Dating on the Dork Side

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

MY CELL PHONE woke me on Saturday morning. I fumbled for it on the nightstand and squinted at the clock. Six. Six a.m. I touched the answer icon, guessing it was Rhino.

“This better be good,” I said.

“Of course.” It wasn’t Rhino, but Elle, on the other end.

I sat up. “What is it?”

“Phase two starts now.” She sounded way too calm for someone who’d dumped her boyfriend just the day before. I remembered what Rhino had said about her and Gavin, and wondered at the truth of it.

“There’s a boatload of comments on the wiki since last night. Most of them are about me.”

“Did you call me this early so I could get a head start on congratulating you?” I asked.

“You’re so funny,” Elle said. “I was thinking about making a backup of the website, or at least the pages with the most action. Actually, I started to, but ... help?” The last word came out kind of pathetic.

“Yeah, I can help with that. There’s probably an app that will do it automatically. I don’t know how, but Rhino—”

“You’ve got a one-track mind about that boy.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Whatever. No Rhino. No guys, period, can know about this.”

“Got it,” I said.

“And the backup?” she asked.

“It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“By the way, have you been on f*******: this morning?”

“You woke me up,” I said, trying not to clench my teeth.

“Sorry. I have to leave for a debate tourney in fifteen minutes. I wanted to make sure to catch you first. You might find a little surprise. That’s all I’m saying.”

And with that, Elle hung up.

I couldn’t face the wiki, f*******:, or anything on the Internet without coffee. Really, I was pretty sure no one should log on to any form of social media without a good dose of caffeine.

I brewed a full pot so I could pour a giant mug and leave plenty for Dad. I tiptoed back upstairs, eased my door closed with a foot, and leaned against it.

“Okay, Internet,” I said aloud. “Here I come.”

I was trying to decide between starting a wiki backup versus f*******: when my email program pinged. And pinged again. Loading 15 of 103 messages, the status bar said. I almost spewed coffee all over the keyboard.

Finally, the last message arrived. I clicked through to find endless friend requests, and game requests, and things on f*******: that I didn’t even know existed.

It took me five whole minutes to confirm all the friends Elle had sent my way. There were cheerleaders, pom squad girls, the dance team (minus Clarissa Delacroix, of course). Mercedes Washington had sent me a ton of virtual roses, kittens, balloons, and bouquets. She’d left a message sometime last night that said:

OMG! I didn’t know you were on f*******: or I would’ve friended you before now.

Only with more words, creative spelling, and about a hundred extra exclamation points.

Girls I’d never even met, who went to other schools, wanted to be my new best friend. Someone named Chantal Simmons from Prairie Stone had even sent me a pair of virtual designer shoes. It was like Elle had waved her hand and cured me of my social leprosy.

It took me most of the next two days to figure out the art of multitasking, but by Sunday afternoon I could accept friend requests, make backups of the wiki, and do my homework all at the same time.

“Have you seen the sun at all this weekend?”

Dad’s voice made me jump out of my chair. I’d been so focused, I hadn’t heard a single creak on the stairs. For five awful seconds, I had that crazy tunnel vision. I couldn’t tell what was on my laptop screen. Was it the wiki? Was some disgusting jock comment right there, where Dad could see?

“Easy, Cams,” he said. “You okay?”

“You scared me.”

He took a step back and held up his hands. “Just checking on you. You didn’t go to Rhino’s last night. You didn’t come down for the Vikings game. You haven’t gone for a walk or anything.” He shrugged. “Dads worry about stuff like that.”

He was right. I hadn’t done anything I normally did on the weekends.

“They’re really killing us with homework this year,” I said. “And calculus—”

When he stepped closer and peeked at the laptop screen, I seriously thought I might hurl.

“I don’t think the fine citizens of AcreRage are going to be able to help you with your math,” he said.

Mercedes had sucked me into that one. I already had a henhouse full of chickens and three sheep to take care of. Who knew virtual farming could be so hard? At least The Hotties of Troy was minimized. I let out a breath and said a silent prayer of thanks to the patron saint of the Internet. (Saint Isidore of Seville.)

“I’ll switch back to the math,” I told Dad.

“Why don’t we take a jog in a little bit?” He checked his watch.

I straightened my leg and flexed my knee. My fingers traced the scars through my jeans.

“Are you hurting?” He got that worried Dad look of his again.

“No, it’s just a little stiff,” I said. “A jog is just what I need.”

A second after Dad had left, a message popped up from Rhino.

Rhino: Why do I have friend requests from cheerleaders?

I started to type “Elle, through me, I guess” but thought it might raise suspicions.

Camy: Opposites attract? They’re trying to woo you to the dark side? I dunno.

Rhino: I’ve been invited to a virtual pillow fight. I have no idea how to respond to that.

Camy: You don’t?

Rhino: It’s like I stepped into the dream world of the average American teenage boy. Somewhere, there’s a jock in wtf-mode cuz he just got an IM from Bill Gates.

Camy: That’s *your* dream world?

Rhino: I’m not dignifying that with an answer.

Camy: I’m sure your fantasy life is very rich.

Rhino: Bite me.

Camy: Wanna help me with calc?

Rhino: See above response.

I sighed. Only Rhino could get crabby over a bunch of pretty girls pestering him for a pillow fight. Really, it wouldn’t hurt Mr. Antisocial to interact once in a while. Maybe I’d tell Mercedes to send him an AcreRage request.

Half an hour later, the wiki backup was almost complete, but I still hadn’t figured out the first calculus problem. My phone rang and Rhino’s number popped up on the screen.

“Do I need to talk you back from the edge?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“That’s because you haven’t been trying, have you?”

“I’ve been trying.” Just not very hard.

“Sure you have.” His words were still grumpy but his voice was soft and patient. “So,” he said. “What do you need help with?”

I refreshed the wiki, then turned back to my math book. I was reading the problem to Rhino, so it took me a few seconds to notice the recently updated pages. The list hadn’t changed much all weekend. Elle’s page was always on top. It was filled with massive complaints, like this one:

She cost us the freaking game. What a b***h.

Just then a new comment appeared at the bottom of that thread. Adm*n wrote:

We played like sh*t. That’s what cost us the game.

We? I thought. Was that admin with an asterisk guy someone from the football team? I opened my email and sent the link to Elle.

“Uh, Camy, you there?”

“Still here,” I said. “I got a little—”

“Hey, Cams!” Dad called from downstairs. “You ready for that jog yet?”

“That’s my dad,” I said into the phone. “I promised him we’d go jogging. Just a sec.”

I told Dad I needed fifteen more minutes with Rhino and math. When I sat back down, I found a message from Mercedes on the screen. I sighed. I didn’t think I’d ever been so busy on a Sunday afternoon.

Mercedes: Whats up?

I typed back:

Camy: homework

Mercedes: O. Thats rite. UR a brian.

A brian? Maybe that was cheerleader-speak for loser we now tolerate. Then it hit me. She meant brain.

Camy: Not really. I just study a lot.

Mercedes: Wow. I should totally try that.

Speaking of studying, I was ignoring Rhino, and he’d noticed. I didn’t hear anything, so I said, “Hey.” But he was ignoring me back. I refreshed the wiki again. The guys were busy on the main chat board:

lukasn: Mercedes just told me she’s staying home to study. STUDY!? Girl hasn’t cracked a book since 6th grade. I thought she was just playin with me before the game, but now I think I’ve really been dumped.

mchottie: Lana’s not taking my calls either. Guess I’ll have to hit up “Old Reliable” if I want a little bow chicka wow wow tonight.

rickman: Don’t bother dude. I saw Sophie at the gas station. Asked her if she wanted to hang out. She said, “Sorry, but I’m already doing nothing tonight.” wtf?

I sat back and admired the genius that was Elle Emerson. She was right. It could work. No, it was working.

“Camy?” Dad called up the stairs again. “You ready?”

I tried to get Rhino’s attention on the phone again. And failed. Calculus wasn’t happening; not that afternoon, anyway. I might as well get some exercise.

“Let me change,” I called downstairs.

Five minutes later, I plopped back down at my desk to pull on my shoes. I decided to refresh the wiki one more time. More comments had appeared in the chat box, including one from Aiden:

aident: Yeah, well Clarissa is taking a “me” day. Right. Like every day isn’t a “me” day for her? Does anyone else think they planned this or something?

Uh-oh. Aiden was way too smart. He’d been on the same trip with Clarissa and Elle this summer. Had he read Lysistrata too?

I held my finger over the mouse to click everything closed. That’s when I saw it. My page. Recently updated. My heart fluttered so fast, it felt like I’d already gone for that jog.

“Camy?” Dad called.

“I’m coming!” I said, but I didn’t move anything except my finger. I clicked the mouse and found two words.

Adm*n: She’s different.

That was all. It was weird knowing that someone was thinking about me. It was weird being a Hottie of Troy.

At the time, I didn’t realize just how weird.