Read Online The Art of Getting Stared At by Laura Langston - Free Book Online Page A

dining room. Mom’s prying eyes, coupled with my worry that I could go into cardiac arrest if I find any more disgusting diseases, are enough to stop me from googling symptoms.
    While thoughts of my hair are never far from my mind, I spend the rest of Saturday working on the video. When I findout that men and women view laughter differently—women want someone to make them laugh while men prefer to make people laugh—I consider a gender approach. I brainstorm shoot possibilities, do a list of potential locations, a rough storyboard, and then I compose a couple of emails: one to a local professor who may be able to address gender differences and another to the hospital asking for permission to film some of the sick kids.
    Sunday Mom and I go to the store to buy supplies for Sudan and I pick up the biggest can of hairspray I can find. Mom gives me a look and I know why—I need to stop obsessing. So that afternoon, I veg out in front of the TV, first watching Pina , a German documentary I haven’t seen that focuses on the contemporary dance choreographer Pina Bausch, and then losing myself in an old favourite: Religulous by the crazy Bill Maher.
    Monday morning, I contribute to the hole in the ozone by using a third of the can to spray my hair in place. The two spots are covered by my surrounding hair but what if I turn suddenly and my hair swings out ... or if the wind comes up? I can’t take a chance that someone will see. But to be honest, I’m feeling pretty good about things. I’ve lost no hair since Saturday, and the itching on my scalp is practically gone. I’m positive it’s not worms. It’s probably that new shampoo. I had a reaction to it. That’s all.
    Isaac stops me as I’m walking to the library before first bell. “Hey, sunshine, I didn’t see you at The Ledge this weekend.” He’s wearing a distressed black jacket that gives him a tough edge. Isaac is bad news. Maybe, but bad news never looked so good. “I watched for you.”
    I know it’s a line, but my stomach still does a little tapdance. What would it be like to have Isaac really looking for me? “I was busy with the video. I’ve got a possible shot list, a few locations we might want to scout, and a very rough storyboard.” I slide my overdue library book through the slot and dig through my knapsack. “I was hoping you could look at everything.”
    â€œA storyboard?” He whistles low and deep; I almost drop my bag. “That’s, like, intense. I figured we’d just wing it.”
    Intense. I’m beginning to hate that word. “I don’t wing anything. The key to success is planning.” And not succumbing to flirty guys who make whistles sound like mating calls.
    His amber eyes twinkle. “I’d say the key to success is having fun and going with the flow.”
    Of course he’d think that. And maybe, under different circumstances ... “I’ve got some kind of flow going here. Though it’s pretty rough because I won’t know what form this thing will take until we get footage.” I hand him the papers. “But it’s a starting point.”
    He sticks them into his back pocket. “No problem. We can talk about it in film class.”
    â€œI, ah, won’t be in class today. I have to leave.” A telltale blush starts behind my ears. “I, ah, have a toothache.” The heat creeps into my face. “I need to see the dentist.”
    He levels me a look. For a second I think he’ll call me on the lie but then he says, “Sure. Let’s meet in the library.”
    Does he know? I stare into his crazy gold-brown eyes, but all I see is flirty charm. “The cafeteria would be better.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I turn and walk away.

    Before meeting Isaac, I ditch into the bathroom to check my hair. Reassured the hairspray is still working, I head for the cafeteria