12 Weeks, 12 Dates

Chapter 3: The First Date

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Chapter 3: The First Date

The week went by faster than I expected. By Saturday afternoon, I had sent myself into a catatonic stage. I could only stare at the ceiling, the same thoughts echoing throughout my mind: I have my first date today, today’s the start of my torture, I have my first date today, today’s the start of my torture…

Lexi kept poking my cheek. “Come on Piper, get off the couch! All you’ve done today is stare at the ceiling.”

I didn’t even blink.

“Mom! Dad! I think something’s wrong with Piper!” she called out.

“Today’s the start of my torture,” I mumbled.

My sister leaned in. “What did you say?”

“I have my first date today,” I whispered.

She sprung up. “Is that what you’re worried about? Geez Piper, I thought it was something serious.”

I snapped out of my trance. “It is a big deal. This is the first date I’ve ever been on.”

“Oh. Then I guess you should worry.” With that comment, she skipped away.

I stuck out my tongue, but in truth, I couldn’t stop fretting about this evening. What if I choked on my food? What if I spit my food on him? Eww. What if…? What if…?

The buzz from my phone jolted me out of my thoughts, almost making me fall off the couch. I took it out and read the text.

Your time has come young grasshopper. Meet me at my house to learn of your new self :)

Ugh.

But I didn’t want to learn of my new self.

Erg!

I thrashed around on the couch like a stubborn five year old who didn’t get its way. No point in trying to hide it. I was not ready for this date.

I felt sorry for this Blake. Instead of getting a happy-flirty-cute-Naomi-type, he’s going to get a look-I-really-don’t-want-to-date-you-so-back-off-before-I-get-my-pepper-spray-Piper-type.

The thought of the bet came to my mind. If I could just get through these measly twelve dates, I would never have to hear about it again. Never again. That bright thought gave me the strength to get off the couch and tell my mom that I was off to go on my date. Yes, I told her that I was going on a date, but definitely left out the part about the whole journal/bet business.

Wouldn’t want her to think I was indeed a hermit whose only way of getting out in public was because of a dumb bet, now, would I?

I went upstairs and grabbed the black purse-ish thing (I don’t know what it was, it was Nay’s) that Naomi specifically entrusted to me after I left her house on Monday to have for this date. Since I didn’t have a good luck charm, she figured I could use hers (she seemed to think that I needed to have it the whole week so its magic charms would wear off on me). It was a nice thing to do, which made the guilt even heavier.

As I passed by my bed, I saw the journal open to its table of contents. I pointed my index finger at it like I was calling it out. “Listen up buddy, if it wasn’t for you and your information gatherer Naomi, I wouldn’t be going on this date. Damn you I say.”