Nerdy by New Year Read online

  Nerdy by New Year

  Squad Goals: Book Two

  Jessica Bucher

  M.F. Lorson

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Also by Jessica Bucher

  Also by M.F. Lorson

  About Jessica Bucher

  About M.F. Lorson

  Prologue

  Lucy

  I didn’t like the goals. I wanted to like them. I wanted to like everything the three of us did together. But this thing had always been a thorn in my side. My record was mixed, unlike Addy who never slipped up or Nora who never succeeded. My first year goal to get a boyfriend had been easy. I probably would have had a new boyfriend every term if it weren’t for my parents no dating till high school rule. Sophomore year had been harder. I wanted to be on the Homecoming Court, and I came close. But close didn’t mean you got to check the box in our squad goals book. Close just meant you failed. By junior year I was ready to rebound and also, on the rebound. My goal then? To forget Trevor Hatfield ever existed. I didn’t have a magic wand to erase my memories like in the movies so I did the next best thing; I turned him virtually invisible at school. When you’re popular, you can do that sort of thing. In high school, it is as close to having a magic wand as you can get.

  I felt bad when I saw him now. The used-to-be-guy-on-my-arm was now slumming at a lunch table filled with nobodies. Their faces so bland I could hardly tell one from the other. He’d fallen from grace when we broke up. I’d made sure of that. This year, I didn’t want to make goals at all. But I couldn’t just let a three-year tradition die. Not when it meant so much to Nora and Addy. Not when it was the last time the three of us would gather together for one last end-of-summer sleepover.

  By the time I got to the barn, I could already hear voices above in the loft.

  “Where’s the princess?” asked Nora.

  “Not here yet,” answered Addy. “Probably still deciding which pajamas have the most timeless appeal.”

  I rolled my eyes. I wouldn’t call Nora and Addy jealous—that just wasn’t them, but they loved a good laugh at my expense. I acted like it didn’t bother me, but in truth, sometimes I felt like the odd man out in our threesome.

  “I heard that!” I bellowed, then tossed my sleeping bag as high as I could. Not high enough apparently because it ricocheted off the ledge of the loft and came tumbling back down at me. I tried again, ignoring the giggles from above as Addy’s hand, tan from a long summer outdoors, batted my bag back down.

  “Enough please,” I cried, then finally, successfully landed my stuff up above. By the time I climbed the ladder, Addy had already claimed the spot beneath the window. I scowled at her. It was the second year in a row she’d claimed that spot. I wasn’t looking forward to sweating through another night, imagining all the barn critters that might creep around our feet as we slept.

  “I brought Supernatural,” I said, pulling my laptop from my backpack. “The final season. No one is allowed to spoil the finale,” I warned. “Mom got really obnoxious about limiting screen time, and I’m way behind you guys.”

  Addy grinned mischievously. “I’ll do my best, but did you see the part where...”

  I reached up and clapped a hand over her mouth. “No,” I said. “Just no.”

  In front of Addy sat the five-by-seven teal, once sparkly notebook we’d been recording our goals in since freshman year. I hoped she might forget it, but it was a vain hope. Addy took the goals more seriously than all of us.

  “It’s your turn to go first, Addy,” I said.

  Nora nodded in agreement. “That’s right, I took fall last year.”

  “Does that really count though?” teased Addy. “What with you failing miserably and all.”

  Nora frowned. “I got very close to entering the talent show. It’s not my fault I got laryngitis during tryouts.”

  “And the year before,” I laughed. “When you got a mysterious stomachache. That wasn’t your fault either.”

  Nora rolled her eyes. “Addy’s turn,” she growled.

  This year, Addy’s goal lay heavily on the superficial side. She wanted revenge on her ex, Mitch, and to her, revenge meant getting hot and getting even. Nora and I struggled to point out that Mitch—not Addy—was the problem, but she wasn’t in a place where she could hear that, and we didn’t judge each other. It was the beauty of our friendship.

  Per tradition, the three of us each clasped hands, walked to the edge of the loft, called out Addy’s goal, and jumped into the heaping pile of hay below. Every year, as we free fell, I thought to myself, this is so incredibly immature. But then I would look at the girls beside me and remember how lucky I was to have ride-or-dies like Addy and Nora. Maybe we had outgrown it, but who cares? No one was watching.

  “Lucy,” beckoned Nora, drawing out the U in my name like there were twenty of them and not just the one. “You’ve got winter term.”

  I took a deep breath, still picking loose pieces of hay from my long blonde hair. “I was thinking of something a little different this year.”

  “We’re listening,” said Addy, leading the way back up the ladder to the loft.

  “I was thinking…this is my last year at Delinki High. And when I think back on my time here, I don’t have the greatest feeling. My golden years feel a little tarnished,” I admitted.

  Now situated at the head of our sleeping bags, the girls sat listening, waiting for me to explain. “I want to fix some things,” I said. “Like with people.”

  Addy nodded. She was the goofy one, always making a joke when a moment got too tense, but she was a good listener too. She knew better than anyone what skeletons I had hidden in my closet.

  “I like it,” she said, offering a warm smile across our sleeping bags. “Give us the things you plan to accomplish and we shall give your goal an appropriately corny name.”

  “Cornier than Hot by Halloween?” I asked, laughter crinkling the corners of my eyes.

  “A challenging task but one that can be accomplished.”

  “Alright,” I said. “This year I want to apologize to Trevor, try something altruistic, and..” I sucked in a nervous breath. “Get Simon to forgive me.”

  Nora flinched. “The first two I can see but Simon?”

  “You’re shooting for the moon,” said Addy. “You embarrassed that boy bad. He’s been hanging out in the land of nerds ever since.”

  “I know,” I answered, biting the bottom corner of my lip. “But I’ll always regret it if I don’t try.”

  Both girls nodded sympathetically, though I could read it clear as day in their faces. They didn’t think I had a prayer. They were probably right.

  “Well,” said Addy, the flame returning behind her blue eyes. “Your goals have been set.” She grabbed the pen from the center of our sleeping bags and scrawled three words, followed by my three tasks.

  “Nerdy by New Year!” she cried, giggling at her own joke in true Addy fashion.

  I didn’t like the goals. But if I had to do them, this one final time, I would make sure I used them for good. This year
, I was going to turn myself from that girl everyone hated in high school to a lovable nerd. I just had to figure out how.

  Chapter One

  Lucy

  I felt like I was going to puke when Gray Turner handed me our squad goals book. He of all people knew that what that book said was for Nora and Addy’s eyes only. The only other person who even knew about it was Max, and we couldn’t do anything about him. It wasn’t like we expected Addy to stay up all night protecting the book from her nosy, nerdy brother.

  Nerdy. I thought about my goal and laughed. Maybe Max could help me. He was an expert in the subject, what with his steady collection of concert T-shirts and Xbox habit.

  Back home, in my room, I opened the squad goals book and flipped to my page. It had been months since we made the goals, and I hadn’t made any progress toward mine. In my defense, we never worked ahead. Addy was fall, which meant we had spent the entire season focused on her plan to get real hot, real fast and make her ex rue the day he broke up with her. I much preferred the role of support system to main attraction, but it was my turn and this year my goals were something I could be proud of. Unlike the vapid, popularity seeking, efforts I’d made in the past.

  I looked down at the three bullet points below Nerdy by New Year. The goal itself was always corny. It was the bullet points that carried the weight. I shook my head, examining the little doodles Addy added to the margins of my page. Cat rim glasses, a wobbly drawn calculator, and books, so many books. I grabbed a pen from my desk drawer and added a few champagne flutes and bubbles to fit the new year theme.

  I didn’t have a clue how I would make it up to Trevor, and I definitely didn’t have a plan of action for Simon. Now that Addy was dating his new best friend, I’d seen more of him than I had in years. He sat at our lunch table, we’d been out to the movies as a group, and I’d seen all of his home swim meets, but he still treated me like a pariah. Like if his voice carried too close to mine, he might get infected. Once I accidentally brushed his arm under the lunch table and he actually jumped. Jumped like he had been stung by a bee. I had a long way to go with Simon.

  The altruism bit though, I could start that right away, and I knew just who to ask for guidance.

  Downstairs in the living room, with her feet propped up on the couch and a copy of People magazine in her lap, my mother was grinning ear to ear.

  “Who divorced who?” I asked, fully aware that nothing brought my mother more joy than a celebrity break up.

  “It’s not official,” she said, looking up at me from under her reading glasses. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

  “But?”

  “But he was seen with the secretary from her agent’s office.”

  “Juicy,” I said, squeezing in beside her on the couch. “Could I bother you for a minute?”

  Mom closed the magazine and pulled the glasses down to rest on her chest. “It’s never bothering me, honey. You’re my only child. I live for these moments.”

  I rolled my eyes, “Now, I feel like I’m about to majorly disappoint you with a boring request when you were hoping for boy drama or an existential crisis.”

  Mom laughed, “Next year you’ll go away to college, and I won’t have any requests, boring or exciting. I’ll take what I can get now.”

  “Alright,” I said, resting my head on the cushy material of her favorite cat sweater. In public, my mother was all pearl earrings and twinsets. In private she was a messy bun wearing, cat hair covered, reality TV watcher. She was kind of the best. I was going to miss her next year, not that I’d tell her. I had a reasonable fear that she would rent an apartment across the street from the Minnesota State University campus and spend all of her time waiting to catch me walking by on the sidewalk.

  “I want to do something altruistic this year,” I mumbled.

  I could feel mom’s face stretching into a smile without even having to look up. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I hadn’t figured that part out yet.” I admitted. “That’s kind of what I’m coming to you for.”

  Mom shimmied her shoulders, causing my head to bob up and down. “You could always volunteer at my office? Katie’s taking a long vacation over winter break. We could use an extra body to answer phones, direct donors, that sort of thing.”

  I sighed, I should have seen this coming. My Mom had been trying to get me involved with the center since I was barely old enough to talk.

  “I appreciate the offer,” I said, straightening up so that I could turn to face her on the couch. “But I was thinking something more independent.”

  “I get it,” said Mom, the disappointment settling into her features. “Worth a shot,”

  “Worth a shot, every time you ask,” I said, my lips quirking up into a smile.

  Mom looked thoughtful, “I’m not sure what opportunities are in the area for teens, but I know where you can look.”

  I perked to attention. “Go on,”

  “We sometimes get volunteers at the center through the Key Club program at your school.”

  I didn’t have a clue what Key Club did, only that it looked great on college applications, and you sometimes got out of class to participate. Both of those things sounded good to me, so I pulled out my phone and added Key Club to my notes.

  Later that night I logged into our school website to learn about the next club meeting. Monday after school, all are welcome. Easy enough, I thought.

  Simon

  I always got a little nervous before calling the meetings on Monday afternoons. If you had told me three years ago that I would end up being the Key Club president, I would have called you crazy. But it just happened.

  What started as a hobby freshman year became a much-needed distraction sophomore year that turned into a full-blown passion by senior year. Not to mention, it was like steroids for my college applications.

  When the measly eight regulars sat down around the table in the library, I tapped my papers against the tabletop.

  “Let’s get started. I have some pretty exciting news to share.”

  Hailey Yi, the club’s treasurer, perked right up and stared at me with a smile. She had just informed me during lunch today that our tin can collection raised just enough to meet our D.C. trip fund goal. Apparently, her excitement hadn’t dwindled much since then. The trip was their idea, and they were all pretty excited about it. I mean, I was excited too...as excited as one could get about a student legislation tour of the capitol.

  “First order of business—”

  A falling stack of books from the front of the room interrupted my speech. We all turned to find some girl frantically replacing everything she knocked off the rolling cart. I figured it was just someone using the library after school, which was rare. From behind, all I could make out was the nearly white blonde hair, so I turned back to the group and tried to continue the meeting.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” the girl said as she tip-toed across the floor and sat in the nearest seat.

  Our eyes locked, both going wide, and I could imagine a flash of embarrassment-fueled heat was coursing through her veins at that moment too.

  Lucy and I could hang out in the same group, eat at the same lunch table, and even sit in the movie theater, with at least a three person buffer—but we could not be in the same after-school club. That would require talking to each other, and that was strictly off limits. Which meant, I was in real trouble.

  The deer-in-headlights expression on her face meant that she wished she never walked into this room. If she could whip out a time turner and crank that sucker back fifteen minutes, I’m pretty sure she would choose to keep on walking.

  But she was here, in the meeting, and there was nothing either of us could do about it now.

  “Can you sign in?” Daniel, the club secretary, said as he passed Lucy a clipboard with the same eight names as every week. Well, it was about to get a new one.

  “This is...Key Club?” she stammered, looking around at everyone but me.

  “Yes,
it is. And Simon was just starting.” Hailey, the queen of passive aggressiveness spoke up.

  “Oh.” Lucy turned toward me with her wide eyes and O-shaped mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  I couldn’t speak because Lucy’s first words to me in three years were bouncing around my head like a pinball machine. And even though that apology was for interrupting the meeting, I couldn’t help but feel the sting of those words: I’m sorry. A little too late, I thought.

  I cleared my throat, looking back down at my notes, which might as well have been written in Greek.

  “First, uh, order of business,” I repeated. “The tin can drive numbers came back. Um...Hailey, would you like to give us the report?”

  The treasurer looked like she was just itching to take over this mess of a meeting, so I could barely sit before she popped out of her seat and started reading her detailed report of what we made with the soda can drive.

  My eyes kept finding their way back to Lucy, who was watching Hailey with rapt attention. Why was she here? It was November of our senior year, and I’d never seen her show any interest in Key Club before. My first instinct was to assume her mom sent her. We stayed in contact, mostly for community outreach projects, but we never spoke about Lucy or the incident.

  Maybe Daniel could talk to her for me? Figure out what she wanted and pray it wasn’t to be a returning member of the club.

  “Does that mean we raised enough for D.C.?” one of the girls sitting at the back table asked.

  “Yes, it does!” Hailey squeaked and the entire group broke out in cheers.