starstruck

freddie

Elena's bedroom is much more infantile than Freddie is expecting. There are glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and pressed flowers taped to the wall. A traffic cone orange lava lamp sits on a dresser by her dollhouse. Worst of all, she has shag carpeting.

Freddie lounges on an oversize armchair as Elena rifles through (presumably tabloid) magazines by her bedside. She, with all this free time, can't help but let her thoughts wander to James from English. They had talked, what, three times? Even so, Freddie hadn't forgotten. He was handsome (in a boy next door sort of way), friendly (in a I want to get to know you first way), and a near-perfect subject (in a I'll take it slow way) for a first date. If he were to ask her out, she'd say yes in heartbeat. 

Good lord, Freddie thought. I sound insane. 

She is hit by several thick magazines, and they stab her left cheek. Holding her face, Freddie grumbles in annoyance. "Here," Elena says. "Read up. I'm getting snacks." Freddie obliges, leafing through the largest one and studying the pictures and quizzes and juicy stories.

Never (ever) in her life would Freddie admit it, but she likes the gossip and the paparazzi and the advice columns and anything else of the like. The drama of it all. It intrigues her.

Elena is back three minutes later with a plate of cookies. She takes a seat on her bed covers, which are NASA themed, and stretches her legs out over the stars. Freddie grabs a cookie.

"This stuff is bullshit." The sound is muffled by oatmeal and raisins.  Elena shakes her head and smiles, "I thought you'd say that." Freddie throws the big magazine back at her, and Elena catches it with one arm. Impressive.

"I figured we'd start with the basics, like asking out people." Upon seeing Freddie's blatant distaste, Elena adds, "It's not that bad. You just gotta get comfortable with it."

Freddie sighs louder than is very well necessary. "Why can't I just wait for someone else to ask me? I'm very patient." They exchange glances, and one thing is very obvious- Freddie is anything but patient.

"Yeah, how's that going for you?" Freddie throws another magazine at Elena, but this time without warning. She still catches it. "Hey, watch it. Sensitive topic."

Elena nods and apologizes, halfheartedly. "Look, just trust me. I'll sit here, and you're gonna try your best to woo me. Okay, go." She sounds peppy, more serious. 

Freddie sits in silence. "Wait, woo you? What does that even mean? Are you expecting a full page essay on why I want to take you on a date? Do you want-" Her words slur together and she has no idea why she is so (incredibly) nervous. 

"Freddie, calm down. Just pretend I'm someone you'd actually want to go out with, not me," Elena says, sounding miffed. Freddie feels bad that she's such a bad student, but only for a moment. 

"Okay," Freddie mutters. Pretending she is asking out James (or Jamie, whatever he went by) is much easier than asking out Elena. 

"Hey, wanna go out with me Friday night? There's this, uh, movie playing at the theater on Campbell." Elena raises an eyebrow and laughs. "Freddie, try to sound believable. The theater on Campbell is closed on Fridays."

Freddie shrugs, smiling a bit herself. "Hey, artistic license." 

"Yeah, whatever."

It is very soft in the room. Freddie finds herself staring at a pressed dandelion taped to the wall right besides her. She is just about to ask about it when Elena speaks. 

"Okay, speaking isn't your strong suit. Maybe singing is?" She is confused until she remembers about telling Elena about piano and Kimberly and that stupid (disastrous) love song. 

"Nah, I only ever got to the rhythms and chord progressions and some rudimentary lyrics before giving up. I have, like, no perseverance." Elena is staring intently at her. Her eyes are wide saucers.

"I'm not even that good at singing. Better at piano." She adds this as if it is an afterthought. 

"I'm sure that's not true. You have, like, the voice of an angel, and I've only ever heard you talk." A pause, and Elena is staring hard at the NASA logo on her bed covers. She looks vaguely mortified.

"Elena, no offence, but you've known me, what, a week? I bet if I went back to a month ago you wouldn't even know my name. You gotta believe me when I say I can't sing." Freddie is complimented, of course, that Elena thinks her voice sounds so nice, but it just simply isn't true. 

"Okay, fine," Elena looks up,"But I still wanna hear a song. Pretty please?" She puts on her best puppy dog face and pouts her lips. Freddie can't help but notice the bright red of her lipstick. 

She tries her best to fight it, she really does. 

"Ugh, fine. But only because I'm a complete pushover when it comes to  cute girls." She isn't sure how or why she called Elena cute, but Freddie decides it doesn't matter. 

Elena giggles like they are in middle school and crosses her legs underneath her. "Thanks, Freddie. I promise I'll repay you, some how." 

"You'll have to give me, like, a month."

Elena nods. "I figured." They settle into silence and Elena coaches Freddie on the Principles of Asking Out People That You Like. She, admittedly, is getting better. Elena is a good teacher.

Before the end of the class, Freddie asks to borrow a magazine. "For my mom," she says, knowing how amazingly pathetic she must sound. "She very much enjoys those advice columns."

Shaking her head so that her hair swayed right to left behind her, Elena hands Freddie the whole stack. "I've read them all. Tell your mom I said she can keep them."

Freddie smiles, too amused to be embarrassed. "My mom says thanks." 

Elena turns her doorknob and backs up so Freddie can leave. She is two feet out and approaching the front door when Elena calls out behind her.

"Hey, Freddie? I think you're pretty cute too."