The answer had been in front of me all along. There was a way to stop getting cheated on, lied to, and used.
I would stop torturing myself by dating loser guys. I would enjoy the benefits of being single. I would, for once, focus on me. Junior year would be my year. It would be all about me, Penny Lane Bloom, sole member and founder of The Lonely Hearts Club.
BOYS WERE DEAD TO ME. The only question was: Why hadn't I thought of this sooner?
I knew the idea was genius. But it would've been nice if my best friend was able to stop looking at me like I was an escapee from a mental institution.
"Pen, you know I love you, but., "
Here we go.
We were having an emergency meeting (complete with the cheese fries required to get over a breakup) at our local diner, less than an hour after my inspiration hit. Tracy took a sip of her milk shake, taking in my tirade about all the problems guys have caused me over the years. I hadn't even gotten to the part about the club yet and my decision to not date.
"I know you're upset, and you have every reason to be," Tracy said. "But not all guys are evil."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, really? Should we go through your lists from the last two years?"
Tracy slumped down in her seat. Every year she made a list of guys she wanted to date. She would spend all summer weighing her options before putting the list together for the school year, with each guy ranked in order of preference based on a ratio of looks, popularity, and looks.
The list definitely caused more heartache than it was worth. Tracy still hadn't been on a date with any of the candidates. In fact, she'd never had a boyfriend. I couldn't figure out why. She was pretty, funny, smart, and one of the most loyal and dependable friends anyone could ask for. But, as if I needed another example of why boys sucked, none of the guys at McKinley seemed to feel she was girlfriend material.
Lucky her, I thought. But she wasn't seeing it that way.
"I don't know what you are talking about," she said.
"Right. So you're telling me you don't have a new list ready for inspection?"
Tracy moved her purse onto the seat next to her.
Of course she had a new list. We only had a few more days before the start of junior year.
"What to the evs," she huffed. "I guess I should just throw the list away since, according to you, all men are jerks."
I smiled. "Now we're getting somewhere. Lets burn it!"
Tracy groaned, "You've clearly lost your mind. Can you be serious for a second?"
"I am being serious," Now it was Tracy's turn to roll her eyes. "Come on — not every single male on this planet is a horrible human being. What about your dad?"
"What about Thomas Grant?" I shot back.
Tracy's mouth dropped open.
Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Thomas had been on last years list. She'd spent an entire semester flirting with him in Chemistry. Finally he'd asked her if she was free one weekend.
Tracy had been thrilled. . until he tested her an hour before they were supposed to meet and told her that something had "come up," Then he'd ignored her the rest of the year. No explanation, no apology nothing.
Typical male.
"And Kevin Parker?" I pressed.
Tracy glared at me. "Well, its not my fault that he doesn't know I exist."
There was always one name on the top of Tracy's list — Kevin Parker, senior football player extraordinaire. Unfortunately Kevin had never acknowledged that Tracy was even alive. When I'd been dating Derek, I'd invite Kevin and his friends over to my house for the sole purpose of letting Kevin get to know Tracy. But he never paid any attention to her. One of the only reasons I put up with Derek for as long as I did was because Tracy needed her daily Kevin Parker fix.
Thinking about that list and how much it dictated Tracy's happiness made me want to rip it out of her purse and tear it apart. Because I knew — one by one, she'd have to cross their names off and she'd end up in tears.
Tracy sighed, then collected herself. "This year is going to be different," she swore. "I don't know — I've got a really good feeling about it." She took the list out and started wistfully looking at this years contenders.
Had I seriously believed that Tracy would understand my need to stop dating? All she thought about was going on dates.
I gave up. . for the moment, Tracy wasn't the only one who had a good feeling about this year.
THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. I wasn't even at school yet, and I already had to face the enemy. Not Nate — he was gone. But Nate's kind.
"Aw, can you believe my baby brother is in high school?" Tracy gestured to the backseat of her car, where her brother Mike was blaring his iPod. "And you know, Pen, I don't see any horns on the top of his head."
"Yet "I smirked at her.
Little Mikey Larson was a freshman.. a guy….. one of them.
I wondered when he would start acting like every other guy at McKinley. Was there some sort of secret class where they taught boys to become himbos?
As Mike got out of Tracy's car, I couldn't help but notice how much more alike than ever they looked, with their dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, and heart-shaped faces, Tracy looked me up and down. "Pen, those shoes are adorbs.
You look smokin' hawt today." She applied a fresh coat of lip gloss in the rearview mirror. "Looking to impress anybody in particular?"
I groaned. "No — I just wanted to look nice for me."
Tracy gave me a look that said she didn't believe me.
I didn't care. This was going to be the start of an amazing year. I opened the door to school, excited about getting a fresh start, minus all the boy craziness.
The smile on my face quickly vanished when the first person I saw was Dan Walker, wearing the letter jacket I'd "borrowed" when we were dating. How fitting that I would be greeted by a reminder of hideous boyfriends past. I was just thankful that Nate was miles away back in Chicago. I turned the corner to get away from Dan and saw Kevin Parker, who was apparently still too cool to give Tracy the time of day.
My frustration grew as I continued to survey my classmates. I'd walked these hallways thousands of times, but it was as if my eyes were open for the first time. All I saw were girls falling over themselves to flirt with guys, couples walking hand in hand, guys being… well, guys: loud, obnoxious, egotistical. They didn't go to girls; girls came to them.
My bag vibrated and I pulled out my cell phone. I stopped dead in my tracks and Brian Reed bumped into me. "Watch it!" he yelled as his girlfriend, Pam, glared my way. Heaven forbid they weren't able to hold hands 24/7.
I snapped out of my daze. I was convinced there was some sort of mistake. But no — the phone cruelly confirmed the truth: It was a text from Nate. Of course he would find a way to torture me even though he wasn't around.
Have a good first day.
What? First, he knew I wasn't talking to him. Second, it had only been two weeks — did he think I'd forgotten? Third, could he have been any lamer? I deleted the text and shoved my phone back into my bag.
I refused to let Nate Taylor ruin one more day of my life.