The girl I am desperately crushing on is in love with my big brother.
How am I supposed to be okay with this?
The guy’s a jerk. I wish I could go up to Kamryn and tell her flat out that the good-looking basketball star she thinks is so fantastic has broken at least a dozen hearts in the last ten months alone. I wish I could tell her he’s a waste of space.
And that last guy she was with? Segal? He was a jerk too.
I wish I could tell Kamryn that she should give me a chance. I’d treat her like a princess.
Yeah, right. Like I’d ever have the guts to tell her something like that. Like she’d ever listen to me anyway.
My afternoon crawls along. The seconds tick by even slower when I remember I’m supposed to start that stupid math tutoring today.
The tutorial hour passes like a turtle walking backward through cement. Perfect squares and square roots and ratios. But at 3:40, I’m finally free.
I skip the bus and decide to walk home. I need to think. I need to give my brain time to obsess about Kamryn trying to get together with my brother. My loser, jerk brother. He looks great on the outside, but he uses people to get what he wants.
How can I get what I want?
I want to get Kamryn to like me instead of Kyle. But how do I do that?
This requires serious thinking. And serious thinking requires serious fuel. I double back half a block to the 7-Eleven. I buy a carton of milk and a bag of black licorice. The combination grosses all my friends out. But it works, especially when applied just before massive brainpower output. It’s gotten me through at least seven major exams, one prepared speech and a really confusing breakup with a girl who was way better than me at talking in circles.
I take my sugar overdose outside with me and sit down on a parking block. I have to think. I have to come up with a plan to make Kamryn realize not only that Kyle is a weenie, but that she should spend her time with me instead.
Plan A: I kill Kyle outright. Then I won’t have to think about him for the rest of my life. No more awards banquets. No more driving around to weekend tournaments. No more pictures of my grinning brother caught up in one-armed hugs with sports celebrities.
I go very still as I think about this for a moment. A warm feeling comes over me. I stop chewing and lose myself in the thought of a Kyle-free world.
I blink.
No. I can’t kill Kyle.
The warm feeling goes away. The familiar knot of irritation settles back into place in my chest. I sigh.
Plan B: I go right up to Kamryn and tell her she’s hot and that I want her in my world. I say that Kyle is a doofus who leaves poo streaks in his Jockeys. I tell her I am clean, kind and full of love.
Somehow I don’t think that plan is going to fly.
Something sneaky might work though. What if I could somehow communicate the same basic information to Kamryn without her knowing it’s from me?
I chew through three more pieces of licorice while I brainstorm various options. I remind myself that anything goes when you’re brainstorming. Stupid ideas included.
Write an article in the newspaper about how Kyle sucks. (Who reads the newspaper?)
Make an announcement on the radio about how Kyle sucks. (Really? Stupid.)
Buy ad time on tv and make an ad about how Kyle sucks. (Really? Really really?)
Make a YouTube video about how Kyle sucks. (Too revealing.)
Write Kamryn a note about how Kyle sucks. (Possible. But she’ll know it’s from someone who’s jealous. And even if a single note was enough to convince her—which it wouldn’t be—how do I take the next step of showing her that I’m the right guy?)
Write Kamryn a poem about the kind of guy who’s perfect for her. (This is more promising. Girls go for poems. Don’t they?)
No, not a poem. Not a note. A conversation. There has to be a way to engage Kamryn in some sort of back-and-forth. Then I can reel her in slowly. Get her to fall for me, without giving away my identity.
At least, not until I’ve got her, hook, line and sinker.
I think about my options here.
Post on a blog that she reads and get her interested enough to leave a comment? Could I start the conversation that way?
But how do I know what she reads? Her Facebook page isn’t public, so I can’t see her Likes. I don’t know which websites she reads. Which means I have to catch her attention—and keep her interested—with something new.
A website where…where what? What would interest an eighth-grade girl enough to keep her checking every day? Shoes? Clothes? Makeup? I don’t know anything about that stuff.
Huh. What about relationships? I can probably make that stuff up.
Okay. Plan C.
Set up an anonymous blog and write a bunch of posts about relationships at my school. Write the blog like someone who can see the future. Get people excited about it so that lots of them read it. And come to depend on it for advice.
And then, through the blog, I’ll convince Kamryn that I’m a better option than Kyle.
I look around, excited. I think this could work!
I need to think of a name.
I think about the Big Idea, like teachers always tell you to do. I need a great name that tells people what kind of blog it is. It needs to say that it’s a place to go for advice on relationships, looking into the future. The name should make people think of a crystal ball, but with more practical suggestions.
I need something catchy, easy to say and easy to remember.
Wizard? Nah. Wizards create magic. They don’t give advice.
Muse? No. I’m not going to be inspiring people.
Mystic? That sounds like I should be handing out green tea and crystals.
I play with the words for a few more minutes, until the perfect one arrives. When it finally drops into my mind, I get one of those powerful full-body shivers.
Oracle.
I grin suddenly and spook a small child walking through the parking lot. He stares.
I stand and fire my milk carton into the garbage.
Let the games begin.