Speed Dating (2 page)

1. He remembers your birthday without a reminder.
   

   True: Go to No.

   False: Go to #7.

2. When he picks you up for a date, he enjoys bantering with your parents.
   

   True: Go to No.

   False: Go to Maybe.

Scoring:

NO: No, he’s probably not planning on breaking up with you. Your relationship is on solid ground. You’ve got yourself a sweetie!

MAYBE: There are a few signs of trouble, but it won’t necessarily lead to a breakup if you address them before things careen
out of control.

YES: Yes, I’m afraid it doesn’t look good for you and your honey. He shows all the classic signs of squirming, restlessness,
and attempting to weasel out. You might want to consider a preemptive strike to cut your losses and salvage your dignity.
Try Speed Dating (see below), and better luck next time.

“The funny thing is, Rob didn’t send me any of these signals,” Holly said. “And he still broke up with me.”

“Maybe he’s extra sneaky,” Mads said.

“No system is foolproof,” Lina said.

Looking for love? In a hurry? Who isn’t? Try Speed Dating! Meet fifteen guys or girls in one afternoon. Talk to each one for
six minutes, decide if you like him or her, and we’ll take it from there. High school students from all over the Carlton Bay
area are eligible. First Speed Dating party: This Saturday, 3 to 5 P.M., in the back garden at Vineland Café. Sign up today!
Space is limited, so hurry!

To:     linaonme

From: your daily horoscope

HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: There’s a difference between expressing yourself and airing your dirty laundry…
as you are about to find out.

Spring is here! Bringing the pitter-patter of gossiping tongues. Why so much griping, girls? You say the boys are lazy? They’re
not asking anyone out? There’s even been a rash of breakups! What’s the matter with you, boys? Don’t you know that this is
the
best time of year for roaming through flea markets, afternoon strolls, and kisses under the dogwood trees? (Typical boy: “Dub,
what?” Just step around that puddle of drool at his feet.)

Well, girls and boys, it doesn’t have to be that way. At least one RSAGE dude
—
let’s call him Peter
—
knows how to celebrate spring right. After overcoming many obstacles
—
such as other girlfriends, hopeless crushes, and silly arguments
—
Peter and his new girlfriend, Tess, have finally settled into a groove. I was sitting at Vineland the other day when Tess
told me all about it.

Last weekend Peter’s mother had a date, so to help her out, Pete and Tess took Pete’s little brothers to the county fair.
They marched right past all the farmhouse cheeses and artisanal lemonade to the honky-tonk
—
the games, the rides, the junk food. Which is, as everyone knows, the best part of any fair.

They rode the roller coaster with Pete’s brothers, and played Squirt the Clown and Shoot the Ducks. Pete’s a good shot: He
won each boy a cap gun, and a pink elephant for Tess. They ate hot dogs and ice cream. Pete and Tess rode through the haunted
house together and Pete held her hand, even though it wasn’t the least bit scary. Even the boys said it was lame. Then they
said they wanted to go again. It was a balmy, starry spring night. Tess hadn’t felt so happy in a long time.

Pete and Tess rode the Ferris wheel together. Their ride was almost over. It had stopped to let passengers off, and Pete and
Tess’s car was stalled at the top. They could see the whole town laid out before them. Pete touched Tess’s neck and felt something
sticky and pink. Somehow she’d gotten cotton candy on her neck. “Hold still,” he said. And he licked the cotton candy off
her neck. He licked her neck clean. When there was no more cotton candy left, they kissed until the carny who ran the ride
had to tap them on the shoulder and tell them to get the heck off. (Yes, he actually said “heck.” Guess it’s a carny thing.)

I’m telling this story to help out my sisters in misery. Boys, let Pete be an example for you. He’s sweet, he’s romantic,
he can lick a girl’s neck clean. Don’t you feel a sudden urge to find a nice girl and hold her hand under the stars? Don’t
be shy. Do it! NOW!

“Do you like my new column?” Lina asked Walker. She’d posted Mood Swing on the Dating Game mostly because she was in the mood
to celebrate her newfound happiness with Walker.

“I guess it’s okay,” Walker said. “As long as nobody figures out it’s really you and me. I mean, when I licked that cotton
candy off your neck, I didn’t expect the whole school to find out.”

He and Lina were sharing a bag of Raisinets in the office of
The Seer,
the school newspaper. They were both sports reporters, finishing up their stories before classes began for the day. Walker
dipped his long brown fingers
into the bag, tossed a Raisinet into the air, and caught it in his mouth. He was lanky and handsome, his black hair poking
off his head in short, stiff spikes.

Lina, medium-tall, slim, and athletic, had straight, shiny black hair and a pretty oval face. “How could anyone figure it
out?” she said. “I changed our names. Maybe I should have said you have sisters instead of brothers, to throw people off a
little. But, still—I don’t think anyone will guess.”

“It’s just a little embarrassing,” Walker said. “All that neck-licking and all. It’s personal.”

“I don’t mean to make it so personal,” Lina said. “I’m just trying to write about the state of mind of everyone at school.
You know, the zeitgeist. I’m thinking of submitting these columns for the
Crier’s
summer internship.” The
Carlton Bay Crier
was a local newspaper. “They only take one high school student a year, so it’s pretty competitive. But I think I can show
how well I can write and cover student concerns if I publish a regular column on the Dating Game.”

“Why don’t you just use your clips from the school paper?” Walker asked.

“Sports? Badminton Smackdown? I don’t know. Somehow it doesn’t seem substantial enough.”

“And describing our dates is?”

“That’s not
all
I’m going to write about,” Lina said.
“You’ll see. Anyway, Autumn is applying for the internship too, and she’s using
her
blog for clips.” Autumn Nelson was a fellow tenth grader whose blog, Nuclear Autumn, was a school must-read. “I’m afraid
my sports stories will seem bland next to her, um, colorful self-expression.”

“You mean, totally self-indulgent whining sprinkled with mean-spirited gossip?” Walker said. “Come on, Lina.”

“Well,” Lina said, “the
Crier
only has one spot for a high school student, and writers from other schools are applying, too. It’s a tough world out there.
I’m going to do whatever it takes.”

“Okay,” Walker said. “As long as I can pretend I don’t know anything about it.”

“Be my guest,” Lina said.

“So who are Tess and Peter?” Autumn asked. She and her friend Rebecca Hulse uncharacteristically descended upon Lina, Holly,
and Mads at lunchtime that afternoon. To Lina’s surprise, Mood Swing was the buzz of the school. “Anyone we know? Obviously
we must know them, if you know them and they go to this school.”

“What difference does it make?” Lina said. “The important thing is the point I was trying to get across, the message I was
trying to send to the boys—”

“I’ve got to find out who Peter is,” Rebecca said. “I
want a boy who licks cotton candy off my neck. Whoever that Tess is, she’d better look out. I’m going to swipe that boy of
hers away.”

Lina blanched, then recovered. Her identity was still safe. For now. Mads and Holly were in on the secret, but besides Walker,
that was it. “You know, I might have exaggerated that whole thing, just a little. And how do you know Tess wasn’t exaggerating
when she told me? Maybe the truth was he saw a little sticky stuff on her neck and wiped it off. End of story. No need for
people to go around swiping other people’s boyfriends.” Rebecca—slim, blond, and glamorous—made Lina nervous. No one would
want Rebecca to zero in on her boyfriend. She’d be a formidable rival.

“Well, you said it yourself,” Rebecca said. “This place is a desert.” She was on the outs with her boyfriend, David Kim. “No
water for miles around, and I’m thirsty!”

“I know how to fix that,” Mads said. “Come to the Speed Dating party.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw that on your blog,” Autumn said. “Do you really think you can learn enough about a guy in six minutes to
decide if you want to go out with him or not?”

“We’ll find out,” Holly said. “It’s an experiment. And I don’t mind being a guinea pig.”

“Everybody knows
you’re
up for anything, Holly,”
Rebecca said. “The question is, is it worth
our
time? We’d better get back to our table before we lose our prime real estate. Come on, Autumn.”

They returned to their usual centrally located table to schmooze with their friends Claire Kessler and Ingrid Bauman.

“Hello, Holly and Mads. Hello,
Tess.
“ Ramona Fernandez cast a shadow over the table in her corseted black dress, purple tights, black boots, and heavy Goth makeup.
It occurred to Lina that Ramona and her shadow were not easy to tell apart.

“My name is not Tess,” Lina said to Ramona. “As you know perfectly well. Unless you’ve experienced some recent head trauma.
Which, knowing your headbanger taste in music, is not that unlikely.”

“Deathzilla is not a headbanger band,” Ramona said. “Donald Death writes sensitive songs about the futility of life in this
cold, cruel world. It just happens that you can’t sing about that subject without screaming a lot. Not believably, anyway.”
Deathzilla was Ramona’s latest Goth band obsession, and Donald Death was its white-faced, pointy-black-eyebrowed lead singer.
“But we’re getting off the subject.” Ramona dropped her tray and sat down without waiting to be invited. “I didn’t know you
liked cotton candy so much. What do you do, bathe in it? Or just dab
it on your pulse points, like perfume?”