DRAMA GEEK
By
S.M. Dritschilo
PUBLISHED BY:
Drama Geek
Copyright 2013 by Suzanne Dritschilo
ISBN-13: 978-0-9895856-1-3
Thank you for purchasing this book. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without prior permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the only exception and must not be altered in any way. No alteration of content is permitted. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously for entertainment purposes only.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following word marks mentioned in this fiction Converse, Dolce & Gabbana, Facebook, Toyota Prius, Doritos, Apple iPhones and iPods, Macy's, Gatorade, Advil, Disney, Doritos, Google, Barnes and Noble, IKEA, Oreos, Georgetown University, University of Maryland, Goodreads, ESPN, Kit-Kat, Claire's, Starbucks, Mrs. Fields Cookies, and Mattel’s Barbie.
Any other omissions are purely accidental and unintentional.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status, and trademark owners of the various recognized authors and their published works and literary characters mentioned in this fiction and includes them out of a deep respect for their work, and encourages you to discover their brilliance for yourself to immerse yourself in their amazing worlds over and over again as she does.
Young Adult Reading Material
This, my first book, is dedicated to you, the reader. I may never get to meet you, but know that I think the world of you, and the fact that you've shared your greatest treasure with me, your personal time, to read even a page of my story thrills my little heart until it's ready to pop. I wrote this thinking of you.
Smiles, Suz (come find me on twitter @SuzDC)
Chapter 1
The weekend before school starts, I find myself picking up the phone about to do the unthinkable.
“Remember a while ago when you offered to help me with some outfits?” I asked.
I listened to the click, then a single dial tone letting me know I had just been hung up on.
I shut off my phone setting it on my desk and shook my head.
There are great things about having the same best friend for the past five years. We know all of each other’s secrets; you know no matter what, there is someone out there who always has your back. We even finish each other’s sentences sometimes, so you learn to overlook little things--like when they hang up on you without answering your question.
I hear my front doorbell ring no less than 15 minutes later and go down to open it to find an unusually out of breath Laurel (unusual in that there are no boys around making her breathe funny). She is holding a small sewing machine under one arm while dragging a huge black trash bag behind her with the other. She must have pushed the bell with her nose.
“Someone make a house call for a tailor?” Laurel said beaming. She has wanted a free hand to attack my wardrobe for the last two years, so my call had to have filled her with boundless glee.
“I only called to ask if you wanted to help me mix and match a few outfits for school next week from a pile of shopping Mom and I did yesterday. I didn’t say anything about sewing,” I said taking the monster machine from under her arm. She flexed her hand to get blood flow back into her fingers as she walked into the hallway.
“Are you kidding? This is a rare opportunity I have been waiting years for. I am not taking any chances. Let me at that closet!” she said barreling up the stairs without looking back.
I closed the front door with an anxious sigh. Crap. I unleashed the fashion kraken. No telling what she has in store for me now, but I’ll bet it’s not going to be as simple as just mixing and matching. When it comes to clothes, Laurel does not do simple.
Two excruciating, at times physically painful, hours later my bedroom looked like a fabric factory exploded with clothes, scraps, and ribbons everywhere; there’s not a single surface of my room without an article of clothing covering it.
My fear that Laurel wouldn’t be satisfied with just giving fashion advice on color coordinating was right. She jumped straight into custom alterations that included lowering the bust lines on ALL my tops, taking in the side seams so my comfortable, slightly baggy short and long sleeve tees now fit me so snug they practically look painted on my body.
As the youngest of three girls with fashion designer parents, Laurel has a wardrobe filled with designer brand name hand me downs that a small, girly part of me secretly drooled over for the last few years.
The hems! Geez, she did not leave a single skirt or dress falling below my knees. They all stop just past the end of my fingertips when my arms hang down at my sides; they barely cover my thighs!
“How am I possibly supposed to sit down in this without flashing the entire junior class?” I ask her as she pulls the last straight pin from the, now very short, black skirt hem.
“If you’re not THE single hottest girl all the guys are talking about the first week of school, it won’t be because of your clothes,” she confidently claims looking around at all her handiwork.
I flop back on my bed displacing two Dolce & Gabbana silk blouses she gave me. Laurel is the most generous person with the biggest heart. She also has four closets in her bedroom packed wall-to-wall and is always trying to get me to take some of her stuff since we finally wear the same size.
“Ugh. Guy talk again?” I complain.
“I swear you are the weirdest 17 year old girl I know Katie. How can you not think about kissing guys all the time?”
“You kiss enough for the both of us, so why should I have to too?” I tease. It’s become an ongoing argument between us since last summer.
“This is true, but how can you not wonder what it’s like? It’s soooo great. When a guy is kissing you, and his lips are soft and warm, and his hands are wandering. Mmmm,” she gave a pretend shiver and stands up laughing.
“I’m aware of what kissing involves Laurel. I have read about it. There’s a kissing scene or two in some of my books,” I tell her holding up my latest acquisition.
“There’s book learning, and then there’s learning first hand,” she said grabbing my latest paperback out of my hands. Plunking it down on my desk was probably overly dramatic.
“I fixed your clothes. That’s one thing I can finally check off my list. Next is getting you kissed before the year is up. ”
“I’ve kissed a boy before!”
“That was five years ago. Sixth grade doesn’t count. I’m talking a serious kissing. The kind that’s so hot you set off the smoke detectors,” she shivers again.
Once Laurel gets an idea in her head, it’s nearly impossible to shake her resolve. I am more than a little nervous.
“Shouldn’t I get to decide when/if/who I get to kiss?”
She flicks her hand in the air as if to swat away my suggestion, “you’ve had plenty of time, and more than a few chances. Time to take matters into my own hands, but don’t worry I’ll find lots of choices for you. Do you have a preference for blonds, brunettes, or redheads?”
Oh, crap. She has already moved on to planning mode. Junior year is starting to look bleak and the first day of school is still three days away. Fortunately, one of Laurel’s weaknesses (there are few) is that she is easily distracted.
“What else is on this checklist of yours?” I ask with more than a little anxiety in my voice.
Laurel sleeps over Saturd
ay night. After dinner, we continued talking about what we thought our third year at Chantilly High School was going to be like, both of us taking turns about what we hope to achieve. And that’s how we come up with our Junior Bucket Lists; stuff we hope to check off the list by the end of our junior year.
Laurel’s list, shockingly, mostly has to do with boy-related stuff: hooking up with a senior, talking Sam Hassan into letting her drive his Dad’s prized Ferrari at least once, falling in love.
Mine’s not quite as glamorous. Or ambitious: get a part in the senior spring play, get my own Facebook account, make honor roll, get my driver’s permit (highly unlikely as I’m terrified of driving a car but totally not necessary either since I live barely half a mile from my school and Laurel has hers already), and have a REAL toe-curling-catch-my-breath-lightning-shooting-through-me First Kiss.
Laurel would not let up about the kiss and made me write out all the adjectives she was saying so I would know exactly what qualified and what did not. Apparently, quick pecks on the cheek, or a fast lip-to-lip lasting less than 10 seconds wasn’t going to satisfy the requirements to be checked off the list.
When I asked her about the minimum time requirement, she explained that any lip contact with a guy that lasts more than ten seconds isn’t going to stay simple, and will definitely involve some serious tongue action, which is seriously fun.
I’ll take her word for it.
First day of school is always a little chaotic no matter what your grade. The day is spent finding all your classes, figuring out if you know anyone to sit next to in class, comparing schedules, seeing who’s changed (Fat Tony) and who hasn’t (all the Cheerleaders). In Fat Tony’s defense though, his family owns the best pizza place in town and he was never what someone would call fat, just a little pudgy and overweight since middle school. He was always cute with thick curly dark hair, adorable dimples, and a wicked sense of humor, but holy cow! When he walked into school, so many girls’ heads were turning to follow him with their eyes as he walked down the hall. He grew about 6 inches taller over the summer. Any pudge he had was now serious muscle. I wondered if Laurel would tag him for herself or me as a candidate to help with #5 on my Junior Bucket List.
Tony wasn’t the only one with big changes the first day though.
Before Laurel went home yesterday, she chose an outfit and made me promise I would wear it exactly as she fixed it, or she was going to tell our friend Jaxon who replaced Ms. Thompson’s coffee thermos filling it with mud back in the 7th grade. He was blamed, and earned a week of detention for it. I don’t think she has proof, but better safe than sorry. I wore the outfit just as she instructed--including not pulling up my hair into my trademark ‘boring’ ponytail. This morning my hair is all the way down my back hanging in dark loose waves to just above my waist, even after a haircut last week.
Laurel can be bossy when she sets her mind to something. Thorough too, but I’m the one who has to deal with the Fashion Kraken's consequences today.
Walking into first period English, Laurel gave two thumbs up along with the biggest grin I have ever seen her give that did not involve a boy. I slipped into the chair next to her at the back of the room feeling nearly naked, and a little chilly in the shorts, except for my face that was very warm after I noticed a few guys in class turning their heads to smile at me.
Oookaaay. Low v-cut tank top, very high cut-off jean shorts, and gold hoop earrings get some attention. Honestly, I don’t think the earrings did much of anything, but Laurel is all about accessories. I probably haven’t worn this little clothing in public since I was a baby crawling around on the floor in nothing but a diaper.
I’m more than a little embarrassed, which my now pink cheeks make very obvious, but I have to admit it’s also a little exciting to get this kind of attention after being known as ‘the girl with the book’, or ‘Laurel’s mousy friend’, for so long.
She is thrilled with her handiwork. She is nearly unbearable. After comparing schedules, fortunately we only have two periods and lunch together. If I keep up with her alterations this year, that is probably all I will be able to handle having with her.
“You look gorgeous. Keep up the good work and keep an eye out for your #5 candidate. Catch you at lunch.” Laurel said leaving me in the doorway. After the bell rings, she heads off down the hall to 2nd period with a wave.
A heavy accent behind me said, “Pardon, but might I ask you a question miss?”
I turn around to find a cute guy, a few inches taller than me (which isn’t hard seeing as I barely clear five feet) with very blue eyes holding a class schedule in his hand. “Would you please tell me where I could find room 128?” he asks in the dreamiest British accent ever heard outside of a Hugh Grant movie.
“Huh?” Brilliant, Katie. That is the best you can come up with for a response, something barely above a grunt?
He flashes a sweet shy smile, “afraid I’m more than a bit backwards. I wasn’t able to attend the new student orientation last week, and I won’t be able to make my classes on time today without some assistance from a lovely, kind-hearted stranger.”
Oh my God. I’m about to dissolve into a puddle right here on the floor. I blinked and gave my head a quick shake to snap out of it.
“Oh, sure, what was it again 128? That’s the computer lab. No worries it isn't far. Just take the stairs over there. When you get to the top of the stairs, the lab is right across the hallway. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks ever so much. I’ll owe you a courtesy,” he said sharing another shy smile that combined with that accent… OMG that accent! Laurel is going to be all over this guy fast once she hears him talk.
Lunch is a welcome relief. I don’t recognize anyone in my 2nd period Spanish or 3rd period Chemistry that looks like it’s going to be kind of tough, but I wanted at least one AP class on my schedule this year.
Looking past the packed tables of students, football players, and cheerleaders (is it some kind of law that they have to sit together every year?) I quickly find Laurel. She is a little hard to miss in her neon pink summer dress with her dark mocha skin and dark curls tinted with matching hot pink streaks. The guys are already at our table looking prepared for mischief as usual.
Both Jaxon and Eli give me a whole new kind of smile when I sit down across from them.
Eli barely lets a second pass after I put my tray down before he said, pointing at my chest, “well those are new.”
“Actually they’ve been around since the 8th grade. You’re just not that observant.”
“Nah, I have built in boob detection. You’ve been hiding those puppies,” he said chewing on the end of his straw while staring. Other kids call him ‘Player’ for a reason.
Even Jaxon cannot resist commenting, “Wow. Katie. That’s um….quite a different look for you this year.”
I cannot hold back my laugh. It is too funny having the two boys I have grown up with and known for years fall over themselves with goofy grins on their faces.
Laurel gives me a quick bear hug when I sit next to her letting out a little squeal.
“What was that for?” I ask her.
“I’m just so happy! You’ve finally joined the girl power club. I have wanted you as a member for years. I can see how much you’re enjoying it too, the attention. Don’t let the power go to your head ok? You’ll need a few more lessons before you can fly solo,” she said with a grin.
“It’s been an…interesting morning. Very educational. Not sure what the afternoon will bring,” I say as I try to tug down what little there is of my shorts, “but I’ll admit I am kind of getting into it now.”
Player and Jaxon begin debating between themselves the multiple ways they can take advantage of the fact they eat lunch every day with two hot girls when Laurel murmurs, “Don’t look now but that guy has been staring at you for like ten solid minutes.”
“What guy? Where?” I ask looking around.
“I said don’t look,” she told me pretendi
ng to be fascinated by her lunch while talking behind her hand, “he’s at the table right across from us behind Jaxon, the guy with the positively bulging arms and the tight black t-shirt. Totally yummy. Girl power lesson two: Act casual. Glance up as if you’re looking at the back door or something, but do not look right at him. You’ll still be able to see who he is.”
I try to put my new mentor’s instructions into play glancing up casually to look at the back door, but I don’t make it past the guy’s eyes. He is definitely staring at me. I can’t look away. His gaze is seriously intense. When he sees me looking back at him his eyebrows go up a little bit but he does not look away.
Do I know him? He looks somewhat familiar, but there are dozens of boys with slightly longer sun-bleached hair that comes down past the tops of their ears. Not everyone gets haircuts for the first day of school after a summer of being outside and at the beach. Like I did.
A small movement at the corner of his mouth draws my attention. Is he trying to smile at me? No way for me to tell because he’s got his elbow up on the table now with his fist blocking his chin and mouth like he’s leaning against it thinking hard while he’s locked in a staring contest with me.
Laurel makes me lose when I look away after she pokes me in the ribs, “you fail your second lesson. That’s not at all casual.”
I mumble an apology about this being my first day. We compare schedules with the guys to see if we’re in any of each other’s classes. I practice my casual glancing a few more times at the new guy. Every time I look up, he’s still looking at me.
Before long the bell rings breaking up our lunch bunch as we all head off to lockers and classes.
“Eli said we should start calling you hot stuff now,” Jaxon told me sliding into the seat next to mine at the back of 4th period Algebra.
“Oh well, if Player said then by all means, because we always do what he said. Not,” I laugh.
“Agreed, but…he does kind of have a point Katie. This is a whole new look for you. Just take it easy on us, ok? We guys are only human, and you turning out to be a real girl are a bit of a shock to us.”
“Newsflash Jaxon, I have always been a real girl.”
“Yeah but you’ve never been this much of one before,” he grins waving his hand up and down gesturing at my body from head to toe.
A student sitting behind us lets out a little snort that makes me turn around to see who it is.
Holy crap. The staring guy from lunch is sitting right behind me. This close his stare is more unsettling and his shoulders look wider than the desk chair can handle. I twist back around in my seat to avoid his gaze. Gratefully our teacher Mr. MacGregor arrives and we jump right into equations without another chance to talk.
I don’t have anyone in 5th period American History but I catch up again with Jaxon, Eli, and Laurel in 6th period Drama Class, plus a few Cheerleaders (ugh) and one very nasty Miss Tiffani Sobhiani (ruling drama queen). A thousand pounds of sugar could not make her even one ounce sweeter. The way she is giving everyone sour looks, her new nose job this summer didn’t help either.
I try to tell Laurel about the new staring guy from lunch being in my math class but Mrs. G breaks us up into groups to start doing improv. There should be a rule about having to do actual schoolwork on the first day of school.
After school, Laurel is lounging out on our backyard patio furniture like a cat soaking in the sun. We are discussing our Junior Bucket Lists and what a great first day of school it was, when we hear the side gate open.
Bold as brass the staring guy waltzes into my backyard wearing the same tight black t-shirt that leaves no question he lifts weights, blue and white hi-top Converse, and gray running shorts that expose some seriously long muscular legs. We watch him look all around taking an inspection of the yard.
I sit bolt upright in my seat, “What the hell?”
“Who is that?” Laurel practically purrs when she sits up on the couch. She has had hot guy radar since she first grew boobs in the 7th grade--a whole year before me. Mine came in full and fine thanks, just a little later so No, I am not still jealous.
“Isn’t that the guy who was checking you out all during lunch today? He is cute. Hmm, a potential candidate for bucket list item #5?”
“Shut up Laurel,” I snap.
“Mmmmm, if you don’t want him I’ll be happy to take him off your hands for a little while,” she purrs again.
We watch him make a beeline straight for us, or rather, straight for me.
“Figure it out yet?” he asks me.
He is staring again with this creepy ass, half smile. This has to be the most arrogant guy I have ever met. How cocky do you have to be to walk into some stranger’s backyard as if you owned the place?
“Figure out what? What are you doing at my house?”
I am more than a little freaked. Is the new kid in school some kind of stalker?
“Hi, I’m Laurel and this is—”
“Kat.”
What did he just say?
Finally, she sounds more alert, “What did you just call her?” Laurel asks him.
He is still looking right at me. “Kat. That’s what I used to call her,” he said.
Pretty sure I just stopped breathing. I can’t inhale. My brain is on memory overload. Speaking is completely out of the question. He can’t…been so long… what, six? Seven years?
Figure it out yet?
Holy crap. My wide eyes start to roam looking at his hair, his deep green eyes, so green (I remember that green!), his cheeks, and his mouth, his ears, anything I can use in an attempt to disprove what my brain is screaming at me.
“When we were in 1st grade, I bet her she couldn’t stuff an entire Kit-Kat chocolate candy bar in her mouth all at once. She said she could.”
“Adorable! Who won?” Laurel asks him. All casual, as if she’s known him forever.
So much for loyalty from the BFF, huh?
Still not breaking eye contact with me that has now turned into a penetrating, possibly pathological, stare he answers, “She did. She stuffed three of them in her mouth at the same time. From that day on, she was always Kat to me.”
“I have always said you had a big mouth Katie,” she laughs giving my shoulder a little shove. Oh sweet mother of mercy, Laurel’s turning on her giggles for this guy now too?
I can do this staring contest all day stalker-boy. I’m not blinking. Laurel suddenly shoots up off the couch clearing her throat, breaking my concentration. Dammit. She made me lose. Again.
“Well, it was very nice to meet you. I hope to see more of you very soon”
My soon-to-be-ex-best friend looks him up and down as if he’s a giant ice cream sundae and she’s about to break her no sugar diet.
“You too Laurel.”
When she’s almost at the gate she turns around and holds five fingers up in the air wiggling them at me with a big smile. At that moment, I make a silent wish that she wakes up with the biggest pimple in teen history on the end of her nose tomorrow.
“She seems nice. A little obvious, but nice,” he said.
“She IS nice,” I say defensively, “unlike weirdoes who just strut onto people’s property like they own the place.”
“Uh, I don’t strut. Swagger from time to time maybe, but never strut.”
He’s not funny. I will not think he’s funny. I’m quickly growing to hate that half grin. He’s just standing there now. What is he doing? Why isn’t he saying something? Where has he been for the past seven years? Not a peep from him, just standing there like a big tall statue, looking down at me.
Then he throws his arms open wide, “no hello hug for an old friend?”
He’s kidding right?
I stand up but I’m still too stunned to think straight. “Josh what the heck…how are you here? I…where did you come from?”
His grin turns into a full megawatt smile lighting up his whole face. “You remember me! I jogged over. I live about three streets a
way.”
We’re just standing there staring at each other again. Maybe he’s as stunned as I am?
“Why are you shaking your head?” I ask.
“I just can’t get over it that’s all,” he said.
“Get over what?”
“Being taller than you, for starters.”
“I’m not short,” my all of five feet tall self said.
“I didn’t say you were Kat. I just said I’m taller than you.” Stupid grin.
“Of course you are. Most guys are taller than most girls are by our age. And my name is Katie.”
“I don’t remember it being that way,” he said, “when I left you in 4th grade you were taller than me AND you were Kat.”
Left me is the truth for sure.
“That was seven years ago. We grow up. People change.”
The harsh edge to my words make an immediate impact to his expression and not for the better.
I am not going to be nice to him. What is he even doing here?
“Josh! I thought I heard voices back here. Katie can you believe it? You remember Josh from when you were little? You used to play together all the time when they lived right next door. His family moved back to the neighborhood a few weeks ago. I just got off the phone with your Mom. I could hardly believe it when she said you were on your way over.”
My Mom (with perfect timing as usual) crosses the yard to give the overgrown tree trunk a hug. “I can’t believe it. Just as cute as you ever were, and oh goodness! Just look how tall you’ve grown.”
I may throw up.
After my Mom finishes fussing over him, Josh and I are alone again on the patio. When he notices the tree house in the back corner of the yard, he starts walking fast heading straight for it without asking.
“I can’t believe the fort is still here. I can touch the floor now. I remember it being up so high and being huge.”
I don’t care how excited and genuinely happy he seems to be. I want him to stop touching my tree house.
“I can’t believe it’s still in such great condition,” he said.
“My Dad and I refinished it last spring. A harsh storm last winter moved the left tree a little bit bowing out one wall. We put a new roof on and ran some electricity to it from the house. He wanted to turn it into a private reading space for me. It was a present for my 16th birthday.” Why are you telling him all this Katie? Would you shut up already blabbermouth?
“Can I go in?” he asks.
I open my mouth to tell him exactly where he can go, but quickly snap it back shut. Suddenly I remember something I don’t want him to see. Oh Dear God please do not let him look in the tree house and see it! Why did I ever agree to let Dad do that?
“Have you seen your old yard next door yet? They went crazy for everything Japanese a few years ago. They have a koi pond and a pagoda now.”
I’m practically running toward the fence desperate to distract him but do I have to talk so loud and fast? Whatever. It works. He turns away from my tree house and his eyes are drawn to the book I’m still holding. What’s with the little lopsided grin?
“That’s right. You always had a book, or two, everywhere we went.”
Why is he looking at me like that? His eyes are all soft and what is with that grin? What the heck is wrong with my brain?
He’s softly patting the side of the tree house, “you read me all of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory up here out loud one weekend. I remember falling asleep to the sound of your voice.”
Back when we had sleepovers together. SHUT UP BRAIN! Are we both thinking that?
I gave my head a little shake to clear it and blinked a few times. This walk down memory lane is starting to feel too intimate and majorly uncomfortable. We don’t like creepy stalker guy remember? BUUUT, now we know he is NOT a stalker…
I can feel my cheeks starting to get hot so I turned to head back into the safety of my house telling him I have got a mountain of homework and I have to go.
“On the first day of school?” he calls.
“Later,” I say giving a half assed wave of my hand without turning around to see if he takes the hint and starts to leave, or if he’s still standing there.
“See you at school tomorrow Kat,” he said.
Back in the safety of my bedroom, everywhere I look I see Josh; memories of him flood my mind. He is everywhere. Our favorite books, old albums collecting dust that are packed with his and my baby pictures, knick-knacks that are probably in the same place they were when he was last in my room in 4th grade.
Is my bedroom really safe? My home? Am I going to have any safe place anymore now that Josh has returned?