Me You Us Read Online Free Page B

with.
    â€œWell,” I say, “is there a list of all the teachers’ e-mail addresses?”
    â€œYeah, there is. Could I just ask her out over e-mail?”
    â€œNo, no, no. Not exactly. But here’s something you can try. Write an e-mail to all the teachers and say that you have tickets to the Civil War exhibit. Ask if anyone wants to go. But here’s the key: Only send the e-mail to her, and put her address in the BCC . That way it seems like you’re sending a mass e-mail to everyone, but you’re really only sending it to her. She’ll respond because it seems like a casual group thing and not like you’re asking her out. Then you’re in.”
    The ol’ BCC switcheroo. A Galgorithm classic.
    Mr. Kimbrough thinks through my advice for a moment.
    â€œShane, that’s brilliant.”
    â€œNah. Just something I tried once. Maybe it will work for you.” I attempt to play it off so that he doesn’t get even more suspicious about me.
    â€œBut isn’t it a little dishonest?”
    What a heart of gold. I’m starting to like this guy more and more.
    â€œMr. Kimbrough,” I say, “all you’re trying to do is get in thesame room with Ms. Solomon. After that, it’s up to you. There’s nothing dishonest about it.”
    Mr. Kimbrough considers this.
    â€œBesides,” I add, “all’s fair in love and Civil War.”
    He smiles. “You’re right. I’ll give it a try. And . . . if you could maybe not mention this to anyone . . .”
    â€œAs long as you do the same,” I say.
    â€œDeal.”
    â€œGood luck, Mr. Kimbrough.”
    â€œThanks, Shane.”
    Crisis averted. For now.

6
    I WAS A MESS AFTER Voldemort ended things. In hindsight, I had no idea what I was doing when I was with her. I didn’t know how to talk. I didn’t know how to act. I didn’t know all the subtleties that girls expect from the guys they choose to be with.
    When you date someone two years older, you have to learn a lot of lessons the hard way. For instance, everyone always says that it’s what’s inside that counts. And that’s true. But no girl is ever going to appreciate your insides if she can’t stand your outsides. No one ever told me otherwise, until it was too late.
    I contemplate this cruel truth as I walk through the mall with Reed on a Saturday afternoon. Today’s mission is a joint makeover/pep talk. I need to motivate him to make a move onMarisol and I also need him to look the part when he does. The mall is great for both objectives, because not only are there plenty of clothing stores catering to the gaunt teenager, but there are also tons of girls around.
    Much like our high school, Kingsview Mall is open-air. The main concourses are completely uncovered, and the shops, which do have ceilings, line either side. Reed and I are in a jeans store, and I’m trying to find a pair suitable to his suddenly selective tastes.
    â€œWhat about these?” I ask.
    â€œEh . . . too blue.”
    â€œOkay. How about these?”
    â€œToo stiff.”
    â€œToo stiff? That’s not a thing. What about these?”
    â€œThe zipper is weird.”
    â€œReed, why do I get the feeling you’re not gonna like anything I pick out?”
    â€œWhy do I need new jeans anyway? What’s wrong with these?”
    â€œWhere did you get them?”
    â€œI don’t know; my mom got them for me.”
    â€œThat’s what’s wrong with them.”
    â€œUgh. All right. I guess I’ll try some on.”
    â€œI mean, you’re not even wearing a belt right now.”
    â€œI don’t need a belt with these. They fit fine.”
    â€œYou always need a belt. It ties everything together. Unlessyou think Marisol likes slobs. Because that’s what girls think about guys who don’t wear belts.”
    â€œHmm. Marisol does not seem like the slob-liking