I guess that was nice. Every student needed to put in about forty or so hours of community service to graduate at Hazelwood. Some kind of hippie ‘help the community’ initiative. Either that, or it was the case for all high schools in Massachusetts, or at least the area. I had no clue.
“Okay, thank you,” I replied, thankful to not have stuttered, before making my way back to my seat. I sat there, going over my notes and trying to not think about the fact that somehow, I was asked to spend one-on-one time with the hottest girl at school. Me. The loseriest of losers.
I guess that was what made it okay. After all, the most surefire form of birth control was abstinence, or so the gym teacher drilled into us. In the same way, the best person to spend one-on-one time with the popular girl and not have her be in danger is the one kid who couldn’t talk to girls if he tried.
Eventually, the quiz had finished its runtime, and Mrs. Li gave the class a small lesson, and assigned us a few textbook questions. I had mine finished before the bell rang. When it rang, everyone started filing out, myself included.
“Hey! Uh… Quinn!”
I froze. Someone called my name. Someone was asking for me. As stupid as it was, I didn’t know how to react. Awkwardly, I spun around on my heels to face Taylor, who was at her desk.
“So, uh… what day works best for you?” she asked. She had some kind of day planner open.
My mouth went dry. I nervously coughed. I tried opening my mouth to speak once or twice, but nothing came out.
My fellow nerds had prepared me for this. This was the moment where the popular bitchy girl would lower an eyebrow, and call me a creep, or a loser for not being able to talk to her. I’m sure I was not being subtle – it was very clear I was nervous being around her because she was very pretty. Her beauty, after all, was downright intimidating – and I bet she could be intimidating herself when she wanted to be.
I was shocked when a smile began to appear on her face. Not even a smile of amusement, either… one of understanding. “Hey, it’s alright,” she coaxed. A genuine, dazzling smile danced across her face. It didn’t even feel forced, it felt… understanding. “If you want, you can, like, point to the day that works best instead, you don’t have to speak.”
“I… s-should speak,” I managed to get out.
“Fair enough,” she replied. “So, what day works best?”
“The, uh… I…” I ended up just shaking my head, and pointing to Thursday on her planner.
“Um, okay, sounds good,” she replied. “Do you have, like, a cell phone? We could just text the details if you want.”
I nodded and reached for my phone.
***
It might seem pathetic to someone who talked to a girl growing up, but I never said a word to her the rest of that entire conversation. Kevin had talked to girls before, though he never dated, probably due to our parents. If I fit the stereotype well, my parents fit the stereotype like gloves.
After Kevin and I were born (and of course Kevin was born slightly before me), they stopped talking in Mandarin to set some kind of American example for us. I could speak the language well enough, even though there wasn’t anyone to speak it with aside from Kevin.
Then again, that was the case in English too.
“You’re shitting me,” Kevin said in disbelief as we walked home. “Taylor?! Like, Wise. Taylor Wise.”
“It’s no big deal,” I mumbled. “I’m tutoring her. It’s just like a… it’s just that.”
“Holy shit, do you know how many guys in class would kill to get to be alone in a room with her?” Kevin asked, practically to the sky.
“I think that probably has something to do with why I’m tutoring her and they’re not,” I pointed out. “Why, did you want to date her?”
Kevin chuckled nervously. “You know me, I don’t date.”
“Why not, anyway?” I asked. “You’re popular. If I were you, I’d want to, even if it’s just to… know what it feels like.”
“Wow, Quinn. Sad,” Kevin laughed.
“Stop,” I replied uncomfortably. “You’re luckier than me.”
“I stick my neck out more than you. You should try it sometime. I’m amazed you said enough words to her to actually get her number,” Kevin fired back.
I could only sigh angrily and eye the ground. Kevin picked up on it immediately. “You couldn’t say anything and she just gave you her number so you could make plans over text, huh?”
“Yes,” I feebly replied.
Kevin mimed shooting a basketball. “Sunk the three,” he celebrated. “Hey, that’s still a step up for you. You have Taylor’s number. Do I have Taylor’s number, bro? No, huh? Whatcha think of that?”
“It’s not like I can ask her out based on that,” I replied.
“Yeah, she’d probably turn you down real easy.”
“Do you want me to share her number with you? Wanna show me up?” I asked with a heat of annoyance to my voice.
Kevin laughed. “We already follow each other on Instagram. Plus, I don’t date. Plus plus, if I did, I wouldn’t try starting with Taylor. At that point, you have nowhere to go but downhill.”
“Getting to talk to people would be uphill for me,” I admitted as we neared our apartment building.
Kevin chuckled. “Well, if you end up dating Taylor, presuming she doesn’t already think you’re the world’s biggest fuckin’ creep, people are absolutely gonna talk to you. Mostly to ask how the hell you pulled it off, but, you know.”
We walked in silence the rest of the way to our place, his words lingering on me. As soon as I was in my own room, I shut the door and pulled out my phone, thinking about impressions. I found her text – hey this is taylor 🙂 – that she sent me while we were still in the classroom together. I began to reply.
Hey Taylor. This is Quinn. I wanted to
Wait. Why the fuck was I telling her it was Quinn when she could easily deduce that?
Hey Taylor. I just wanted to let you know that I am sorry for the situation earlier. I didn’t mean to not speak in front of you, and I will put my best effort into not letting it happen again. I do not have much experience speaking in front of girls, or people, or
Nope. Too real. Tone it down.
Hey Taylor. Sorry for being silent earlier. I don’t have too much experience talking to people. I’ll try to get better. This is weird for both of us, right? I didn’t want it to come across like I don’t care. We’re going to make sure you pass data management, I promise.
I stared at the message for a minute solid before shrugging. Absolute worst-case scenario, she’d think I’m weird, call it off, and I’d be back to where I was. I hit send, then walked to the kitchen, where Kevin and Mother were busy making dinner.
“Quinn! How was school?” my Mother asked, expecting a report.
“I’m doing well,” I answered. “I’m tutoring another student in math class. Data management. I guess that’s neat.”
“Tutoring? Are you getting pay?” Mother asked me.
“No, I don’t think so. It’s just an incentive thing.”
“You’re not getting pay?”
Here we go. “No, Mother, I’m not getting paid for it.”
She turned around. “If you’re not getting pay, that is you saying your skills are not worth money, not worth value. How many time have I asked you, are you going to get a job? I don’t ask you because I want an empty house, you know. I ask because this is the best you can be.”