You have the qualities of a lawyer, critic, or scientist with your critical observations and quick wit. Your partner needs to be as smart, diverse, and interested in the world as you.
If anyone had told me how much fun dating could be, I might have started a long time ago. Nah, that’s not true, but what is true is that I’m having a blast with Adam and we haven’t even gone out on our official Saturday night “date” yet.
Apparently the word “date” means many things. I know because I looked it up in Webster’s Dictionary last night. (So I’m completely neurotic … what’s a girl to do?) According to Mr. Webster, there is the “date” on the calendar. Then there is the kind of “date” that means going somewhere at a specific time. In my case, this kind of date would be the romantic appointment on Saturday night, though Adam hasn’t told me specifically what time to meet or where we are going.
Then there is a third kind of “date,” the one we casually call “dating.” It’s a transitive and intransitive verb form meaning, to go out with someone regularly either socially or romantically.
Oh, there is also the fruit. “Date” being a noun meaning a sweet, small oval-shaped fruit with a large, narrow seed.
I’m excitedly anticipating the “date” night out, avoiding the fruit because I’m allergic, and I am actively participating in the verb.
Adam and I are officially dating. I mean, Jennifer and Tanisha said we were, and when it comes to gossip, they are definitely to be believed.
Today’s Friday and already, I can hardly recall why I’ve avoided guys all these years. The fact is, with a guy like Adam, I am quickly discovering that I can have it all: the boy, the grades, the job, and the scholarship focus.
It’s been a whole two days and I haven’t slid down the slippery slope of dating—when girls lose their minds over boys. Hours spent at the mall buying makeup and new clothes. Instant Messaging instead of homework. Text messaging in class. Study sessions with no studying. Late nights out at parties. Grades dropping. College scholarships drifting away. That steep tumble that I’ve been actively and effectively avoiding.
Now I think the slope might not be so slippery after all. I mean, I’ve text messaged with Adam, but it hasn’t been for no good reason or during teacher’s lectures. My study sessions with Adam (all two of them) have been full of actual studying. There have been no late-night parties (so far) and well, I did great on the one quiz I had this morning. In the couple of days that I’ve known him, I’ve discovered that Adam actually pushes me to work harder. Isn’t that amazing?
I feel like I have a firm grip on this dating stuff. To use an astronomy metaphor, I have been rotating as smoothly as Earth around the sun. Perfectly on my orbit and not too close to get burned. But not too far to cool things entirely either. My thanks goes out to Galileo for giving me the ideal analogy.
If things continue like this, which according to Galileo’s heliocentric theory, they must, I might even be psyched to go to Spring Fling Prom with Adam. If he asks that is.
While I’ve been “dating,” Cherise has been busy working on a chart of Neptune’s moons to let me know when the big ask will happen. She says she’ll have it ready this afternoon and will bring it by the tuxedo shop. I told her I’d be busy. She didn’t believe me.
“Ahem.”
Huh?
“Ahem.” It’s Cherise clearing her throat. “Sylvie, what are you doing?”
“I’m—” What was I doing? Oh yeah. I’m in the school cafeteria having lunch with Cherise (and Tyler, of course, but as usual, he’s not talking. Today, he’s busy making a sculpture out of his mashed potatoes.) Cherise has caught me staring out the cafeteria window.
“Nothing,” I say, because it’s darn obvious that I wasn’t actually doing anything. “I was just thinking.”
“About Adam and the Spring Fling Prom?”
Cherise really is the best guesser, I mean predictor, on Earth. She could have her own call-in radio show and make a fortune.
“Well …,” I admit. I can’t help but look across the caf and smile.
When I got to school this morning, Adam was waiting for me on the steps leading into the building. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him standing there wearing khaki pants and a light blue jacket. Now he’s taken off the jacket, revealing a tight-fitting graphic T. I am honestly going to have to see a cardiologist if he doesn’t put his jacket back on soon. Missing one beat was plenty of excitement—that T-shirt is way too much for one small organ to handle.
Adam was sitting with us, but now he’s gone and he’s … table hopping, for lack of a better phrase. He’s over at the swim team table now, but I’ve tracked his progress through a number of different social groups. The cool thing about Adam (one of a growing list) is that he’s attended so many different schools, he knows how to make friends fast. He doesn’t feel bound by social groups or cycles of popularity. He’s as comfortable with the math students as with the cheerleaders. I wish more people were like him.
He’s simply perfect. Perhaps even too perfect. Can a guy be too perfect?
Today, like yesterday, he’s been helping me around the school. Carrying my books while I navigate the hall on my crutches. Bringing me water and snacks. Dropping me off at class, making sure I am comfortable before heading off to his own classes … that kind of stuff.
Cherise is beaming with pride at how this is all unfolding.
Just a little while ago, when Adam guided me into the lunchroom, the whole swim team was already eating together and they started calling: “Hey Adam!” and “Come on over here.”
“Let’s go, Sylvie,” Adam said as he started heading over toward his teammates. I started toward them but then I saw Gavin Masterson scoot over on the long bench to make room for us right next to him.
“No thanks,” I told Adam, frantically scanning the caf. “Cherise’s waiting for me.”
“You and I sat with Cherise yesterday.” Adam reminded me how he sat with us, forsaking his swim team pals. “Let’s sit with the team today.” Adam gave me his most persuasive grin. It’s hard to turn down that grin. It puts butterflies in my belly. “Maybe you’ll make some new friends.”
I looked over at the swim team guys. Gavin Masterson waved at me. There was a sparkle in his eye that immediately reminded me why I don’t like him. It’s as if he’s constantly planning to do something evil.
I turned away and, luckily, it was then that I saw Cherise and Tyler sitting at a table by themselves. “Maybe next week,” I told Adam. “The table seems pretty crowded and I need extra room to put up my ankle.” I hobbled on my crutches over toward Cherise.
Thing is, Cherise probably wouldn’t have said anything if I went with Adam to the swim table. I think she’d encourage my relationship with Adam over honoring her feud with Gavin. But I can’t do it. There’s no way I’m eating lunch with the swim team. Not today or ever.
I don’t mind if Adam wants to eat over there, though. I mean, he is on the team and all.
Adam carried my lunch for me and set it next to Cherise. Then, he hung around for a little while before heading off to circle the cafeteria, eventually landing at the table with his team, taking residence in that empty seat next to Gavin Masterson. Gavin immediately put his arm around Adam and drew him in close for some kind of private joke.
And yet, being as perfect as he is, before he started his cafeteria tour, Adam whispered a reassurance to me that he’s only friendly to Gavin because of the swim team. It’s not like he plans to become best buddies with him or anything like that.
Lunch is nearly over when I decide to talk to Cherise about what I’ve been thinking.
“Cherise,” my tone comes out more anxious than I’d like, “for one minute, I don’t want you to read the cosmos. As my best friend, I simply want your opinion. You have known me most of my life. This whole Adam-and-me-relationship thing is too weird. I just don’t get it.”
“Would you believe me if I told you the planets had an unseen vibration that radiated from their geometric positions on the day of your birth at the moment of your first breath?”
“Please, no,” I tell her, putting up one hand to stop the mumbo. “Is there any other reason Adam might want to date me? Any other reason at all?”
“How about this: You’re likeable,” Cherise says.
I’m not convinced. I think that maybe she’s telling me what I want to hear instead of what she believes.
“I like you,” she prattles on. “And Tyler likes you.” At that Tyler raises his head. He looks at me sideways as if checking out a car wreck, something you don’t want to see, but can’t help staring at regardless.
“Come on, Cherise,” I beg. “Adam seems to have no faults at all. He’s cute and popular and athletic with just the right mix of nerd thrown in. There must be a reason, a real reason he’s picked me over all the other girls at school.” I pause and glance over at Adam, who’s having some kind of milk-chugging contest with Gavin. The guys at the table are going wild. I can hear them shouting Adam’s name.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that he has to be friendly to the team captain.
Cherise puts her fork down. It clinks against the table. “Face it, Sylvie, Adam asked you out because the time was right.”
“Do you mean that if Mars wasn’t in Gemini, Adam wouldn’t like me at all?” This isn’t the answer I expected. I feel a little creepy. Like Cherise is saying that Adam is attracted to me against his will.
“Don’t be silly,” she reprimands. “If you met last week, he’d still like you. He just wouldn’t fall in love with you.”
Now I am feeling even more creeped out. Does Cherise really believe that Adam is some planetary puppet? I regret having raised the subject. I’m not sure how I expected her to answer my question but this wasn’t it.
“If Adam doesn’t like me on his own, then this deal is off. I’m going back to guy-avoidance mode and cancelling our date Saturday night.”
“Don’t worry so much,” Cherise tells me. “The stars set things in motion. That’s all. You both can ride your destiny, or avoid it. Up to you.”
I guess I get it. Kind of. “So,” I say, to be certain, “you believe that Adam and I met on Wednesday because of the stars, but he didn’t have to ask me out, and I didn’t have to say yes. We could have stopped the train at any station?”
“I knew you’d understand!” Cherise is glowing with pride and happiness. For her, this is the instant that I, Sylvie the Scientist, come to understand astrology.
I don’t buy it, but I have committed myself to go along with her stars theory. Being my obsessive self, I will continue to wonder why Adam has chosen me, of all people on Earth, or at least in this school, to go out with this Saturday night.
Looking over at Adam, I see that he’s headed my way and once again I wonder if he’s just too perfect. If I had put everything I wanted in a guy, looks and personality, into a computer, Adam would have popped out. He’s that perfect. He doesn’t even bite his nails, or smoke, or do anything obviously destructive.
“Ready to go?” Adam arrives and begins to gather up my books. “The bell’s about to ring. It’s time for the next period.” Add punctuality to his list of attributes. And politeness, as Adam nods to Tyler and asks how he’s doing.
“Fine,” Tyler replies curtly. “Gotta dash.” He jumps up and slips on his black jacket, which blends in with his black pants and shoes and shirt. His skull-and-crossbones earring shimmers in the fluorescent lighting. “Later,” Tyler says to Adam, me, and Cherise as he vacates. Four words. That’s all Tyler said the entire lunch period. When Adam helped me settle in at the table, Tyler didn’t respond to either of us, even though we both greeted him. I’ve never understood Tyler and frankly, have never really tried. Though on some level, he’s always intrigued me. Not enough to try to talk to him, but just enough to make me curious about what more there is behind his black exterior.
Acting once more the prince, Adam guides me to standing, careful to avoid bumping my ankle. His lovely eyes are bright and there is a warm sincerity in the way he’s helping me. He even clears my tray. As Cherise reaches for her brother’s deserted plate, I’m suddenly curious about what Tyler was creating with his potatoes.
It’s a mashed potato star.
And he left his fork stabbed directly into the middle of it.