“It was logical to cultivate multiple options.”
—Spock

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thursday, August 28

“How’re things going with Dallas?” Mom asked. We sat at the kitchen table, Mom sipping tea and me eating cereal. Hiddles nibbled from his bowl, pausing occasionally to hiss at us.

I swallowed quickly, trying not to choke. “What do you mean?”

Mom’s brow wrinkled. “At the store? Showing him the card system?”

“Oh.” I let out a relieved sigh. “It’s going okay, I guess.”

Mom refilled her cup from the teapot. “Just okay? He seemed quite capable when I interviewed him. I’m planning to check in with him on Saturday; he emailed me to let me know his schedule.”

Of course he did. Mr. Always-on-Time probably worried I’d forget to tell her. “He’s definitely smart,” I said. “He asks a lot of questions about how we do stuff.” I shrugged. No way could I tell Mom how much he rattled my composure. “He talked about databases yesterday. He definitely seems to have a plan.”

Mom looked relieved. “Good. We also need to do an inventory after hours. I’m hoping the two of you can work a couple of late nights together to get it done.”

I stopped mid-chew. “What?”

“Inventory, Vivvy. I can’t even remember the last time I did it. We need to record every single book in the store and categorize all the books by genre. We should do it all in one shot, but that won’t work with my writing schedule and you at school.”

“Um, maybe you and I can do the inventory. Or I could ask Jaz and Amy to help.” Mom gave me a questioning look. “Dallas is busy. He, um, always seems to have places to go. Cello lessons. Babysitting his sister. Stuff.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re getting to know him, however, it’s critical that he participate in the inventory, Vivvy. He’s the one creating the database, after all.”

I fiddled with my spoon. “Isn’t there software you can buy that already does what you need? Did you have to hire someone to design it for you?”

Mom looked surprised. “Well, yes, there is. But I’d rather give that money to someone local. You know how I feel about supporting local businesses.”

I snorted. “Dallas isn’t exactly a business.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed. “You know what I mean, Vivvy.” She sipped her tea. “Besides, I won’t be surprised to see him running his own business some day.”

Hiddles meowed from the floor. Grateful for the distraction, I made a few kissing noises to entice him onto my lap, but he ignored me and stalked away, swishing his tail indignantly.

“Okay, whatever,” I said, not meeting Mom’s eyes. I didn’t want her deciphering my feelings about working late nights with Dallas in the store. Just the two of us. In the dark. Well, it wouldn’t technically be dark…but metaphorically….

“Vivian, if Dallas is making you uncomfortable in some way—”

“What? No!” I yelped. I didn’t want her assuming anything bad about the guy. “No, it’s not that,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm. “He’s nice. Funny. You don’t need to plot his death with poison or anything like that.”

Mom frowned, studying me with her hyper-observant writer face, looking for secret motivations and underlying agendas. I tried my best to look totally uninterested in Dallas as anything other than a coworker.

“All right.” Mom brushed her curls behind her ear. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, sweetie. I do, completely.”

My face burned, remembering how many times I’d snuck out to meet Jake. “You don’t need to worry about anything happening between Dallas and me.”

Mom nodded. “He seems like a great guy. Probably much nicer than whoever made you cry.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I try not to be overprotective but I hate to see—”

“Um, Mom? Why are we having this conversation? It’s not relevant.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Not relevant? Sweetie, you’re seventeen. Trust me, it’s relevant.”

I jumped up from the table and put my cereal bowl in the sink. “I’ve gotta go, Mom. Jaz is determined to spot Fisk Vilhelm on the beach this morning.”

“Oh, I heard about that. He’s staying at The Lodge.” Somehow Mom always knew who was at The Lodge.

“Really?” That was two confirmed reports: both Dallas and Mom. Jaz would be thrilled.

...

Jaz and I dismounted our bikes. She’d brought her opera glasses for spying today. She wore an old Led Zeppelin shirt with a mini skirt and wedge sandals. I had no idea how she rode her bike in those shoes, but somehow she managed.

“So do you forgive me?” Jaz asked. “For outing the McNerd nickname to Dallas?”

“I wanted to kill you, Jaz.”

“I know, I know. I totally suck. I just start talking sometimes and I can’t stop.” She looked at me with pleading eyes. “Was it awful after I left? Did he freeze you with Kryptonite?”

“You’re crazy, you know that? Besides, Kryptonite doesn’t freeze. It weakens, and it weakens Superman, not the other way around.”

She grinned. “Whatever. You have to admit he’s totally rocking that Clark Kent/Superman vibe. Did you see those biceps?”

“No comment.”

“Forgive me?” she begged.

“Yes, I forgive you but promise you won’t talk about my RC mission in front of anyone else, okay?”

She crossed a finger over her heart. “I swear. On the hot body of Dallas the McNerd.”

I snorted; I never could stay mad at her. “Look!” I exclaimed, pointing. Way in the distance, a guy ran along the surf’s edge. It could’ve been anyone, but I loved messing with her.

Jaz leaned over the parapet, opera glasses glued to her face. “Oh my God! I think it’s Fisk.”

I laughed. “No way.” I squinted in the sunlight and tried to focus on the guy. I supposed it could be him.

“We’re going to be late.” I grabbed my bike from its resting placing against the wall. “Let’s blaze, stalker.” We raced each other to the bottom of the hill, laughing.

“I’m listing that as an official sighting,” Jaz declared as we hurried across the school courtyard.

“No way. It doesn’t count. I refuse to sign.”

Jaz liked to have witnesses sign her notebook to confirm the sightings, but I only signed when I was sure she wasn’t deliriously hallucinating.

“Come on, Viv,” she whispered as we slunk into homeroom. “You know it was him.”

Ms. Kilgore paused her roll call as we slid into our desks. “How nice of you girls to join us. Don’t mind us; we’ll wait while you finish your conversation.”

Laughter rolled across the room like an ocean wave. Jaz and I shared an embarrassed look. Much as I loved Ms. Kilgore’s scariness, I didn’t like being on the receiving end.

Ms. Kilgore resumed her droning roll call. I shot another sideways glance at Jaz and caught Toff grinning at me. He reminded me of a deranged human puppy. If he had a tail, it would always be wind-milling, knocking over everything.

Toff caught up to me in the hall after we left homeroom. “You coming to the surf comp on Saturday? It’s just a qualifier, but it’ll be cool.”

His wavy blond hair was still damp from morning surf practice. I swore he smelled like seaweed. The guy was part dolphin, which was why I’d nicknamed him Flipper when we were kids.

“No, I’ve gotta work.”

He gave me a fake devastated look. “Man, Viv, I’d think my almost-sister would be more supportive.” He winked at me, his sky blue eyes lit with laughter.

“Right.” I laughed with him. “Maybe another time.”

“Guess I’ll see you for dinner on Saturday then.”

I stopped outside my classroom door and stared up at him. “You will?” I noticed a few girls shooting me envious looks. I didn’t blame them. The shredder gods had graced Toff with the full package of athleticism and hotness, spiked with goofy humor.

He leaned against the wall, smiling down at me. “Yeah, my dad and I are coming for dinner. Your mom didn’t tell you?”

I shook my head. “She’s in the middle of first-draft frenzy, so sometimes she forgets stuff.”

Toff’s grin deepened. “Researching cross-bows?”

“No, that was the last book. It’s poison now.”

“Cool.”

When our parents started dating, I worried it would be awkward, but Toff took it in stride. He always found something to tease me about, but he’d never tried to move us out of the friend zone. He dated girls on the surf team; he definitely had a type and I wasn’t it.

The chimes sounded from the speaker mounted right above us in the hallway, making me jump.

“Later, Wordworm,” Toff said, pushing off the wall.

“Ciao, Flipper.”

He tossed me a lazy smile over his shoulder then sauntered down the hallway.

“Do you want to put him on the list?” Amy whispered. She’d followed me into Lit class after Toff disappeared.

“Toff,” Amy mouthed as she pantomimed writing on a piece of paper.

Jaz had suggested the same thing and I’d shot her down. I considered my criteria: smart, funny, no higher than a five on the zing meter. I knew Toff was smart, but he was one of those guys who hid their intelligence under layers of jokes. He was a surfing savant, obviously, spending most of his waking hours in the water or at his dad’s surf shop. He was definitely funny. But more like class clown funny, not banter funny.

God, I was a dork. How many girls ruled out a guy because he didn’t excel at witty banter?

Then there was the zing meter. Objectively, Toff was probably a solid eight on the 1-10 scale. But I wasn’t entirely objective about Toff because of our parents dating. And the whole friends since kindergarten factor, which dropped him down to maybe a five.

Also, he hadn’t outgrown armpit farting noises, so maybe he was more like a four. I doodled a surfboard in my notebook and drew a big X through it.

Amy’s finger poked me in the shoulder and I looked up.

Ms. Sanchez’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Daydreaming already, Vivian? And it’s only the first week of school.”

I heard scattered giggles behind me. “Sorry.” I gave her an apologetic, sincere-but-distracted student smile. Her mouth relaxed slightly and she resumed her lecture.

She’d put up a slide on the Promethean board: Symbolism, a Study in Three Parts. Ugh. Why couldn’t we read for fun? I knew how to analyze books for symbolism and metaphors and all that junk, but it got old. Sometimes I fantasized about taking over Lit class and turning it into a book club meeting.

...

“Give me your hand,” Jaz demanded.

“Why should I?” I glared at Jaz suspiciously.

Jaz, Amy, and I had spent most of the lunch break hashing over my RC list, which now had three targets. But we’d argued over target number four: Toff. Jaz insisted I put him on the list while Amy sat quietly nibbling her crackers.

“Just give it to me.” Jaz gestured impatiently to my hand. She gripped my wrist tightly, then stuck a marker in her mouth. She removed the cap with her teeth, then began drawing on my hand.

“Hey!” I tried to jerk my hand free, but she had me in a vise grip.

Amy leaned over to watch Jaz draw. “Perfect,” she said, smiling.

“What? What’s perfect?” I tried to see what Jaz was drawing, but Amy used her hands to block my view.

I sighed and gave up, letting my hand relax in Jaz’s grip. “Resistance is futile,” I said.

Jaz and Amy stared at me.

“Never mind,” I shrugged. “Star Trek quote.”

Jaz smirked and my hand twitched under the felt tip tickling my skin. “There’s gotta be a Star Trek geek we can add to your list.”

Of course there was, but I wasn’t going to start another argument by mentioning Dallas.

Jaz released my hand, looking like a smug Cheshire cat. “Ta da!”

We all stared at the back of my hand, which now sported a perfect caricature of me as Spock, complete with pointy ears. I closed my eyes. Great.

“That’s awesome.” Amy beamed at me. “Maybe you can use it as a geek magnet. To attract new guys for the list.”

I glared at her. “We have enough names on the list. One of them is bound to work out.”

Jaz snorted. “Only if you stick McNerdy on there.”

Amy spoke up before I could. “No more arguing. Viv is set on this list, so we need to support her.”

Jaz turned to her, annoyed. “No, we don’t. Personally, I’m still completely opposed to this idea.”

Amy shrugged. “I don’t like it, either, but what if it works?”

“It won’t,” Jaz said. “But I don’t get to say I told you so until it blows up in her face.” She narrowed her eyes. “I was right about Jake. Why won’t you trust me on this?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but my vocal cords seized as Dallas approached our table.

“Hey.” Dallas nodded at everyone.

Jaz’s foot kicked me under the table. Why did he look more like a super hero every day? Even his ridiculous Dr. Who shirt couldn’t hide his very un-geeky body.

“Hi, Dallas.” Jaz gestured to Amy. “This is Amy.”

“Hi,” Amy said. “You’re the Vespa guy, right?”

Dallas smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah. I think I should change my name since that seems to be what everyone’s calling me.” He shot me a meaningful glance. “Well, not everyone.”

My lungs stopped working while Amy and Jaz giggled like idiots.

“Sorry about that,” Jaz said. “You know we’re just kidding, right?”

“Whatever,” he said, shrugging. “I answer to a lot of weird names.” He lowered his backpack from his shoulder and unzipped it. “Here.” He handed me a book. “I’m paying up on our bet.”

I reached for the thick Star Trek bible, secretly thrilled he’d remembered. “Awesome,” I whispered. I couldn’t wait to sit in my bedroom, away from prying eyes, to read it.

“Remember, it’s just a loan, so I—” Dallas’s voice broke off as his eyes widened. His lips quirked as he stared at my Spock hand. “Let’s see it.” Dallas tilted his head toward me. “Are you testing out a tattoo idea?”

Jaz laughed. “Viv’s way too scared of needles for a real tattoo.”

I shot her a glare and reluctantly rested my hand on the table. Dallas leaned over to check it out while Amy and Jaz sent me a barrage of crazy girl-face messages I tried to ignore.

“Did you draw this?” Dallas asked, raising his eyes to mine. He was clearly impressed.

“No.” I nodded at Jaz, trying to maintain Spock-like calm. “She’s the artist, not me.”

Dallas grinned at Jaz. “You really captured her inner Vulcan.”

Everyone laughed except me. Dallas grabbed his backpack. “Maybe I’ll hire you to design my next tattoo,” he said to Jaz, smiling cryptically.

Next tattoo? So he already had one? Where? And what was it?

“Dallas, wait,” Jaz said. “You have to tell me where you saw Fisk Vilhelm.”

He shifted nervously. “I can’t.”

Jaz gaped at him. “Come on, Dallas. I won’t tell anyone.”

Dallas shot me a questioning look. Was he wondering if it was okay to tell her?

“Viv, please tell Dallas I am not a super stalker or a crazy paparazzi,” Jaz begged.

“Paparazza,” I corrected, then took a drink from my water bottle, stalling. I couldn’t see any way to answer this truthfully without upsetting Jaz, but I could tell Dallas didn’t want to tell her about Fisk.

“I’m sure you’ll see him again,” I said, shrugging. “Running on the beach or whatever.”

Jaz glared at me, then at Dallas. “Whatever, okay? I don’t know why you two are keeping this a secret, but whatev—”

“Me?” I interrupted. “I don’t know where Dallas saw him, either.”

Jaz crossed her arms over her chest, shooting death glares at Dallas and me.

“I’ve gotta go,” Dallas mumbled, backing away from us. “See you later, Vivian.”

As he turned away, Amy leaned over the table, her red curls falling over her shoulders. “Oh, Viv, he’s darling. You have to put him on your RC list.”

“Ha!” Jaz transferred her death glare from Dallas’s retreating figure to me. “Who does he think he is, acting all—”

“Jaz.” I put up a hand to stop her rant. “I don’t know why he won’t tell you, but he must have a good reason. And I swear I don’t know. He hasn’t told me.” Dallas and I definitely didn’t share any secrets. That would require a scary level of intimacy.

Her stalker fire snuffed out as quickly as it ignited. “I just want to see Fisk up close. You know I won’t throw myself at him.”

Amy and I shared a look. It had been a long time since Jaz had accosted a celebrity. She’d been in middle school when boy band star Zeck had blown through town and Jaz had cornered him in the coffee shop, begging him to autograph her thigh.

“What?” Jaz stared back and forth between us. “You guys are not going to bring up Zeck again, are you?”

Amy tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle.

“Anyway...” I slapped the RC notebook. Maybe I could change the subject and focus Jaz’s energy elsewhere. “I’m starting with number one on the list. Iggy.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jaz said. “The person who should be your number one just stood here flirting with you and you didn’t even notice.”

“What?” Dallas flirting? No way. He’d only been making good on his bet.

“So what’s the plan for Iggy?” Amy asked.

“We’re on the newspaper together.”

“And?” Jaz prompted.

And I had no idea. The truth was I sucked at flirting. So far, I’d never been the one to make the first move. But Iggy was nice, and funny, so I hoped somehow things would just…happen.

Something needed to happen to refocus my hormones, and fast, because right now they were way too focused on Vespa Guy. And his mysterious tattoo.