taradiddle
\ tar-uh-DID-l \ , noun;
1. Informal . a small lie; fib.
2. Informal . pretentious nonsense.
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The small restaurant was brightly lit with generic music
playing in the background. A handful of
people sitting at the tables and booths chatted quietly as the wait staff
calmly made their ways around to their respective tables. Christy looked around
for anyone that might be her date. She
saw several good looking guys her age that would be worthy candidates.
“So,
who is it?” She asked. “Please tell me it’s that one over
there.” She pointed to a guy sitting by
himself who clearly spent quite a bit of time in the gym.
“Actually,
he’s over there.” Christy’s friend,
Megan, said. She was pointing in a
completely different direction. Christy
followed her friend’s finger, and her face immediately dropped.
“You’re
kidding, right?” Christy asked.
The guy
in question was not someone Christy would ever want to date. In fact, she probably wouldn’t even bother
talking to him long enough to tell him the time unless there was a good reason
to. He was pathetically skinny, had
poorly maintained acne, was most likely shorter than Christy, and wore clothes
and glasses that spoke of his lack of interest in his own appearance.
“Nope.” Megan said.
“I
thought you said he was a great athlete.
No way he’s on any teams.”
“Actually,
I said that he does a lot of athletic stuff.
Running around and hitting people with foam swords and stuff is athletic
you know. And he is on a team. It just happens to be the chess team.”
“Oh,
god, he does that stuff? Megan, there is
no way I’m getting anywhere near that…that…that.” She said waving her hand in the guy’s general
direction.
“Just
give him a chance. You only need to eat
a meal with him. And try to say
something, it’s what he’s here for.”
“No. No way.
I’m out. Why’d you even think
this was a good idea? You know I can’t
be seen with someone like that. It’d
wreck me.”
“He’s a
friend who wants to learn how to talk to girls on a date. See, he has this girl he wants to ask out,
but he doesn’t know how to deal with a real date. So, I told him I’d set him up on a practice
run. And hey, who better than you to
teach him?”
“That
girl had better not be me.” Christy
said. She was disgusted by the very
idea.
“Nope. It’s some girl on the debate team, I
think.” Megan said. Christy couldn’t tell if Megan was lying or
not. It wasn’t too hard to believe,
after all, it was due to Megan’s lies that she was there in the first place.
“Ok, so
he’s a hopeless loser who needs to be taught how to talk. Why’d you pick me? There’s lots of other girls in school who’re
desperate enough to go through with this.”
“Because
you need this.” Megan said, pressing a
finger into Christy’s shoulder.
“How’d
you figure?”
“Look,
everyone knows you’re not exactly the brightest bulb around. Well, see him? He is.
The guy’s got a four oh average every year since the sixth grade. So just go over there and talk with him. One dinner and you get a guy on your side who
actually knows how to do math. You need
someone like that on your side, and you know it. Plus, if we spin this the right way, it won’t
even be too painful for you.”
“How?” Christy asked. She hated to admit it, but this was sounding
like a good idea.
“Simple. If people learn about this, then we just say
it’s a learning experience for him. Basically,
we tell the truth. This makes you seem
sympathetic and, you know, nicer. But to
your main friends, you were just taking advantage of him so you don’t fail
every single class. They won’t mind
because they’re always doing the same thing.
No matter what happens, you’re popularity is intact, or maybe even
better than it was. Get it?”
“I
guess so.” Christy said. She mainly understood the plan, but she still
hoped she wouldn’t be spotted by anyone else from school, just to be on the
safe side. “But that doesn’t mean I have
to like it.”
“Of
course not.”
“And
you do know this’ll probably bomb pretty quick.
Will you stick around in case I need an exit?”
“Sure,
no problem. I’ll be right over in the
corner if you need me.” Megan said.
“Great. Well, wish me luck.” Christy said as she shook out her hair. Even a fake date was still a date, and so she
had to look her best. Not that this guy
deserved it, but still.
As she
approached the table her ‘date’ was sitting at, she risked a glance behind her
to see where Megan would be sitting. She
was just in time to see her friend leaving the restaurant. Christy could feel her cheeks turning red as
she fumed at Megan’s latest act of trickery.
She’d have to get back at her later.
For now, she had a lame guy to humor.
******************************Ah, high school. There are those who say it's the best four years of their lives. Me? I've got nothing special about it. Nothing bad, but nothing really good either. Pretty unremarkable for me, really.
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