Confessions of a Not It Girl (4 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

I wasn't exactly devastated when Sarah called me on Monday and said that Margaret, her regular sitter, had mono. Actually, whatever the opposite of devastated is, I was that. Sarah must have gone on for about a hundred hours saying if I ever
did
have a free Friday or Saturday night, she wanted me to know she was
dying
to hire me. I told her I could baby-sit again next Friday and she practically had a stroke thanking me.

I kept thinking of Friday as a date with Josh, even though Rebecca was kind enough to remind me about ten million times that baby-sitting a six-year-old is not the same as having a date with the six-year-old's seventeen-year-old brother.

"Can I just point out that less than a month ago you didn't even notice Josh?" We were sitting on the broken-down sofa in the corner of the student lounge, which was empty except for us and some freshmen huddled together way on the other side of the room. Every once in a while one of them would look nervously in our direction, like at any second we might invoke some secret senior privilege and order them to leave immediately. Little did they know: we seniors are far too busy tormenting ourselves to bother humiliating underclassmen.

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"I noticed him a month ago," I said, avoiding looking at her.

"Yeah, you noticed him enough to think he was a loser."

"I know. I
know."
Just thinking about having said that made me drop my head onto my knees in humiliation. "I can't explain it."

"Don't feel bad," said Rebecca, patting me on the back. "You're just a fool in love."

I still had my head against my knees. "Why is this happening to me? Why can't I go back to the simple days of my youth when I liked Tom and everything was so clear?"

"You mean last week?"

"Exactly." I lifted my head and looked at her. "How am I going to survive until Friday?"

"Well," said Rebecca. "Look on the bright side. Maybe he won't even be there." The bell rang, and she stood up. "Why hire you if he's home on a Friday night?"

"Because.
She doesn't want him to feel like he's the default baby-sitter." Students started swarming into the room, so I had to raise my voice to be heard. "She wants him to be free to come and go as he pleases."

"The key word there is go," said Rebecca, grabbing her backpack and swinging it onto her shoulder. And then we both broke out laughing, thinking about what the
other
key word was.

On Friday, while I would be on my not-exactly-but-almost-hot date, Rebecca would be stuck at home with her parents, who hate each other. Rebecca has no idea

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why they're still married. Her dad is a famous lawyer-- sometimes he's even on the news and in magazines--who works constantly, and her mom is a movie agent who's always flying off to L.A., where most of her clients are. It's because of all the people her mom knows that Rebecca ended up being in
Chic.

Every few months they have a really fancy dinner and make Rebecca sit through about ten thousand courses with all the incredibly boring people they know. Rebecca can usually snag a new outfit out of the occasion if she's in the mood, and last time she convinced her mom it was okay if she got this really sexy dress. All night her father's colleagues were telling her how grown up she looked and asking her to give them a hug. It was completely gross.

As soon as Hannah opened the door and saw me, she went running into the kitchen screaming, "She's here! She's here! She's here!" Then she ran back and grabbed my legs and made me walk with her standing on my feet.

"I have
two
baby-sitters tonight," she announced.

"You do?" I tried to sound interested yet casual, when really I was just interested.

Sarah was in this very pretty dress with a flower pattern on it and very high strappy shoes. "I'm running
so-o
late. Mark is going to
kill
me. But listen, you know where everything is, and Josh
should
be home in a little while." She kissed Hannah on both cheeks. "Good-bye, angel. Don't stay up later than nine." She looked at me. "There are
rewards
for you in the next life for
rescuing
me. We'll

36

be home by midnight, but call my cell if you need
anything.'"
Then she waved at us and swept out the door.

"Are you the boss of me tonight or is Josh?" We went into the kitchen, where Hannah's dinner was partly eaten.

"Why don't you think of Josh as the CEO and me as chairman of the board?" Hannah looked confused, but I was too busy trying to decide if Sarah had meant Josh would be home soon and would then go out again, or if he would be home soon for good, to explain myself.

We were about halfway through
The Little Mermaid
when Josh came in. He was in his soccer uniform again and looked, if it was possible, even cuter than he had the week before. His hair needed to be cut, and after he put his soccer bag down he brushed his bangs out of his eyes with this totally sexy gesture that he didn't seem to realize was sexy. Hannah jumped off the couch and threw her arms around him, and he gave her this big, loud kiss on her cheek.

"Now you kiss Jan," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

I felt the beginnings of a panic attack.

JOSH:
(Putting Hannah down and taking Jan in his arms.)
Jan, I've wanted to do this for as long as I can remember.

JAN:
(Embarrassed.)
Oh, Josh, we mustn't. Not in front of Hannah!

JOSH:I can't help myself. I love you, my darling!
(He kisses Jan passionately.)

CURTAIN

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Josh came over to where I was sitting on the couch and, still holding Hannah, kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"EEEEWWWW!" Hannah shouted. Then she started singing, "Josh and Jan sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" I couldn't believe that song was still around.

"Very original," said Josh.

"Yeah," I added. "I don't think I've ever heard that one before."

"We're watching
The Little Mermaid,"
Hannah informed Josh. "It's my twenty-fifth time watching it. Do you want to watch with us?"

"I think I'll pass. I need a shower."

I tried not to look disappointed. I also tried not to look like I was picturing Josh taking a shower.

Josh put Hannah down and she snuggled up next to me. "I'll see you in a bit," he said to me. And he smiled that smile.

I had never thought of
The Little Mermaid
as a particularly long movie, but suddenly every scene seemed to last forever. I heard Josh taking a shower, and then music came from downstairs, nothing I recognized. When Hannah made me rewind "Kiss the Girl" so she could see it again, I almost strangled her.

I was sure it was one in the morning when the movie finally ended, but it was only nine-twelve. In spite of my hoping Hannah would insist Josh come up to kiss her good night, she just yelled, "'Night, Josh!'" downstairs and he yelled, "'Night, Hannah!" back. I figured I probably shouldn't complain, since I did owe her for that first

38

kiss, and I couldn't exactly expect a six-year-old to make all the moves for me.

The house was really quiet when I came downstairs, except for Josh's music coming from his room. I put Hannah's dishes in the dishwasher and straightened up the couch, and then there wasn't really anything left for me to do.

I couldn't decide what to make of Josh's saying, "I'll see you in a bit." Did he mean,
I'll come upstairs when the movie is over?
Did he mean,
You should come downstairs after the movie?
Did he mean,
I'll see you in class on Monday?
The last one seemed unlikely. Objectively, Friday to Monday is not "a bit." It's a few days. If he'd meant,
I'll see you Monday,
he would have said,
I'll see you Monday.
Of course, he could have meant,
I'll see you at Richie's party tomorrow,
but even that seemed like stretching the definition of "a bit." I wished I could call Rebecca, but she was probably only on her fiftieth course, too busy listening to gross middle-aged men say, "My, what a low neckline you have," to help me.

I was channel surfing and debating the ethical implications of going to the head of the basement stairs and shouting down, "Hey, do you know what channel the game's on?" when I heard him coming up. I tried to look like I was fascinated by what was on the TV.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a NASCAR fan," said Josh, coming up behind me.

"What?" I craned my neck around to look at him. His hair was wet, and he was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that said pike's market: get 'em while they're

39

fresh on the front. He looked extremely clean and shiny.

"NASCAR racing. Do you like it?" He pointed at the screen, where some guy in a puffy suit was being interviewed next to what looked like a giant Matchbox car.

"Oh. Not really." There was a pause. "I think it's important to be well-rounded."

"Oh." We looked at the screen for a minute.

"I'm kidding," I said finally.

"Right." He walked toward the kitchen. "You want some ice cream?"

"Um, no thanks." I couldn't decide if I should change the channel or leave it where it was.

"Okay," he said. I decided to put on MTV, which seemed like a neutral choice. You can't really argue with MTV.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" he called from the kitchen. "I mean, you're kind of quiet."

I had never hated anyone as much as I hated Mr. Kryle at that moment. "I'm not quiet. I'm, like, the
opposite
of quiet," I said. I could hear him taking out a bowl and rummaging around the fridge.

"You mean 'noisy'?" He came back holding two bowls of ice cream.

"Yes," I said. "Noisy."

He flopped down at the other end of the couch and handed me a bowl. "I thought you might have changed your mind about the ice cream."

"In thirty seconds?"

"Well, you know how girls are. If you don't want it, I'll eat it." He crossed his legs Indian style. "So, what's the deal?

40

I see you talking to your friend--what's her name? Rebecca?"

I nodded, amazed that any guy would refer to Rebecca as "What's her name."

"Is she the only one you're 'noisy' around?"

"Well, I mean, I don't know you that well yet." I couldn't decide if the
yet
was too forward. Maybe I should have left it out. Then again, if I hadn't said "yet," he could think I didn't want to
get
to know him. Maybe it was
good
that I'd said "yet."

Who knew flirting could be more complex than charting the course of U.S. foreign policy?

Josh, blissfully oblivious to the frantic negotiations going on in my brain, nodded and took a bite of ice cream. "You should ask Hannah. She's an expert on me. She'll tell you anything you want to know." He really had a great smile.

"Like what?"

"You'll have to ask Hannah. I wouldn't want to speak for her."

"Oh." I looked at the bowl of ice cream. It was some kind of chocolate with nuts in it. I hate nuts. "Well, maybe
you
could tell me something about yourself," I said, pushing at one of the scoops with my spoon and trying to see if there was a bite without any nuts in it.

He opened his eyes wide as if he were shocked by what I'd just said. "Now, that's a bold suggestion."

I adopted a mock-serious tone. "Here at Chez Gardner, we dare to be different."

"So you must be looking for a somewhat
daring
answer?"

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"Well, if you're feeling
daring."

"Dare
I say, a radical answer?"

"I
dare
you." I located a small corner of a scoop that looked nut-free and ate it. After all,
Cosmo
says guys don't like girls who don't eat. Of course, guys probably don't like girls with butts the size of SUVs, either.

"Fascinating. Fascinating." He took another bite of his ice cream. "Something radical about myself."

"That's right."

"Completely unexpected."

"Exactly."

He didn't say anything for a minute. I tried to send him some suggestions via telepathy.
I bate Mandy Johnson. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life and I love you.

"Well," he said finally, "I'm kind of shy."

I want you to be my girlfriend. I've wanted to kiss you from the first second I saw you. You complete me.
It took me a minute to realize he had actually said something.

"You mean you're too shy to tell me something about yourself?"

"No, I mean that's the thing about myself that I'm telling you. I'm kind of shy."

"Oh," I said. Could I work with this? Was he trying to tell me he was too shy to reveal his true feelings about me? Was his statement merely a confession,
or might it be a desperate cry for help?

He stretched out his leg a little bit so that his foot was resting on my knee. My whole leg started tingling like it had fallen asleep. "So," he said. "Now it's your turn."

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"I didn't know we were taking turns." Suddenly my hands felt sweaty.

"Sure, that's how it goes. I tell you something about me, you tell me something about you. That's what we in Seattle call
conversation."

"Wow, you guys on the West Coast are pretty cutting edge." I wondered if it was possible to sweat so much that you raise the general humidity in the room and cause your own hair to frizz.

"Well, we try."

What could I say? I mean, given what he had said, this was clearly not the time to announce,
I want to marry you and have your children.
I needed to buy some time.

"Now, are you looking for something most people don't know about me, or can it be something most people already know but you don't?"
I hate tomato sauce. Jennifer Aniston is my favorite actress. I hope you don't mind that I have a butt the size of Central Park.

"That's totally up to you." His foot was still on my knee. I started worrying my leg actually
had
fallen asleep. I wanted to move it, but I was afraid if I did he would take his foot away. I wiggled my toes just to make sure I could.

Why couldn't I think of anything?
English used to be my favorite subject. I'm allergic to strawberries. My parents won't get me a cell phone.
Was I the most boring person in the entire universe? Was there nothing I had to reveal to the cutest boy in the world?