The Summer I Became a Nerd

#7

That evening, after hamburgers, Tater Tots, and Brussels sprouts—Mom lives by the “something green with every meal” rule—I

watch a couple of shows with Dad. There’s a teen drama on I would normally be watching at this time, but the only reason I watch

the show is so I can keep up when Terra and the other girls talk about it. But since it’s summer and Dad’s home, we’re watching

reruns of a science fiction show.

For the record, sci-fi is infinitely more dramatic than those prime-time soap operas. So what, your boyfriend’s dad is having an

affair with your mom? That’s nothing compared to a love triangle between two guys and a girl in the middle of outer space while

there’s a psycho bounty hunter hiding somewhere on their ship. Why they ever canceled this show is beyond me.

When one of the two guys dies valiantly by sacrificing himself for the other guy and the bounty hunter is finally sucked out into

the void, I stand to head to my room.

“We still having our anime marathon tomorrow night?” Dad calls after me.

“You know it. I can’t wait to see Akira.”

There’s another reason summer rocks: our marathons. Last year we did Hitchcock, Battlestar Galactica, and Clint Eastwood films.

In my room, I turn the radio on to 91.5, The Devil. Just as I’m propping myself up on my bed with my laptop, Logan’s show

starts.

“Welcome to the very first broadcast of Logan’s Show of Awesome,” he says, and I giggle. I can’t believe it, but his voice

sounds even better coming through my speakers. There’s just nothing to compare it to. It is what it is: delicious.

“You’re in for a treat, people. Logan, that’s me, will be on every night this summer from seven to nine, bringing you the most

spectacular, mind-blowing fantasticness you’ve ever heard. And I want you to share your fantasticness with me. So give me a call.

” When he rattles off the number, I program it into my phone.

“To get things going, here’s a song that’s been stuck in my head all day.”

Familiar hard strumming of a guitar begins. I reach for my phone out of habit, but it’s not ringing. My mouth drops open, and I

stare at the stereo.

Yep, that’s my ringtone, the first song played on Logan’s Show of Awesome. I’m full-on smiling by the end of it.

“All right, let’s see if we have a caller with some awesomeness to share. Ben? What? Oh, no callers yet. Well, that’s okay,

they’re probably just stunned by the amazingness of that last song.” He sounded sad when he asked Ben, whoever that is, about

callers.

Maybe I should call in. I could disguise my voice like I did the other day at The Phoenix. But that’s a stupid idea. I wasn’t

fooling anyone then, and I wouldn’t fool anyone now. And just me calling in isn’t going to fix much. One caller does not a hit

show make.

No, I have a much better idea.

I turn on my laptop as the next song begins. I’ve never heard this one, but I’m liking it. I pull up every social network I’m

on. There are about five, all with the same group of friends except one I call my nerd circle. It’s made up of people across the

country who aren’t scaredy cats about expressing their love of all things geeky like I am.

On each site I post the same message:

Just stumbled across the most awesome radio show on the local college station. Turn to 91.5 NOW! Sooo cool!

This is the perfect way to return the favor Logan did for me without him knowing it and without anyone finding out about my little

secret. I just hope it works.

And it does. By the middle of the show, Logan is bantering back and forth with callers.

“Wow, a shoe sale at the mall in Alexandria? Fifty percent off! I don’t know who Jimmy Choo is, but he sounds amazing, Megan.”

“I don’t watch To Be a Teenager, but that episode sounds nuts, Melissa. I’ll have to start DVRing it.” And on and on he went.

Mostly, the callers are girls my age, which makes sense because they’re the majority of my friends on those websites.

“Can I get your real phone number?” a girl named Capri asks, and I frown at the radio. That was a little forward. And who names

their kid after a pair of pants? Might as well just call her “Stirrup” or “Bootcut.”

“Oh, I… That’s nice of you to ask, but I shouldn’t give it out over the air,” Logan says.

“I can wait for commer—” Capri’s voice cuts off.

“Oops, looks like we lost you, Capri, sorry. Anyway, here’s another song.”

I laugh like a cartoon villain at that as I check my posts again. Everyone’s commenting with stuff like, “I love this song he’s

playing right now!” and, “He sounds so cute!”

I’ve done a good deed…I think.

My phone rings for real this time. It’s Terra, and I know what she wants—an update on the Allison Blair concert. There’s still

ten minutes left of Logan’s show, so I mute my phone, feeling like a horrible person for not answering.

“Well, that’s the end of the show, everybody. And what a great one it was, too. I have to tell you I’ve had pretty much the

best day ever, and I have a feeling someone out there helped make it that way. She probably doesn’t want me to say her name on

air, but I am going to say thanks. Thanks, Wonderful Wendy.”

My stomach flutters. He has to be talking about me. Wonderful Wendy was the name of a five-issue storyline in The Super Ones where

The Bright Frenzy was introduced. He knows I’ll get the reference.

I almost jump off my bed and hug the stereo.

“And on that note, we’ll end the show just as we began it.”

My song starts again, and I flop back on my bed, breathless. This is one of those moments you live life for, I’m sure of it.

…

The next day, I give Terra a call because things just feel weird since we didn’t have our nightly phone call last night. I feel

like I’ve betrayed the Soul-Sisters. This is unacceptable.

“Hey, where were you last night?” she asks right off the bat.

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. I saw you called after I got out of the shower, but I was so tired I went right to bed. Mom forced me to

help her in the garden most of the day. Do you realize how much water it takes to make things grow? It’s ridiculous. Anyway, how

much are tickets for the Allison concert?” I know anytime the A-word is mentioned, all other thoughts leave Terra’s head.

“Depends on the seats. I’ve been looking at the floor plan, and the ones I really want are a couple hundred dollars, but the

fifty dollar seats are okay. Why? Did you ask them?”

“I’m about to. I just wanted to have all my facts straight.”

“Oh my God, I hope they say yes. Rayann’s parents said yes, but I don’t want to go without you.”

Awwww. The girl has such a big heart. The first time we met was in ninth grade biology. We had this really old teacher, Mr. McCoy,

who was basically bug-nuts crazy. He was really passionate about biology, but his hearing wasn’t great so he’d mumble. A lot.

Plus, he’d hop from subject to subject every class, trying to shove as much knowledge into our young, malleable brains as

possible. Photosynthesis to osmosis to cell structure to the Genome Project, all in one class period. It was seriously confusing.

By the third day of class, most of the students had given up on even attempting to take notes. I, on the other hand, was

determined to write down every topic Mr. McCoy touched on because if I got straight As, I could try out for the cheerleading

squad.

Terra and I were seated next to each other. One day, she struck up a conversation with me about crazy Mr. McCoy, and we decided to

band together. We made a great team, too. When old McCoy would start moving too fast, I’d nudge Terra’s foot, and she’d

distract him. Sometimes she’d ask him a question pertaining to what he was supposed to be talking about. Sometimes she’d just

point out the window and yell something like, “Mr. McCoy, isn’t that one of those super-rare butterflies that eats its young?”

This would give me plenty of time to catch up on my notes. Then, he’d always ask, “Now where was I?” and I could always make

him pick up with whatever I wanted him to. By the end of the second week of school, Terra and I were inseparable.

If I could ever build up the guts to tell anyone about my little secret, she’d be the first person I’d go to, but that’ll never

happen because there is no way I’d risk losing her. At first, I saw her as my ticket to popularity. Pretty shallow, I know. But

now…life would seriously suck without her goofy hand talking and unparalleled knowledge of everything Allison Blair.

So, I guess that’s why, after getting off the phone with Terra, I go directly to Mom and Dad to ask if I can go to the Allison

Blair concert and come back to my room with fifty dollars in my pocket.

…

During the next few days, I develop a routine: wake up, kill time, listen to Logan’s Show of Awesome, go to bed. It’s a pretty

boring existence, I know, but things start to get interesting when, on his Monday night show, Logan throws down the gauntlet.

“Before I say good night, there’s one last thing I need to send out into the universe, folks,” he says, his voice echoing

through my bedroom. “To Wonderful Wendy, I hope you’re listening, because tomorrow I’ll be you-know-where with something I

think your #400 heart won’t be able to resist.”

He’s completely and totally right, of course. There’s no way I can resist.