Before The Boys Say No Part 9

"You really are pretty, Bea. I'm going to have to find us some guys to go out with. It'd really stink if we didn't get dates our senior year."

"Tell me about it," I groaned.

"How about your new debate partner? Congrats on your win, by the way," she said.

"Jared's an Aggie."

Her mouth dropped. "Are you serious? You must have been desperate for a partner."

"You know it," I muttered.

"Well, he must have done pretty good for you guys to win, Bea."

"He's a bit rough around the edges right now," I said slowly.

"Is he cute?"

"No," I said flatly.

She got a disappointed look on her face. "Well, would you consider asking him to Homecoming and bringing a friend for me?"

"Absolutely not," I said vehemently. "Besides, I think I've got a debate tournament."

She dropped the subject. I actually didn't have a debate tournament, but it kept prying questions at bay. Johanna picked at her salad. I had already finished my sandwich and wanted to hide in the library to conduct more research for debate.

"Can I share something with you, Bea?" she asked quietly.

"Sure," I replied. She seemed on edge.

"You have to promise not to laugh and you have to promise not to tell anyone," she said, her face very serious as she looked at me.

"Yeah, who am I going to tell, Johanna? It's not like I have any other friends--real friends, you know?"

Johanna reached inside her notebook and pulled out a binder. She looked around her suspiciously before laying it on the table in front of us. She had my full attention. Her sudden, bizarre att.i.tude just made it more intriguing.

"What I'm about to show you may change our lives forever," she whispered.

I wanted to laugh, but she was so serious about it that I forced the same serious expression on my face. Johanna opened up the binder and pulled out several sheets of paper from the back and lined them on the table in front of us. They appeared to be some sort of flow chart.

"Homework?" I asked with raised eyebrows.

"My own independent study," she said in a low voice. "What if I told you that I knew Dale was going to break up with me? Oh, I didn't know the exact date, but I actually calculated it this week. I was hoping we would last at least till the Homecoming dance."

I was all ears now. "What do you mean you calculated when he would break up with you?"

"I've created a model--you might call it a diagram. I input all the data I know about guys, what my friends would say about them, what the magazines say--you get the point. I wanted to know what guys truly are looking for in a girl to date her. The answers just blew me away."

I looked at the diagram in front of me. It was very detailed and long. Johanna must have spent as much time on this as I had on my debate research. Still, it didn't make any sense to me.

"It looks cool, but I don't get it," I told her.

"On the surface it looks complicated," she agreed. "But when you break it down, there really is a formula."

I leaned in closer as she took her finger and started tracing different steps in the diagram. Yeah, it was still confusing. Johanna is a total brainiac. I was surprised she would even spend time on something like this. I never knew she agonized about dating as much as me.

"Okay, look at this," she said. "I take all the characteristics of the guys--like Dale. He's fun and outgoing. He's concerned with how his friends view him. He's also bold. I mean, he asked me to go to Homecoming the first day of school. Then I typed in any information I could find on the girls he's dated in the past."

"Sorry, Johanna, you're losing me. I still don't get it."

"Pay attention," she snapped. "It's really simple. I mean, you have to do your research on the guys, but we can make ourselves into what the guys are looking for. Theoretically, we should be able to get any guy we want."

"Okay. What you're saying is, we gather information on a guy we want to date. Then we find out what he's liked in girls in the past. Then we transform ourselves into that type of girl?"

"Yeah. It's so easy, I'm surprised no one's come up with it before."

"Good theory on paper, Johanna, but not in real life."

"Oh, yeah?" she said coyly. "How do you think Dale Jerry asked me out on a date?"

My eyes got big. "You mean, you actually tried it out?"

She smiled and glanced around to make sure no one heard her. "Haven't you noticed anything different about me, Bea? Really think about it."

I looked her over. I had been so caught up with debate, but I had noticed little things--like she wore brighter colors, she was doing her hair more. I nodded, my thoughts running wild.

"You know another thing I discovered?" she continued. "Once we cla.s.sify a guy, that type pretty much likes the same qualities in girls. The more I find out, the more I can tweak the formula so I can know exactly what to expect."

My mind was racing. "So how do I find a guy who likes big girls?"

"You're missing the point," she said. "We make ourselves into what they like. Pick out a guy you like, I'll input his characteristics, you research his past girlfriends--and ta da! I'll tell you what you need to do to get him to ask you on a date, when he'll ask you, and how long it will last. If we do it right, we should be able to have a date for the Winter Formal and prom, for sure."

"So, I just need to start with finding a guy who likes big girls--"

"Get off the big girl wagon, Bea. Find a guy you like and do what you have to do to get him. If that means losing weight, then lose it. Change your hair color, wear more makeup."

"Easy for you to say, Johanna. You're tiny and cute. I'm Italian. We're born with breeder's hips."

"Do you want to date in your senior year, or what?" she asked. I could tell she was getting exasperated.

"Fine," I said with a sigh. "But I feel like I'm going to have to settle."

"We will not settle," she said with a fierce whisper. "I proved I could get a guy to like me by just tweaking my look and making some slight adjustments to my personality."

"Don't you want a guy to like you for you though? I mean, you're so smart."

"Only geeky guys are smart," she retorted. "I'm tired of that being the only option for me. I want to date someone cute. Come on, Bea. It's our senior year. It's supposed to be the best time of our lives."

I grinned suddenly. This might be fun after all. I started looking around the lunch tables for potential dates. It was too late for Homecoming, but the Winter Formal was just a couple of months away.

"So who's your next target?" I asked her.

"I'm going for Dalton Smith," she said, her eyes dancing with glee.

Dalton Smith just happened to be on the football team. He played defense and was a rather large guy, cute, and someone I would never think Johanna would be interested in. My shocked expression made her laugh.

"Come on, Bea, pick someone--someone you never thought would want to date you. Think of it as a debate challenge. You have to prepare for debate. Well, you have to prepare for dating, too. This will be so much fun."

I had always thought Michael Walters was cute. He ran cross country track. He was tall with dark hair, and a pretty clear complexion--especially for someone who sweated a lot. I whispered his name to Johanna. She laughed softly and nodded. I knew what I had to do. Let the research begin.

"Are you done with this table? Because we need it."

I looked up to see Lanie standing squarely in front of me with a group of girls behind her. She had her hands on her hips in a challenging way. I glanced around. There were a couple of other free tables. For some reason, she had picked ours. I was done with lunch anyway. I looked over at Johanna who was already scrambling to put the papers back in the binder. She hated confrontations and the popular girls scared both of us.

I didn't say a word. I stood and waited for Johanna to get her stuff. Lanie immediately took my seat with a triumphant look at the other girls. I didn't understand why she was so spiteful. And I don't think it was a fluke that she had picked our table to seize. She had it out for me. The only reason I could think of was because Brody was nice to me.

Johanna and I walked away. I had to endure a few "fat" comments from them as we left the table. I wanted to squeeze my b.u.t.t cheeks together, but I knew that didn't look attractive. Believe me, I had checked in the mirror several times in an attempt to see what made my b.u.t.t look smaller.

"Keep our eyes on the prize," Johanna whispered. "Pretty soon, those girls won't be picking on us."

I wasn't so sure. I glanced over my shoulder to see Lanie's eyes following me. She had a hard look on her face. Definitely not someone I would want to make mad. She'd turn the whole school on me. And she could. She was that popular.

I decided to avoid Brody at all costs. Sure, he was a great guy and I liked his friends.h.i.+p. But it wasn't worth suffering Lanie's wrath.

CHAPTER 8.

I am a big girl trapped in a skinny body. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I had spent the last week gathering up as much information on Michael Walters that I could find. He was in English cla.s.s with me, though he sat across the room. I had been so preoccupied with Brody in the cla.s.s that I didn't realize I had a potential date in there, as well.

I knew I had fully committed myself to Johanna's experiment when I found myself sneaking down to the track to spy on him. I sat in the bleachers with a pad of paper and just made observations about him--who he hung out with, his demeanor, how he spent his time. The tricky part was trying to find out who he had dated. Last year's yearbook helped me. I discovered him in a couple of pictures at some of the dances. I wrote down the girls' names and anything I observed about them. Now, all that remained was for Johanna to input it into her diagram.

I found myself sitting cross-legged on her bed, anxiously chewing on my thumbnail as she ran the information through her flow chart. She had been at it for about half an hour before she finally raised her head.

"Okay, Bea," she sighed. "I think I've got it."

She crossed over to sit on the bed with me. In her hand she held the answer to me getting a date with Michael Walters. I felt a tingle of excitement run up my spine.

"You ready?" she asked and I nodded my head. "According to the data, Michael is kind of quiet, serious, and really into running. The girls he's dated in the past all seem to have brown hair. They're also involved in sports some way--tennis, running, volleyball, which helps them stay in shape."

"Oh, boy," I muttered, "I'm no athlete."

"Come on, Bea. You can do this. Here's the strategy I've come up with. You don't have experience in sports. The only physical activity that doesn't require you to be proficient to play is running."

I groaned. "I never liked running in P.E., Johanna. It was pure torture. My b.o.o.bs always bounce up and down. It hurts."

"Think of it as torturing yourself for a date--to the Winter Formal. And wear two sports bras."

"I'll give it a try." I know my voice didn't sound too sure.

"The fun part is changing your looks," Johanna said brightly. "Michael has only dated brunettes. We won't do anything too drastic. Just add some subtle brown tones to your hair. And no makeup."

"Come on," I protested. "I look awful without makeup."

"Are you kidding?" Johanna said with a frown. "You hardly wear makeup. That's a good thing. I think if you keep it really natural, you'll be fine."

"Is that it?" I asked.

"Just a few other minor details. All the girls he's dated have had blue eyes."

"Well, I can't change that, now can I?"

"Colored contacts, Bea," she said firmly. "Keep an open mind. We won't get them too bright, just a nice color that will blend in with your natural brown color."

This was starting to sound like more work than I had prepared myself for. "Anything else?"

"You need to be serious and quiet. You cannot afford to speak your mind, Bea."

"I'll try," I offered in a weak voice.

"Think of him as one of the popular kids. You never speak your mind to them. If all goes as planned, he will ask you to the Winter Formal."

Okay, I had a plan to get Michael Walters to ask me to the Winter Formal. I still wasn't sure about all that running. I know what the data shoed, but it didn't make it any easier.

Two days later, I found myself ready to pa.s.s out on the sidewalk a block from my house. I decided to try running around my neighborhood before I ventured onto the school track. Good thing, too, because I was a mess.

I had taken Johanna's advice and put on two sports bras. That really did help with the bouncing. Now, if only I could keep my hips and thighs from jiggling. The worse part was the sweating. And the way my lungs burned. And the shaky feeling I got in my legs. And the spew of vomit that came out of my mouth. Yep. I vomited everything I'd eaten for breakfast.

Miserable, I limped back home, holding my side. I stood outside, bent over like an old woman, until I finally caught my breath. Mom came rus.h.i.+ng out when she saw me through the window.

"Bea, what's wrong?" she yelled worriedly. Her voice rang through the neighborhood.

"I'm fine, Mom," I said, licking my dry lips. "I've just decided to take up running."

"Running? Are you crazy, Bea? You don't run."

"I do now. Or at least, I'm trying."

I limped into the house with her following me close behind. She even trailed me into the kitchen and hovered over me while I took a long drink of water. I wiped my mouth and gave her a look.

"You're not trying to turn yourself into one of those anorexic girls, are you?" Mom asked point blank.

"No, Mom. I'm just trying to get into shape. At least, any other shape than a pear--or apple, more like it."

"You look beautiful, Bea," she said. "You're Italian, for goodness sake. We have hips and b.o.o.bs. A lot of men appreciate that in a woman. I don't want you to go off trying crazy diets and taking pills to lose weight."