Excerpt: How Not to Get the Girl of Your Dreams

So there I was. Friday night, September fourteenth, and I was standing outside of the Zefram family home. It was exactly the sort of place I’d expect a girl as perfect and adorable as May Zefram to live; sweet peas growing underneath the windows, white trim on a nice little pastel two-story house, a nicely trimmed lawn, no tacky plastic animals anywhere to be seen, and a warm light glowing from the downstairs windows. It was just what I expected, but not what I thought she deserved. May should have lived in a palace. That’s how it was supposed to be with dream princesses.

I studied the second story windows closely. I’d done plenty of research before embarking on this plan, but no matter how closely I watched her, no matter how many times I’d stood outside their house looking up at the windows, I couldn’t figure out which room was May’s bedroom. I was going to have to guess. Luckily, I’m a pretty good guesser. Most of the time. Except in things that could explode in some way. But I maintain that’s always intentional. I don’t care what I had to tell the principal to keep them from expelling me. Totally meant to do that, every time.

So there were four windows to choose from. Two were very close to each other and one of those two was rather small with curtains covered with little ducks hanging in the window, so I figured those were probably the master bedroom and bathroom. That narrowed things down by half, so I just had to pick between the two remaining windows. There weren’t a lot of clues to help me out…no pink frilly curtains, no mobiles, no flower pots, and no clues at all as to whether or not any of the rooms belonged to a sixteen year old girl. I was at a total loss and was about ready to give up when a miracle happened.

May opened a window.

My jaw dropped. It was like something out of one of those cheesy click flicks, one with John Cusack and some hot blonde thing with a conscience that teaches him how to love. Except I looked nothing like John Cusack, and May was far more beautiful than any movie star could ever be. She stared out the window at the sky for one glorious moment, her hair luminescent in the street lights, and then turned around and shouted something back inside before disappearing from view.

Well, I thought, that was a stroke of luck.

This was the part of my plan that was completely foolproof. All those years of being a mad genius were going to pay off! The makeshift grappling gun was the most practical thing I’d come up with to date, and it had worked fine when I tried to hook it only my stepdad’s shed the other day. With a sense of absolute certainty that this was going to be a piece of cake, I aimed at the open window and fired.

The hook latched onto the sill perfectly. The rope fell off.

I stared at it in horror. Well, fuck me.

It was time for plan B. I hauled myself over the low fence into the Zeframs’ yard, and got started up the drain pipe.

It was a longer haul than it looked from down on the ground, but somehow I made it. I mean, I was totally out of breath and sweaty and disgusting and gross, but I made it. The moment I wrapped my arms over the window sill of May’s bedroom, when I pulled myself through the opening and tumbled to the soft, welcoming, carpeted floor was the most glorious, triumphant moment of my life. I had made it. I was in May Zefram’s bedroom. The room where she slept, talked on the phone, changed every morning and night, lay alone in bed at night dreaming of me in a tank top and panties to keep cool in the stifling night air…

There was a football on the floor.

I blinked and stood as the sudden sense that something was wrong grew stronger. There was a football on the floor and sports pennants all over the walls. The bookcase wasn’t filled with book or girlish treasures, but with framed photos and what looked like trophies. The bedspread was green and plain. The computer screen glowing in the corner displayed an Excel spreadsheet, and when I studied it more closely I realized it was a schedule for a track team.

In short, this was definitely not May Zefram’s room. Fuck.

I whirled back towards the window and a shadow suddenly appeared in the doorway and froze. “Um…hello?”

I turned slowly. God only know why. Seriously, it was like I was stuck in a horror movie or something, where even though it’s completely idiotic and everyone knows the serial killer is waiting behind the door with a the naked chick’s severed head and a gigantic rusty chainsaw once owned by Paul Bunyan, they still open the damn door. I had to turn around anyway even though I knew my imminent death was waiting for me. I hadn’t even known May had a brother. I hoped he was a wuss. I hoped he had anemia or multiple sclerosis or something. I hoped he was in a wheelchair. I hoped he was an exchange student who spoke no English and thought it was perfectly normal for strange boys to climb through windows at night.

Except he was apparently an athlete. I was completely, utterly fucked, and when I saw who May’s older brother was, it just compounded even further.

There was a tall, leanly muscled older guy standing at the door with an expression on utter confusion on his handsome face. Everyone in school knew that face. It belonged to one of the most popular guys in school. And not even one of the popular guys that was only popular in certain circles. Jason Zefram was one of those guys that were just so damn nice that everyone liked him. He was on the track team, mostly the high jump, but he wasn’t one of the big stars, he was just consistently a good athlete. He’d run for student council and been elected student rep for the senior class after losing out for treasurer, but he never complained about it, he just congratulated the winner and went back to work trying to get Mountain Dew in the school vending machines with a smile. He was funny, he was cool, he was cute, and he definitely had one of the nicer asses of the track guys in school (most athletes did, but Jason’s was particularly delectable and admired), and everyone should have hated him…but you just couldn’t. It wasn’t possible.

I’d never even realized he and May were related before. They looked nothing alike, what with May’s obvious Japanese looks and the fact that Jason had light brown curly hair and grey eyes that were a bit too close together. I guess I should have known, what with Zefram not being a particularly common last name or anything, but I didn’t pay attention to sports. I’d never even noticed it before.

I was so getting my ass kicked.

Jason stared at me, his eyes widening, and he stepped forward to turn on the light. “What the hell are you doing in my…” His voice trailed off and instead of the fury I’d expected, his face grew even more puzzled. “You go to my school.”

God did I want my legs to obey me and launch me the hell out of the window to safety. Or my death. Either was preferable to this. “Um…I…” I swallowed. “I thought this was May’s room.”

Yeah, that was brilliant, Ben. No wonder you’re failing biology. Now how about you tell him you jerk off to his little sister every night, too? Then maybe he’ll break both your legs and your arms!

Jason frowned and stepped forward, his stance protective. “You were trying to get into May’s room.”

I stepped back at last, but now that my legs were obeying me, my mouth was refusing to listen. “Actually, I was trying to get into her pants and you’re going to kill me now aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

The track star just stared at me in disbelief. I wondered if he’d at least grant me a painless death. Probably not. I bet he would go out and make an iron maiden from scratch, just for me. The longer he stood there, the more assured my death probably was.

At long last, after a small eternity so long that I began to think maybe he’s already killed me and my personal hell was reliving the moment before my death endlessly for the rest of my afterlife, Jason reached up and ran a hand through his curls slowly. He let out a drawn out breath through his mouth and studied me closely. His eyes were hard to read from across the room, but for some reason I could tell exactly what shade of grey they were. Maybe I was hallucinating from terror or something. He just kept staring at me, though. I couldn’t help but notice.

“You’re in May’s English class,” he stated carefully.

Which had God knows what to do with anything. I nodded just as carefully and wondered how obvious it would be if I felt for the window sill. Probably really obvious, since I was standing the middle of the room still. Jason frowned thoughtfully and his eyes went far away for a minute. At last they cleared and something crossed his face that might have been a smile, except people don’t smile right before they kill you, at least not like that. “You’re Ben Nichols.”

“…yes? I mean, um, yeah. Why?”

Jason’s mouth pulled across his face, and yeah, he was definitely grinning now. Not a bloodthirsty, murderous grin, either, but a genuine look of pleasure. “You almost blew up my car once.”

“I did?” I blurted out in honest surprise. This was news to me. I usually knew when I was about to destroy something. When had I tried to blow up a jock’s car?

“Yeah. Last spring.” Jason stepped forward and this time I didn’t bother moving away. This was just too weird. Shouldn’t he have been kicking my ass six different ways to China already? “You shot a bottle rocket at it.”

“Bottle rockets don’t blow things up,” I objected. “Believe me. I’ve tried before. Doesn’t work.”

“My window was open and it hit my homework on the passenger seat.”

“Oh.” Whoops. “But,” I added quickly, “that wouldn’t make anything blow up. It’d just set your seat on fire.”

Jason grinned even wider. “Same diff. I’m assuming that was an accident.”

I fidgeted. “Yeah, but…”

And then I trailed off. Seriously, what was I even about to say?

“It’s cool,” came the surprising response. “I didn’t mind much. Mom and Dad were about to spring for a new car for me anyway. It was an early graduation present. I lost a term paper, though.”

Great, now I felt guilty in addition to feeling like a creepy stalker idiot about to meet his maker. “Look, can I just, I dunno, go now? If you aren’t going to disembowel me, I’d kind of like to get going before this gets any more awkward and creepy and bizarro world on me.”

Jason raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No. You said you were trying to get into May’s room, right?”

Shit. He is going to kill me! I stepped back again, and this time I didn’t bother hiding my panic. “I really gotta go. Now.”

“Not happening, Ben Nichols.” Jason suddenly reached out and caught my arm, and my heart stopped beating entirely. “I think you need to talk to my sister about some things.”

Suddenly, Death by Older Brother seemed like the most merciful thing to never happen to me.