Free The Rites and Wrongs of Janice Wills by Joanna Pearson Page B

said. “Really nice. You don’t go to parties, do you, Janice? Or not much, right?”
    I wasn’t sure how to respond. By “not much,” what Jimmy meant was “not at all.” He’d realized already that I was the Melva High Hermit. “I guess I’m a little picky,” I said warily.
    He stretched, straightening himself up, and then smiled lazily at me. “Yeah,” he said. “I like that — I’m picky too. Anyway, I’m glad you’re coming to the party.”
    With that, he walked away. I just stood there watching until long after he’d disappeared.

ANTHROPOLOGICAL
OBSERVATION # 8:
    Prior to approaching a male of higher social status in a public setting, the adolescent female prepares with extra care, decorating and perfuming herself for the occasion. She may even choose to do research
.
    At home that evening, I started to get myself
ready
for Jimmy’s party. I opened my closet and flipped through my hangers. The sight of my clothes was dismaying. My closet was an Uglification Zone — and yet, determined, I searched, hoping to find something semicool.
    MOVIE SCENE
JANICE WILLS: STORY OF A YOUNG
ANTHROPOLOGIST
    The overlooked heroine readies herself for an encounter with her crush. One of those “getting it together” montages ensues, with some pumped-up girl music for a soundtrack, while she flings various garments onto the floor, applies makeup, and — ta da! — emerges more dazzling than ever before.
    Of course, this did not happen. Nothing looked right. I felt stupid and ill constructed: Gangly McGangles all over again. Finally I settled on my coolest jeans and a drapey blue shirt thatI thought flattered me. I pinned back part of my hair the way I imagined a French woman would and put on mascara. I looked in the mirror to take in the effect: Gangly McGangles in her coolest jeans; Gangly McGangles wearing mascara….
    I still had a couple hours before the party, so I went to the computer to check my email. Nothing. I thought of Jimmy, how tonight might be my chance to talk to him. I had a mission: Mission Speak to Jimmy Denton at the Party Tonight. This required, as preparation, Operation Jimmy Denton Information Gathering.
    So I Googled him. I typed in “Jimmy Denton, Melva, NC” and clicked SEARCH. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me before. I waited, guilty, nervous at the computer, ready to close the browser window if my mom or brothers were to walk in.
    But instead of merely finding name twins, I found the Jimmy Denton jackpot. There was his name a few times in the
Melva Daily Star
for placing in theatre competitions, and there was even a photo of him playing Stanley Kowalski in the Melva High production of
A Streetcar Named Desire
.
    ANTHROPOLOGIST’S NOTE:
The Melva High production of the play had been edited due to parental concern over potential sexiness. Even though the changes had been slight, it seemed like a shame to me to alter the genius of Tennessee Williams. I especially respected any writer whose chosen name was a state.
    The real Googling prize, though, was this: Jimmy Denton had a blog! The blogger profile matched him. His blog was called desperatemeasuresmelva.blogspot.com.
    I sat reading it for the next hour and forty-five minutes.
    I learned he liked tuna but hated mayonnaise, that he’d once peed his pants in the third grade and everyone had laughed at him, that he was struggling to pass calculus, that his dad had been stressed out at work recently, that his sister sometimes called him Boo Bear, which embarrassed him, that he had many thoughts on the various performances of Marlon Brando, and on Tennessee Williams, and on and on…. Part of one entry read:
    The play is absolute shit right now, and I told D. so to his face. But he’s got a rock for a brain. Also talked to B. and we agreed to keep quiet about the whole thing. Now hating myself, this town, wishing I could escape. Later tonight, Dad heard that I failed the calculus test again on top of everything else that’s