Free Not Anything by Carmen Rodrigues

know,” I push the apple away, “that’s how Adam got Eve into trouble in the first place.”
    “I thought it was the other way around.”
    “Only, if you believe the lies of a patriarchal society,” I reply smoothly.
    “See,” he smiles, “that’s what I like about you. You’re quick on your feet.”
    He winks, and I feel myself glowing.
    “So, do you want to see my bedroom?” Danny moves toward the hallway.
    I shouldn’t be surprised—I’ve read enough Seventeen (exactly two issues) to know that it doesn’t matter what a girl looks like, a guy always wants to show her his bedroom—but I am.
    “Why?”
    “Because…” Again, Danny gives me a strange look. “That’s where my desk is.”
    “Oh.” My cheeks turn red. Silly, silly me.
    “Coming?” Danny calls from the hallway.
    I take a deep breath and follow.
     
    an hour later, danny’s mom comes home. we hear her singing in the kitchen long before she shows her face at Danny’s bedroom door. For the past sixty minutes, we’ve been engrossed in the ending of The Scarlet Letter. I’ve stationed myself and the novel on the floor, while Danny lies on the bed flipping through the CliffsNotes.
    “I hate reading,” he tells me for the umpteenth time.
    “Really? I can’t tell.” I fold the page and set the book aside. “I think I can read just about anything, except horror. I can’t stand those books.” I stand and stretch. An hour of reading out loud coupled with in-depth analysis is enough to make my body ache. I bend over and touch my toes. When I straighten up, I notice Danny is watching me.
    “So do you think you’re ready for your test?” I ask awkwardly.
    “Huh?” He shakes his head. I can tell I’ve caught him off guard.
    “Are you ready for your test? Or do you think we need to keep studying?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry. Yeah, I think so. You know,” he says, suddenly, “you’re really bendy.” His face is flushed.
    “I used to take gymnastics when I was little.” I sit at the edge of his bed and draw one knee to my chest. My butt hurts from the hard floor.
    “Why’d you stop?” he asks.
    “I don’t know. I just did.” Which is a lie. The truth is I stopped because after my mom died, my dad kept forgetting to take me.
    “So you feel prepared?” I ask again.
    “How could I not be?” He shakes his head. “You’re intense when you study.”
    “Well”—I make a grave face—“I haven’t earned my reputation as a geek for nothing.”
    “Yeah,” he agrees, laughing. “I knew geeks were good for something.”
    “Yeah,” I say, but I can’t help but feel a burn. Did he just insult me, or is that supposed to be a compliment? Should I even care? I mean, look where I am. I’m at his house.
    But still…
    “Do you think I’m a geek?” I venture.
    The look he gives me, plus his awkward silence, says it all.
    “I don’t mind,” I begin.
    “Come on, Susie—”
    “No, it’s okay.”
    I stare at the walls of his room, anything to avoid him and his…lack of protest.
    His room is typical. It’s a little messy; there’s a swimsuit edition calendar hanging on the wall. A shelf is filled with collectible Star Wars action figures, and there are classic film posters everywhere— Scarface, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, E.T., The Breakfast Club.
    “Why do you have so many posters?” I pretend to study the E.T. poster. I remember the first time my dad rented that movie from Blockbuster. I cried for days.
    “I want to be a director,” he says rather earnestly.
    I look back to him, sitting on the bed, picking the lint from his comforter. I never thought about Danny beyond the context of his being cute and popular. I never thought about his dreams and aspirations. I just thought about how I was beginning to feel about him. Knowing this made me see him a little differently. To be a director, you had to be creative. I never even thought that side of him existed.
    “Marisol wants to be a movie critic,” I tell