I know how to make it up to you. I'll tell you something I'm not supposed to tell you. No matter what.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, so you know that whole Stacy Nolan thing? The pregnancy scare?”

“Yeah?”

“That was Becky.”

“What?”

“Becky started that.”

“What? No way.”

“Way.”

“But . . . why?”

“For fun.”

“Are you serious?”

“Totally. Stacy did nothing to Becky. Becky was just . . . bored.”

“What a bitch!”

“I know.”

“That's like so mean.”

“I. Know.”

Shelli and I look at each other with disbelief in our eyes and there's something else in there, too . . . fear. If Becky could do something like that, on a whim, just think what she could do to us.

It's terrifying. Now I know why Shelli caved. She knew, even more than me, the true nature of the beast. I would've caved, too, to be honest.

“Anyway, do you forgive me? . . . Please? You're like my best friend.”

“Yeah. I do. I mean, I was mad but I get it. I do.”

Awkward hug. I've never been very good at hugs. I'd honestly just rather shake hands. The less humanoid contact the better. But Shelli means it. I can tell. She's never been much of a liar. I make a note to myself. Don't tell Shelli anything. Not because I'm mad. Just because she's defenseless against Becky. Becky will get it out of her. No matter what.

Shelli is down the steps and putting on her coat. She turns to me.

“What are you doing tonight?”

Tonight, meaning Saturday night. Meaning my date with Jared. Meaning the Oscars and the Super Bowl and the Second Coming all in one.

“Oh, nothing.”

Shelli nods, unconvinced. Normally, she'd ask me to hang out but it's kinda premature considering we just made up. Might be awkward. I don't hold it against her, though. Shelli's a good egg. She's just not very strong-willed. Her weird Christian mom snuffed any will out of her.

“Call me.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

And with that, Shelli is gone. Just in time for me to start planning my outfit.

I know what you're thinking. What's wrong with me? And I would be thinking the same thing about you if our roles were reversed. I would. But the point is, it's clear that ever since Jared came to my door, I've been possessed by voodoo witch doctors who have obviously cast a spell on me to make me unable to stop myself from going out on this date with Jared. It's not my fault. Their power is too strong.

thirty-nine

N
obody knows about my date with Jared Kline. Except my sisters, who are pissed. My brothers probably forgot by now. Robby doesn't care because the Knights lost to the Spartans last night, so he's been moping around all day.

The thing is, after tonight,
everyone
will know about my date with Jared Kline. Because at least two or three people will be at this Halloween jamboree thingy and that means by midnight the whole school will know. And by the whole school, I mean everyone. And by everyone, I mean Logan. Logan will find out by Monday for sure. I think.

I don't know how to feel about this other than the way I feel, which is decidedly . . . okay, look, I don't know how I feel about it, okay? Jesus.

But the thing is . . . Let's say I do go out on the date, and let's say I don't like Jared Kline at all. Then I can just tell Logan . . . um . . . I don't know what I can tell Logan. I'm not sure IF I can tell him anything without thinking about him pummeling that guy's brains out by the boathouse.

But I'll think of something. I will. Maybe I could just tell him that I wasn't really that romanced by the fact that he almost killed someone in front of me. Or maybe I can tell him I'm in love with him and think he's kind of a hero and maybe we should run off together and become some sort of Bonnie-and-Clyde bank-robber duo.

As you can see, folks, I haven't thought this thing through. And how can I? There's really no playbook for what to do when you're sort of in love with an unstable misfit and then the biggest heartthrob in history asks you out on a date, an official date where he asks your parents and everything.

I mean, not going on the date? That's like, well, I mean, that's like not going to the moon or something. Like Neil Armstrong just shrugging and saying, yeah, I'll pass.

And yes, there is the distinct possibility he might just be the world's greatest scam artist. That's true. But how am I gonna know if I don't even go on one date? It's just one date. That's it. One date. No big deal.

Also, don't forget the voodoo possession.

The tricky thing about getting dressed up and going anywhere in Lincoln, Nebraska, from October to March is that it's freezing, goddammit, so what are you supposed to wear? It's like a balancing act where you're trying to find the happy medium between Marilyn Monroe and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. I mean, you need a coat. And boots. And you basically have to wear three layers everywhere. So, go ahead, you try to make that look sexy.

The best I can do is two pairs of tights, boots, a parka, a hat, and . . . a miniskirt. That's the sexy part. Look, I'm doing my best. The fact is, dressing for an indoor/outdoor Halloween jamboree is a fashion dilemma of the order Jean Paul Gaultier couldn't solve. I get an A for effort.

My mom is waiting with me, fixing dinner, while I pretend to not be nervous at the table. She's got the ceramic Halloween salt and pepper shakers on the table. Oh, you didn't know? My mom has ceramic salt and pepper shakers, table decorations, even china for every holiday from here till Christmas. This is the heavy decorating time of the year. She has boxes for Halloween. For Thanksgiving. Five for Christmas. We take the holidays seriously here. We're not fooling around.

The ceramic Halloween salt and pepper shakers are an undead couple. It's really very appetizing to eat your dinner staring at bleeding, drooling statues of his-and-hers brain-eaters. My mom can tell I'm nervous.

“It's alright, honey. He's just a boy. Besides, he's the one who asked you out.”

“I know, Mom.”

“And if anything makes you feel uncomfortable, I want you to come straight home. You can call anytime. I'll be here by the phone.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Or you can even take a cab. I'll give you cab fare. Just in case.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Just be yourself.”

“Mom, I'm nervous.”

“I know, honey. But don't be. Just try to have fun, okay? Try to live in the moment.”

“Mom, are you a hippie?”

She smiles. No one else in the family jokes around with my mom like this, I don't know why. She always gets the joke. I guess everybody's just too wrapped up in their own drama to notice. But I know it means a lot to her. To know I see her. To know I love her. I swear to God without her I'd be one of the first female serial killers in history.

“Listen, this boy is lucky to be spending time with you. Think of it like that.”

“Tsh. Yeah, right.”

“He is! Believe you me.”

The doorbell rings now and my heart jumps out of my chest onto the table. Jesus. This is terrible. This is going to be the worst night ever. I better not even talk. I'll just smile and nod. And laugh. But not too much. And not too loud. Just a nice laugh. Supportive. Jesus. What is wrong with me? I'm falling apart.

This is gonna be a total disaster.

My mom opens the door and there is Jared. He's wearing a navy blue North Face parka, jeans, and hiking boots. Pure Jared.

Even though I can't see it, I can tell you right now that underneath that parka somewhere he's wearing a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. The one where the angel is falling from the sky.

He smiles up at me and it kinda sorta maybe knocks the wind out of me. Oh my God. This is gonna be excruciating. Maybe I should just say I'm sick and crawl into my bed. I could just pretend I came down with something and run away.

“Hello, ma'am. I've come for that aforementioned date with your daughter.”

“Yes, come on in. There's no reason to stand out in the cold.”

Jared comes in and I can see my sisters peeking in from down the hall. I catch Lizzie's eye and she mouths, “You are SO dead.”

Jared is standing there waiting for me, next to my mom.

This is my last chance to bail. I really could just say I'm not feeling well.

“Honey, are you ready?”

My mom is trying to make everything normal. Poor Mom. She has no idea she's raised a neurotic Muppet who's falling apart.

“Anika? You ready?”

That's Jared. Gulp. I realize I've never been on an actual date before.

“This is my first date!” I blurt.

Wow. What a nerd. I bet he just walks off now.

“That's awesome! I must be the luckiest guy in the universe then.”

He smiles. My mom smiles. Everyone's just smiling their faces off.

Okay, here goes nothing.

I step forward and before I know it Jared and I are out the door. Out out out into the brisk night air where you can see your breath and your eyeballs are freezing and you can get in a dark green Jeep and go to the Halloween jamboree thingy where everyone in town is gonna see you're on a date with THE Jared Kline.

forty

A
ll the little kids at the Halloween Spookfest are dressed up like ghouls and goblins, warlocks and witches. It's like a miniature underworld. There are also a lot of mini Luke Skywalkers, Han Solos, and Darth Vaders. Even some mini Stormtroopers. And a mini Chewbacca. That's the one everyone's going gaga over. The kid's like four. And he's got that Wookiee call down cold.

There's a haunted house, a pumpkin patch, a fortune-teller, and bobbing for apples.

So far we've had hot cider and doughnuts and Jared has tried (and failed) to win me a black-and-orange cat doll in the Ping-Pong toss game. He is strolling around the festival like he's the mayor of Halloween.

Head held high, it's like he's nine feet tall or something.

“Can I ask you a question?” I can't help myself.

“Shoot.”

“Why are you so happy all the time?”

“Why shouldn't I be? It's a beautiful night, the moon is out, that kid's dressed like Chewbacca, and I'm with the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Um. I think you mean you're with the most beautiful girl in this pumpkin patch.”

“Well, this pumpkin patch is the world right now. Feels like it anyway.”

I would gag if this were uttered by any other being on the planet.

We walk around a group of mini-princesses in pink and purple, waving their magic wands.

“For a scam artist, you're really convincing. I'd say you're excellent.”

“Thank you but I'm not a scam artist. Anika, seriously, I'm not. People just say that because they're jealous or stupid or they're just looking for something to talk about.”

I don't know what to say to that. I think of that Stacy Nolan debacle. That was a complete fantasy. And everyone gobbled it up like candy corn.

Two stands down, Jenny Schnittgrund is sipping an apple cider with Charlie Russell.

We walk by and they both proceed to spill cider all over the place, faces agog. And they're off! Let the rumor mill churn!

Now Jared stops abruptly and turns to me.

“There's just something about you, Anika. You're . . . mysterious or something.”

“Mysterious. Like the part where I blurted out I've never been on a date before?”

“Yeah, that part.” He smirks. “No, but seriously. I don't know, I just kind of, like, think about you. Like a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Man, you really aren't vain, I'll give you that.”

The pumpkin patch is getting a little crazy with miniature goblins so we head to the haunted house, presumably so Jared can try to ravish me in the dark. You have to buy the tickets first so I wait in line while Jared goes to the ticket booth.

Mostly I'm just standing there wondering if this is some joke like in that movie where the girl gets blood spilled all over her at prom. I mean. Jared Kline.
The
Jared Kline, acting like this. It's like a parallel universe I've stepped into.

Right now there are two miniature Ewoks trying to convince the haunted house guy he should let them in. He keeps telling them they're too little and they keep giving him examples of things they've been able to do, even though they're too little. Like see
Superman
. And drive a go-cart. Even the haunted house guy is getting a kick out of it. We smile at each other. Yeah, they're cute, you can't deny it.

The Ewoks continue to make their case. At that moment all of this sweetness and light and goodwill to all mankind is ruined by the scariest creature of all at the Halloween Spookfest:

Becky Vilhauer.

I shoulda known.

She's standing there like she's been there for hours and Shelli's behind her, again, looking like a lost kitten. They're dressed up, too. Like bitches. I mean, witches.

“You. Are. So. Busted.”

“Um. Hi.”

“Thought you could come promenade around with your super-nerd, huh?”

“What?”

“I can't believe how stupid you are. Did you really think you could just walk around with that total nerd-face and we wouldn't find out? I mean, it's like, you're like brain-dead or something—”

“Evening, ladies.”

Jared is back. He's got the tickets.

If you could peel the expression off someone's face like the label on a jar, I would want these two expressions to go on my wall for the rest of my life.

Becky looks like aliens just landed. Shelli looks like Jesus just levitated.