How to Be Brave(21)

I think about my list.

#13. Ask him out.

And even worse, #14. Kiss him.

How the hell am I going to do either?

I really haven’t made much progress with my list. I tried to do a handstand in the park, but I was high and Liss and Evelyn were laughing and I almost hurt myself trying—I landed on my elbow and nearly twisted my shoulder. I also asked my dad if he could teach me how to flambé, and he said, “Sure, koúkla, this weekend, okay?” and then he was too busy at the restaurant, and we never did do it.

I could try again for #13. I mean, we bonded over Poe and pi and terminal diseases.

I could just walk up to him after class, next to our neighboring lockers, before he leaves for lunch, and ask him out.

It shouldn’t be so hard.

It’s just a question.

“Hey, do you want to catch a movie this weekend?”

Or, “Hey, do you want to get some ice cream this weekend?”

Or, “Hey, how about we go bowling this weekend?”

(Bowling? Ice cream? Really, Georgia? What are you, twelve?) I’m too busy imagining all the possibilities of where we could go this weekend to realize that I’m still staring at Daniel, and that now he’s staring back at me. Let me repeat: He’s staring back at me. Shit, shit, shit.

I look away, and then I look back, and he smiles. At me.

So I smile back, and I wave. And he waves back.

Siiigh.

Marquez throws the lights on and tells us to get to work. I gather my supplies, paint and paper, and continue working on my current project—my own modern version of Monet’s Still Life with Chrysanthemums—but I really can’t concentrate on anything but the fact that Daniel Antell and I exchanged psychic vows of acknowledgment of mutual existence.

Holy crap.

Maybe today’s the day.

Positive Thought #12:

Today’s the day to ask Daniel Antell out.

*

The bell rings. It’s time to do this thing.

Marquez yells for us to “be careful out there—it smells like a rotten egg just dropped out of a flamingo!” I skip telling him about Lee Mullican and instead run out of the room after Daniel. I follow him carefully; I’m far enough away so that he doesn’t realize that I’m crazy stalker girl and close enough so that I don’t lose him.

We both approach our lockers and I try to act all normal and casual (whatever that means). I open my locker and throw my books onto the shelf. I see him out of the corner of my eye. He’s checking his phone. He’s putting away his books. He’s checking his wallet. He’s shutting his locker. He’s turning around. He’s walking away— Shit. Georgia! Do something!

“Daniel!”

Who said that?

Oh. I did.

He turns back around.

“Hey, Georgia,” he says, walking back toward me. “What’s up?”

Um. Um. Um.

“What are you up to now?” I finally spit out. It’s the lamest question ever. Not the question I want to ask.

“Oh, I didn’t eat lunch today, so I’m running over to Ellie’s for a quick bite.” He throws his backpack over his shoulder. “But then I have to run back to make up a bio lab.”

“Oh, cool,” I say. Okay, now I know the answer to that. So, what’s next?

Daniel breaks the silence. “So, you looked like you know what artist you’re going to do for the research thing.”

“Oh, yeah, I do.”

“Cool…” Daniel shrugs and then nods his head. Oh right, he’s asking me a question.

“Lee Mullican,” I answer quickly. “He was a California artist. My mom loved him.”

“Nice. I mean that you’re doing something your mom loved.” Daniel nods approvingly. “I never heard of him.”

“Yeah, not many people have. He’s famous, but not that famous.”

“You’ll have to show me some of his stuff sometime.”

Um, YES, OKAY! How about this weekend?

“I’d love to,” I say, and he nods, and it’s so freaking awkward between us—why is it so freaking awkward between us?

I take a deep breath. And then I go for it:

“Hey, what are you up to this weekend? Do you want to catch a movie or something?”

There. I did it. And I’m shaking like a leaf in a tornado.

But I did it.

As Evelyn would say, I made #13 my bitch.

“Oh, wow. Man, well. I’d love to, but…” Daniel rubs his neck and stumbles over his words. “I can’t. I’m going to be out of town, for a whole week, actually. I’m flying out to Oregon tomorrow to be with my dad for Thanksgiving. I won’t be around at all next week.”

Oh. Right. Oregon. His dad. Out of town. Damn.

“Oh, well, okay.” I want to run away—far, far away. “That sounds like fun. I’ll see you when you get back, then. Rain check?”

“But we should definitely do it when I get back! Rain check,” Daniel quickly adds, repeating my words. But I think he’s serious. I think he might mean it.

“Great!” I say a bit too enthusiastically. “That would be really good.”

“Well, okay then!” Daniel says, sort of mimicking my enthusiasm, and I feel like the biggest dork in the world. “Listen, though. I gotta run. I have to get something to eat and then get to Kolton’s class, otherwise she’s going to give me a zero.”