Ms. Jackson, aka The Jekyll, frightening kids since the 1980s. And she still had the big hair and Aqua Net hairspray to prove it. She didn’t merely send kids home with homework, but rather tomes of it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” After another quick kiss, I hopped out of the vehicle and hurried inside.
Video game explosions sounded from the family room downstairs, followed by several voices. Great. My brother’s friends, otherwise known as The Nerd Herd were here. Not that I should be surprised. They probably spent the better half of their lives in my basement.
“Please tell me someone didn’t eat the last slice of cheesecake?” I hollered as I tossed my bag on the kitchen floor and searched the fridge.
“Sorry,” C.C. yelled. “But I was hungry.”
Ugh. Of course it was him. C.C. Porter IV, whose real name was Clyde Cornelius. I ought to take his red afro and use it to mop up Jimbo’s grossness from our lawn gnome.
“Seriously? You guys are pigs.” With a groan, I stomped downstairs to find all four guys seated in front of the TV, game controllers in hand. “I thought I told you yesterday, the cheesecake is off limits.”
C.C. grinned, his mop of red curls poofed up like five small poodles taking cover on his head. “Aw, does that mean you’re gonna punish me? Because I could use a spanking.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him.
My brother shot him a quick look and mouthed the words
“Yeah, come on over here, because I think I’ve got a foot I can shove up your ass.” My eyes narrowed.
“Okay, how about we talk about something else before this turns into World War Delyla.” Trey, Drake’s best friend intervened.
“He’s right.” My brother flipped off the video game. The other three muttered obscenities and whined. “Besides, I need to talk with her about a few things.” He glanced at them as if threatening bodily harm to the next one who opened their mouth.
I moved closer to the stone fireplace at the back of the room, careful not to bump into the mantel where my dad’s antique toy trucks were displayed. Uneasiness settled over me as my shoes sunk into the plush, burgundy carpet. What the heck was going on? My gaze rested on Trey who, even I admitted, was kind of hot—in a nerdy way. Dark brown hair, blue eyes that made you envision summer pools and all that Shakespearean stuff. Not that I’d tell him of course. We’d grown up next door to one another and he, Drake, and I had been best buds since they were two and I was one. We practically lived at one another’s houses.
The Nerd Herd grew quiet as they stared at me. “Okay, you guys are weirding me out. What’s going on?”
“I want a cross between Princess Leia and Wonder Woman,” C.C. blurted.
At the same time, Kevin said, “Maybe someone like the chick from Dark Invaders IV.”
“Um—hold on, what are you guys talking about?”
“Quiet down.” Drake held up his hands then turned to me. “Here’s the thing. I kind of told them about you helping me land Chloe.”
“I thought you wanted to keep it a secret.”
“Yeah, about that.” He gave me a sheepish smile.
Oh hell. What did he do? “Drake?”
“All right. They want you to help them out too. I mean, you did such a good job with me. Besides, you’re already popular and have an in. You could teach them the ropes.”
“Whoa. Are you crazy? How am I supposed to do that? Besides they want some Princess Leia, Wonder Woman, and a Battle Worn hybrid. And in case you didn’t realize, this is reality.” Holy balls. This wasn’t quite what I expected when my brother said he had something important to discuss. Because on my scale of one to important this ranked like a negative ten. My eyes moved over the group and rested on Kevin’s short, skinny frame, which sank into his chair like he’d succumbed to a pit of quick sand. His gray and olive sweater washed him out. He fiddled with the side of his black suede skater shoes.
“Please, Delyla.” C.C. stood and came over to me. He reminded me of a clown on stilts. Crazy red hair poofed around his head like a fiery cotton ball. “I’m sorry I took your cake. Really, I am. But, please, at least consider this. Think of us as your science experiments.”
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.