PART ONE
1
CHLOE
* * *
“It’s not me, it’s you, Chloe. You’re just… not right, okay?”
He looks at me and smiles like they all do.
Here I am, on a blind date with the boy who used to eat chalk in kindergarten. The boy who, rumor has it, still does. He’s decided, same as every previous date, that what I need isn’t affection and warmth, it’s life advice.
“I’m just not right?” I say, picking up a breadstick and pretending to push it up my nose. “What makes you say that, Jeb?” I laugh, trying desperately to break the ice, but I get nothing back.
“Don’t take this wrong way,” he says with a beatific smile. “It’s just that everything about you needs to change if you ever want to get a proper relationship going.”
Around us, the diner is alive with people enjoying their food. At my table, all that’s happening is I’m being proved right again. I am not ready to date, no matter what Maisie says. Two dates in two nights with two guys. If last night’s was a car crash, this is a freeway pile-up.
My reputation continues to cling to me like a blouse in the pouring rain. The girl whose parents abandoned her. The weirdo. The freak. The outsider. Not exactly desirable girlfriend material, am I?
“You’ll get nowhere acting like this,” he says, waving a lazy hand my way as I stuff bacon into the corners of my cheeks, making hamster noises as I do it. “All this stuff you do. I mean, have you ever even tried being normal?”
I try to say something witty in return, but what comes out is halfway between a snort and a nervous laugh. The noise seems to reinforce his point. He recoils, looking disgusted with me.
I pick up another breadstick to break the mood, pretending to play the violin with it. “Just getting some practice in,” I say with a grin.
“Look at you,” he says.” You eat weird. You act weird. You dress like you’re going to a funeral. You must know what people say about your hair. No one likes red. Blonde would suit you so much better. And it’s all over the place like you’ve been struck by lightning. Haven’t you ever heard of a stylist?”
“Anything else?”
“What about your nails? You haven’t painted them. You haven’t even put makeup on. You’ve made no effort for this date at all.”
Another piece of my self-esteem snaps before I do. “It’s not my fault I’m cursed with crazy frizz and flyaways as soon as there’s any humidity in the air. And for the record, I have put makeup on and nail varnish. I just prefer to keep it natural-looking, thank you very much.”
“Natural you is not good. That’s my whole point. Listen.” He stops scowling long enough to open a notepad that’s appeared in his hand. He starts writing in it. My name’s at the top, followed by several numbers in columns. There was a rumor Jeb kept scores of his dates. Now I know he really does.
“What are you doing?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He taps the page. “Now, look here. Body language, four out of ten. I wouldn’t even consider a one-night stand for anything below a six. You’re not even trying to act seductive. You’re just yeuch.” He sticks his tongue out after he says it as if that means anything. “As for appearance? Not bad, I guess, but I can’t see your figure at all in that dress. Five out of ten and that’s being generous. Compatibility score, zero. Which brings me back to my main point. You need to change if you want any kind of relationship. No one will ever want…” He waves both his hands my way. “…this.”
“Thanks a lot,” I reply. “Anything else on that scorecard? Any mention of what a dick you’re being right now? Ten out of ten for dick behavior, by the way.”
He closes his notepad, tapping the top of it. “We had a name for you in high school. You want to know what it was?”
“I know what you all used to call me in high school,” I say, wondering if I could use a breadstick to stab him in the heart. Is it sharp enough? Maybe up the nose. I heard you can kill someone with a sharp jab up the nose. Would a breadstick do it?
“We called you the beast. You want to know why?”
“I said I know what you all called me. I don’t need reminding.”
“Because you came out of the woods like a beast. No parents. No background. Just lurched down off the mountains like Bigfoot and started pretending that you belonged here with us normal people.”
I drain the last of my wine. The food hasn’t even come out yet, but I’m done. “Look, if this is how you feel, why’d you even agree to the date in the first place? Couldn’t you have just stayed home and jerked off?”
He looks offended like I’m the one being rude. “I’m trying to help you, Chloe. I felt sorry for you. You’re the only one in our year who never had a boyfriend. Never even had a kiss.”
“That’s not true.”