Queen Geeks in Love by Laura Preble

Author:Laura Preble
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2007-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

11

BOYFRIENDS AND GIRLFRIENDS

(or When in Doubt, Run)

I actually run all the way home. Isn’t that insane? I realize two things: One, I am in terrible shape. And two, I have an issue with conflict.

After falling up the porch stairs, I scramble through the front door, slam it behind me, and lean against it, as if I will be able to single-handedly stop the onslaught of disappointment that will be washing up any minute. Both my best friend and my boyfriend now think I am an unfaithful, untrustworthy, unreliable chicken, and they are right.

Euphoria rolls in, claws poised in a fighting stance, red lights flashing. “Oh,” she says, relaxing her arms. “It’s you. I thought someone was breaking down the front door.”

“Just me.” I’m still panting, trying to catch my breath.

“Why were you running? Was something chasing you?” She scans my vital signs. “Your respiration rate is very high, and your adrenaline levels would give a gorilla a heart attack! My goodness, come sit down! I’ll get you some water.”

She rolls toward the kitchen as I collapse onto the living room sofa. What was I thinking? Running away isn’t going to solve anything, and I know it. They’re probably both going to come to the house, arguing, and then they’ll break into my room at night, and they’ll try to kidnap me, but it will all just result in a tragic rubber band fight that leaves one or more of us minus an eye. “Lock the door!” I yell to Euphoria.

As Euphoria fetches me a glass of water (after locking the door), Dad comes in from his workshop. “Hey, Shelby,” he says, waving absently in my direction.

“Mr. Chapelle, your daughter is having an episode.”

“Hmmm?” He stops in midstep, reroutes himself, and comes over to the couch. “What episode?”

“I think it’s the one where the girl pisses off everybody she knows and dies a hopeless, lonely old maid with no friends,” I say, covering my face with my hands.

Dad arches an eyebrow and sits next to me. “Euphoria, could you give us a few moments alone?”

Euphoria snorts indignantly (which sounds like a coffee grinder grinding rusty bolts), and exits toward the kitchen.

“Now,” Dad says, turning to me. “What is going on? You’re all red.”

“I ran home from school.” I gulp the water to buy some time.

“Why?”

Before I can answer, I hear scuffling on the porch, and the rise and fall of argument, and then a loud, forceful pounding. I say, “Let’s pretend we’ve moved.”

More pounding. “Shelby! C’mon! Open the door!”

“Is that Fletcher?” Dad asks. I nod.

“Seriously! We just want to talk to you!”

“And Becca?” Dad crosses his arms in front of him. “Sounds interesting. I think I saw this once on a soap opera.”

“You’ve never watched a soap opera in your life.” I stand up, finish the water, and take a deep breath. “This is going to be tough, but I have to face it.”

“Did the three of you have a fight?” Dad stands too, ready to intervene if things get ugly. Or uglier, I guess I should say.

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