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Summer of the geek.
Piper Banks.
For Jane, who loves to read.
Chapter One.
"I don't understand why this is so hard for you. I thought you were supposed to be a genius, Miranda," Dex teased me.
"Shush," I growled as I again tried to shift the car from first to second gear. This was met by a horrible grinding sound that made Dex flinch.
"The clutch! You have to step down on the clutch!" Dex said, pointing wildly at the pedals.
I stomped down on the clutch, but the car just lurched forward and stalled.
"Gah! What am I doing wrong?" I turned to look at Dex. The corners of his mouth were twitching into a smile.
"It helps if you step down on the clutch at the same time that you're shifting gears," Dex suggested.
"I give up," I said. "I told you I'd never be able to drive a standard transmission car! I can barely drive an automatic, and this is three trillion times harder."
I opened the car door and climbed out. Dex already had both his driver's license and his own car-an ancient red Honda Civic, which I now officially hated-so he'd driven me over to the empty parking lot at Orange Cove High to practice for my driving test. It was less than three weeks away, and I was pretty sure I was going to fail. It would be the greatest humiliation of my life. Even Hannah, my stepsister, who thought Albert Einstein was a member of a German boy band, had pa.s.sed her driving test on the first try.
I leaned back against the car and crossed my arms over my chest. Dex walked around the car and stood in front of me.
"You can't just give up," he said.
Dex's pale blue eyes were squinting against the sun. He had lightly freckled skin, red hair that curled back from his face, and when he grinned, as he was doing now, his smile was slightly crooked. I felt a zing right in the center of my stomach every time he looked at me like that.
"I don't want to kill your car," I said.
"I don't want you to kill my car either," Dex said. "But I know you can do this."
"How do you know?" I said.
"I know."
He put his hands on my waist and leaned toward me. My heart began to rocket around inside my chest, thumping so loudly, I was amazed he couldn't hear it. Dex's lips were warm and soft against mine, and suddenly all of my frustration at not being able to master a simple stick shift transmission melted away. I reached up and encircled my arms around his neck.
After a long moment, Dex leaned back and looked at me. I loved the way he smelled, a clean scent that reminded me of soap and laundry fresh from the dryer. It made me want to nestle closer to him.
"Do you want to give it another try?" he asked.
At first, I thought he meant the kiss, so I nodded happily. It wasn't until Dex grinned at me, and turned to walk back around the car, that I realized he meant the driving lesson. I sighed. I'd already humiliated myself enough for one day. But I also knew Dex wasn't about to let me give up, so I reluctantly climbed back into the car and, once we were both safely buckled in, turned the key in the ignition. There was an awful grinding noise. Dex winced.
"Sorry," I said. I glanced sideways at Dex. "Are you laughing at me?"
He was, but he coughed to cover it up. "Remember, you have to step down on the clutch when you're starting the car," he said. "Just like when you're shifting gears."
"Oh, right. Sorry," I said again. I turned the key, this time pressing down on the clutch. The engine roared to life. Triumphant, I turned to grin at Dex. "Look! I did it!"
"Excellent. Now just try not to strip the gears while you shift into first," Dex cautioned.
"Right," I said. I drew in a deep breath and then pushed the clutch down while grappling with the gearshift. Amazingly, I managed to do it, and when I pressed my foot to the gas pedal, the car lurched forward.
"I'm doing it! I'm driving!" I said triumphantly. Maybe I wouldn't be an epic failure after all! My dad had promised to buy me a used car once I pa.s.sed my driving test. I could just see myself cruising around town in a cute little Jetta convertible, wearing chic sungla.s.ses, my frizzy brown hair tamed back into a ponytail. Maybe I could even get Hannah to teach me how to straighten my hair with her hot iron. Then I would be the girl with the cool car and the shiny hair- Dex let out a sudden squawk, abruptly ending my daydream.
"Miranda! You're driving on the sidewalk!"
"Sorry!" I jerked the steering wheel to the left to avoid hitting a NO PARKING AT ANY TIME sign. Fl.u.s.tered, I forgot to keep my foot on the clutch, and the car lurched and stalled again.
"Why don't you try that one more time?" Dex said patiently. "And this time, try to stay on the road, okay?"
Dex dropped me off at the beach house after our driving lesson.
"I'm never going to pa.s.s my driving test," I groaned. "Never, ever, never."
"That's the spirit. Positive thinking will get you everywhere," Dex said.
"I just don't understand it. Why is driving so hard for me?" I asked. "Practically everyone in the world can do it."
Dex looked thoughtful and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "Maybe it's your brain." He glanced at me. "I mean, not that you're defective or anything."
"Thanks a lot!"
"I just mean that maybe your brain works differently. Look, you can solve really complex math problems in your head, the kind that ordinary people can barely do using a calculator, right?"
This was true. I'd had the bizarre ability to calculate sums in my head ever since I was little. My calculator-like brain had gotten me into the Notting Hill Independent School for Gifted Children, better known as Geek High, where I'd just completed my soph.o.m.ore year. To enter Geek High, you have to have an IQ of at least 125. Most of the students that matriculated there also had some sort of a special talent. My best friend, Charlie, was an amazing painter. And our friend Finn created top-selling computer games.
Dex continued. "Maybe the part of your brain that solves math problems is so enormous, it saps power away from other areas of your brain. Like the part that controls how you drive a car."
I wondered if Dex was right. Maybe this math dominance of my brain also explained why I have absolutely no fashion sense and can't apply eye shadow without poking myself in the eye. Still, it wasn't exactly flattering. I wanted my boyfriend to think of me as beautiful and charming, not as some sort of weirdo with a malfunctioning brain. Besides, it wasn't like I wanted to be able to solve equations in my head. Math bored me. I much preferred writing short stories to solving theorems.
"You're starting your new job tomorrow, right?" Dex asked.
I nodded. My summer job as an au pair to a ten-year-old girl named Amelia Fisher had been a last-minute surprise. Amelia was a student at Geek Elementary, and reportedly, a virtuoso at the piano. Our school headmaster, Philip C. Hughes, had recommended me to Amelia's parents, or so Mrs. Fisher had told me when she called to offer me the job.
"I hope Amelia likes me," I said. "I don't have a lot of experience with kids. I babysat once, and it was a nightmare."
"Why? What happened?" Dex asked.
"The kids wanted to play pirates."
"What's wrong with that?" Dex asked.
" 'Pirates' meant they tied me to a tree. The little sociopaths left me there for the rest of the afternoon, while they went inside and watched a horror movie that their mother had specifically forbidden them to see. It was one of those gory ones, where people get hacked up with axes and stuff like that."
Dex sputtered with laughter. "Did they ever let you go?"
"No! Their mother found me there when she got home. And she actually gave me a lecture about responsibility and said that if the kids had nightmares from the movie, it would be all my fault! Can you believe that?" I shook my head. "That was the beginning and end of my babysitting career."
"So why exactly have you signed up to spend your entire summer babysitting?" Dex asked.
"Well, it's not babysitting exactly. I think an au pair is more like being a companion."
I felt weird telling him what Mrs. Fisher had actually said when she called to offer me the job: "Amelia has trouble relating to kids her age. I think it would be good for her to spend time with someone who's grown-up exceptionally gifted, and knows what it's like." I didn't like talking about being gifted. It sounded too braggy.
"I'm sure you'll be great," Dex said.
"Are you excited about your first day of work?" I asked.
Dex had gotten his old job back as a lifeguard at the local community pool. I was trying to be supportive and not fixate on the fact that this basically meant he'd be spending his summer surrounded by girls in bikinis.
"I'm just glad that I'll be near the beach so I can fit in some parasurfing while I can."
"While you can? What do you mean?" I asked. Dex surfed year-round. It was one of the perks of living in Florida.
Dex opened his mouth, as though he were about to say something. But then he seemed to reconsider. He shrugged and shook his head. "Just that the pool is across the street from the beach, so I'll have easy access. Maybe I'll even be able to go surfing on my breaks."
I felt a twinge of unease. Was there something Dex wasn't telling me? Or maybe I was just feeling guilty, because there was something-something important, something that could change the course of my entire life-that I hadn't yet told him.
My mom-who insists that I call her by her first name, Sadie-writes steamy romance novels under the pen name Della De La Courte. She'd temporarily relocated to London the previous year while she researched and wrote her next book, leaving me behind in Orange Cove to live with my dad and evil stepmother. The book was taking longer to complete than Sadie had originally thought, so when she came home for a visit three weeks earlier, she'd announced that she was going to stay in London for another year. Then she dropped a second bombsh.e.l.l: She asked me if I'd like to come live with her.
I'd gone to visit Sadie in London over Christmas break, and had loved it there. Orange Cove was a small town, where nothing much ever happened. Even worse, everyone in my hometown knew me as Miranda Bloom, the Human Calculator. Geek Girl Extraordinaire.
In London, I was anonymous. I could be anyone or anything. And the idea of actually living in such a huge international city was thrilling. Moving to London would also mean I wouldn't have to continue living with my evil stepmother, Peyton, for another school year.
But moving away would also mean leaving a lot of things behind. There was Dex, who, after months of confusion and misunderstandings, was officially my boyfriend. Just the idea of moving away, when we were finally a couple, made my stomach ache. And then there were my best friends, Finn and Charlie, and my new position as a writer for the Geek High magazine, The Ampersand.
I was so confused and conflicted about what I should do that I hadn't told anyone about Sadie's proposal that I move to London with her. I hadn't meant to keep it a secret-I just wanted a chance to think it through first. But the longer I went without telling anyone, the harder it seemed to be to bring it up.
"What are you doing after work tomorrow? Do you want to meet up?" Dex asked.
"I can't tomorrow. Charlie and I have plans," I said. "How about Wednesday?"
"Sounds good," Dex said. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine, so that his pale eyes loomed before mine. I could see the lighter golden flecks in his irises, and the scattering of freckles over his cheekbones. My breath caught in my chest, and all thoughts of moving to London and whatever it was Dex wasn't telling me flew out of my mind.
"See you later," he said, and then kissed me lightly.
"See you later," I said.
Chapter Two.
The lingering zing from Dex's kiss continued to flutter in my stomach well after I'd let myself into the house and Dex had driven off. My brindle greyhound, Willow, greeted me at the front door, her long, lean body wriggling with happiness.
"Hi, girl," I said, patting her sleek head.
Willow followed me into the kitchen and looked on hopefully while I rifled through the fridge for a snack. I found some leftover pizza from the night before-basil and tomato, my favorite-and took the whole box out onto the back deck to eat. The view from the deck overlooked the ocean, so while I ate my pizza, I watched the tide roll in on whitecapped waves. Willow settled herself down at my feet and dozed in the sun.
But the peace and quiet was short- lived. I could suddenly hear voices raised in argument coming from inside the house. Even the roar of the ocean didn't stop me from hearing every word that was said. Or, more accurately, yelled.
"What were you thinking? You knew we had plans that night!"
"Obviously, I didn't, or I wouldn't have arranged the business trip for that weekend."
The cold female voice belonged to my stepmother, Peyton, whom I had not so affectionately nicknamed the Demon. The low-pitched growl belonged to my dad. It sounded like they were in the kitchen. I hunched down in my chair, hoping they wouldn't notice me. I'd learned from experience that when my dad and Peyton were fighting, it was best to stay out of their way.
"Is it really so hard to check with me before you make plans to be out of town?" Peyton asked.
"I didn't have a choice in the matter. It was the only weekend the client could meet with me," Dad replied. He was an architect, and frequently traveled to meet with clients or visit a building site. In fact, he and Peyton had met through his work, when she hired him to design the beach house. The Demon was the heiress to a mouthwash fortune.
"So your clients are more important to you than I am?" Peyton asked, her voice shrill with anger.
"Some of us have to work for a living," Dad replied in a cold, cutting tone.
The sliding gla.s.s door opened behind me, and I turned to see my stepsister, Hannah, walk out onto the deck. The voices of our fighting parents became momentarily louder-"Thoughtless!" "Selfish!"-before Hannah firmly slid the door shut behind her. She was holding her white Persian cat, Madonna. The cat took one look at Willow and hissed evilly.
"Hey," Hannah said.
"Hi," I said.
"Is it just me or are they getting worse?" Hannah asked.
"It's not just you," I said. Richard and Peyton had been fighting a lot lately. And I knew all too well what they were fighting about: me. Peyton hadn't wanted me to move into the beach house with them the previous year. My continued presence had been a source of conflict.
"I'm sick of it. And it's stressing Madonna out. She keeps getting hair b.a.l.l.s," Hannah said, collapsing into the chair next to mine. Madonna didn't look particularly stressed out. Her flat, malevolent eyes were still fixed on Willow. Willow-who was terrified of the cat, despite being larger, equipped with fangs and bred for hunting-shrank back and skulked behind my chair.
"Coward," I said, patting Willow rea.s.suringly. "Are you all packed and ready to go?"
Hannah's investment banker father and stepmother lived in Manhattan. She flew up to see them several times a year, and was leaving the next day for a weeklong visit.
"No, but I can finish tonight," Hannah said.