How to Date a Nerd

Chapter 22 - How to Lose Your Best Buds in Ten Seconds

She's the girl that no one ever knows,

And I say hi, but she's too shy to say hello

She's just waiting for that ONE to take her hand and shake her up

I bet I could...

Chapter 22 – How to Lose Your Best Buds in Ten Seconds

 

I ran my eyes around the house, remembering not to step on the skateboard lying on the floor. Not to mention the toy cars, miniature monsters trucks and naked Barbie dolls. Someone would trip on that and crush their skull. That’d probably leave bloodstains everywhere. Not very kid friendly.

“Have you always been this... many?” Nate asked Chuck while eyeing at the three little blond kids—two boys, ages three and six and a four year-old girl in a Batman costume—running around the cluttered living room.

The Fergusons’ house was a lot bigger than I thought it would be. It should be, considering that eleven people live there—eight kids, the parents and Grandpa Tom. I’d heard before that Chuck and Reed had many siblings. I just didn’t expect this many.

Chuck just shrugged, leading us to the couch.

“Dave’s already moved to Boston last year. Got a scholarship—he’s a nerd,” he said ruefully as if being a nerd was some kind of crime. “That leaves the two of us,” he pointed to Reed then began counting with his fingers. “Lance, Kate, Mark, Pearl and Geoff.”

We made ourselves fit in the couch which was near to impossible. After being shoved off the edge, Ricky just sat miserably on the carpeted floor. Like him, Nate and I were a bit uneasy being here. Reed and Chuck didn’t seem to like us being here either.

“Mom’s kicking us out of the house before the year ends,” Reed muttered. “So they’d have the house all to themselves.” He let out a sarcastic snigger.

Just then, a blond woman in her early forties peered at us from the adjacent kitchen. With a smile, she wiped her hands on her apron and started unfolding the sleeves of her shirt.

“Want some snacks?” the woman asked.

“No Mom,” Chuck said, letting out a tired sigh. “We won’t stay long.”

Reed ran up the stairs and gestured for us to follow before his mom could say another word. We did, throwing rueful glances at Mrs. Ferguson. As we moved along the hallway, we passed by an open door. Kate, a blond freckled girl about twelve or thirteen was glaring at us as she got up from her pink four-poster and slammed the door shut. Before she did, I caught a glance of a small table where a big framed picture of me—Leon Walden, specifically—was sitting surrounded by several vigil candles and Wiccan symbols. Seriously weird. A shiver just ran down my spine and I had to walk faster to get away from Kate’s doorstep as soon as possible.

Reed sniggered, opening a door to the left with a sign saying Beware of Hotties. “Kate’s going to freak if she knew who you really are,” he said to me.

“Psshyeah,” Chuck agreed, chuckling. “Right after she ties you on a chair and locks you up in the attic.” He knotted his brows. “Where she keeps Ginger.”

“Who’s Ginger?” Ricky asked as we piled into the room and made ourselves comfortable on the lower bunk of the double deck.

Chuck stared blankly for a while then blinked thrice. “Our cat. Who’s been dead for seven years.”

Plastered on the walls were posters of football teams, video games, girls in swim suits and stuff. A dart board hung lopsidedly in a corner with the darts pinned on the wall in all places except the target. I gazed at the pictures of different bands. Led Zeppelin. The Rolling Stones. Beatles.