The Romeo Club (3 page)

My arms crossed in front of me. “I don’t like science.”

“We’d be willing to negotiate some sort of payment.” Kevin pulled his beanie down over his mousy brown hair. “Drake told us you’re saving up for your prom dress. We could help you—if you helped us.”

“Aw, great—you go right for the big guns.” C.C. threw his hands in the air. Geez, he was a bigger drama queen than me.

“Wait. You guys would be willing to pay me? To help you change your image?”

“And land girlfriends,” C.C. said.

Oh, my gosh. They were right. If I did this, I could get my dress. And I wouldn’t have to resort to begging my parents for more chores, or babysitting the monsters down the street.
Yeah, but look at them. This won’t be easy.
They reminded me of the old men’s clothing ads in Sunday Press. Not to mention they had no idea how to interact with the human species. Other than their moms, I was certain I was the only girl they’d ever talked to.
But I can get my dress.
Gah. Please don’t let me regret this. “So what kinds of things would I need to help you with?”

Trey cleared his throat and adjusted his stylish, square glasses. “How to talk to girls. Ask them out. How to shop. That kind of thing.”

‘That kind of thing’ was right up my alley. “Okay, here’s the deal. If I help you with this, you have to do what I say. No questions asked. And we’ll have to work out some kind of payment plan. What were you guys thinking?”

“Fifty a week. Each,” Kevin said.

“Plus extra payments if we need extra suggestions or help,” Trey said.

My heart thudded in my ears. This was awesome. It’d be easy. But I’d need to lay some ground rules. “Okay—
if
I agree then we’ll have set up a schedule for you guys. This means you’ll show up at our house for lessons. You’ll agree to at least one trip to the mall and the hair dresser.” My gaze flitted to C.C. “And you have to keep things reasonable. Don’t expect to become the most popular dudes overnight.”

“So you’ll do it?” Drake leaned against the wood paneled wall, his arms crossed at his chest.

Good lord, I must be crazy. I smiled. “Yes. The first meeting of the Romeo Club is now in session boys. Your first assignment is I want each of you to make me a more specific list of what you’re looking to get from this. That way, I’ll know better what to focus on.”

“Romeo Club, really?” C.C. snorted.

“Would you rather be called the Nerd Herd?” I rolled my eyes.

“No. But maybe something cooler like Phantom Warriors of the Underworld.” He propped his feet up on the coffee table.

I reached over and knocked them down. “How about I’m the one heading this so I get to name it.”

“Just so you know, I’m not offing myself for any girl,” C.C. muttered.

Trey laughed. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem, Romeo.” He glanced at me. “We’ll take your deal.”

“Then it’s official. We get started right away.”

Chapter 4

I sat on the couch, mashed between C.C., Kevin and Trey as they filled out their lists. Drake threw back a pop, watching the guys, while I scoured my practice schedule on my cell.

“Okay, so I have Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday evenings open. We can meet here after my soccer practices. Then if you need a more private lesson or one-on-one session, we can do those on Sundays.”

C.C. grinned. “Private lessons?”

Trey rolled his eyes and slugged him in the arm. “Yeah, don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

I put my finger in my mouth in a fake barfing motion. “Um—so not in this lifetime.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” C.C. winked. He flexed his gangly, freckle covered arm as if to impress us.

“I’m betting it’s not much.” Trey nudged me.

Several minutes later, when the guys finished, they handed me their papers. “Okay, I’ll go over them tonight and talk with you tomorrow.”

Kevin groaned. “So we have to wait?”

“Hey, how am I supposed to help you if I’m not sure what you need or want from this?”

“Give the lady some room. I don’t want her screwing this up for us.” C.C. stood, grabbing his corduroy jacket from a nearby chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear, sweet Julietish girl.”

The boys climbed the steps and headed out of the family room. My brother plopped down next to me with a sigh. “You know, I owe you one. I think you just made their night by doing this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go thanking me yet, I’m not sure how reasonable their lists are gonna be or if I can help them.”

He chuckled, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Actually, I think you underestimate yourself. Look what you did for me and Chloe.”

“Yeah, but I think she already had you on her radar. This is starting from scratch. I mean, have you seen what I have to work with? C.C. can be ridiculous at times. And Kevin is so shy, he barely talks to people.”

He patted my leg. “Trust me. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

I hoped so because I sure needed the money. But even I admitted that sometimes things were out of my hands.

“Dinner,” Mom hollered from upstairs.

We trudged to the dining room, like two soldiers heading to war. My fingers brushed against the side of the china cabinet, which at the moment had no dishes in it. Rather Dad’s antique toy trucks cluttered the shelves beside Mom’s bazillion cookbooks. Blue and white curtains billowed in the breeze that snuck in the opened window. Maybe now would be a good time to crawl out.

We slid into our chairs, the brass chandelier twinkling above.

My nose wrinkled as the stench of meatloaf casserole and lima beans swirled in the air. “Oh God, she’s trying to kill us.”

“Maybe we should tell her we already ate.” Drake covered his face with his hand. “Or better yet, tell her I’m sick and went right to bed.”

“No way in hell. If I have to eat this crap, then so do you.”

I partially blamed my dad for all this. Mom was a fab accountant, but couldn’t cook to save her life. But there Dad sat, every night, praising her culinary skills when she made up dishes like meatloaf casserole. Which consisted of meatloaf tossed into a pot of macaroni noodles and covered with ketchup. I mean, who in their right mind thought this even sounded good? I considered maybe Dad was really a robot and couldn’t taste the stuff she put in front of us. Either that or she’d destroyed his taste buds years ago and now he was immune.

With a sigh, I watched as my parents pushed into the room. Dad sat across from me in his high-backed chair and tucked a beige napkin into the collar of his shirt. Beside him, he already had his newspaper out. The man spent most of our meals absorbed in some local or national paper.

“Wow, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.” Dad swatted Mom on the butt. “You added cheese to the casserole. Smells delicious.”

Drake coughed, hiding a smirk as he scooted his chair closer to mine.

I grabbed a glass of ice water and slurped it down, hoping it’d make my throat more slick so the nasty food would slide down easier.

“You two haven’t seen my black, lacy bra, have you?” Mom scooped a too large helping of barf-loaf casserole onto my plate. “If you borrowed it that’s okay, but could you return it?” She stared at me expectantly.

My gaze fell on her watermelon sized hooters. In what lifetime did she even think I’d be able to fit into it? Well, unless I stuffed it with my soccer balls. “No—I have my own undergarments.”

“And no chest,” Drake whispered.

I kicked him under the table.

“Bruce, you didn’t shove it under the bed after the other night did you?”

“Some of us are trying to eat here.” Geez, did they think I wanted to hear about their mid-life romps in the bedroom. Can you say NO. Totally sick.

Dad grinned. “Hey, just because we’re old and have kids doesn’t mean … ”

I covered my ears. “I’m not listening. La-la-la-la.”

Mom shook her head. “Well, I’m just trying to figure out where it went. Seems like a lot of our undergarments have gone missing lately.”

“You should ask the neighbors,” I said.

Mom’s eyes widened. “Trey took it?”

With a snort, I spewed water down the front of my shirt at the thought of him sneaking into our yard. “No. I meant the other neighbors—you know Jimbo, the dog with underwear fetishes?”

“Delyla!” Dad said.

“What? He steals our stuff all the time. I mean, most people actually use a dryer now days and don’t hang their unmentionables out for everyone to see.”

“Yes, and dryers run up electricity bills,” Dad, codenamed: Frugal Father, said. “Besides, we have no proof that Jimbo is the one taking things. Maybe there’s some weird kid running around the neighborhood stealing clothes.”

Right. Because every teenager I know wants to take my parents’ undergarments. Woot-woot, bring on the tighty-whiteys and bras the size of parachutes.

After being subjected to unwanted parental talks for a half an hour, I finally managed to escape the dinner table. When I got to my room, I flicked on my light, grabbed the lists the Nerd Herd made, and plopped on my bed to read through them. My gaze darted over my dark blue walls to the poster of Javier Decorum—only the hottest professional soccer play ever. His dark eyes seemed to stare at me from the picture. Sigh. What I wouldn’t give to meet him. Sometimes, when I got bored, I pretended he was smiling at me. And the finger he pointed toward the net, was really pointing at me.

Hey, a girl can dream. I blew my poster a kiss then turned back to the papers I held.

With a grin, I scanned over Kevin’s lists of wants.
Learn how to talk to girls. Maybe get a date. Better my wardrobe. Learn to dance.
Okay, his weren’t too bad. The biggest thing for him, would be getting over his shyness. Next, I pulled out C.C.’s.
Get to second base. Get Liza McGregor to go to prom with me. Talk to girls. See if any girls want to dress up as Princess Leia. Learn to kiss. Get the male lead for final drama club show. Make girls fall for me.
Geez. No way in hell was I teaching him how to kiss anyone. And, well, the second base thing was a no go too. At last, I got to Trey’s.
Learn how to talk to girls. Learn how to ask someone out. Get Portia Rickard to go on at least one date with me. Get a new look. Make something of my senior year.

My chest tightened. Okay, so Trey’s surprised me the most. He’d never mentioned Portia before. Not that I wouldn’t help him out, but she didn’t seem like his type. He was into video games, music, environmental issues. And she was pretty. She did beauty pageants and got crowned Miss Teen Michigan or something. But she was kind of flighty and barely got average grades.

And why should I care who he wants to date?

With another sigh, I set down the lists and grabbed my notebook from my desk. I needed to write down what the boys needed to do from my perspective. And first thing on the list was C.C.’s wild afro. It had to go. Definitely needed to plan a trip to the mall for clothes. I chewed the end of my pen. They would have to attend some ‘Delyla classes on conversing with the opposite sex.’

My light blue curtains billowed as a gust of wind blew through the screen, carrying with it the scent of Lilac. Just then, I heard:
woof-woof-woof.
Followed by loud howls.

Jimbo was on the loose again. Irritated, I slammed my notebook shut and marched over to my window, just in time to see him grabbing something from our clothesline.

I shielded my eyes. “No. Drop that.” Son of a … he had my new thong. With my fists clenched, I raced down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. Soon, I burst outside.

“Drop that. Now,” I shouted.

My bare feet sank into the thick grass as I ran into the backyard.

“What’s going on?” Trey said, setting a bag of trash into his garbage bin.

“He’s got my—some of my clothes.”

Jimbo got down on his haunches and shook his head back and forth like a rabid beast.

Trey moved in behind him. “Okay, I’ll come from the back and try to grab him, while you come in from the front.”

“Okay.”

“On the count of three,” he said. “One. Two … ”

The dog leapt up and raced to the side, causing me and Trey to ram into each other.

My head clunked into his. “Damn it.”

“That mutt is way too smart for his own good.” He rubbed his forehead and reached down to help me up. His warm fingers closed around mine.

“I think we need a better plan.” I eyed the monster dog, who laid down next to the large maple in our backyard. He gave me a puppy grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Got a net?” he said.

“Right, because dog catcher is my after school job.”

Trey moved slowly toward Jimbo. “Hey, big guy. Come here so I can pet you.”

“He’s not gonna fall for that.” I rolled my eyes.

But the dog’s ears perked up. With my thong hanging out of his mouth, he loped over to Trey, who snatched my undergarments from him. He then reached out and scratched Jimbo behind the ears.

“Good boy,” he said.

“Good? He’s not good.”

“Don’t listen to her, boy.”

A second later, the dog lifted his leg and a stream of pee sprayed over Trey’s bare feet like a K-9 sprinkler system.

I burst out laughing. “Oh. My. God. That was epic. See—I told you.”

“Dang it, Jimbo.” Trey’s face scrunched up in disgust. He held his leg out to the side to try and shake it off.

The pooch gave another doggy grin then trotted back into his own yard.

“You want to use our hose to wash off?” Tears streamed down my face as I tried to compose myself.

“And this is what I get for helping you.” He wrinkled his nose as he hobbled over to our outdoor faucet.

“Sorry. But it was flipping funny.” As I followed after him, I stepped in something warm that squished between my toes.
Please let that be mud.
I stared in disgust at the pile of dog crap. “Gross. Gross. Gross.”

Trey slapped me on the back and started laughing. “Now that’s hilarious.”

“This is so sick. I swear, I’m gonna shovel up these piles and leave it on the neighbors doorstep.”

He turned on the faucet. “Here, I’ll let you rinse off first.”