The Summer I Became a Nerd

#25

I spend the rest of the week on my bed, devouring the LARP books. I start with every section I can find about elves or the dark

fae, but I’m done with those after the first day. I could probably stop there, but I don’t. The whole game world is so intricate

and interesting that it sucks me in.

The dwarves hate the elves—of course they do, what fantasy world is complete without that—the dark fairies hate the bright

fairies, and the vampires hate the werewolves. Everyone hates the lizardmen, and everyone loves the centaurs which isn’t very

fair, in my opinion. Then again, the lizardmen apparently lick their own eyeballs. Whereas the centaurs grant wishes.

I also listen to Logan’s Show of Awesome every night. It gets increasingly clearer he isn’t exactly feeling very awesome right

now. Every show is filled with super depressing music. His voice has lost its creamy quality, so he sounds more like my Aunt

Sharlene, who smokes a pack a day. He stops asking his listeners to call in with their happy stories. Instead, he requests

anecdotes about “The worst girlfriend you ever had” and “What made you be a jerk today?”

Terra and I reclaim our nightly phone call schedule. If I ever push her away again, I’m going to kick my own ass.

“What are you listening to? I love that song.”

“It’s the college station. Logan’s show is on,” I say with more than a smidgen of pride.

“Hold on.”

A second later, Logan’s voice echoes between my radio and hers, which would normally be annoying, but gravelly voice or not, it’

s him. “We have a caller. Caller, we’re discussing when was the last time you told someone off. Go ahead.”

“Eek.” I can picture her nose crinkle up. “He does not sound happy.”

The caller’s voice echoes just like Logan’s did, but this person makes me want to clap my hands over my ears. “I know what’s

wrong with you, A.L. It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one you had on the show last week. Well, I’m not going to say I told you so.

”

“Hold up! I know that voice,” Terra squeals.

“I know, right? It’s been driving me crazy but I can’t—”

Terra cuts me off. “That’s Rayann.”

“No, this girl’s name is Capri.” I pause to listen more.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Logan says.

“If you say so,” Capri says, and it feels like a heavenly light of knowledge bursts through my ceiling to shine down while a

choir sings in the background. Those words sound exactly as they did a couple of weeks ago when they were spoken to me.

“Oh my good gravy, it is her!” I yell into the phone.

…

Saturday night finally arrives. I glance over my list one more time to make sure I have everything (yes, I’m a list maker: to-do

lists, shopping lists, and now, stuff-to-transform-myself-into-a-smoking-hot-elven-princess lists). I’ve already put my bag full

of supplies in my car so I don’t look like I’m hitchhiking to Texas when I say bye to Mom and Dad.

I’ve explained my entire plan to Mom, and even though she doesn’t really understand the LARP thing, she understands the purpose

of what I’m about to do, which is why she’s letting me go.

After assuring Mom I’ll be back before twelve, I hop in the car and head across town. When I pass The Phoenix, a nervous tension

inches its way into my shoulders. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as images of what tonight holds in store flash through my

mind. First, my thoughts take the path of triumph, of Logan realizing how much I care for him, of Laowyn doing everything right.

But when I park in Logan’s next door neighbor’s driveway—they’re on vacation and even though Logan should be over at Dan’s

getting ready for game, Martha said it’s better to be safe than sorry—my thoughts do an about-face. I have to force them to calm

down, to stop picturing everyone laughing at me, to stop seeing Laowyn’s life points depleted.

Jonah answers the door. He’s already in his sleep clothes, a T-shirt and sweats with no socks.

“She’s upstairs in her room.” He turns to go into the living room.

I glance in after him as I pass. Vera and Moira are cuddled up on the couch, both in frilly, pink, little-girl nightgowns.

“Hey, Maddie, you want to watch Miss Lovey’s Luminous Leggings with us?” Vera asks.

Dear Lord, yes. Yes, I would love to do anything other than what I’m about to do.

“Sorry, I have plans. Remember?” I wink at her.

“Right, right, right. Have fun storming the castle!” She waves.

At the top of the stairs, I stand in the middle of the hall and stare at Logan’s door. My comic journal seems to call my name. “

Maddie, he’s been writing things. Come back.”

“I thought I heard someone at the door,” Martha says from behind me, and I stifle a squeal. “Let’s get you ready. You can use

my bathroom, if you want.”

Maybe it’s just me, but being in Martha’s bedroom feels really weird. The walls are painted a deep, hunter green and all the

furniture is in a dark wood. On top of a chest of drawers on the wall next to door to the bathroom are about seven or eight large

sculptures of wizards and unicorns and other mythical beings. I pause to admire them.

“I’ve gotten one every Christmas for the past seven years from the kids.” She kind of nudges a couple of the sculptures around,

repositioning them.

“Martha, how did you and Mr. Scott meet?” I’ve been dying to know the answer to this question ever since the day Logan first

introduced me to her.

A wistful, half smile appears on her face. “I was cheering in college, and Steve was in the marching band.”

“Wow, that’s different. It’s normally the cheerleader and the football star who get together, right?”

“I guess, but not all the time. I caught him reading The Fellowship of the Ring during halftime and couldn’t stop myself from

starting a discussion. I’m really a hobbit at heart, ya know.” She giggles.

“Was that… I mean, did you guys get any flack for being together?”

“Oh, sure.” She waves her hand. “People made fun of our trips to Renaissance festivals, but we didn’t care. We were ourselves,

and we were happy together. Still are, in fact. That’s what matters. You can’t spend your life being afraid of what other people

think.”

“That’s so…brave.” I picture Martha and Mr. Scott dressed in period garb. It makes me smile.

“This one’s pretty.” I touch a sculpture of girl that’s playing some type of guitar by a river. Butterflies and birds surround

her, listening to her song.

“I’ve dubbed her Katrina. It almost looks like she could charm anyone, doesn’t it? Even the creatures of the forest.”

“Must be nice.” I set my overstuffed bag on the bathroom counter.

“You can’t start thinking like that, Maddie. You can do this, you just need to be charming, like Katrina here. And fearless.”

She smiles and nods her head before closing the door.

“Do you really think the bright fairies will be up for this?” I ask as I change into Laowyn-wear.

“Absolutely, you just have to be confident. You need to be a leader.”

I trade my blue jean shorts for a pair of tight black pants that make my legs look great. The blouse I picked out for tonight is

silver and silky with a beaded flower on the shoulder. I slick my hair back in a high ponytail.

“Have you checked back in with Mes Amis and Mi Pueblo about tomorrow? Everything still a go?” Her voice is muffled by the door.

“Yep, they have their tents and tables ready to go.” I peek my head out. “Does Logan suspect anything?”

“He knows something’s happening, but I don’t think he has any idea about the enormity of it. He hasn’t really been interested

in life here lately. Just goes to the shop, does his show, then comes home and holes up in his room.” She shakes her head.

I would say “good” since he doesn’t suspect anything, but it’s not good he’s been so depressed for these past two weeks.

Although, I know how he feels. Luckily, I’ve had tonight’s events and tomorrow’s festivities to pour all my energy into.

Just as I finish applying the blue face paint, I hear Martha say, “Crap! Maddie, be quiet. Logan’s home.”

Crap, indeed!

I hear the front door slam, followed by angry stomps on the stairs. I open the bathroom door just as Martha goes into the hall.

Thankfully, she leaves her door cracked. I tiptoe over and watch.

“Hey, honey, what are you doing home? I thought you had the game tonight?” she asks, the whole time wringing her hands behind

her back.

“I’m not going.” He looks disheveled, sneakers untied, dark circles under his eyes. I just want to give him a hug.

“Why not? I think you should go. It’ll do you some good, get you out of this funk, maybe.”

“I just don’t want to, okay?” His voice rises a notch on the last word.

She follows him to his room, and the conversation gets too quiet. I press my ear to the opening and strain to hear. She says

something about knowing how “it” feels. He mumbles something back. There’s a long pause, and he says something else. She

responds with a loud, “Good, good, you won’t regret it!”

She closes his door behind her and scurries back.

“Crisis averted,” she says quietly when she comes back in. Then, she lays her eyes on me, and they widen with a quick intake of

breath. “You look perfect.”

“Thank you.”

She smiles softly. “Come on, I’ll help you with the eyeliner.”

“Really, I mean it, thank you. For everything. After what happened, I was surprised you wanted to help me. You’d known me for

just a little while, and I hadn’t exactly been the type of girl a mom wants her son involved with.” I hop up on the bathroom

counter.

“Honey, I’ve known you’re a good kid since you were in ninth grade when Logan came home with that picture of his English Honors

class and tacked it up on his wall. You were the cutest girl in the bunch. Then, he started moaning about how he wasn’t popular,

that he was gangly and goofy. We’ve always been close, he’s always confided in me. He confided in me about you. You two took

different paths, but I always knew he hadn’t given up on you.”

I stare at the ceiling as she draws the swirlies around my eyes and over my cheeks. Tears try to form in my eyes, but I fight them

back. To think of all the time I’ve wasted being so secretive. I could’ve been so much happier.

“There, you’re ready to go. Just one more thing.”

After I gather up all my random costume-creating things, I follow her back into her room. She hands me a beautiful, white velvet

drawstring bag. It’s tied with a shiny, silver rope. Rainbow reflecting crystals dangle from the rope’s ends.

“It’s so pretty,” I say. Understatement of the millennium. I tug it open, and it’s full of silver spray-painted ping-pong

balls (for all the spells I might have to hurl tonight) and a set of seven multisided dice (for all the other spells that are

based on chance). Each die is embedded with a different color glitter. I immediately name them Roy G. Biv like the old anagram

they taught us in grade school to help us remember all the colors of the rainbow.

“That’s a new set of dice. I ordered them last week when you first came to me with this plan. I would give you my set, but

everyone knows dice are fickle things. Just because they’re lucky for me doesn’t mean they’ll work for you. Treat those right,

and they’ll be loyal to you forever.” She grins from ear to ear as I roll the dice around in my hand, letting them catch the

light and sparkle.