Good Nerd Hunting Page 11

  “Finally, all students are required to complete twenty hours of community service by the end of each semester. Failure to do so will result in your immediate expulsion. No exceptions. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Ms. Fulton,” the students chimed in unison.

  “Good. Now, for your schedules…” The homeroom teacher gathered the stack of papers from her desk and called out the names of students by surname, handing them their schedules one by one as their hands flew into the air. Izzy rolled her eyes at the name ‘Beauregard,’ and many heads turned in Blake’s direction when his name was called. After Ms. Fulton handed out the last schedule, she resumed her place at the front of the class. “I will be handing out locks for your lockers next. You can choose them out in the hall. Now, make a neat line.”

  The students gathered their things and formed a long line that reached the back of the class. Soon, the students were pouring into the hall and picking lockers. Nerds, Inc. decided on a row of six that stood side by side.

  “I couldn’t have asked for a better homeroom teacher,” said Rodney, stars in his eyes. He had the locker next to Blake, who was on the far left. “If curves could kill, I’d be six feet under.”

  “Look, Hicks,” said Julio from the far right next to Quen, “I don’t mean to rain on your prepubescent parade, but I’m pretty sure Ms. Fulton is into men, not boys.”

  “Then I’ll wait for her,” said Rodney, his fist over his heart. “Just give me a few years and I’ll be man enough for her.”

  “C’mon, Julio, let him have his little romance,” said Izzy next to Jamie Tru in the middle. “Worst case scenario: the whole school finds out and Ms. Fulton gets the sack while Rodney empties his!” Julio walked over and slugged her in the arm. “Ow!”

  “Don’t encourage him!” he said.

  “Julio, it looks like we have Portuguese together next,” said Quen.

  “Nice!” Julio walked back to his locker and high-fived Quen.

  “Pre-Calculus with the juniors,” said Rodney. “I can’t wait!”

  “Seriously?” said Izzy. “I wish I could take a class with all the upperclassmen.”

  “You wanna take Pre-Calc?” asked Jamie Tru. “Are you insane?”

  “Do you really need to ask me that after all this time…?”

  As Blake placed his history textbook in his locker, he heard someone nearby clearing her throat. He closed his locker and saw Effie Rousseau a few lockers down waving at him. He approached her.

  “What do you want?”

  Effie blushed and looked at the floor. “Oh… I just wanted to, um… apologize for that day at Schmidt’s. I didn’t mean to offend you. It was just… a front. For my friends, y’know? I don’t think your friend is annoying and I don’t mind that he’s not rich. I just wanna keep my friends.”

  “What’s the point if they’re just a bunch of jerks?”

  “They’re like family. They’re all I have.”

  Blake sighed. “Fine, I forgive you. But only because I didn’t come here to make enemies.”

  Effie looked up, smiling. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.” She played with her braid. “So, um… Do you think that maybe you’d like to study sometime? Just the two of us?”

  Blake’s face burned.

  Is it just me or is the hottest girl in my grade asking me out? he wondered.

  It’s just you, said his Inner Critic.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but someone else beat him to it.

  “Effie? What are you doing with the enemy?”

  Blake turned and saw Cissy Bianchi and her loyal Petties. The members of Nerds, Inc. turned to face her as well.

  “What do you want, Cissy?” Izzy demanded.

  “Hold your fire, Isobel. I just came to retrieve my lost lamb,” said Cissy as Effie shuffled over to her side. “What were you doing hanging around Geek, Co., anyway, Effie?”

  “It’s Nerds, Inc., Bianchi,” said Julio. “Get it right.”

  “I will if you go out with me,” she said with a pout.

  Impressive, Blake thought. She’s gonna make a great sugar baby one day.

  “I’d rather go through Hicks’ computer,” said Julio.

  “Fine, have it your way. C’mon, Pretties.” They flipped their long hair in unison and sashayed away.

  “What a pain in my ass!” said Julio as he slammed his locker shut. “Why won’t that pompous little princess leave me alone?”

  “Because you’re so irresistible!” said Izzy, pretending to swoon. Then, she made a pout that rivaled Cissy’s. “C’mon, give us a kiss.”

  Izzy puckered her lips, her arms outstretched; Julio shoved her away.

  “Break it up, you guys,” said Quen when the bell rang. “We’ll be late for class.”

  They closed their lockers and started down the hall.

  15

  Pressure

  When Phoenix walked into Pre-Calc, he raised an eyebrow. Sitting in the front row, gangly and sullen-skinned was… a freshman? No, an eighth-grader. He couldn’t be more than thirteen. When he looked up and saw Phoenix staring, he gasped, wide-eyed, and began flipping through the textbook in front of him, engrossed in the curriculum.

  Phoenix took his seat at the back of the class and withdrew his summer homework, a pencil, and a stack of fresh staff paper from his bookbag. When he was halfway through drawing treble clefs on the empty lines, the bell rang. His math teacher, a neat young man whose uniform was the same as Phoenix’s, waved for the class’s attention.

  “Good morning, class,” he said from behind his desk. “Like Virgil led Dante through the nine circles of Hell, I’ll be leading you through Pre-Calculus this year. I’ll start by taking roll and collecting your summer homework. When I call your name, raise your hand and hand me your homework.”

  Phoenix continued drawing treble clefs as the teacher called roll. He raised his hand when he heard his name but paid no attention otherwise. That is, until he heard the last name on the roll.

  “Williams, Brooke?”

  A hand shot into the air and Phoenix’s eyes shot up with it.

  “Here.” Her long hair was swept over one shoulder and she sat up straight in her seat. Phoenix noticed how her bust forced her black tie forward several inches.

  They don’t make ‘em in Rosewood like they do in Mirallegra, he thought.

  Once he’d collected all the homework, the teacher gave a lecture, of which Phoenix didn’t hear a word. What material they’d cover, what assignments would be due when, what rules they’d be required to follow, Phoenix didn’t hear. He stared at Brooke Williams as she took notes and wondered if she was the Brooke.

  Brooke’s friend, who sat next to her, leaned in, whispered in Brooke’s ear, and pointed at Phoenix. When Brooke looked back at him, he broke his gaze and pretended to draw notes on his staff paper. After a few moments, his eyes traveled up again. This time, he caught her staring. She blushed and turned away.

  Maybe miracles do happen in Mirallegra, Phoenix thought.

  At the sound of the bell, two dozen chairs scraped against the floor as students rose to leave. Phoenix slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried out of the door. He waited outside the doorway by the lockers, watching his classmates pour into the hallway. When he saw Brooke Williams leaving with her friend, they locked eyes.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Brooke blushed. “Hi.”

  “I’ll see ya later, okay?” said Brooke’s friend as she turned to leave.

  “Bye, Marcella.”

  “It’s Brooke, right?” Phoenix asked when they were alone.

  “Yeah. And you’re Phoenix, right?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s a cool name.”

  “Thank you.” A rare smile played on Phoenix’s lips. “Hey, uh… Do you know a site called Tomodachi?”

  “Tomo-what?”

  “Never mind. It’s nothing,” said Phoenix, shaking his head. “I better get to class. Music Performance is all the way in the basem
ent.”

  “Music Performance? Ooh, what instrument do you play?”

  “Guitar, bass, and drums, but I specialize in piano.” Without warning, Phoenix took Brooke’s hand in his, examining it. “Your fingers are long and thin, perfect for piano. Do you play?”

  “No,” Brooke answered, blushing, “but… I’ve always wanted to learn.”

  “I can teach you sometime if you want,” he said, still holding her hand, his eyes boring into hers. “I used to give piano lessons in my hometown before I came here.”

  “Yeah, that would be great.”

  “We can make plans next class, okay?” He withdrew his hand. “We better get to class. I’ll see you around, Brooke.” He turned and started down the hall.

  I may not have found my Brooke, he thought, but at least I found my first client.

  He opened a pair of double doors at the end of the hall and descended the staircase until he reached the basement, the Music hall. He stopped in front of a door that read B3 and turned the knob. A handful of students whispered amongst themselves at their desks while the teacher, whose white blouse was tucked into her long black pencil skirt, stood at the whiteboard, a dry erase marker in hand. He approached her.

  “Aunt Charisse, I haven’t seen you in forever. You’re not still keeping Finn hostage, are ya?”

  His aunt looked up at him. “We’re at school, Phoenix. You need to call me Dr. M, like everyone else.”

  “But that’s so awkward.”

  “Doesn’t matter, those are the rules. Now go find a seat. Class is about to start. And Phoenix?” She placed a hand on his broad shoulder. “It’s good to finally have you.”

  Phoenix chose a seat in the back of the classroom and set down his bag at his side. When the bell rang, his aunt motioned for the class’s attention.

  “Welcome to Music Performance,” she announced, her arms open wide. “I will be your instructor for the year. My name is Dr. McCracken, but you can call me Dr. M. The goal of this class is to learn to perform in front of an audience, as the name prescribes. However, we will not be practicing solo performances. The class will split up into bands of three and four.

  “During the first half of every class, we will study the principles of music performance here in the classroom. Afterwards, each band will have time to apply those principles in the practice rooms down the hall.

  “You have until next class to join a band. Each member of each band must play a different instrument. For example, there cannot be two guitarists or two bassists in one band. Also, all band names must have my approval before they are made official. Are there any questions?”

  As the classroom buzzed with excitement, Phoenix sat stiff in his seat. He hated working with others. Just the thought of it sent bile shooting up his throat. He watched as his classmates got to their feet and began forming small groups. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two students, who sat away from the others, staring at him. When he turned his head in their direction, they turned theirs away. An Asian kid and a ginger.

  Haven’t I seen those two somewhere before? he wondered.

  Dr. M waved for her students’ attention and the noise dropped. “We will be spending the remainder of class in the recording booths. There, you will record what you’ve been working on this summer. Everyone grab an instrument from the closet.”

  The students rose from their desks and lined up to retrieve their instruments from the spacious closet in the back of the classroom, where flutes, trombones, violas, and guitars were grouped on shelves by family. Phoenix, who was the last in line, grabbed a keyboard from above a set of tympani before closing the door behind him. They followed Dr. M out of the classroom and down the hall, halting in front of a row of doors with small windows.

  “We have five recording booths, so only five students can record at the same time,” said Dr. M. “When you step inside, hit the record button, state your name and your instrument, and play. When you’re done, hit the stop button and let the next student in. You will have five minutes each. I will be docking points for every extra second you spend in the booth. Now… who wants to go first?”

  Phoenix was among the first to enter a booth. It was large enough to accommodate a full drum set, the walls were covered with black acoustic foam, and the mic was hooked up to a Mac in front of him. He looked out the window and saw his aunt holding up her hand, her thin fingers outstretched. Phoenix unzipped his keyboard, set it up on its stand, and pressed record on the Mac.

  “My name is Phoenix McCracken,” he said into the mic before his fingers danced across the piano, starting from the lowest pitch on the register and ending on the highest: a chromatic scale. Then, he played his scales. Major, all twelve, three octaves. After he played the final note, he hit the stop button on the Mac and opened the door. “How long was that?”

  “One minute, seventeen seconds,” said Dr. M, looking down at her smartphone.

  “Seriously? It took me that long?”

  “So long as it’s clean, you’re fine. I’m grading you on delivery, not speed.”

  “Okay…”

  That was so sloppy, said his Inner Critic as Phoenix stepped out of the booth. When did you get to be so slow? You’ll fail for sure.

  I know, Phoenix answered. What’s gonna happen now?

  She’ll drop you from her class and you’ll lose your scholarship. It’s all downhill from here.

  Shit.

  Phoenix returned the keyboard to the closet and collapsed into one of the empty desks.

  I’m terrible at music, he thought. How did I even get into this class, let alone the scholarship? Must’ve been Aunt Charisse, she pulled some strings for me. That’s the only way, the only possible way. And the only thing I have to fall back on is…

  Phoenix blinked at the sound of the bell; the room was filled with students gathering their things.

  When did they get here? he wondered, following their lead. At the door, he heard his name called. He turned to see Dr. M. behind him.

  “The kids are friendly here. Make some friends. Your grade depends on it. I expect great things from you.”

  He nodded. “Right.” His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he left.

  * * *

  Blake stared at the blonde across the cafeteria, who sat at a table surrounded by friends. He watched as MacKenzie Powell pushed her short, curly locks behind her ear. When she laughed and opened her mouth wide, he could make out the unmistakable shining of metal. He’d never seen anything cuter in his entire life. And that included Cleo, which said a lot.

  Hey, what about Luno? said his Inner Critic. You gonna leave her to rot with the O’Connors, you selfish little—

  “Ow!” Blake rubbed the back of his head where Julio had smacked him.

  “Pay attention!” said Julio. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can eat in peace.” He nodded in Rodney’s direction. “Go on, Hicks.”

  “As I was saying,” Rodney continued, “I came up with a new tradition that I think we should practice.” He held up a small stack of white cards and passed them out to everyone at the table. Blake looked at his: there was a single black V printed on the front.

  “You got us V cards?” he asked.

  “Sure did!” said Rodney.

  “How do you know we’re all virgins?” Izzy asked.

  Rodney rolled his eyes. “Now, this is what we’ll do: we keep these cards on us at all times. When one of us loses our virginity, we have to tell everyone else and burn it. And when I say ‘lose your virginity’, that includes oral. Remember kids: if you’ve been sucked, you’ve been fucked.”

  The members of Nerds, Inc. exchanged snickers and looks.

  “I like it,” said Quen.

  “Well, of course you do,” said Julio beside him. “You’re saving yourself for marriage, like a good little boy.”

  Quen looked away, his face pink.

  “I wonder which one of us will burn our card first?” Jamie Tru wondered aloud, examining his card.r />
  “Probably you, Pretty Boy,” said Julio. “Just don’t knock anyone up, okay? This ain’t public school, y’know.”

  “And even if you do,” chimed in Izzy, “that’s what stairs and Planned Parenthood are for!”

  “Or, you could just save yourself the trouble and not have sex at all,” Quen offered.

  “What, with all the TV we watch and all the time we spend on Instagram?” Jamie Tru scoffed. “Face it, Quen. It’s not survival of the fittest. It’s survival of whoever grabs the most pussy and gets the most followers. That’s just how it is.”

  “I think we could all learn a thing or two from Phoenix,” said Rodney. “I have him in Pre-Calc.”

  “No way,” said Julio.

  “Lucky!” Izzy whined.

  “I saw him with a girl after class this morning,” Rodney continued. “They were holding hands by the lockers. She damn-near fainted when he left. This guy works fast! I’d pay to join his class on the art of pussy grab…”

  No, don’t tell me… he’s at it again? Blake wondered. I thought he was done with all that?

  “How about we make this a little more interesting?” said Izzy with a sly grin. “The first one to burn their V card gets bragging rights for the rest of our lives!”

  Julio shook his head. “That’s a given. We need more incentive than that.”

  “Hmm… what about everyone else has to be the winner’s personal slave for a week?”

  “A month.”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Deal.”

  Julio and Izzy reached across the table and shook hands.

  Blake’s face burned. He was sure to lose his virginity last. He’d never even kissed a girl, let alone gone to second base. His eyes shot up to MacKenzie. She shook her head, grinning, sending her curls flying. A strange feeling struck Blake, like a lightning storm; it started at his stomach and spread throughout his body, like when lightning strikes the highest point of a skyscraper. His face growing hotter, he forced himself to break his gaze.