Chapter 9
Nine
That new kid is so weird. Have you seen the shirts he wears? Star Lord or something?
Text from Estebaliz Perez to Katie Stein.
Zeke’s quiet in the car on the way home, and I stare at the rain dripping down the window. He tutored me at his house again, which has been saving my butt in my classes. So far GPA is in the safe zone.
Zeke’s phone tells us the way to get to my house—I’m not often in Zeke’s neighborhood, and I’m unsure where to go without directions—and plays soft music through the car speakers. He’s updated the lemon air freshener with a purple lilac one, and the smell pleasantly wafts through my nose.
I haven’t asked him the question that’s eating me up inside. I’m nervous, trying to find the exact right words. This is not going to be an easy request.
“Hey, this is my and Suzy’s favorite band,” I exclaim, turning up the volume on the car stereo. “You like BTS?”
Zeke shrugs. “They’re pretty good.”
“Pretty good?!” I sing along and dance to “Dynamite,” wishing that Suzy was here.
Zeke glances at me and smiles. Suddenly I feel a little self-conscious of my voice and my awkward car dance moves.
Where did that come from? I would never do that in front of anyone else except maybe Suzy. I make myself be still.
“You can sing and dance,” Zeke says. “I don’t mind.”
“No one should have to see that,” I joke. I turn the music volume back down. We ride for a while, soft pop playing through the speakers and the rain drumming a beat on the windshield.
Ask him, Callie. You can do this.
This is a wild, crazy, possibly stupid idea.
It’s definitely not going to be easy. If Zeke agrees, we are going to epically shake things up at Monte Ville High.
But if I want to win, that may be what it takes.
I can’t win by campaigning for votes from the popular kids. Brielle is going to get most of those.
I’ve got to do something completely, totally different.
“Zeke.”
He glances at me sideways. The rain on the windshield pounds harder, and Zeke flips the lever to turn up the wipers. “Yes?”
“Can I propose a deal?”
“Okay.”
Zeke pulls into my driveway. I was so engaged in my thoughts that I hardly noticed we’d reached home.
He parks the car and looks at me with those earnest eyes. “Go on.”
I swallow. This plan really is nuts, and it could backfire.
But for Suzy, I have to try. I think of the approving smile on Mom’s face when she sees me with that crown, the swell of pride that will fill my chest. I have to try.
“You want your parents to think you’re making friends, right?
And you definitely can’t lose your gaming systems.”
Zeke nods. “Absolutely. But—”
“But you can’t allow your heart to get hurt again.”
His face softens. “Right. You get it.”
“I get it.” Deep breath. “I need someone to get me in with the nerd crowd, to help me win their votes for Homecoming Queen. I can’t do that alone.
They won’t accept me if I just go around asking for them to vote for me, they’ll think I’m being superficial.
I need a friend who is . . .” I pause. Zeke is focused, his brown eyes meeting mine.
“One of them. I need . . . you. If I start trying to be friendly with the nerds, they’ll just turn me away.
I’ve never really made that much of an effort before.
” I swallow, ashamed. While I’ve never been an outright jerk like Brielle can be, I haven’t made an effort to expand my circle of friends, either.
“I’m sorry about that, and I want to change.
But the nerds won’t accept me without some help. So that’s where you come in.”
Zeke’s brow furrows. It’s an adorable expression on him, and—whoa. Where did that come from? “So . . . what do you suggest?”
“We pretend to be friends. It won’t be real,” I hurry to add.
“We’ll eat lunch together; we can hang out in and outside of school if you like.
I’ll come over to your house, we can post about it on social media and make sure your parents see it, all of that good stuff.
I know you’re kind of a loner now, but I think it could still work.
The nerds see you as one of them. If I hang out with you, I’m like a proxy nerd. ”
Zeke blinks. “You’d do that for me?”
There’s a queasy feeling in my stomach. This is a good plan, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.
People will talk. Thinking about what happened to Destiny Chodekwitz makes my stomach do a flip.
After she started dating her nerdy boyfriend—Vince, I think his name was?
—she lost all of her friends. He was captain of the chess team, a member of the anime club, and he did origami in all of his classes. So, yeah.
People whispered about Destiny in the hallways and how far she’d fallen. Everywhere she went people walked the other way, giggling not-so-subtly behind their hands. I can’t imagine enduring that kind of humiliation.
But Destiny was dating a nerd. This will be different.
By being Zeke’s “friend,” I’m taking a risk. But I have to hope that being a nerd’s friend won’t be seen with the same disdain as dating one would be. I breathe out. Still, I’ll definitely be breaking the mold.
But Monte Ville High could stand to have the mold broken.
“I would,” I say. “In return, you will help convince the nerd crowd to vote for me.”
Zeke shuts off the car. “Callie, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to contribute.”
I hold up a hand. “I know, I know. You don’t really know any of them. But you have your YouTube channel.” I raise my eyebrows. “And you did say that lots of people at school follow you. You have some influence.”
His face is still skeptical.
“And listen,” I continue. “Just by being around you, it will change the way they see me. I’m not just some other jerkwad popular girl who thinks everyone else is beneath me. I don’t want to come across that way. Not to anyone.”
“I know you’re not that way,” Zeke says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. The movement tousles his curls. “I just . . . I don’t see why you need me to accomplish that.”
I let out a breath. “Zeke, at our school, no one leaves their social circles. You stay where you’re put, in the mold they choose for you. We’re all like sugar cookies.”
“Sugar cookies?”
“Yes! All of us at the top of the social ladder are cut from the same vanilla dough. No one accepts any of the other cookies, no matter how interesting or unique they are.”
Zeke raises an eyebrow.
“I want to add some sprinkles,” I say. “I want to spread on some tie-dye swirl frosting and snickerdoodle cinnamon sugar and chocolate chunks.” Excitement fills my voice, but a huge dose of nerves does a back handspring in my stomach.
If I can’t even let people know how good at math I am, this is going to be brutal.
“I thought you told my mom you couldn’t bake—"
I ignore Zeke. “I need your help. With you—” I gesture up and down Zeke’s body. “Being you, plus the exposure your channel could give me, you have something to offer. And I hope I can help you with your problem, too.”
Zeke tilts his head, thinking. “This could actually work.”
I hold in my squeal of excitement. “Of course it’s going to work!” I dig in my backpack and pull out a pink notebook and fuzzy fuchsia pen. “Let’s lay down some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?”
“Of course!” I say. “Haven’t you seen any romcoms? Fake relationships need rules.” I hesitate, my pen poised above the paper. There are a million reasons not to do this. People will talk, that’s for sure. And Zeke is so . . . Zeke. With his dorky t-shirts and Dungeons and Dragons set up.
But I have to beat Brielle. And I can see no other way to do it.
My pen clicks, and at the top of the paper I write, “Contract for Zeke and Callie’s Friendship.”
I write a “1)” and look at Zeke expectantly.
His eyes widen. “Why are you looking at me? You’re the one who’s seen the romcoms.”
I smile and talk as I write, “Rule number one: We must eat lunch together three out of five days of the week.” I look up at Zeke. “That okay?” Maybe I should’ve asked before writing it down. For all I know, he likes eating lunch alone.
But Zeke gives me a warm smile. “I’d like that.”
The rain still pounds on the windshield, and a chill is settling in the air now that Zeke’s turned the car off and we’re sitting in the driveway.
“Rule number 2.” I think for a moment. “We must do at least one thing outside of school a week, with or without my friends, not including tutoring. We will post a picture of our activities on social media for the nerd crowd and your parents to see.”
Zeke nods his approval, and I write it down. “We’ll hang out with the girl with red-streaked hair and your Korean friend.”
“Rule number three: Zeke must learn Callie’s friends’ names.”
Zeke grins. “I’ll do my best.”
“Rule number 4,” I talk and write. “Zeke must help convince the nerds to care about Homecoming and vote for Callie.” I hesitate. “Rule number 5: he must join Callie for Chick-Flick-Fridays at least once a month.”
Zeke groans. “Chick-Flick-Friday? No.”
I grin. “That’s my price. Take it or leave it.”
“I’m going to add a rule.” Zeke grabs the notebook and pen and writes something down without telling me what it is.
“What? What’s your rule?” I’m insanely curious.
Zeke hands the notebook back, and I read, “Rule number 6: Zeke must always have Callie’s back.”
I freeze, strangely touched. I clear my throat. “That’s . . . that’s a good rule.”
“And one more.” Zeke takes the notebook back and again doesn’t tell me what he’s writing.
When he hands it back I read, ”Rule number 7: Callie must play video games with Zeke at least once.”
I look up, my eyes wide. “I am not doing that. Take that rule off.”
“If I have to suffer through chick flicks, you are going to try my favorite game. Plus, my YouTube channel is all video game walk-throughs. How are you going to appear on it without playing?”
I hesitate. “Good point.” Have I been thorough enough? “Isn’t your favorite game Dungeons and Dragons or whatever?”
“Yes,” Zeke says.
“So are we going to play that?” I ask.
Zeke shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Umm. Okay.” He said that so fast.
Zeke’s face softens. “It’s not you, I promise. It’s just that . . . D&D is something I do with my brothers and my closest friends. It’s hard letting someone join a campaign if they’re going to flake out halfway through.”
“No worries. I get it.”
Zeke takes the notebook back and adds, “Rule number 8: Callie will show Zeke around Seattle.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Why this?”
“I’ve lived so many places and never really gotten to know any of them,” Zeke says. “You’ve lived here your whole life, right?”
I nod.
“So you must know the city really well. And it’s a cool place. I don’t have much time here, and I want to see it all.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll make that part of the deal. It can be part of our social media campaign.”
“Campaign?” Zeke asks.
“Campaign.” I nod, for that’s what this is. A social media battle between Brielle and me. My 50K vs. her 200K, with hopefully a little weight added to my side from Zeke’s subscribers who also go to our school.
I take a deep breath. This is getting real, and it feels terrifying.
If this works, I could get everything I want—my mom beaming in pride, Suzy’s joy when we see Brielle taken down, a crown on my head as I look out into the crowd and see Noah’s distraught face or—better yet—one last dance with him at Homecoming and a chance to convince him that we belong together.
But if this goes wrong, I have so much to lose. As of now, even though Brielle’s social media might is a lot stronger than mine, our in-person social footing is about equal. I am well liked at school. I have a lot of friends. I am accepted. I am “go with the flow, never make waves” Callie Carter.
If this fails, I’m going down. I’ll lose friends.
I’ll be a social outcast. The gossip mills will fly out of control, and my choices always reflect on my family.
I can already hear the lecture my mom would give me about the importance of maintaining our outward appearance to the world.
Her disappointment would be the hardest thing to bear.
I take the notebook back and pause for a moment before writing, “Rule number 9: No one else can know about this contract.” I look at Zeke.
“I think it goes without saying that we can’t tell anyone.
Not our parents, not my friends, not anybody.
If this were to leak, the gossip at school would fly out of control. ”
Zeke nods. “I completely understand. We tell no one. Not much use having a fake friend if everyone knows it’s fake, right?”
“Right,” I say. “The last thing we need to decide is a timeline. Homecoming is mid-October, so about six weeks away, but we should probably at least pretend to be friends for a bit longer than that or it will look suspicious.”
Zeke purses his lips. “Well, I’m moving at the end of the semester. Is that too long for you?”
“I can totally handle a few months.” I smile, glowing. This could actually work.
“One more rule.” Zeke takes the notebook and reads aloud while he’s writing. “Rule 10: Zeke and Callie must not become friends for real.”
“Not friends for real,” I say. “This is just a business transaction.”
Zeke outstretches his hand, and I clasp it in mine. He gives me a firm shake. For some reason, my hand tingles where our fingers touch. “Then it’s a deal.”