The Dating Deal (7 page)

I swallowed.  “Sure.”

We went out into the hall. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

I widened my eyes, having no idea what he was talking about.  “Doing what?”

“Hanging out with Trent.  Megan,” he said earnestly, “you’re making a mistake.  You’re a sweet girl.  I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I swallowed, unable to say anything. 
He
had hurt me. 

Conner went on, “Look, I had to go in and talk to the Bishop this afternoon.  I can’t even take the sacrament right now.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want you getting messed up in anything like I did—and I can’t believe you would be interested in a guy like that anyway.  Megan, he’s only interested in one thing.”

That made me gaze up at him.  “What?  Coming to church?  Sorry Conner, I don’t see that as a problem.”  I started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm. 

“You called me Conner,” he said, sounding hurt.

I didn’t know what to say,  “You’re not Cody to me anymore”?  I couldn’t get the words out.  But I didn’t call him Conner to hurt him.  Or did I?

Conner bit his lip.  “Anyway, you sang really beautiful.  You looked … beautiful.”

I could feel tears forming in my eyes.  “I—I have to go.” 

I hurried to the bathroom where I could cry in peace.  And I did.  I sobbed and sobbed.  What was Conner trying to do to me?  He broke my heart over and over.

It hadn’t just been the break up.  The pain had started before that.  He’d made me feel stupid for worrying about him spending so much time with Laura.  He’d kept insisting, “Laura and I are only lab partners.  I’m only helping her study.”  I knew that wasn’t all they were doing, but what could I say?  He kept denying it.  Then one day, out of the blue, he said, “Maybe we should spend a little time apart.”  And the very next day—the next
day
!—he showed up at school holding hands with Laura.

I shouldn’t let him get to me now, I told myself.  I should be an Ice Queen.

Tonight I stayed up practically all night writing in my journal, which happens to be my laptop computer.  I lay in bed and typed away at top speed, ignoring the spell checker, just typing anything and everything that came into my mind.  I had so many thoughts and questions and hopes about both Trent and Conner and I just typed them as they came to me, crying sometimes. But always typing.  Typing, typing, typing. 

What has gotten into Trent?  He not only came to church, which in itself is pretty much a miracle, but he also stayed for the whole three hours.  Why?  Why would he do that?  I could understand if he knew anything about our religion.  Anything.  But as far as I know, I’m the only Mormon he’s ever associated with in his life.  And he only started to get to know me this week.


And another thing about that:  Why does he act as though he knows me?  Why?!!!  Telling Aspen that he didn’t go to a school dance before because until now he hadn’t met the “right girl.”  And why did he say Conner would want me back once he realized what a “great girl” he lost?  And why did he tell Caitlin I was “good and sweet”?  What makes him think he knows me?  And what made him say all of those things?  Just to irritate Aspen?  Just to make Caitlin mad?


And why is he breaking all of his rules?  Why is he taking me, of all people, to the dance?  He never took any of his girlfriends, and they were, well, his girlfriends.  And they were all popular, and beautiful, and his type.  I’m none of those things.  I’m just me.


And what’s up with Conner?  He had to go see the Bishop?  And he can’t take the sacrament?  I’m not sure what that even means, exactly.  I guess he and Laura … I don’t know.  I don’t even want to think about it, but it’s making me cry.  I can’t believe how much he’s changed in just two months.  Two months!  But


The words stopped appearing on my screen.  Grrr!  My computer crashed, again! 

“Hunk of junk,” I grumbled as I put my laptop away and crawled back into bed. 

Just the other night my computer had crashed while I was in the middle of an English paper.  I had to redo hordes of my work because I’m not much of a saver. As I’m in the throes of writing, I don’t think about saving.  I just let my fingers work magic.  That had been fine with my old computer.  It had been slow, but reliable.  Unfortunately, I’d let Conner talk me into selling it.

“This thing’s ancient,” he would always complain.  “You could pick up something way faster on e-bay.”

Finally, he wore me down.  I sold my trusty Mac, my friend.

Conner helped me choose a laptop off e-bay Local, so I could pick it up without having to pay for shipping.  He promised that my new computer would be way faster.  And it was.  It was super quick.  The only problem was, it was also super quick to crash.

 “I’m going to sell it,” I told myself before drifting off to sleep.  No need to keep Conner mistakes lingering around, tormenting me.

I even knew where I could get a new Mac.  Nina’s brother was leaving on his mission soon and eager to sell his.  Yay for me!

The next morning, I put my laptop up for sale on e-bay before leaving for seminary.  And three days later it was sold for a nice price, considering.  But when I told Trent my happy news at lunch, he didn’t seem happy for me.  He seemed concerned. 

“It’s no big deal,” I told him.  “I sold my other computer on e-bay.  Everything was fine.”

That didn’t appease Trent.  He still seemed concerned.  “Did you already send it?”

I polished off my pizza. “No.  I didn’t sell it locally this time.  I have to box it up.”

Trent bit his lip.  “Megan, make sure you clear your hard-drive.”  The way he said it, it was like a big-serious deal to him.  I thought it was incredibly sweet he was so concerned for me.

“I will.”

He looked at me questioningly.  “Did you clear your other one?”

“Yeah—well,
I
didn’t.  But Conner did.”

“I’ll clear it, okay?” Trent said.  “I’ll clear it for you.”

I nodded.  “Sure.  If you want to.  It’s a big deal, huh?”

I didn’t see how it could be, though.  I didn’t keep anything on it that could be used for identity fraud.  No social security or bank account numbers.  Nothing like that.  Just schoolwork and poems and songs I was working on, and sad, pathetic journal entries.  Nothing that would interest anyone but me.  Sure, I would be embarrassed if someone read my stuff.  I’d die.  But I doubted I could
pay
someone to actually sit down and read it, let alone worry they would seek it out. 

But if he wanted to clear my hard drive, I sure wasn’t going to stop him.  He could clear away.

“I’ll come over right after school,” he said.

I smiled.  “Okay.” 

He was coming over.  That couldn’t be shrugged off as a ploy to make the dance date “look real.”  There would be no Caitlin or Conner or anyone around to put on a show for.  It seemed Trent Ryan was really and truly actually my friend.  He was going to clear my hard-drive for me.  Wasn’t that proof? 

I was glad I had already transferred all of my old hard-drive information over to my new computer.  I didn’t want Trent to have to do anything where he might actually see anything I wrote—since my computer was full of stuff about him.

*  *  *  *  *

When Trent came over I was in the midst of making cookies for the blood drive our school was hosting tomorrow afternoon.

“I’m almost done,” I told him as Mom led him into the kitchen.

He looked surprised when he saw our kitchen full of cookies.  “Are all these for me?” he asked with a grin.

I laughed.  “Help yourself, but they’re for the blood drive tomorrow.  Everyone gets a cookie after they give blood.  It’s to elevate their blood-sugar level, or something.”

Trent gazed at me thoughtfully.  “You’re always volunteering, huh?”

I blushed at the way he stared.  “I just wanted to help and I can’t donate blood.”

Trent raised an eyebrow.  “Why?”

My blush went a few shades deeper.  I didn’t want to admit I’m a runt.

“You have to meet a certain weight requirement,” I explained, and then quickly went on, hoping he didn’t have time to digest that I’m too scrawny to donate a little blood.  “But I wanted to help.  So,” I gestured around the kitchen, “cookies.”

Trent munched on a peanut butter one, still gazing at me.  “You’re always doing good,” he said.

Why’d he say that?  Why did he act as though he knew me so well?  And was it supposed to be some sort of slam?  After all, he said I bugged Caitlin by being “Miss Goodness and Light.”  Did I bug him too?  It didn’t
seem
like it.  And he didn’t seem to be making fun of me.  But was he?  Was I just too naive to see it?

Nothing was clear.

The way he was looking at me made it seem as though I was the most beautiful, special, wonderful girl that ever walked the planet.  But why would he look at me that way?  He didn’t know me.  Not really.  Not well enough to see past my lack of “obvious” beauty.  The kind that Caitlin and Aspen possessed.  That’s the kind you stare at.  And that’s the kind of girls he was used to dating. 

I tried to look away from him, tried to get a grip.  He was only teasing, right?  That had to be it.  He seemed to like to make me blush. 

But all I accomplished by trying to keep my composure was backing into the kitchen counter.  Ouch!

“I’ll, uh, get my computer,” I told him and zoomed out of the room like a spaz on steroids.

*  *  *  *  *

Once Trent finished clearing my hard drive, Seth and I taught him “Killer Uno.”  It’s actually just normal Uno, but my family—being the game players that we are—added extra rules to make the game more exciting.  Mom and Seth’s friend, Kevin, joined in as well.  So, we had a little party—the Mormon kind—with Kool-Aid and cookies and green Jell-O.  Though, I’m just kidding about the Jell-O.  We had fish sticks.

When it was time for Trent to leave, I walked him to the door.  “Thanks for clearing my hard drive.”

He grinned.  “Yeah, well, thanks for stomping all over me in Uno.”

The way he said that made me laugh.  “Hey, anytime.”

He stared at me a moment.  “I like your laugh.”

“I like yours too.”

Doh!

His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t mention my dorkyness.  Instead he grinned, saying he’d see me tomorrow.

I watched him drive away.  Then I ran up to my room to do a little dance.  He liked my laugh!

I work at the mall in a department store called Jordon’s.  It’s a good job.  I like it.  I just don’t get a lot of money working there.  It’s not that they don’t pay me well.  They do, I guess.  I just don’t get to put in a lot of hours.  So, I can’t, of course, expect a big, fat paycheck.  But I do get a thirty percent discount on everything in the store.  That helps.  Plus, the store has a petite section.  So, it’s been nice.  These days I actually fit in my clothes.  And it’s made a difference.  Seriously.  I actually get compliments sometimes instead of “scrawny” jokes.

Tonight during a major lull at work, I tried on an elegant satin wrap from the morning’s shipment.  I stood in front of the evening section’s full-length mirror, admiring myself in it, thinking how perfect it would be for the dance.  It was just for fun, though.  No way could I afford it.  But wow, if I could.…

I posed. 

Then I pretended I was Trent at the dance, admiring me in it.  “You look stunning,” I/Trent told my image in the mirror.

But then—this is so embarrassing!—suddenly there was Trent, standing behind me.  For real!  I could see him in the mirror, grinning.  My face turned so red, it was purple.