Tuesday afternoon, Andie paced back and forth across Lola’s room, her thin arms crossed over her chest. Lola needed some serious boy help, and Andie wasn’t really sure where to start.
“First things first,” Andie said, pausing in front of the bed, where Lola was sitting with Heath Bar in her lap. “You have to get rid of the furball.”
“What? No!” Lola cried, clutching the cat tighter. He let out a sudden meow, like a sumo wrestler had just stepped on his tiny paw.
“Lola,” Andie explained, “no boy is going to want to talk to you if you’re holding a twenty-pound cat. You don’t have to really get rid of him—just don’t carry him around.”
“Right, right,” Lola said, kissing the cat on the head. She set him down gently on the floor and Heath Bar waddled into the bathroom, his big belly swinging.
Next Andie took in Lola’s outfit, her gaze settling on her pale yellow Gap button-down. She riffled through her Alice + Olivia tote and pulled out a lint roller. She held it up high.
“That also means no cat hair—none. I bought this for you, so from now on you have to carry this wherever you go.” Andie rolled the sleeve of Lola’s shirt, then the back. “And no more touching that cat.” She held the lint roller in front of Lola’s face. It was covered in orange fur.
“But Heathy sleeps in my bed,” Lola said sadly, running her hand over her bedspread.
Andie looked around Lola’s room, pretending she hadn’t heard that. After school she’d helped Lola unpack her books and hang up pictures of Starlett, her favorite horse from her stable in London. Her viola stood neatly in the corner, her CDs (mostly classical—Andie would have to work on that) were organized, and there was a photograph of Lola and her best friend, Abby, perched on the nightstand.
“So the next time you see Kyle, you want everything to go smoothly,” Andie continued, putting her hands on her hips authoritatively. “You need a plan, from the second you see him. What are you going to do?”
Lola stared out the window, watching a one-legged pigeon hop along the stone ledge. “I guess I’d start with hello,” Lola said thoughtfully. That felt like a safe answer.
“No!” Andie corrected her. “You’re going to say…” Andie paused dramatically and tossed her glossy brown hair over her shoulder. “‘Hi…’” She said it so softly it was practically a whisper.
Lola shook her head, her cheeks pink.
“Trust me,” Andie continued. “I know what I’m talking about. I went out with Ben Carter last year for almost a month. And Clay Calhoun likes me—he’s one of the hottest guys at Haverford.” She wasn’t bragging—it was true. Boys always liked her, and she never even had to try. Brett Crowley, a boy in her drawing class at the MoMA, had asked her out last year by sketching a picture of the Mona Lisa with her face on it. It wasn’t exactly a faithful representation, but it was still cute.
“Oh,” Lola said. She sat up a little straighter, impressed by Andie’s credentials.
“Just practice it!” Andie coaxed.
“Hi…” Lola said softly, but when she tossed her hair, her headband slid down on her forehead.
“Okay…maybe we should start with more basic stuff,” Andie amended. “You can’t sweat or turn beet red when you talk to Kyle. And you can’t be so clumsy—just move very slowly. If you’re fumbling all the time, he’ll know you like him.”
Lola patted down her frizzy blond hair, confused. “But I do fancy him….” Wasn’t that the point? She wanted him to take her on a double-decker bus tour, or show her the inside of Belvedere castle, that spooky stone structure in Central Park.
“I know.” Andie sighed. It was like Lola had been sick for all of fifth grade, when everyone else discovered boys like to be ignored. She put on her most patient face and took a deep breath. “But you don’t want him to know that—at least not yet. You have to pretend like you don’t care. If you get nervous, just pretend Kyle is…” Andie scanned the room. “…is Heath Bar!” The orange tabby was in the corner, licking the remnants of a glazed doughnut off a plate on Lola’s nightstand.
Lola imagined herself on the double-decker tour bus, gazing into Heath Bar’s furry face as they sped through Greenwich Village, the Washington Square arch flying past. She let out a laugh. It would be hard to get nervous if she did that.
Andie started pacing again, like a detective on the verge of solving a particularly tricky case. The Case of Lola Childs and the Missing Cool Gene. She stopped right in front of Lola. “And when you’re walking next to each other, you always want to be within two feet of him. That way he’ll be able to smell your perfume.”
“But I don’t wear perfume,” Lola pointed out.
Andie pulled a tiny Philosophy bottle out of her bag and tossed it to Lola. “Now you do.”
Lola sprayed the vanilla scent in the air and leaned forward into the mist. It smelled like cake batter, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled the sweet scent. But then she frowned.
“What’s the problem?” Andie asked, one hand on her hip.
“Well, all this will only work if I actually see him again.”
“And?”
“And after I spilled ice cream all over him, he said he had to go home and change his shirt.” Lola filled her cheeks with air, like a blowfish on its guard. “I haven’t heard from him since. And I’m not going to,” she finished dejectedly, releasing the air from her cheeks.
Andie waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it—that was only yesterday. Haven’t you ever heard of boy time?”
Boy time was a well-proven unit of measurement. After Ben Carter had asked her for her phone number last year—via a note on a Bubblicious wrapper—he hadn’t called for almost three days. Andie had been sick with worry until Cindy, whose favorite movie was Clueless despite the ugly ’90s clothes, had reminded her about the golden rule revealed in the movie: Boys experience time differently. Sure enough, Ben had called on day three.
“And now for the most important part,” she continued, taking Lola’s MacBook from her desk and resting it on the bed. “Research.” She looked disapprovingly at Lola’s computer desktop: a photo of Heath Bar in a miniature construction paper party hat.
An IM popped up in the corner of the screen and Andie furrowed her brows. “Is Striker15…Kyle?” She shot Lola an I-told-you-so look.
“Um…yes,” Lola muttered. She leaned over the laptop and swallowed hard. Sure, she had been talking to Kyle online all summer, but now he was a real person. A real, cute person. They lived in the same city and she had just spilled ice cream all over his shirt. And apparently he still wanted to talk to her.
STRIKER15: HEY
She stared at the blinking cursor for a good long minute. Her fingers felt like they were made of lead. She reached to close the laptop.
“Just say hi!” Andie coaxed, sliding the MacBook in front of Lola and opening it back up. Lola’s palms started to sweat as she typed two letters onto the keyboard.
LOLABEAN: HI
STRIKER15: WHAT’S UP?
Lola bit her lip. She couldn’t tell Kyle the truth—Oh, I’m just sitting around learning how to make you like me.
STRIKER15: WHAT’S THE MATTER? HEATH BAR GOT YR
TONGUE? 
Lola looked stricken.
“Just ignore him for a minute. He’s not going anywhere.”
Andie rolled up the sleeves of her pale blue J. Crew button-down, her face serious. “Like I said, let’s just do a little research.” She pulled up Facebook and searched for “Kyle Lewis.” A picture of a boy with spiky brown hair playing the guitar came up. “Lola, he’s cute!” she cried.
Lola adjusted her cloth headband. “I told you,” she mumbled.
STRIKER15: STICKS? U THERE?
“This is perfect.” Andie continued, pointing to his Interests section. “See, it’s all right here—soccer, chocolate milkshakes, snowboarding, ice hockey, the Great Lawn in Central Park, burgers from Corner Bistro—oh my God and he likes the Shins!” Andie’s eyes lit up. “Tell him you’re listening to Wincing the Night Away.”
“What?” Lola asked, confused.
“Just say exactly that!” Andie commanded, nudging Lola in the ribs. Lola typed the IM slowly, exactly the way Andie had said it.
LOLABEAN: LISTENING TO WINCING THE NIGHT AWAY STRIKER15: U LIKE THE SHINS? I’M OBSESSED W/KISSING THE LIPLESS.
“Ew.” Lola cringed.
“No, Lola. It’s a song—it’s good. Tell him you love it too.”
LOLABEAN: LOVE THAT SONG 2!
There was a long pause and Lola bit her lip, hoping Kyle wouldn’t ask her another question. She felt like she had showed up for the hardest math quiz of the year without studying, and now she had to cheat off Andie.
STRIKER15:
“It’s working!” Lola clapped her hands in front of her face.
“See?” Andie said, smoothing back her bangs. “I told you! Ask him if he likes Iron & Wine—if he likes the Shins he’s probably into them too.” Lola straightened up and started typing faster on the keyboard.
“Lola,” Andie giggled, “try not to use so many exclamation marks.”
Lola smiled. She would have used a million exclamation marks if she could have. She hadn’t been this excited since she met J. K. Rowling at the Barnes & Noble in West London.
LOLABEAN: WANT TO HANG OUT THURSDAY?
Lola held her breath, waiting for Kyle’s response.
STRIKER15: 4 SURE.
Lola let out a shriek and threw her thin arms around Andie, hugging her tight. “You’re brilliant!” she cried. Tomorrow she’d do exactly what Andie had taught her—toss her hair, wear perfume, keep on about soccer and snowboarding and kissing the bloody lipless. And by the end of the day…well, maybe she’d be doing some kissing too. Hopefully not with the bloody lipless.