The Summer I Became a Nerd

#12

“Mom, Terra and Rayann want to go to a late movie tonight. Can I go?” I call from my bedroom door.

Logan’s show is almost over, and we’re supposed to go to the LARP of Ages game tonight once he’s finished. I told him I’d meet

him at the radio station at around 9:30 so he could help me with my costume.

“What time is it over?” Mom yells back at me from downstairs.

“Supposed to be 11:30.”

“Okay, just call when you’re on your way home.”

Geez, I hate lying to her, but the last thing I need is Mom chatting with her friends about my “new hobby.” Plus, it’s just a

little white lie. No biggie. But if that’s the case, why do I have to constantly tell myself to stop thinking about it?

I check myself in the mirror. I’ve decided to wear a cute full skirt that stops at my knees and a sheer blouse with a chemise

underneath. My hair has been painstakingly curled to create a wavy mass. It’s funny how it takes so much time and so many steps

to make one’s hair look effortless.

When I get to the radio station, I check the supplies I bought earlier along with the Allison Blair fan craft stuff. There are

fake flowers, super glue, ribbon, ping-pong balls, blue face paint, crazy false eyelashes, and blue tights.

Sitting in my parked car, I fashion a choker out of the ribbon and glue some fake sunflowers onto it. I put another flower ribbon

on my wrist. Another flower goes in my hair. I’m almost an elven princess.

As always, the second I start to feel happy about something and like everything might be okay after all, things I don’t want to

think about pop into my head. Things like I just straight up lied to Mom, which makes me a horrible daughter. And worse, I have to

tell Logan I can’t go to the convention.

And when I tell him why, there’s a really good chance he’ll say, “Screw you and the Lumina you rode in on.” Or he might just

put on some big, puppy-dog eyes and talk about all the things I’m going to miss. Good-bye, cosplay contest. Good-bye, having #400

signed by the author and the artist. Good-bye, getting my picture taken with Logan and Stan Lee. But I have to be up front with

him.

So much for a fun, relaxing night of LARP.

The security light over the door to the college recording studio clicks on when Logan and another guy, I assume the mysterious

Ben, step outside. I check my makeup in my rearview mirror. I’m going to have to redo it after the face paint, and yet, I still

throw on some extra lip gloss.

I wait for Ben to get into his Jeep and drive off before I get out of the car. Logan stops midstep when he sees me. This shouldn’

t make me as happy as it does, especially not when I’m planning to give back my NerdCon pass as soon as he gets into my car.

“Wow, you are definitely elven royalty material,” he says.

Maybe the NerdCon pass can wait a few more minutes.

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this.”

“You’re going to love it, don’t worry.” We climb into my car, and he turns to me. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. Vera had

swim lessons, Jonah wanted a ride to the library, Mom had grocery shopping to do, and Dad had the van at the shop, so it was just

easier to let Mom take my car.”

He’s rambling again. I make a mental note to put a voice recording app on my phone so I can catch that brand of adorkableness

next time.

“It’s no problem at all.”

On the drive to his house, the thought hits me I’m about to do one of the nerdiest things anyone can do. Dressing up as an elf

princess so I can go frolic with other people pretending to be fantastical beasts? It’s crazy, right?

But then it occurs to me I might not actually get to do this craziness because of the NerdCon thing. Might as well get that over

with before I get too attached to my new life as an elf.

I take a deep breath and start rummaging in my purse while trying to also keep an eye on the road.

Then Logan starts going off about the game. “There was this one time when we had to go up against a gargoyle, which is one of the

most powerful beings in the game, and I had to track him down because I was the only one who had this aura-identifying power,”

and on and on. He’s so into it, it just makes me wish I could be that free. Free to talk about something other than Allison Blair

without my friends looking at me like I screwed up the halftime dance routine. He finishes the story with lots of flailing and

sound effects, and all I can do is grin, my fingertips grazing the VIP pass.

He sort of pushes my leg. “I’m just saying it’s fun. You’re going to love it.” A goofy, endearing smile takes over his face

as we pull into his driveway. He jumps out of the car and starts doing the robot with my low beams as his spotlight.

I can wait to tell him, I decide when he robot dances to my door to open it for me. He’s too excited about this. Too sweet. If I

can’t go to the convention, I want to at least have this night with him. And I want it to be unmarred by my stupid lies and my

all-around life suckiness.

I tuck the VIP pass deeper in my purse and force myself to forget it.

When we get inside, Martha is doing the dishes.

“Oh, Maddie, you look great. Give me a twirl.” She swishes her finger in a circle, flinging soap bubbles onto the kitchen floor.

I spin, and she applauds. “You must be from the Trulu race, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you have blue paint?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How about some black eyeliner for the ceremonial face tattoos?”

“Well, I have some in my purse I could—”

“Oh, honey, don’t use your good stuff. I have some I put aside just for this kind of thing. It’s in the drawer by the sink in

the upstairs bathroom.” She points at the ceiling.

Logan shows me to the upstairs bathroom and leaves to put on his own outfit. I put on the blue tights, stretching and yanking

until they feel comfortable. The face paint isn’t like a Smurf blue, thank goodness. It’s more like a muted baby blue. It should

be enough of a disguise so no one knows who I really am, especially since I’m adding these monstrous eyelashes and the ceremonial

tattoos. It probably doesn’t matter anyway. Logan said the majority of the players are college students.

I’m just finishing up drawing my tattoos, pretty swirls that seem to flow from my eyes, when Logan appears in the doorway over my

shoulder in the mirror. I stop midswirly.

He’s wearing black jeans and an amazingly hot black biker jacket over a white T-shirt. His normally casual bedhead hair is now

perfectly styled bedhead hair. He also has light blue skin, but his tattoos are understated, just dots in a straight line that go

from ear to ear crossing the bridge of his nose. He props himself against the door frame, and my mind goes blank.

“I like the viney things you have going on there.”

I clear my throat because it has suddenly gone dry. “Thanks. You look very…” I trail off because I almost said elf-a-licious.

“Very believable.”

“I have done this more than a few times.” He grins. I feel a twinge of anger at myself for missing all those more than a few

times.

“You never told me you were a Trulu, too.”

He steps into the bathroom, which is pretty small, so he’s only about a foot and a half behind me. There goes my heart again,

thrumming inside my chest so hard I can feel it in my ears.

“I just made the character today. I figured it would make more sense if we were of the same race because I’ll probably be around

you a lot.”

“My hero,” I say in a breathy voice.

“Not that you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself, but…” He rolls his eyes. “You ready?”

…

We decide to ride together in his car because he’s trying to be a gentleman. We turn down a street lined with big, beautiful

houses all with enormous doors and topiaries that guard the driveways.

“I told Dan he could ride with us. I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course.” The guy has already heard me belch. I don’t think him seeing me in elf garb could be any more embarrassing than

that, even if he thought it was Logan belching and not me.

As we pull up to one of the biggest houses I’ve ever seen this close, I try to list all the people who know about my double life

in my head. I can only think of three: Logan, Dan, and Martha who, let’s face it, doesn’t seem like the type to go around

gossiping about the activities of the girl who’s hanging out with her son. This is good. This is manageable. If I can keep it

down to only these few people, who knows how long I can continue to indulge in being nerdy-me and all the perks that come with it.

Dan barrels out of his front door carrying two twelve packs of sodas and what looks like a tree limb tucked under his arm. He’s

kind of chunky, but he has a nice face. I bet he’s going to be one of those guys that just gets better looking as time goes by.

It’s his vocabulary that needs work.

“Can I get some help with this shit?” he yells.

I get out of the car and take one of the cases of sodas. Logan pops the trunk so we can stash them back there. That’s when I

realize what the tree limb actually is. Dan props the tip of his gigantor foam sword wrapped in duct tape on the ground. His hand

is wrapped around the hilt which is next to his cheek. Dan is only an inch or two shorter than me, so, yeah, that’s a really,

really long sword.

When I pull my eyes away from it, I realize he’s looking me up and down.

“Damn, girl,” he says, and I don’t hide my eye roll. “I would get in trouble for saying this if my clan ever found out, but

you look freaking fine tonight.”

I cross my arms. “Wait, your clan? What are you?”

“What?” he yells in the deepest voice he can manage. “I take offense to your ignorance, elfling.” He tries to brandish his

sword, but it knocks against the car.

“Who are you calling ‘elfling’? I’m over two hundred years old.”

“Bah, that’s a drop in the bucket for a dwarf. You will regret—”

“Hey,” Logan says as he leans over the top of his car. “No gaming outside of the venue without a sanctioned game master. Leave

her alone, Dan.”

“Chill out, dude. I was just having some fun,” he says, then turns to me. “Way to stick up for yourself. When you’re a new

player at these things, you must prepare to be tested.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling extremely proud of myself.

“I have just one more thing to say to you, elf.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that, dwarf?”

“Shotgun!” Dan cackles as he clomps around to the front passenger door like a kid wearing his father’s boots. They look like

they weigh a ton each and have spikes sticking up from the toes that are obviously just foam as well. He also has shoulder pads

that have the same foam spikes pointing in all directions.

“No, dude, I veto your shotgun,” Logan says.

“Aw, come on, why?”

“Because, I’m not having that ridiculous sword knocking my rearview mirror around.”

I open the back door for Dan and give him a grand bow.

Dan gives me an evil stare. “I see what’s going on here. The Trulus sticking together. It’s racist, that’s what it is!”