Surprise, Surprise

Friday nights shouldn't be as hyped up as it should be.

I, for one, haven't been invited to a single party during the 17 years of my nerdy existence. Plus, getting wasted on a Friday night is an absurd idea. This, of course, has always been a distant possibility for someone like me – unless it was even possible to get drunk with cranberry juice.

Well, this is me talking. So I guess – this doesn't have much of a bearing.

What puzzles me though is the psychological make-up of my best bud. Despite the fact that she gets invited to practically ALL the parties thrown this side of Brunswick – she chooses to spend the nights at home. With me.

"Hey Phoenix," Sandra Heath said as she expertly aimed her popcorn on my forehead, "why are you zoning out?"

I dug my popcorn bucket, took a piece and aimed it at her forehead too. Unlike her perfect shot, mine fell flat on the floor, a full foot away from where she was.

She laughed heartily and stuck her tongue at me, "You suck. You know that?"

It was a Friday night. Sandra and I were at our usual (and only) night out ritual, lounging in their living room couch to watch a DVD on their massive plasma TV and tonight was Sandra's choice movie night.

"Let's watch this," she said as she opened a DVD case and flicked the case to me.

Twilight.

"Really? Don't you think we've watched too much of this already?" I said giving her a watchful eye on her choice, "I can run the dialogue with you, if you want."

"You and your opinion," she said dismissing me with a wave of her hand. She stood up and went to the player to shove in the disc. She jumped back to the lazy boy she had claimed earlier and both of us shut up in unison as the film began to play.

"Haven't you seen that movie for, like, 20 times?" TJ said, sauntering in the living room. The mere sight of him was enough to make me hyperventilate. He was too stunning for words. I glanced at him as he plopped on the same couch where I was. In an instant, I was drawn to his eyes.

It was odd though how TJ and Sandra were too alike despite the fact that they are not genetically linked. Their resemblance is nothing but striking. They shared the same blue eyes and golden locks that can only be called as dazzling.

They have been step siblings ever since I could remember.  Having lived almost our entire lives in the same block, the three of us spent our childhood years together. During those days, we were the terrible threesome.  Getting into endless troubles and stupid fights with other kids our age.

But things change. Somewhere along the way, both of them managed to blossom into these good-looking creatures while I was stuck in becoming the nerd that I am. And somewhere along the way, TJ managed to move on to a new set of friends that Sandra and I unanimously decided not to join.

In spite of this, my best bud remained well-liked. How Sandra kept her popularity is not really surprising. What was more astounding was the fact that she stayed with me. When I asked her why did she choose to get stuck with me when she can be part of Quinn's circle, she would just raise her eyebrows and scoff at the idea. Once she said that I had a bright future ahead of me and I quote, "Think of yourself as Bill Gates in the making."

Yes, even my best friend tells it to my face. I am such a nerd. I have to admit, though, that if I wanted to, I can un-nerdify myself. After all, I do have the genetic back up to keep up with the rest if I wanted to. Somewhere, deep inside my horn-rimmed glasses and underneath my messy hair –I know that an attractive person can emerge. But I guess, high school just isn't my thing. I was never really too happy with the fact that being pretty was enough to get you through life. Real life is a lot harder than that.

"You're zoning out again," it was Sandra's voice that broke me from my reverie. Her shot on my forehead was perfect again.

 "Very mature Sands," TJ said, chastising his sister. Sandra frowned at him and muttered something under her breath.

Suddenly, I grew too well aware of the fact that hot stuff TJ was just an arm's length from where I was. I glanced at him and saw that he was staring at me with watchful eyes.

"What?" I finally said after what seemed like an eternity. I could feel color slowly rising up my cheeks, just thinking about his eagle-eye gaze.

"About what happened this afternoon. . ." he said, pretty much oblivious to the fact that the movie was beginning to drown whatever it is he wanted to say.

I raised my hands to stop him knowing his tiny speech would just lead to all sorts of unnecessary apologies and excuses, "It's fine really. Surprising as this may sound, that did not even faze me."

"Exactly my point," he said as he shifted his weight to face me, "it's not right for someone to be treated that way. Especially you . . . we've practically known each other since we were kids and I know for a fact that you deserve better than that. I've talked to Quinn about it and she said she did all she could to stop her friends from doing it. She also promised that she would tell them not to do it again. She'll make them apologize to you on Monday."

I scoffed at the idea about Quinn's "innocence",  but I knew better to let him know what I think. After all, she is still his girlfriend.

"Wait," it was Sandra this time. I didn't even realize she had pressed the Pause button, "What happened? Why am I out of the loop, all of a sudden?"

"You didn't tell her?" TJ said in surprise.

I shook my head and took a deep sigh. I knew right there and then that there was really no point in hiding this away from my friend. In one breath, I told her everything that happened earlier that day.

Sandra was about to open her mouth to say something but then, TJ's phone came ringing. From where I was seated, I could see Quinn's name on the caller ID. He smiled at us and jumped up with a wave of goodbye to our direction, "Duty calls."

Sandra snorted and watched his brother leave the room, out of the house.

 I stood up and walked to the window. I drew the curtain just in time to watch TJ drive away from their garage. He honked his horn and I waved my hand in response.

"You're pathetic," Sandra said blatantly as she played the disc again, only this time with a muted volume.

I drew the curtain to a close and pushed my horn-rimmed eyeglasses up my nose, "Gee thanks."

She gave me a serious look and stopped the player while moving to the couch next to me, "We need to talk."

Uh-oh. Usually, I love Sandra. But when she gets this tone, I think of the possibilities of un-liking her because I know I am in for something I wouldn't like. Let's just say she likes to play Dr. Phil and I happen to be her favorite (and only) subject.

"Go ahead," I said giving her the go signal to do whatever it was she wanted, "as if I had a choice when we need to have this 'talk'."

When Sandra gets into this mode, I pretty much give her a free reign because of a couple of reasons. One, she gets into a huge fit when I stop her and two, because it amuses me to death given the fact that her psychological analysis are way off the mark to the point of being hilarious.  Once, she said that I might have bipolar just because I dreamt having wings. Don't ask. To this day, I have yet to see the reason behind that diagnosis

She gave me a broad smile and took my hand in hers, "So this is what I think. You are in love with TJ."

Oh crap. This time, she might have hit the mark.

"And TJ is in love with you," She finished off with a knowing smile on her face.

Okay. I take it back.

I gave her an incredulous look and she took this as the cue to begin her soliloquy, "Just think about it. TJ always looks after you. He goes out of his way to talk to you every day in school. The only time he talks to me is when he needs to ask me something about you. Plus, he never forgets your birthday. "

"That doesn't mean anything," I said feeling color rise up my cheek, "besides I am not in love with your brother."

"Oh, puh-lease," she said with a frown, "Don't even let me get into that. I wouldn't be called your best friend for nothing. You practically blush every time he's around."

Seeing that arguing with her was useless, I cave in slightly, "Fine. But I don't love him. That's too much."

"Pooh," she remarked in disgust, "Fine. Let's just say you're crushing on him."

"Still pointless," I said as I turned my attention to the muted movie on the screen, "Admitting that I do like your brother barely translates to happily ever after. He doesn't love me. Nor is he crushing on me. I think that the only reason why he talks to me is because of you. Plus, remembering someone's birthday is not a major thing, you know."

"Well, it is for him," Sandra pouted her lips stubbornly, "you should know that. Didn't you witness Quinn's outrage when my brother forgot her birthday?"

Oh right. I remember that. The day when Quinn made a scene in the cafeteria when TJ admitted he forgot her birthday. Oddly enough, our birthday fell on the same week.

"See," she said smugly when realization began to hit me, "it was your birthday he remembered. Besides, doesn't it puzzle you that Quinn has been busy plotting evil schemes against you?  I'm sure she's sensing that TJ has the hots for you . . . Besides, I've already have a plan so we can make sure he notices you."

What the heck? I began to give in to Sandra's idea with much hesitation. I knew it would be great if everything went my way but knowing that the odds are against me, I knew I was more in for a heart break rather than a fairytale ending.

"Shoot," I said, "what's the plan."

She gave me a wide smile, "You need a makeover."

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no!" I said, "You can never force this on me, you know. And don't you even pull the I'm your best friend card because I'm telling you it won't work. We had this discussion before Sands. Thanks for all your belief in my hidden beauty but please --- spare me the trouble of riding the bandwagon of popularity. Besides, if your brother is going to like me – he has to like me nerd or not."

"Oh please, don't be such a hypocrite," she said, "if you are so virtuous about the fact that looks don't matter, then why don't you just hook up with Dan."

"Eww," I said at the mere thought of it, "Dan with the zits? He's like a midget."

"Exactly my point," she said knowingly, "looks matter. So, if you want my brother to notice you, you have to work on it."

"No!" I said stomping my feet for emphasis, "and that's final!"

* * *

"Oh don't you look pretty!" it was Sandra. It was a Saturday morning and she has taken it upon herself to become my personal stylist.

She knew, for a fact, that my closet was full of untouched shopping bags that my mom has bought for me every time she went on a shopping spree. It was full of girly clothes that were either glittery or pink. Ironic, I know. My mom, a fashion addict, managed to bear a child who only wears big tees, ill-fitting jeans and converse. She often refers to me as her fashion nightmare.

I grumpily turned to face the mirror. I looked good, sure. But it was not enough to raise my spirits. Somehow, Sandra was able to succeed in forcing me to get a make-over.

"Kill me now, please," I said as I plopped back on my bed.

"Now for phase 2," she said excitedly, disregarding my rotten mood.

"Phase 2?" I parroted, "Phase 2 of what?"

She smiled at me as she held a baby tee against my body, "of Operation TJ, silly!"

"Now, that's pathetic!" I said as I turned on the TV in my room. Re-runs of 24 was showing on TV, "First off, naming your plan as an operation is downright insane. Second, if you are planning to be covert about this, you should probably choose something less obvious."

"Phase 2," she said, unfazed, "is to tell TJ how you feel."

I gasped, and opened my mouth but no word came out.

"Come on Phoenix," she said, taking the opportunity when I couldn't say a thing, "Did you know I Googled your name? It means re-birth. This is not just a coincidence. On Monday, you'll be re-born. And we're not only talking about the looks and the clothes. I'm talking about the rebirth of your personality. You have to stop being meek and shy. You have to take matters into your own hands and do what you can to get what you want. Time for the new Phoenix to take over. You need to seize the day!"

Somewhere along her cheesy speech, I knew I must have inhaled some sort of hypnotic drug because I could feel my head bobbing up and down, in agreement.

"Great!" she said, clasping both my hands, "you tell him you like him on Monday, okay?"

I nodded again, like a stupid robot.

Oh crap, what trouble did I get myself into?

* * *

Now, I know how a failed rocket ship launch feels.

After Sandra gave me her pep talk before she left, I was pretty sure I can handle everything she wanted me to do. In fact, I was beginning to feel excited about Monday. I honestly did.

But everything went downhill when I unintentionally passed by my parents as they were sprawled on our backyard's lounge chair that afternoon

"Can you please say that again?" I told them, to make sure I heard them right.

"We're moving to DC on  Sunday," my dad said casually behind a newspaper. My mom was sipping on her orange juice and reading something off her I-pad.

"What?!" I half-screamed, enough to stop my parents from reading whatever it was they were reading, and focusing their complete attention on me.

"We're leaving Portland next week?"

"Next week?" my dad said, "I meant Sunday this week."

"Don't be silly honey," my mom told my dad as she calmly tapped her I-pad again, and turned to look at me "your dad meant tomorrow."