Geek Charming by Robin Palmer Read Free Book Online

taller, he was a dead ringer for the actor Dustin Hoffman.
    “Hi,” I said. I tried not to look at the black-and-white cookies, with their thick, creamy icing. Personally, I think that in addition to the PSA announcements on television about the dangers of drugs, they should also do some about black-and-whites because they’re way more addictive than any drug could ever be. “Um, would someone like to tell me what’s going on here?” I asked as I plopped down on a matching suede club chair and held my breath so I couldn’t smell the cookies and risk triggering a snackcident.
    “I was just telling Josh about Neil’s concert at the Greek back in ’78 while we had a little nosh,” Daddy replied.
    A little? There was enough food on the stone coffee table for a small bar mitzvah.
    As I exhaled, the sweet smell of sugar entered my nose. I quickly reached into my purse and shoved three pieces of gum in my mouth. “I can see that,” I said. “But what is he doing here?”
    “Well, from what I understand, apparently you two had come to an agreement about letting him film you for his documentary and now you’re trying to renege,” Daddy said in his scary I’m-the-Real-Estate-King-of-L.A. voice.
    I looked over at Geek Boy, who was innocently biting into a pickle, and gave him my dirtiest look, the one usually reserved for Amy Loubalu.
    “I wasn’t trying to renege,” I said. “I did renege. I mean, what if he tries to portray me as all spoiled and mean and stuff? We all know that’s so not who I am, but let’s face it—that’s what sells. Just look at reality television.”
    “I told you,” said Geek Boy as he took out that stupid inhaler he always carried around. “That’s not my intention at all. Excuse me just a second.” He squirted it in his mouth. “Asthma,” he explained.
    “My brother is asthmatic!” exclaimed Daddy, as if somehow this made them soul mates.
    “Really? That’s so cool. I mean, not that he suffers from asthma, of course, but just that . . . never mind. Anyway, as I was saying.” He reached into his pocket and took out a wrinkled piece of paper and began to read from it. “‘I just thought it would be interesting to view popularity from a sociological perspective. An anthropological look at the social hierarchy of modern-day high schools. If you go back through the history of film, you’ll see that over the decades—’”
    “Okay, seeing that I haven’t had my afternoon Red Bull, my head’s a little fuzzy, so I’m not even going to pretend to understand what you’re saying,” I replied, turning toward Daddy, who was now chomping away on his triple-decker-corned-beef /chopped-liver sandwich. “Daddy, you know what it’s like to have people write and say mean things about you. Don’t you think I’m doing the right thing?”
    He took a swig of Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda. “No. I don’t,” he said. “Especially since all this kid’s ever wanted was to go to USC film school. Do you know that he works twenty hours a week to help his mother pay the tuition at that school of yours?”
    “What, you want me to go get a job ?” I shot back. What was next? Spending the summer volunteering in Africa?
    “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that Josh here knows the value of a dollar. You know, when I was you kids’ age—”
    “I know, I know,” I cut in. “You and Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Marvin lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Queens—”
    “Marvin’s the one with asthma,” Daddy explained to Geek Boy.
    “—and not only did you have a paper route in the morning, but you worked in a shoe store after school,” I continued. “ And you also had to walk a mile in the snow to get there. And you paid your own way through City College.”
    “Exactly. That’s the kind of thing that would give you Beverly Hills kids an ulcer.”
    “Actually, Mr. Schoenfield, I live in Hollywood,” said Geek Boy, who had now moved on to one of the