The Summer I Became a Nerd

#31

Most of the stores have packed up their booths and gone home by the time the crickets start chirping. I hang around to help put

away all The Phoenix’s merchandise. At some point before the job is finished, poor little Moira zonks out in the office, so

Martha, Mr. Scott, and the rest of the clan go home, leaving Logan and me to lock up the shop.

We pass each other five or six times as we lug the long, white comic boxes back to the storeroom. It feels like we’re two magnets

being held just close enough to almost connect, but then we’re pulled apart.

“There’s one more left,” Logan says as we pass each other again. “Could you lock the door behind you when you come back in?”

The last box isn’t that heavy. It was the super cheap box so it’s only half-full of one-dollar comics. I lock the front door

behind me and make my way to the back room again. The sun is setting. Its pinkish-purplish rays stream in through the display

windows, but the light doesn’t reach the back.

I turn the corner to the back room and try to find the light switch with my elbow. I can’t find it, but suddenly, the light pops

on. Logan’s right next to me, which scares the bejesus out of me. I squeal and drop the box. The books scatter across the floor.

“Sorry,” he says. “I was trying to be smooth and help. But once again, I screw it up.”

We both kneel down to gather up the comics. “What do you mean ‘once again’?”

“I screwed up that day with Eric.”

“That was my fault. You didn’t screw anything up.” My hands shake as I stack the books. “I’m sorry, Logan.” I let out a long

sigh. It feels like I’ve been waiting to say that for years.

He doesn’t belittle my apology by brushing it off, by saying anything like, “It’s okay, it’s no biggie.” He lets it hang in

the air for a long minute, then nods, accepting it.

“I did mess up last night, though,” he says. “Where did you go?”

I give up on trying to concentrate on the comics. “I went home. Where did you go?”

“I knew I should have told you before I left, but everything was so crazy. I went to my house to get something for you, but you

were gone by the time I got back to Tommy’s.” He reaches over to get my notebook that was lying on one of the boxes. I didn’t

even notice it was there.

He holds it out to me. “Thanks,” I say as I thumb through the pages. There’s now green writing along with my purple throughout

it.

I stop on one page: The Super Ones #328. Underneath where I wrote, Marcus is such a jerk! Can’t he tell Wendy loves him? Logan

wrote, in his neat, precise scrawl, How is Marcus supposed to know if she doesn’t tell him? He has plasma powers, not telepathy.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put a few things in there.” He scoots closer so he can read over my shoulder.

I shake my head, too busy reading all the green ink I can find and trying to focus past my sheer delight at him being so close to

me. I flip to the #400 entry.

Purple: “Be true to yourself and others will be true to you, too.” Yeah right, what a crock.

Green: I’d be true to you no matter what.

I look at him over my shoulder. He’s smiling that honest smile.

“Are you sure about that?” I ask. “I’m not exactly the most stable person. I’m still getting used to this whole being myself

thing and—”

“I know what type of person you are. You’re the girl who picked the longest book Mrs. Mackley listed in ninth grade Honors

English to do a report on because it mentioned a love story on the back. You’re the girl who, in tenth grade, told Elinor Pensky

that if it were up to you she would have gotten the last spot on the squad. I know because she told me.”

“She knew every one of our cheers. She studied them like they were her Advanced Chemistry notes.”

“But everyone knew there was no way she was going to make it, seeing as her and her group of friends are known as the Nerd Herd.

I mean, who does stuff like that?”

He brushes a piece of my hair that’s fallen from my ponytail over my ear, his fingers lingering on the sensitive spot behind my

earlobe. Despite the heat, a shiver runs across my neck. I turn and lean into him. He plants his lips firmly against mine and

wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him. We stay like that for a very long time. I run my hands through his already messy

hair. His hands drift up my back, and I don’t care that the itchy fabric of my cheerleader top is scratching my skin even more,

because he’s the reason. He’s the reason for a lot of things these days.

Eventually, it gets to the point where I have to come up for air. I clutch his Power Girl T-shirt and grin. “Do you need

telepathy to understand that?”

“I think I get the message, but I can’t be sure, really. Maybe you should tell me again.”

And that’s how I ended up making out with the love of my life in the storeroom of a comic shop where, it turns out, heaven really

can be found.

Oh crap, did I just say “love”?

Yes, yes, I did.





Acknowledgments

Thank you to the entire Entangled team for being amazing. Special thanks to my editor, Heather Howland, for taking a chance on my

little story and for being brilliant. Without you, this wouldn’t be happening. And thanks to Sue Winegardner, assistant editor,

for being there every time I popped up on Gchat. And for being British, because that made me feel fancy. Thanks to Heather Riccio

for being a ninja.

Thanks to the entire online book community. The support from bloggers, critique partners, and Twitter friends was invaluable.

Thanks to the readers because without you this whole thing would have been kind of pointless, right? Thanks to the WrAHM ladies

who were always there to offer opinions, friendly commiseration, and the occasional half-naked man. To my friends, Kallie Cooper

and Mary Lou Solomon, for reading and telling me that it didn’t suck. Thank you to Melissa Dezendorf for the encouragement and

the wine. To my friends, Joey Dezendorf and Andrew Chandler, for being the perfect inspirations for a certain foul-mouthed geek.

To Rodney and Sharon Miller for never, ever complaining about taking the kids for a weekend.

Thank you to Stefanie Gaither, the best JHFP critique partner/writing buddy I could ever ask for. I feel extremely lucky to have

you around, gurly worm. My writing would not be what it is without you. For Bradbury, my friend.

Thank you to Patrick McPhearson for being the voice of reason a lot of times and for the encouragement. To Robin McPhearson for

telling me it reminded you of a John Hughes film without me even having to prod you. Clair Bear, thanks for reading and being your

loving self. Brian McPhearson, thank you for my lifetime love of comics, for always listening to my rants, and for never letting

me feel too sorry for myself. Thanks to my amazing, there-are-no-words-for-how-awesome-you-are boys. I love you. Also, I promise

to make a decent dinner tonight and not resort to frozen pizza.

To my husband, Shane Miller. Thank you for believing in me. There’s no way I can ever express my gratitude for your support,

love, and patience in words, so I’ll just try to show every day for the rest of my life. I love you.

To my mom, Nancy McPhearson. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. Thank you for supporting me, for keeping me grounded,

and for making me reach for the stars. There’s not much I can say that you don’t already know. I love you. Also, answer your

phone.

To my dad, Clyde McPhearson. You might not have been here for this crazy ride, but you were, in a sense. You told me once that I

could do anything I wanted to. I never forgot that, not for a second. To know your courage, humor, and intelligence is a gift that

I cherish. But mostly, thank you for you. I miss you and love you.

Thanks dpgroup forum.





About the Author

Born and raised in Northern Louisiana, Leah Rae Miller lives on a windy hill with her husband and kids. She loves comic books,

lava lamps, fuzzy socks, trivia games, crocheting, Cherry Coke, and Harry Potter. She spends most of her days reading things she

likes and writing things she hopes other people will like.

www.leahraemiller.com