and the lowest unemployment rates.
I've had my library job since I was sixteen. My official title is "page," which sounds truly pathetic, but all that means
is that I put books back on the shelves where they belong, check out books for people at the circulation desk, and act as
a general gopher for the ravenous reference librarians, which means going out on Dunkin' Donuts latte-and-Munchkin runs three
times a day.
When I get there, Janet Pederson, the other page, is behind the circulation desk. She does a double take when she sees me.
"Who're you?" she asks. "And what have you done with Reed Walton? Stuffed him into some goomba's car trunk in Camden?"
"Hey, Janet," I answer with a grin. "Welcome to Reed Walton, the Updated Version."
She smiles. "I go away for the summer to make lanyards with snot-nosed brats in the Poconos, come back, and find out I'm working
with a stud."
My mouth twitches. Stud?
I know I've gone from dork to human being—zero to five. But zero to ten?
"Well," I say casually, "this must be your lucky day."
Janet smiles even wider. "This is definitely true," she answers.
What is this most unusual situation? Is Janet Pederson flirting with me? I cock my head to one side. I've known Janet since
both of us started working at the library last year. She goes to my school, but we don't hang out together or anything. She's
cute, actually. I've never been tongue-tied around her before, but I feel a brain freeze coming. Thankfully, Ronnie strolls
into the library at that exact moment, saving me from another coconut-trout moment. She rushes over and Janet scowls.
Is Janet jealous 1 ?
"I wanted to drop this off, Reed," she says breathlessly, handing me a manila envelope.
She touches my arm and again Janet makes a face.
This is getting interesting.
"I gotta get to work," Ronnie says. And, just like that, Ronnie flutters off, leaving me holding the mysterious manila envelope,
Janet smirks at it. "Love letters? Erotic poetry? Marriage proposal?"
Whoa.
"All of the above," I say mischievously. "I've got an official fan club now."
"Really? Do you need a recording secretary? I do great PowerPoint."
This is making me nervous.
I mumble something resembling an excuse/apology, flee the scene, and hurry into the coatroom. Besides, I want to see what
Ronnie just gave me. I'll figure out things with Janet later, when I'm thinking straight.
The coatroom's quiet and empty. I lean against the wall and open Ronnie's envelope, trying to forget Janet's astonishing words.
I exhale sharply, because what I pull out of Ronnie's envelope is a sheet of paper with this typed at the top:
How to Ask Out a Girl
I start reading.
1. Smile. Even when you're freaking out. Never let 'em see you sweat.
There's scribble next to that in Lonnie's handwriting:
Slather on double-duty deodorant dawg.
I read on.
2. Watch your posture. Stand up straight. No slouching, cowboy.
3. Make small talk. Say, "How's it goin'?" Hang loose. Chill.
Another scribble from Lonnie:
Make sure deodorant is working.
4. Ask in a casual way, "Wanna go out Saturday?"
Here Lonnie has scribbled something in all caps:
NO NO NO!
REPEAT!
NO NO NO!
Don't EVER EVER EVER give them an out to say no!
Shoot yourself in the groin instead!
Trick them with a multiple-choice question:
Movie or dinner With me Saturday?
Fascinating.
5. After she says yes, say, "Great! I'll call you. What's your number?"
From Lonnie:
Eh, no way, Jose. say: "That 's cool, baby. Gimme your number."
6. Get her number.
From Lonnie:
Code Red! Code Red!
Evacuate the area IMMEDIATELY, before she changes her mind!
I stand there feeling numb. I don't know what to make of this.
I think of Janet.
I take a deep breath.
I run out of the coatroom.
. . .
Janet's still behind the circulation desk when I emerge from the coatroom.
"Want to go out next Saturday?"
Once it's out of my mouth, it sounds abrupt and strange. Maybe I should've made small talk. Maybe I
I've had my library job since I was sixteen. My official title is "page," which sounds truly pathetic, but all that means
is that I put books back on the shelves where they belong, check out books for people at the circulation desk, and act as
a general gopher for the ravenous reference librarians, which means going out on Dunkin' Donuts latte-and-Munchkin runs three
times a day.
When I get there, Janet Pederson, the other page, is behind the circulation desk. She does a double take when she sees me.
"Who're you?" she asks. "And what have you done with Reed Walton? Stuffed him into some goomba's car trunk in Camden?"
"Hey, Janet," I answer with a grin. "Welcome to Reed Walton, the Updated Version."
She smiles. "I go away for the summer to make lanyards with snot-nosed brats in the Poconos, come back, and find out I'm working
with a stud."
My mouth twitches. Stud?
I know I've gone from dork to human being—zero to five. But zero to ten?
"Well," I say casually, "this must be your lucky day."
Janet smiles even wider. "This is definitely true," she answers.
What is this most unusual situation? Is Janet Pederson flirting with me? I cock my head to one side. I've known Janet since
both of us started working at the library last year. She goes to my school, but we don't hang out together or anything. She's
cute, actually. I've never been tongue-tied around her before, but I feel a brain freeze coming. Thankfully, Ronnie strolls
into the library at that exact moment, saving me from another coconut-trout moment. She rushes over and Janet scowls.
Is Janet jealous 1 ?
"I wanted to drop this off, Reed," she says breathlessly, handing me a manila envelope.
She touches my arm and again Janet makes a face.
This is getting interesting.
"I gotta get to work," Ronnie says. And, just like that, Ronnie flutters off, leaving me holding the mysterious manila envelope,
Janet smirks at it. "Love letters? Erotic poetry? Marriage proposal?"
Whoa.
"All of the above," I say mischievously. "I've got an official fan club now."
"Really? Do you need a recording secretary? I do great PowerPoint."
This is making me nervous.
I mumble something resembling an excuse/apology, flee the scene, and hurry into the coatroom. Besides, I want to see what
Ronnie just gave me. I'll figure out things with Janet later, when I'm thinking straight.
The coatroom's quiet and empty. I lean against the wall and open Ronnie's envelope, trying to forget Janet's astonishing words.
I exhale sharply, because what I pull out of Ronnie's envelope is a sheet of paper with this typed at the top:
How to Ask Out a Girl
I start reading.
1. Smile. Even when you're freaking out. Never let 'em see you sweat.
There's scribble next to that in Lonnie's handwriting:
Slather on double-duty deodorant dawg.
I read on.
2. Watch your posture. Stand up straight. No slouching, cowboy.
3. Make small talk. Say, "How's it goin'?" Hang loose. Chill.
Another scribble from Lonnie:
Make sure deodorant is working.
4. Ask in a casual way, "Wanna go out Saturday?"
Here Lonnie has scribbled something in all caps:
NO NO NO!
REPEAT!
NO NO NO!
Don't EVER EVER EVER give them an out to say no!
Shoot yourself in the groin instead!
Trick them with a multiple-choice question:
Movie or dinner With me Saturday?
Fascinating.
5. After she says yes, say, "Great! I'll call you. What's your number?"
From Lonnie:
Eh, no way, Jose. say: "That 's cool, baby. Gimme your number."
6. Get her number.
From Lonnie:
Code Red! Code Red!
Evacuate the area IMMEDIATELY, before she changes her mind!
I stand there feeling numb. I don't know what to make of this.
I think of Janet.
I take a deep breath.
I run out of the coatroom.
. . .
Janet's still behind the circulation desk when I emerge from the coatroom.
"Want to go out next Saturday?"
Once it's out of my mouth, it sounds abrupt and strange. Maybe I should've made small talk. Maybe I
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