Dan, Derek, and Darren -- and that was only sophomore year. I was cheated on, lied to, and used. The lesson I'd learned? To stay away from guys whose first name began with the letter D, since they were all the Devil.
Maybe Nate's real name was Dante the Destroyer of Dreams. Because he was ten times worse than the three Ds combined.
I put the journal down. I was mad at Nate, yes. But mostly I was furious with myself. Why did I let myself do it? What did I get out of any of these relationships besides a broken heart? I was smarter than that, I should've known better.
Did I really want to keep getting used? Was there anybody out there who was worth it?
I'd thought Nate was, but I was wrong.
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I got up to call Tracy --misery needed her company -- when something caught my eye. I went over to my favorite Beatles poster and started to run my fingers across the lettering: Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
I'd stared at that poster every day for the past seven years. I'd listened to that album, one of my favorites, hundreds of times. It was like it had always been a single long word to me, Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band But now three words separated themselves, and I saw something completely new inside Lonely
Hearts
Club
And that's when it happened.
Something about those words.
Lonely. Hearts. Club.
In theory, it may have sounded depressing. But there wasn't anything depressing about the music.
No, this Lonely Hearts Club was the opposite of depress-ing. It was alive.
The answer had been in front of me all along. There was a way to stop getting cheated on, lied to, and used.
I would stop torturing myself by dating loser guys. I would enjoy the benefits of being single. I would, for once, focus on me. Junior year would be my year. It would be all about me, Penny Lane Bloom, sole member and founder of The Lonely Hearts Club.
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[Page Blank]
21
Come Together
"... you've got to be free ...'
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[Page Blank]
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chapter Four
BOYS WERE DEAD TO ME. The only question was: Why hadn't I thought of this sooner?
I knew the idea was genius. But it would've been nice if my best friend was able to stop looking at me like I was an escapee from a mental institution.
"Pen, you know I love you, but., ."
Here we go.
We were having an emergency meeting (complete with the cheese fries required to get over a breakup) at our local diner, less than an hour after my inspiration hit. Tracy took a sip of her milk shake, taking in my tirade about all the problems guys have caused me over the years. I hadn't even gotten to the part about the club yet and my decision to not date.
"I know you're upset, and you have every reason to be," Tracy said. "But not all guys are evil."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, really? Should we go through your lists from the last two years?"
Tracy slumped down in her seat. Every year she made a list of guys she wanted to date. She would spend all summer weighing her options before putting the list together for the school year, with each guy ranked in order of preference based on a ratio of looks, popularity, and looks.
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The list definitely caused more heartache than it was worth. Tracy still hadn't been on a date with any of the candidates. In fact, she'd never had a boyfriend. I couldn't figure out why. She was pretty, funny, smart, and one of the most loyal and dependable friends anyone could ask for. But, as if I needed another example of why boys sucked, none of the guys at McKinley seemed to feel she was girlfriend material.
Lucky her, I thought. But she wasn't seeing it that way.
"I don't know what you are talking about," she said.
"Right. So you're telling me you don't have a new list ready for inspection?"
Tracy moved her purse onto the seat next to her.
Of course she had a new list. We only had a few more days before the start of junior year.
"What to the evs," she huffed. "I guess I should just throw the list away since, according to you, all men are jerks."
I smiled. "Now we're getting somewhere. Lets burn it!"
Tracy groaned, "You've clearly lost your mind. Can you be serious for a second?"
"I am being serious,"
Now it was Tracy's turn to roll her eyes. "Come on -- not every single male on this planet is a horrible human being. What about your dad?"
"What about Thomas Grant?" I shot back.
Tracy's mouth dropped open.
Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Thomas had been on
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last years list. She'd spent an entire semester flirting with him in Chemistry. Finally he'd asked her if she was free one weekend. Tracy had been thrilled . . . until he tested her an hour before they were supposed to meet and told her that something had "come up," Then he'd ignored her the rest of the year. No explanation, no apology nothing.
Typical male.
"And Kevin Parker?" I pressed.
Tracy glared at me. "Well, its not my fault that he doesn't know I exist."
There was always one name on the top of Tracy's list -- Kevin Parker, senior football player extraordinaire. Unfortunately Kevin had never acknowledged that Tracy was even alive. When I'd been dating Derek, I'd invite Kevin and his friends over to my house for the sole purpose of letting Kevin get to know Tracy. But he never paid any attention to her. One of the only reasons I put up with Derek for as long as I did was because Tracy needed her daily Kevin Parker fix.
Thinking about that list and how much it dictated Tracy's happiness made me want to rip it out of her purse and tear it apart. Because I knew -- one by one, she'd have to cross their names off and she'd end up in tears.
Tracy sighed, then collected herself. "This year is going to be different," she swore. "I don't know -- I've got a really good feeling about it." She took the list out and started wistfully looking at this years contenders.
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Had I seriously believed that Tracy would understand my need to stop dating? All she thought about was going on dates.
I gave up . . . for the moment,
Tracy wasn't the only one who had a good feeling about this year.
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chapter Five
THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. I wasn't even at school yet, and I already had to face the enemy. Not Nate -- he was gone. But Nate's kind.
"Aw, can you believe my baby brother is in high school?" Tracy gestured to the backseat of her car, where her brother Mike was blaring his iPod. "And you know, Pen, I don't see any horns on the top of his head."
"Yet "I smirked at her.
Little Mikey Larson was a freshman . .. a guy ..... one of them.
I wondered when he would start acting like every other guy at McKinley. Was there some sort of secret class where they taught boys to become himbos?
As Mike got out of Tracy's car, I couldn't help but notice how much more alike than ever they looked, with their dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, and heart-shaped faces,
Tracy looked me up and down. "Pen, those shoes are adorbs. You look smokin' hawt today." She applied a fresh coat of lip gloss in the rearview mirror. "Looking to impress anybody in particular?"
I groaned. "No -- I just wanted to look nice for me."
Tracy gave me a look that said she didn't believe me.
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I didn't care. This was going to be the start of an amazing year. I opened the door to school, excited about getting a fresh start, minus all the boy craziness.
The smile on my face quickly vanished when the first person I saw was Dan Walker, wearing the letter jacket I'd "borrowed" when we were dating. How fitting that I would be greeted by a reminder of hideous boyfriends past. I was just thankful that Nate was miles away back in Chicago. I turned the corner to get away from Dan and saw Kevin Parker, who was apparently still too coo
l to give Tracy the time of day.
My frustration grew as I continued to survey my classmates. I'd walked these hallways thousands of times, but it was as if my eyes were open for the first time. All I saw were girls falling over themselves to flirt with guys, couples walking hand in hand, guys being ... well, guys: loud, obnoxious, egotistical. They didn't go to girls; girls came to them.
My bag vibrated and I pulled out my cell phone. I stopped dead in my tracks and Brian Reed bumped into me. "Watch it!" he yelled as his girlfriend, Pam, glared my way. Heaven forbid they weren't able to hold hands 24/7.
I snapped out of my daze. I was convinced there was some sort of mistake. But no -- the phone cruelly confirmed the truth: It was a text from Nate. Of course he would find a way to torture me even though he wasn't around.
Have a good first day.
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What? First, he knew I wasn't talking to him. Second, it had only been two weeks -- did he think I'd forgotten? Third, could he have been any lamer? I deleted the text and shoved my phone back into my bag.
I refused to let Nate Taylor ruin one more day of my life.
"You're in so much trouble, Bloom!" Ryan Bauer was leaning against his locker, arms folded, with a mischievous grin on his face.
Fabulous. I was so not in the mood to deal with his crap.
"What is it?" I asked impatiently as I opened my locker, three doors down from his.
Ryan looked at me, confused. "Um, never mind." He grabbed my class schedule from my stack of books,
Ryan Bauer was one of those guys with a clingy girlfriend whose life revolved around him. He was the biggest cliché at our school: a star athlete with good grades, who just happened to also be gorgeous. He was over six feet tall with a lean build; he had amazing blue eyes; and he was always running his hands through his black, wavy hair. Naturally, he was also one of the biggest flirts in school. I used to go along with it, but this time I didn't have any desire to further feed his ego.
He was a guy. A guy guy. As far as I was concerned, he probably had the dead bodies of small children and puppies hidden in his locker.
I almost didn't recognize him without Diane Monroe hanging on his every move. Ryan and Diane had been dating since forever. Well, technically seventh grade, but in high school
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that was forever. Diane was the classic girlfriend for an over-achiever like Ryan: shiny long blond hair, pale crystal-blue eyes, model-thin frame, and always, always put together -- your standard Cheerleader/Student Council President type.
"Man, it looks like we only have World History together" Ryan was saying to me now. "Todd is in that class, too. That totally sucks."
"Yeah, sucks," I didn't even try to hide the sarcasm in my voice.
"Hiya!" I looked down the hallway and saw none other than Miss Diane Monroe walking toward us with a huge smile on her face. She probably had some sort of sixth sense telling her that Ryan was talking to another girl. I tried not to roll my eyes as I started fishing my books out of my locker. "Happy first day of school!" she said.
I slammed my locker shut and tried to head to Spanish class -- but my path was blocked by Diane, standing in front of me with her smile getting even wider, which freaked me out somewhat.
"Hey, Penny," she said. "How was your summer?" Her eyes were practically sparkling with enthusiasm. It was almost enough to make me gag.
I looked at her in confusion. Why was she talking to me? We hadn't spoken in forever.
"Uh, hi, Diane." I didn't understand why everybody felt the need to bring up summer on the first day of school. It was so
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annoying. Summer was over. There wasn't a need to think about it. Ever again.
"So, notice anything?" Diane started to twirl around. Everything about her screamed perfect -- no big changes there -- so I just shrugged. "Penny." Diane looked stunned. "My outfit -- don't you remember?" I scanned her clothes: fitted denim blazer with a black sequined shirt underneath, pink layered miniskirt, and four-inch pink strappy sandals. I shrugged. Clearly, I didn't remember.
"Penny!" Diane opened up her blazer to reveal that the sequined shirt had a Beatles logo. "Now do you remember? We always wore a Beatles shirt on the first day of school."
My mouth dropped open. Yeah, when we were ten ... and on speaking terms.
"Um, sorry," I said. "Its been a long time."
Diane's shoulders slouched. I wasn't giving her the response she'd been hoping for.
What did she expect? The last time I'd kept our first day of school ritual was in eighth grade. That was the day I'd been late for school because Diane hadn't come by my house to get me like she always did. That was the day my best friend forgot to wear her Beatles shirt. And it turned out to be the day I'd finally realized our friendship was over. We had been best friends for almost ten years. Our mothers had met at a book club when we were in diapers and had decided to make regular play dates for us. Her mother would pick us up from school
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and take us to the park, or we'd go back to my house and play in the backyard.
But none of that had mattered. Nothing else had mattered to Diane once Ryan came into the picture.
Diane had decided she only had room in her life for one person.
It had been between her best friend and her boyfriend.
Guess which one she'd picked.
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chapter six
I GOT AWAY FROM DIANE AND Ryan as quickly as possible, before they could become Diane and Ryan in the middle of the halls. But Diane's name popped back up at lunch,
"So guess who tried to make small talk with me in Biology and French like were friends?" Tracy asked while we walked to the cafeteria after morning classes. "Diane Monroe -- can you believe that? I think she is probably jockeying to get as many votes for Homecoming Queen as possible."
"Yeah, she's acting weird!' I agreed.
"Ugh, I can't stand her."
Tracy had never really been a big fan of Diane's -- not many girls in school were. Maybe it was her perfect appearance or the fact that she excelled in everything.
But that was just petty jealousy.
There was really only one person at McKinley who had a valid reason to hate Diane Monroe.
Me.
If it wasn't bad enough that she was a prime example of A Girl Who Gives Up Her Identity for a Guy, she'd also given me up. I'd always thought those girls who'd dump their friends whenever a guy showed interest in them were pathetic. But
34
when I became one of those friends, I'd found out how much it hurt.
Just another example of what guys had done to ruin my life. As if treating me like crap wasn't enough, they stole my friends.
Even though I hated Tracy's list for how much it upset her, I was usually secretly glad when it ended up being a big failure. I never wanted to lose Tracy like I'd lost Diane.
Once we made our way through the long line of confused freshmen who were not yet aware of the cafeteria poison, Tracy and I established ourselves at our lunch table -- the same one as last year. Our friends Morgan and Kara soon followed.
"Hey, guys," Morgan greeted us as she and Kara sat down. "My parents are so riding me about having more extracurricular activities on my college applications. Can you believe that? I have to start worrying about college already. Didn't we. just start junior year?"
We all nodded in agreement. Kara shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with her apple as the rest of us dove into our lunches. It was hard not to notice the fact that she had lost even more weight over the summer -- if that was even possible. She was practically drowning in her gray McKinley High hoodie.
Suddenly, Kara's body was pinned against the table by a short, curly-haired girl "who must've slipped on the floor. Her tray hit Kara's head and her soda spilled on Kara's shoulder.
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"Oh, no!" the girl screamed. "My soda.'" We all looked in shock as she picked up her plastic cup and surveyed her outfit, ignoring Kara completel
y. I'd never seen tins girl before, so I figured she had to be a freshman. There was no way I would've missed her, even though she couldn't have been more than five feet tall. Everything on her was done to the extreme-acrylic nails meant to look like a French manicure, dark brown hair that had been over-highlighted with blond streaks, eyebrows narrowly plucked, and lips overly penciled in. She was wearing a very mm, denim skirt and a lace tank top in other words, looking like she was going to strut down a catwalk instead of eat lunch at the school cafeteria.
'Are you okay?" Morgan handed Kara some napkins to clean
"Ash-ley!" the girl screamed at her friend. "Did I get anything on my shirt?"
Tracy whipped her head around. "Excuse me -- what about apologizing to my friend who you just soaked?"
The girl looked at Tracy like she was speaking a foreign language.
"What? I spilled my soda."
Tracy shot her the patented Tracy Glare --- eyes squinted into tiny slits, lips pursed, a look of complete disgust. "Yes, you spilled your soda -- on my friend. Do you understand what an apology means?"
The girl opened her mouth in annoyance. She mumbled
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something that I guess was supposed to be an apology (it sounded more like a question: "saw-reh?") and walked away.
Tracy sat back down, "Unbelievable. It's the first day of school and already these freshmen think they own the place. Oh, and, what a shock, look what table they're going to "
There was a long group of tables against the windows that would always hold the jocks and cheerleaders, including the infamous Elite Eight; Ryan Bauer and Diane Monroe, Brian Reed and Pam Schneider, Don Levitz and Audrey Werner, Todd Chesney and one of his many revolving girlfriends.