Dear Anita:

You’re doing great. Honestly. Sometimes these things take a while. Please just try to stick with it. Your next step is as follows:

Tomorrow evening, show up at Pollo Delicioso at 7 p.m. and order some takeout. This is the end of Jose’s shift. He usually walks home from work, but you will offer him a ride. On the way to his house, ask if he has any pets. He loves to talk about his Chihuahua, Taquito.

When you arrive at the house, tell him you’d like to meet Taquito. Hang out for a few minutes and play with him, and make sure to ask whether he knows any tricks. (He can shake, roll over, and dance. It’s honestly the cutest thing.) After a while, tell Jose you wish you could stick around longer but you need to get the chicken home before it gets cold.

Do not initiate contact again until you receive my next email. Good luck. You’ve got this!

Sincerely,

The Boyfriend Whisperer

www.boyfriendwhispererenterprises.com

 

I close my eyes and hit “send.” Never have I been less confident in my whispering abilities, and my three weeks is almost up. Since making the brownies, Anita has completed two other assignments. She got Jose to help her with her algebra homework and paired up with him as tennis partners during their gym class. She seriously has done a great job. But Jose and Maria are inseparable. They ride the bus together, eat lunch together, walk through the hallways holding hands together. And the worst part is, they’re really, really sweet together.

I’ve failed only once in my career as the Boyfriend Whisperer, when Joletta Smith hired me to whisper Bryan Owens. I tried every trick in the book for those two, only to find out after three weeks that Bryan doesn’t like girls. Not that way, anyway. Not much I could do but process Joletta’s refund.

This time, though, is different. I need to try to make it work, for Anita’s sake and, if I’m being honest, for mine. I need to know that just because a guy is going out with a girl and just because they seem like a great couple, it doesn’t mean they’re right for each other. The right girl could be waiting in the wings, and if she sticks with it long enough, things just might work out.

 

 

“A small popcorn?” Chris catches up with me at my locker first thing Monday morning. “That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Lexi. You’re smarter than that. Why would a guy order a small popcorn for two people?”

I sigh. If you’re Jerod, it’s apparently because you have a moral objection to enjoying a delicious snack while watching a super-preachy documentary about how technology is ruining everyone’s lives. But I don’t tell Chris this. Instead, I rest my hands on my hips. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You’re sitting in a dark theater, side by side. How many times did he grab your hand when you both reached into that tiny bag? And at what point in the movie did he finally slip his arm around you?”

“Sounds like the voice of experience.”

Chris’s face grows red. The kids walking by have started to stare, so I take a step toward him and lower my voice. “Not that I have to answer to you, but for the record, Jerod did not have a single kernel of popcorn.” I smile sweetly. “Though he did grab my hand. If I recall correctly, it was sometime during the opening credits. And he didn’t let it go until long after the movie ended.”

The part about the popcorn is true. The part about Jerod grabbing my hand is not. In fact, I grabbed his halfway through the movie, and he seemed okay with it, but that’s as far as things went. Much as I hate to admit it, his lack of game is starting to bother me. Sure, it’s great to be respected, and I don’t particularly want him jumping all over me, but a kiss might be nice. Or two. What if it’s me? Maybe I’m not the kissable type.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris touches my elbow, his eyes searching mine. I hate that he can see past my smile.

I pull back and nod. “I’m fine. Did you know that three out of five people spend more time with their computers than with the people they love?”

“What?”

“And thirty-eight percent of teens are harassed or bullied online.”

“Um. Okay.” Chris’s eyes widen. “Wait a minute. Did he take you to see that tech-gone-bad movie? Are you kidding me?”

Suddenly I feel the need to defend the preachy documentary. “For your information, it was very informative and … educational,” I say. “A movie doesn’t have to have a chase scene to keep my attention.”

With that, I slam my locker and waltz away. If I’m being honest, a chase scene or two would have done wonders for that movie.