The Boy Project (5 page)

I just distributed my surveys. (Mr. DeLacey said he'd take his later.) In my head I pictured the three letter-shaped boxes on the boys' survey as three different girls: The Vine
(type A), me
(type B), and Maybelline
(type C)
.
I hope, hope, hope that lots of guys will follow the path that leads to Type B — me!

I'm sure most scientists would frown on it, but the boys' survey won't
exactly
be anonymous. Well, it was for
most
of Mr. DeLacey's math classes, but not for fourth period (the class I'm in).

That's because we always sit in the same seats in his class. So before handing them out, I
very lightly
(and very tinily) wrote a code number on the back of each sheet. I used the old initials-are-assigned-a-number-based-on-their-place-in-
the-alphabet code. (The code for my initials is 11-13, for example.)

This way, I'll be sure to know if there's anyone in my class who's likely to be a match for me. Perfect!

Even though I was able to distribute my surveys today, it was not the greatest day because

1. I didn't get to sit with Evan at lunch. Again.
   
2. I heard Maybelline talking about how stupid my surveys were. And even though I don't care what she thinks at all, I really do.
   
3. Maybelline thwarted my research during fifth period! She asked what my note cards were for when I pulled them out of my backpack, so I had
   no choice
   but to stuff them back in. I'm going to have to keep an eye on her if I want to continue my observations. This is a huge problem since she sits
   behind
   me, and last time I checked, “eyes in the back of the head” is a genetic mutation currently unavailable to humans.
   

Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I felt the hawk eyes beneath Maybelline's pale green eyelids on me
all day
. Band is the one class I don't have with her, so this is the first time I've been brave enough to do a little more research. (We're supposed to be “warming up.”) Since I only have two classes with Malcolm Maxwell, and this is one of them, I might as well concentrate on him.

Malcolm is a quiet guy. I'd say his soul, like his eyes, is partially hidden (in a not-unattractive, mysterious way). He's cool without being conceited, somehow. Unfortunately, I can't observe him too much since the drums are at the back of the class — two rows behind the trumpets.

He's not the type of guy that you just go up to and start a conversation with. It would be too odd. Or too obvious. Or something. But once we bumped into each other when he was coming out of the instrument room. I immediately glanced down. (Why don't I have the guts to look cute, mysterious guys in the eyes?) This gave me a chance to check out those doodles he puts on his high-tops.

He's a good artist! I mumbled that I liked his Chucks. And he said, “Cool.” And now you know one hundred percent of the words we've exchanged. Ever.

Mr. Waldorf is rapping his baton on the podium. Gotta go!

Tonight I got a phone call. One that
ruined my life
. One that started with Tabbi saying: “Do you think Evan Carlson is cute?”

I did.

“Don't you think he's nice, too?”

I did.

“Do you think he'd make a good boyfriend?”

Did I!

I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers. This had to be it. Evan had talked to Tabbi and told her that he liked me!

But that is not what happened. Not at all.

“I'm so glad you think so, Kara! I want my best friend and my boyfriend to get along.” Tabbi giggled.

I stopped breathing.

“Anna told me that Evan is going to ask me to go out! Wanna guess what I'm going to say?”

I didn't.

“I'm going to say yes! I'll finally have a boyfriend! Do you believe it?”

I didn't.

“As of this time tomorrow, I, Tabbi Reddy, will have a boyfriend.”

But I didn't.

Tabbi kept talking. “That doesn't mean I don't want you to still hang out with me and Evan. If you hadn't gotten me to go talk to him at lunch, he might not have ever noticed me!”

Thank you, tightwad parents, for denying my request for a webcam! My eyes were overflowing and my heart was thumping so wildly that I'm sure Tabs would have seen it trying to burst through my sweater. Plus, I know my burning face must have been the color of my tom-tom heart.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend to be happy for your best friend when
she
is the reason your heart is breaking? It's the hardest thing I've ever done — even harder than the time I got stuck having to help my eighty-seven-year-old great-grandma fasten her bra, which has, like, fifteen hooks. And it's really hard to fasten them, by the way, when you're closing your eyes and trying to imagine that you are somewhere — anywhere — else.

But I had to pretend to be happy even though what I really wanted to do was call her a boy stealing FBF (
F
ormer
B
est
F
riend, not to be confused with BFF). I wanted to hate her. But I couldn't. Tabbi had no idea that I liked Evan, and telling her now would only make her feel bad. Plus, it wouldn't change anything. He still liked her . . . not me.

Why hadn't I told her how I felt about Evan during one of those LONG conversations when she was blabbing about Alex? WHY? WHY? WHY? Tabs wouldn't have looked twice at Evan if she knew I liked him.

I will be the Spinster of Spring Valley Middle School. I'll be voted Most Likely To Die Alone
.
I'll be the eternal bachelorette, without an entourage of good-looking guys rounded up by television producers for me to pick from.

Tabs talked on and on about how great Evan is. She didn't seem to notice that I wasn't talking. It gave me a chance to compose myself, but shouldn't she have noticed that her BFF was silent? Yes! She should have! I finally found my voice enough to ask if she was
sure
she didn't still like Alex. I wish I hadn't because she said, “I thought I did. But Alex was just an illusion of love. Evan is the real thing. I don't think I'm really Alex's type. I was wasting my time.”

Great.
Now
she figures this out. I didn't know whether to scream or puke. I think if you do both at the same time, your head might explode or something. I might give it a shot though. At the moment, I'd prefer an exploding head to an exploding heart.

When I got to school, Tabbi and Evan were all pretzeled together, before the first bell even rang. I'm going to try to go home sick.

Mrs. Hill said I didn't look sick to her. I had to go back to my seat.

Spending whole lunch period in library to avoid cafeteria! Yesterday it would've thrilled me to sit near Evan. Not today.

Only guy in the library is Jonah Nate Stewart. He has a big stack of Civil War books spread out on a table. Last year it'd have been Revolutionary War books. His dad's a captain in the Marines, which explains his haircut and love of war books but not his body.

He's here. I'm here. So here it goes — even though the thought that I might end up with someone like Jonah Nate is depressing.

Oh no. Jonah Nate just caught my eye and is motioning for me to come look at something. This could be worse than watching Evan and Tabbi at lunch.

Before I even reached Jonah Nate's table, he was spouting facts from the book he was waving in his hand. “Hey, Kara, did you know that the
Hunley
was the first successful combat submarine?” he loud-whispered, even though there was no one else around. “And it was powered by men? And that it sank off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina, with all eight crew members still on board?”

I shook my head, pulled a book from the shelf, and tried to look absorbed by page 72. Jonah Nate didn't take the hint.

“And one of the men, Lieutenant Dixon, carried a lucky gold coin that had saved his life in the Battle of Shiloh? The coin was given to him by his sweetheart. You could still read the words he'd carved into it when they recovered it from the
Hunley
over a hundred years later!”

That got my attention. Was the powerful golden coin a gift from Dixon's soul mate? I pointed to the book clutched in his hand and asked if the information about Lieutenant Dixon was in it.

“Yeah!” said Jonah Nate enthusiastically.

I asked if I could borrow the book.

Jonah Nate didn't look so enthusiastic anymore. “I don't know. . . . It's from my personal collection.”

I figured any reading I could do about soul mates is going to help my research, so I promised to return his precious book the very next day if he'd let me borrow it. (As if I'd really keep a book about the Civil War lying around.)

So here I sit with a book about the
Hunley
, hoping to find Lieutenant Dixon's name in the index so I can just go straight to the pages about him. I don't have time to read the whole darn thing. And really, who'd want to? Besides Jonah Nate, I mean.

Evan has something written all over his hand. In Tabbi's handwriting. I'm trying to read it. Even though I don't care what she wrote at all, I really do.

There, he's raising his hand to give an answer for the question that Ms. Sabatino just asked: “What do you call the force that occurs when one object rubs against another?”

Evan said, “Friction.” His hand said
Property of Tabbi Reddy
. Blech.

Ms. Sabatino said Evan was right. I say it depends on what the objects are. If one object is Evan Carlson, and the other object is Tabbi Reddy, I'm pretty sure the answer is
disgusting
or
betrayal
or something.

If you saw me right now, Mrs. Hill, I'm pretty sure you'd say I look sick!

Phone is ringing. I know without looking at caller ID that it's Tabbi. There's no way she'd miss calling me today. It's what a best friend does when she has a new boyfriend.

Tabs:
Where were you at lunch? Evan and I looked for you.

Me:
Oh. Well. I decided to go to the library.

Tabs:
The library! The only person who hangs out there during lunch is Jonah Nate.

Me:
(
Don't I know it.
) Well, I had to do some research.

Tabs:
For what?

Me:
(
Saying the first thing that pops into my head
) Science fair.

Tabs:
I thought those surveys we took were your project.

Me:
They are, but . . .

Tabs:
Hey! Will you be able to let me know if Evan and I turn out to be compatible?

Me:
(
Crossing my fingers
) No. It was a blind study.

Tabs:
Oh.

Me:
I've gotta go.

Tabs:
Wait! I need to tell you something.

Me:
Hmmm?

Tabs:
Thanks.

Me:
For what?

Tabs:
For leading me to Evan's table. And for getting detention. (
She actually giggled!
) The day I went and sat by him by myself was the day Evan realized he liked me.

Me:
Glad I could help. Can we talk later? I've felt sick all day and I feel even worse now.

Tabs:
(
Sounding confused
) Feel better, then. . . .

Me:
Bye.

I didn't lie to Tabbi. I really did feel sick when I hung up the phone. Even sicker than before, because something was suddenly clear to me. That stupid prank I pulled with Chip had cost me my crush.