Cici Reno #MiddleSchoolMatchmaker Page 3

Dad laughs. “Mock me now but when you’re the last of your friends in the nursing home to still have your own teeth, you’ll thank me. Of course, I’ll be dead.”

  I groan. “Not one of your ‘when I’m dead’ speeches. It’s the first day of school.”

  Mom walks into the kitchen. “Todd, stop teasing her. Let’s go, Cici,” she tells me. “Grab your brother too, would you?”

  “If I can tear him away from the mirror,” I mumble.

  At school, I make my way into the large auditorium with the rest of the student mob, scanning the room for Aggie, who promised to save me a seat. The stupid tag on my infinity scarf keeps catching on my necklace and driving me crazy. I need to find a pair of scissors and cut it out ASAP. I tried to dress maturely today, hoping I’d appear older. I’ve got on a plain white t-shirt, multi-color scarf, fitted jeans, and loafers. There’s a pair of non-prescription vintage cat eyeglasses in my backpack that I haven’t been brave enough to put on yet. Maybe by lunchtime.

  I spot Aggie halfway up the right side of the auditorium and make my way toward her. “Hey, chica,” I say, sliding into the seat next to her.

  She flashes a nervous smile.

  “What’s wrong? First day jitters?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  The principal adjusts the microphone and launches into his welcome back speech. He reminds us to pay attention in class and show respect to our teachers and peers. He’s going on and on about what a great year it’s going to be, and I can feel Aggie fidgeting beside me. I give her a sideways glance.

  Aggie lowers herself down in her seat, her gaze shifting to the ground, and crosses her arms over her chest. I notice she’s wearing an extra flowy top this morning.

  A couple of boys three rows up are blatantly checking Aggie out. They’re snickering and obnoxiously elbowing each other. Poor Aggie. What’s equally obnoxious are the two girls sitting directly behind the boys. They’re casting evil looks at Aggie and whispering loudly to each other, the kind of whispering that you intend for your subject to overhear. Yikes, this isn’t good.

  I slip my arms through Aggie’s and whisper in her ear, “Sit up, Ag. Be strong. They’re just mean girls. Ignore them,” I advise.

  Aggie nods and sits up tall in her seat. “I know. I don’t know why I let them get to me.”

  I stare directly at the girls, my face expressionless, until they’re shifting uncomfortably in their seats and they redirect their attention to the stage.

  “They’re just jerks,” I whisper to Aggie.

  The rest of the morning flies by with English, science, and gym classes, and soon I’m standing in the lunch line behind Samantha Wexler. She’s dressed very brightly with a hot pink and orange striped top and a matching bow in her dark hair.

  “Hi, Cici, have a good summer?” she asks.

  “I did,” I reply. “How about you? Do anything fun?”

  “Mostly just stalked R.J. Messick,” she replies with a giggle. “Rode my bike past his house about a million times hoping to bump into him. Unfortunately, he still doesn’t know I exist. Guess he’s not too outdoorsy.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure he knows you exist.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” she says with a straight face. “I had my friend Audrey go up to him and ask if he knew me and he said, ‘Samantha who?’ I’m totally invisible.”

  “Well, guys are oblivious. That’s not your fault. You just have to make him know you. Do you have any classes with him?”

  “Yeah, math,” she says.

  “Try to talk to him tomorrow. Say anything. Borrow a pencil. Ask for a sheet of paper. Find out if you got the same answers for number five on your homework. Do that a couple of days in a row. Then try to figure out what he’s into and bring that up in conversation. Like, if he’s into football ask him who he’s rooting for this year. Stuff like that.”

  “Yeah,” Samantha says, a grin spreading over her face. “Those are all great ideas. Thanks, Cici! I’ll give it a try.”

  “No problem,” I reply, happy I could help. Some problems are easier to fix than others.

  When I get home from school, I head straight for the kitchen to get an apple, and the thing that I both hoped for and dreaded comes true.

  Drew Lancaster is sitting at my kitchen counter.

  I freeze.

  Luke is sitting across from him. Both boys have open laptops in front of them and are snacking from a bowl of popcorn in the middle of the counter.

  “Hey,” Drew says in my direction.

  “Hey,” I reply, giving Drew my best smile. I can’t believe he’s really here, in my house. Maybe I should hang around a bit and see what I can find out about him. There’s no harm in getting to know him, and if I learn something that can help Aggie, all the better.

  “Did you get homework already?” I ask him.

  “Just a lame ‘Intro to Me’ piece for English.”

  “Ugh, that one?” I say, commiserating. “I swear at least one teacher assigns that every year.”

  “Yeah, seriously,” Drew agrees.

  I leaf through a pile of mail on the table, pretending like I’m looking for something. Really I’m trying to make out the title on the spine of the novel poking out of Drew’s backpack on the floor. I wonder if we like to read the same kinds of books.

  “Did you want something?” Luke asks.

  “Yeah. I’m thinking a snack. Maybe an apple,” I respond, leaning on the counter. “Why, you want to slice it for me? That’d be sweet. No peel please.”

  “Get it and get out,” Luke says in an annoyed voice.

  I narrow my eyes and shoot Luke an evil glare. He has zero reason to be annoyed with me.

  Drew catches my scowl and smirks. “You guys are funny. I wish I had a sibling to bicker with.”

  “No, you don’t,” I reply.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Luke says. “Are you still here?”

  “My parents work a lot so it’s quiet at our house most of the time,” Drew shares.

  “Lucky,” I say, heading for the fruit bowl. As I pass by Drew’s laptop I see he’s got his Twitter page up. @DrewlingMess is his user name. Hmm. I think I need to file this information away for later use.

  “Ok, going now …” Luke says rudely.

  “What’s your problem? Did none of the girls at school squeal over your carefully coiffed hair this morning?”

  A snicker escapes from Drew’s mouth.

  “I’m going to carefully coif your face if you don’t get out of here,” Luke says.

  I stick my tongue out at Luke and turn to leave. Drew’s smiling at me and my heart skips a beat.

  6

  Drew’s hot. And friendly. And he laughed at my jokes. I can see myself totally going for him, not that I ever actually would. For one, Aggie likes him. And everyone knows two best friends can’t like the same guy. If they want to stay best friends, that is. And two, he’s my brother’s friend. Oh man, Luke would go berserk if I ever dated one of his friends! And three, Drew would never like me anyway. I’m not his type.

  I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, staring at my laptop, where I have Drew’s Twitter page open. Maybe Aggie could use the same advice I gave Samantha today. She can try to figure out what Drew’s into and then have something to talk about with him. So the next time she’s face to face with him, she won’t fumble around for words. I bet I can learn a lot about Drew by reading through his Twitter page.

  Drew’s such a nice guy up close and personal. I mean, I knew he was cute and a good hockey player, but having him in my kitchen, he’s totally nice. He’s not obnoxious like Luke and his other friends. He didn’t tell me to get lost or anything. And it’s not like I’m that much younger. Luke is only fourteen months older than I am, and Drew has to be around the same age. But that doesn’t matter. I’m helping Aggie.

  I scroll through his tweets, trying to gather information on him. If I can just find out some of his likes, aside from hockey, then she’ll have something to talk about.
I can give her a list of conversation topics and she’ll be ready to say something clever the next time she sees him and without all the uhs and awkward pauses.

  And then an idea hits me. What if Aggie talked to Drew anonymously? She could message him on Twitter and take her time forming her thoughts. Then he could get to know her slowly and when and if they did meet up, she’d be way more comfortable. I grab my phone and call Aggie.

  “Don’t freak out but Drew Lancaster is in my kitchen right now.”

  “What?” Aggie squeals into the phone. “He is?”

  “Ow! And yes. He’s doing homework with Luke,” I say.

  “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, you’re so lucky! Sneak down there and see what he’s doing.”

  “I was just down there,” I tell her. “Besides, I have a great idea for you.”

  “What?”

  “I have Drew’s Twitter handle. Message him. I mean, you don’t have to say it’s you. Just make up a name for now. Talk to him for a bit and when you feel comfortable, then you can try talking to him in person again.”

  “Cici, that’s brilliant!” Aggie says.

  “Thank you, I thought so myself. And, hey, I started a list of some of his interests so you can have something to talk about with him.” As I say this a tiny wave of jealousy comes over me. Aggie will start chatting with Drew, then they’ll meet for coffee or something, and fall in love. Then she’ll have a great boyfriend, and I’ll just have a lot of extra quiet time to myself. Maybe I’ll start meditating.

  “Wow, you think of everything,” Aggie says. “It sounds completely perfect. Only one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I can’t talk to him, Cici! You heard me at the bonfire. I go from zero to dork in 2.3 seconds.”

  “But you’ll be online,” I tell her. “You can take your time typing, really form your thoughts.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She pauses. “Or you could talk to him for me. Please? You’re so much better around guys then I am. Always so relaxed and cool. And funny,” she adds.

  If that’s true, it’s only because none of them ever want to date me. It’s easy to be relaxed in that situation.

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “It’s weird.”

  “You couldn’t possibly say anything weirder than I would. Remember, ‘uh, fire, huh’?”

  I giggle.

  “Please, Cici,” she presses. “You know I would just be calling you every two minutes anyway, asking what to say.”

  That’s true. “Okay,” I reluctantly agree. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. And Drew will never know, right?”

  “Right, I’ll never tell him. Thank you, Cici! You’re the best!”

  “Sure, sure, but hey, I’m not going to do this forever, you know. I’ll just get you started. You’ll have to take over at some point and eventually be able to talk to him in person.”

  “Okay, I will. Promise.”

  I hang up with Aggie and before I can give it a second thought I create a new Twitter account for one @SeraFrosted, a play on the character Sera Froste from James Dashner’s Infinity Ring. From reading Drew’s page, I can tell we share a love for the series and hopefully seeing my username, he’ll be more likely to respond to me. I scroll through his tweets until I find something we have in common.

  Okay. Time to tweet Drew.

  The next morning at school the five minute warning bell rings before our first class. Aggie’s leaning against my locker, her books in her hands, when I get there.

  “Hey, Aggie,” I call. “Gee, I thought I was going to be so late. My mom drove about sixty the whole way here.” I toss my books into my locker and grab my English book, the way-too-heavy anthology of English literature, and a notebook.

  “Tell me everything! I’m dying.” she says.

  A wide smile spreads across my face. “We’ve made contact,” I tell her, giddy to spill all the details this very second. I slam my locker door closed and hoist up my stack.

  “No way!” Aggie squeals.

  Just then a boy with shaggy brown hair stops in front of us. “Hi, Aggie, need help carrying those books?”

  I survey Aggie’s books and then frown at my own. My books are way heavier than Aggie’s. Why doesn’t Chumpy here offer to carry mine while he’s being so generous?

  Aggie’s face quickly changes from excitement to annoyance. “No, thank you,” she replies in a frosty voice. She’s clearly getting more and more irritated with the unwanted attention she’s been getting.

  “Okay. Just thought I’d offer,” he says. And Chumpy’s out. He tears down the hallway like someone just said they’re passing out free video games in the cafeteria.

  I roll my eyes at Aggie. What a dork.

  Aggie glares at his retreating back and then returns her attention to me. “So what happened? Did you message him?” Aggie asks, quickly recovering.

  I pull Aggie down the hall toward our classes and out of the locker crowd. I check left and right to make sure no one is in earshot. “I talked to Drew online last night!”

  “Oh my gosh, this is so huge.”

  “It’s what you wanted though, right?” I ask, suddenly concerned. I mean, she begged me to do it.

  “Of course,” she says. “I asked you to.” Her bottom lip juts out and her eyes look sort of sad. “It’s just, I can’t believe you really did. I mean, I guess I kind of wish I had been there to see it.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, Ag. It was super brief, I swear.” I bite my bottom lip and think of how I can fix this. “I’ve got an idea. Come over this afternoon, and we’ll try to talk to him again. Together.”

  At this she perks up and nods. “Okay. But I can’t stay long. I’m cooking dinner tonight.”

  “You are? Since when do you cook?”

  Her eyes crinkle and her face brightens. “Since this summer. My dad loves to cook and he showed me how to make lots of dishes. Tonight I’m making spaghetti carbonara.”

  “Ooh la la,” I say. “That sounds fancy. Microwaving my own vegan hot dog is the extent of my culinary skills.”

  Aggie laughs. “I’ll show you some stuff if you want.”

  “Or you can just cook for me,” I tease.

  “That too. But hey, back to Drew. Tell me what you said. What did he say? Does he know it’s me?”

  “Not at all. I made up an anonymous name, SeraFrosted,” I tell her.

  “Who?”

  We reach the door to my class, and I check the time. “Ack, the bell’s about to ring. I’ll have to tell you the rest at lunch, but the important part is I’m chatting with Drew.”

  “Right. Okay, every detail at lunch. If I make it until then. The suspense may very well kill me,” she says, and takes off down the hall.

  I’m sitting at this year’s lunch table, waiting for Aggie. We picked it yesterday and claimed our territory. Not too far away from the cashier but far enough away from the nearest garbage can to not get pelted with food students toss out. The poor aim in this place is astounding.

  I scan the room, hoping Aggie will see me and come to the table before she gets her lunch. I want to fill her in on everything before London and Emma get to our table. I don’t want anyone to overhear our conversation. This would be really bad if it got back to Drew.

  “I’m here, I’m here,” Aggie says, sliding into the chair next to me.

  “Great, okay, let me tell you quickly before the others get here. So I read through all of his tweets and I was trying to figure out the best way to approach him so that he’d want to talk to me and not just think I was some random weirdo.”

  “That’s good,” she says, nodding.

  “I made up a username and then I tweeted a reply to something he said, and then he direct messaged me!”

  Her eyes grow wide. “I can’t believe he sent you a DM that fast. After one little tweet?”

  I shrug. “Well, he didn’t suggest we run off to Tahiti together or anything. Just recommended a book I should read.” I smile, recalling our conversation. “It�
��s a start, though. I’m going to make him fall in love with me. But in 140 characters or less, so it might take some time.”

  “Huh?” she says, her eyes narrow slightly.

  “Oh! And by ‘me,’ I mean you. Obviously.” I let out an awkward giggle and Aggie’s face relaxes.

  Just then Emma and London sit down with their plates of chicken nuggets, and the conversation changes.

  “From what I hear, Mr. Donovan doesn’t even read the papers, he’s just looking for word count. So, past the first page, you could type pretty much anything, and he’ll give you an A,” I tell her.

  “Good to know,” Aggie says, catching on quickly. “Ready to go get lunch?”

  “Yeah, let’s head up.”

  We make our way toward the lunch line and suddenly a tall, lanky boy appears in front of us. “Hi, Aggie,” he says.

  “Hi,” she replies cautiously.

  “Want some of my Oreo cookies?” he asks. “They’re double-stuffed.” The table to our right explodes in laughter, and the boy exhales a laugh, spraying bits of cookie at us.

  “Ew, you’re gross,” I tell him, pulling Aggie away from him.

  When we’re far enough away from the rowdy boys, I ask Aggie, “What was that?”

  She shakes her head angrily. “Boys have been acting stupid all day. I swear I’m gonna lose it on the next one and get myself a detention. I wish they’d just leave me alone.”

  I give Aggie a sympathetic look. For the first time, I can’t think of anything at all helpful to say. The boys are being obnoxious and the girls are acting catty and jealous. And Aggie hasn’t done anything to deserve it. It’s not fair.

  7

  I roll out my yoga mat at the back of Mom’s class. I’ve been racking my brain all afternoon, trying to figure out a way to help Aggie with her situation at school. I can tell it’s becoming unbearable for her, but I don’t want her to get in trouble by getting into a fight with anyone. Maybe all she can do is ignore it and hope it dies down soon. They’ll have to get bored eventually. There are five minutes left before class starts so I take a seat on my mat.