Read Online Art Geeks and Prom Queens by Alyson Noël - Free Book Online Page B

my dad’s driving down the Pacific Coast Highway and I’m getting glimpses of the ocean between the clusters of gated communities with their giant McMansions and tiny, little yards, and I’m feeling really happy that it’s just us, and that my mom’s not here. Because when I’m feeling this bad about myself I usually don’t want to be around her. But my dad understands, because he’s a geek, too.
    It’s like, if my house was a high school then my mom would be the prom queen, my dad would be the bramiac, and I would be the big weirdo art geek.
    And my mom would refuse to eat lunch with either of us.
    When he turns onto MacArthur Boulevard he says, “So, kiddo, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but from the looks of you this morning you either had too much fun last night or not nearly enough.”
    And because it’s just us, I answer truthfully. “It was the latter,” I say, doing a double take as we drive past a bakery that’s just for dogs.
    “Wanna talk about it?”
    I peer at him through the sunglasses he suggested I wear to hide the evidence that lingered long after I showered, and I know that if I wantto get this off my chest, now’s my only chance, since by tomorrow he’ll be back on a plane to New York. And even though I’ve always bypassed my mom and gone straight to him with all of my problems, it feels kind of weird now. I mean, before it was always about stuff at school like grades, and projects, and friends. It was never about a guy. And I’m just way too embarrassed to talk to him about stuff like that.
    So I look over and just as I’m about to lie and say I’m okay, he looks at me and smiles. And I break down and tell him everything.
    Well, almost everything. I mean, I leave out the more humiliating moments that are really damaging to me. You know, like detention and falling down and the infamous “wardrobe malfunction” in Jas’s kitchen. But he gets the gist.
    “Sounds like you really like this boy,” he says.
    I shrug.
    “Do you want me to go after him? Get an arrest warrant issued?” He smiles.
    “What? For reckless disregard and endangerment of my poor teenage heart?” I say, laughing.
    “I’m sure we can find a statute for it.” He looks at me.
    “Nah. I’ve decided not to press charges. I’m moving on.”
    “You sure?” he asks, parking the Range Rover and opening the door.
    “Definitely. Now, let’s go look at some plants.” And when I get out of the car I give him a big smile.
    But I’m not sure I’ve convinced either one of us.
     
    So we ended up with four small palm trees, two hanging fuchsias, a couple pots of different decorative grasses, six trays of annuals, several curly bamboo stalks for my room, and a climbing rosebush for my mom.
    It’s getting pretty late in the afternoon and we’re still in the backyard planting and planning for what we’ll buy next time, when my mom comes out and goes, “I just don’t get your attraction to dirt.” Then she smiles and sets down a tray of iced teas.
    “It’s not dirt,” my dad tells her. “It’s nature.”
    “And just what does a city boy like you know about nature?” Shevamps, shaking her blond shoulder-length hair, and approaching him with her old runway walk, with hips leading and swiveling.
    Oh, god, they’re flirting again. Gross.
    I watch my dad, with his face all tan from a day in the sun, and his gray-streaked hair messed-up and matted with sweat, and I guess I never really noticed before, but he’s actually pretty handsome. I mean, he’s just my dad you know, so it’s not like I’m used to looking at him objectively.
    Well, his clothes are all covered in dirt, but he spreads his arms wide and chases after my mom, trying to hug her. So she squeals and darts around the patio in her little kitten-heeled shoes, pretending like she’s running away. But of course she lets herself get caught. Then they hug and kiss and laugh and even though it totally grosses me out, I guess in a way