The Boy Problem Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Friday, August 31

  Sunday, September 2

  Monday, September 3

  Tuesday, September 4

  Wednesday, September 5

  Thursday, September 6

  Friday, September 7

  Saturday, September 8

  Sunday, September 9

  Monday, September 10

  Tuesday, September 11

  Wednesday, September 12

  Thursday, September 13

  Friday, September 14

  Saturday, September 15

  Sunday September 16

  Monday, September 17

  Tuesday, September 18

  Wednesday, September 19

  Thursday, September 20

  Friday, September 21

  Saturday, September 22

  Sunday, September 23

  Monday, September 24

  Tuesday, September 25

  Wednesday, September 26

  Thursday, September 27

  Friday, September 28

  Saturday, September 29

  Monday, October 1

  Tuesday, October 2

  Wednesday, October 3

  Thursday, October 4

  Saturday, October 6

  Tuesday, October 9

  Wednesday, October 10

  Thursday, October 11

  Friday, October 12

  Saturday, October 13

  Sunday, October 14

  Monday, October 15

  Tuesday, October 16

  Wednesday, October 17

  Thursday, October 18

  Friday, October 19

  Saturday, October 20

  Sunday, October 21

  Monday, October 22

  Tuesday, October 23

  Wednesday, October 24

  Friday, October 26

  Sunday, October 28

  Monday, October 29

  Thursday, November 1

  Friday, November 2

  Sunday, November 4

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Kami Kinard

  Copyright

  Most people don’t think it’s possible to predict the future. I’m one of the exceptions.

  I believe in signs — little clues that hint at things that might happen someday. You just have to be open to seeing them.

  My BFF, Kara McAllister, doesn’t think like I do. She’s what you’d call a cynic. I mean, a sign can be right in front of her face, pointing her down the road to future events, but she’d rather figure out a way to explain why it isn’t a sign at all than go ahead and believe that it is one.

  Earlier tonight a VERY OBVIOUS sign landed right under my nose. Literally. I know that it means something FANTASTIC is going to happen to me this year! But did Kara interpret it the way I did? Well … I’m not exactly sure.

  We’d gone to Triple Slice Pizza with Kara’s boyfriend, Chip, to celebrate the last Friday before the start of the new school year. Kara and Chip sat on one side of the booth. I sat on the other. Alone.

  So even though they PROMISED that I wasn’t one, I pretty much felt like a third wheel before we even placed our order. You don’t have to be a math genius (and trust me, I’m not) to figure out these two equations:

  DUH!

  That’s one reason why I was more than happy to leave them by themselves when the cute guy at the window shouted: “Order up for McAllister!”

  Actually, I had some other reasons for volunteering to get the pizza. (See above sentence. There was a CUTE GUY at the window!) More importantly, I wanted a chance to spy on Colleen McCarver, the wickedest, sickest girl at our school. (Just to be clear, I mean wicked and sick in a bad way … although now that I think about it, she’s so popular that most people probably think she’s wicked and sick in a cool way. Whatever!) Not that I cared what she was doing, because I totally didn’t, but I did care about who she was with:

  See, last year Alex dumped Maybelline for a high school cheerleader. (FYI: Kara and I call Colleen McCarver Maybelline because she wears so much makeup.) Anyway, that breakup was the gossip of the millennium at Spring Valley Middle. I’m not even joking.

  I didn’t see how Maybelline could possibly take Alex back after he’d publicly humiliated her like that, even if he is superstar gorgeous. I know I wouldn’t give him another chance. No way!

  (Still … Alex B didn’t break up with me for a cheerleader. So if he was suddenly available …)

  I glanced their way as I walked by their booth. Alex B was concentrating on opening a pack of crackers. That was a good sign! (For me, not Maybelline.) I mean, it’s kind of OVER when your crush is more interested in a pack of crackers than in you!

  Our order was waiting a few steps away. I picked up the pizza and inhaled. I’m CRAZY for the smell of fresh pizza dough — or any kind of dough, really. Mom used to bake all the time before Dad left. Not just pizza, but breads, cakes, and cookies, too. I soooo miss that smell.

  That’s the smell, when I think about it, of a happy home.

  I looked over at Alex and Maybelline again as I walked back to our booth. No eye or body contact between them!

  When I reached our table with the extra-large triple-cheese pizza, Kara and Chip quickly slid apart. That wasn’t AWKWARD for me or anything. Geez!

  “I can’t tell if they’re back together or not,” I reported, “but at least Maybelline doesn’t look like a third wheel.”

  “You’re NOT a third wheel,” said Kara, who was holding hands with Chip under the table.

  “Yes, I am,” I said. “And it looks like I’m going to be one forever. I’ll never find the right guy!” I believed it, too, because I have a boy problem. I’ve been super-unlucky in love. Look at the two guys I dated last year.

  Evan Carlson

  James Powalski

  At first, I thought both guys were AWESOME. Boy, was I WRONG.

  See the problem? Anyway, I was about to put the pizza down on the table when Kara looked over my shoulder and said, “Hey, an absolutely adorable guy just walked in who totally looks like a third wheel! Let’s invite him to sit with you!”

  I looked over my shoulder. I shouldn’t have.

  For one thing, it was just a kindergartner with his mom and dad. Very funny, Kara. For another, it turns out that carrying an extra-large triple-cheese pizza requires full concentration, and in the moment that I turned my head, I felt the tray slipping from my grip. I dug my thumbs into the piping-hot crust to try to keep the pizza from falling.

  Why is it that when you sink your teeth into hot pizza dough you’re like, “Mmmmm,” but when you sink your thumbs into it you’re like, “YEEEOOOOWWWWWWWW!”

  Right then I had a slo-mo mo. (Slow-motion moment. You know, one of those moments that only takes, like, five seconds, but because the five seconds are so MORTIFYING, they seem to drag on for an ETERNITY.)

  Believe it or not, I managed to hold on to the pizza. Well, most of it. The crust was saved! But the triple cheese slid into an asymmetrical pile on the red-and-white-tiled floor.

  “Tabbi!” cried Chip and Kara at the exact same time.

  I was too mesmerized to say jinx, though. I just stood there, staring at the ruined cheese. Then I realized I was witnessing something more than just a pile of cheese. Something unbelievable. Something amazing. A sign!

  I slammed the tray down on the table and whipped out my cell phone. In less than thirty seconds, I had eight photos of the cheesy floor.

  “What are you doing?” asked Kara.

  I pointed to the cheese. “Don’t you see? It looks exactly like a guy’s head!”

  “Not to me,” said Kara.

  “That’s because you’re lo
oking at it upside down. Come over here.”

  Kara slid out of the booth and stood next to me.

  Chip grabbed the pizza tray. “I’m gonna see if they’ll throw more cheese on this pie. And if they will …” He looked directly at me. “You’re eating the pieces with the thumb holes in the crust.”

  “Oh. Well.” I turned back to the cheese and pointed. “See, Kara, that’s the ear. And that lump there is the nose.”

  “Hmmm,” said Kara in a way that made clear she wasn’t seeing what I was.

  “And this is his hairline.” I pointed to a jagged edge that jutted out from the gooey forehead. “Don’t you think it looks exactly like a guy?”

  “I guess I can kind of see it,” said Kara.

  “Kind of see it? I’ll tell you what I see: the image of my future crush. Look at that handsome profile! He’s perfect for me!”

  I was not backing down until Kara admitted she saw cheese guy. Tabbi Reddy never gives up, and she never backs down!

  Kara squinched up her face and tilted her head.

  About then a waitress came over with a trash can and a dustpan. She started to kneel next to the cheese head.

  “Wait!” I cried. I pointed to a crack in the cheese that was CLEARLY an eye. “Here’s the eye. Now can you see him?”

  Kara looked like she was concentrating. “Yes! I see him! I really do!” She seemed to mean it. She turned to the waitress and said, “Look! See how that cheese is shaped like a guy’s head?”

  “I just see someone else’s mess that I have to clean up,” the waitress said. “And two crazy girls.” She scooped up the cheese head in a single swoop and dumped him into the trash can.

  Some people have no vision.

  Kara and I slid back into the booth. I excitedly scrolled through the cheese pics on my cell. “This is the best day of my life!” I said.

  “You’re either overreacting,” said Kara, “or losing it.”

  “Am not! That pile of cheese was a sign — a sign from the universe that the right guy is out there for me after all!”

  “Or maybe it was only a pile of cheese,” said Kara.

  I scowled.

  “That looked remarkably like a head,” she added quickly.

  “Think about it,” I said. “One tiny MILLISEC after I said I’ll never find the right guy, the universe tipped my hands forward and the cheese slid off of the pizza and landed in the exact shape of a guy’s head. Maybe even the right guy’s head!” I waved the picture on my phone in front of her face.

  Kara looked skeptical. “Or … it’s possible that the pizza fell because you were distracted … or clumsy.”

  “No,” I said. “No way. I’ve carried pizza trays from that window to these tables tons of times and I’ve never dropped so much as a pepperoni. I’m telling you. It’s a sign that predicts the future Mr. Right!”

  Before Kara could comment, Chip interrupted. He plopped the pizza with its new single layer of cheese down on the table. “I’m starved. Let’s eat!”

  I glanced up at him and saw Maybelline and Alex B leaving. She was showing him something on her cell phone and laughing hysterically. He had his arm around her shoulders. I guess they were back together after all. !

  Amazing how an entire year can go by and nothing changes. Maybelline is starting off the school year with Alex B. And once again, I am starting off the school year with no one. The only thing that has really changed is Kara’s boyfriend status.

  Oh. Well. It’s hard to be bummed about anything now that I’ve gotten a positive sign from the universe. And I think if I look closely enough, I’ll find more signs. It doesn’t matter if Kara agrees with me or not. When it comes to the future, I like to make my own predictions.

  My prediction: The right guy is out there waiting for me to find him.

  Kara’s mom said that I could sleep over last night. I LOVE staying at Kara’s house because her reasonable mom lets us stay up late and talk, unlike my obsessive mom, who is waaaaaaay strict about bedtime. Actually, my mom is kinda waaaaaaay strict about everything. She claims it helps her feel like she’s in control of her life, which she says went out of control when my dad left. Ha! That’s just an excuse for her being the way she’s always been: the strictest mom on the planet!

  Anyway, last night Kara and I were lying on her bedroom floor, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling.

  Me: Wouldn’t it be great if these were all make-a-wish stars?

  Kara: I guess.

  Me: You guess? It’d totally ROCK!

  Kara: Tabs, please tell me you know wishes don’t all come true, even if you make them on stars.

  Me: Wishing on a star just has to give your wish a better chance of coming true!

  In my mind, it was simple math.

  Kara: Nothing helps your wishes come true unless YOU do something yourself. It’s called being proactive, Tabs.

  Kara’s big on that word. Proactive. But I think there are lots of things we can’t POSSIBLY control. So I figure wishing on stars and paying attention to where signs point can only help.

  I focused on a cluster of stars over Kara’s desk. If I could make any wish, I’d want my dad to come back home. But that’s not going to happen and I know it. He already has a new family. And if I made that wish, then some other kid, my little half brother, Toby, would be without a dad.

  I let my eyes wander around the ceiling until they landed on one tiny star, stuck in a corner above Kara’s closet door. I wonder if she meant to leave it there all by itself.

  I closed my eyes and silently wished I’d find that guy — the one whose face was in that pizza cheese. Kara interrupted my thoughts.

  Kara: So how are you going to be proactive?

  Me: I don’t know. I’m not like you, Kara. I can’t just come up with a project and, whammo, suddenly I have the perfect boyfriend.

  Kara (sitting up): Hey! That project was a lot of work! And I didn’t find Chip suddenly. It took months! I didn’t even like him at first … but later I saw his potential.

  That got me thinking that maybe the right guy for me is someone like Chip, who I already know. Maybe I just haven’t seen his potential yet. When I told Kara this she got up and grabbed one of her notebooks. We made a list of eligible guys in our class:

  But even as I was putting the list down on paper, I could see why none of these guys would work out.

  So in the end, my list pretty much looked like this:

  If there’s hidden potential in any of the guys in my class, it’s gonna take a CIA investigator to find it.

  Kara tried to cheer me up by pointing out that the first day of school is this coming Monday. DUH! I’ve had all my new, super-cute school supplies, including this journal (I buy one at the start of every school year), for about a week. I can’t help it! I get really excited about the first day of a school year because each new year has so much potential. (Even if none of the guys have it.)

  Speaking of potential, that was Kara’s whole point: Every year there are a few new guys in our classes who’ve transferred in from other schools.

  I thought about the potential of a new year with new boys, and I went to sleep with a bit of hope glowing inside me like that tiny little star randomly stuck over Kara’s closet door.

  Yesterday I was feeling hopeful, but this morning, reality hit as soon as my feet touched the orange shag rug on my bedroom floor. I’m completely freaking out! About a million questions are invading my brain.

  What if the pizza head sign really was just a lump of cheese? What if wishing on stars means your wishes NEVER come true? What if I can’t understand algebra? What if I think my white skinny jeans, aqua tank, and beaded flats make a super-cute outfit, but really it’s the definition of stupid?

  AND today will be the first time I’ve seen James since I broke his by breaking up with him. I mean, he begged for us to stay together. What if he can’t resist me when he sees me again? AWKWARD!

  And where will I sit at lunch? With Kara and Chip? Wil
l I be a third wheel FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR?

  This queasy, heart-racing feeling reminds me of how I felt last year on the day I had to go back to school after cutting off all of my long blond hair.

  FYI: I didn’t INTEND to cut my hair off, it just kind of happened. I mean, when I decided to take a relaxing bath in our new jet tub, how could I possibly know I’d end up with THE WORLD’S LARGEST TANGLE?!!!!

  It’s not like anyone was around to tell me to put my hair up before turning on the jets! You’ve heard of a tangle being called a rat’s nest, right? Well, my hair was like a rat’s condominium or something. It had nest on top of nest on top of nest on top of nest.

  At first, Mom tried to help me untangle it the old-fashioned way: with a brush and comb. After about an hour of torturous tugging, the situation was still so hopeless that she gave up and resorted to going online to look for suggestions.

  She came back into the bathroom with a jar of peanut butter. She spread it all over my hair, like I was a slice of bread waiting to be turned into a record-breaking PB&J sandwich. Then she tried to unravel the giant knot again.

  No luck!

  “Wait right here!” she said, as if I’d go anywhere sporting a peanut butter–coated do. I mean, one whiff of my head, and the squirrels in our yard would go NUTZ. Literally.

  Things were not looking up when Mom came back into the bathroom.

  Yep, she really was carrying olive oil, mayonnaise, and a banana.

  Before she could turn my head into a fruit salad, I told her I’d just remembered a foolproof way to remove tangles.

  Then I grabbed a pair of scissors from the counter and started hacking off my hair.

  Mom actually screamed. You’d think I used those scissors to stab her with or something.

  When I was finished, my formerly beautiful hair lay like a dead animal on the tile floor. I hate to say it, but after the jet tub and peanut butter treatment, it looked so disgusting that it was hard to believe that mess was ever attached to my head.

  While Mom ate the banana (turns out she wasn’t going to put it in my hair — she’d just worked up an appetite trying to get my tangles out), I took a loooooonnnnnnngggggg shower to get the nutty smell out of my new short hair.