Putting Boys on the Ledge

  Putting Boys On The Ledge

  STEPHANIE ROWE

  Copyright Information

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Rowe

  First published 2004 by Stephanie Rowe

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  eISBN: 978-1-937776-00-8

  Stephanie Rowe's A Girlfriend's Guide to Boys Series:

  Putting Boys on the Ledge

  Studying Boys

  Who Needs Boys?

  Smart Boys & Fast Girls

  Find Stephanie Online:

  www.StephanieRowe.com

  http://twitter.com/stephanierowe2

  https://www.facebook.com/StephanieRoweAuthor

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Teaser for Studying Boys

  Teaser for Who Needs Boys

  Teaser for Smart Boys & Fast Girls

  Author Bio

  Dedication and Acknowledgement

  CHAPTER ONE

  The only way to survive boys is to put them on The Ledge as often as possible.

  Allie Morrison's older sister, Louisa, the resident expert on men, was the one who told us about The Ledge.

  See, The Ledge isn't a real place. It's an emotional place. It's about making boys suffer, about putting girls in control. Louisa knows all about The Ledge, and she's quite the expert on putting men there. I think she said she had about forty-seven guys on The Ledge, at last count.

  Oh, right. What's The Ledge and how do you put boys there?

  Imagine a really tall skyscraper. Location is important, as I'll explain. We always have in mind this tall building on Storrow Drive. Storrow Drive is one of the main thoroughfares out of Boston, an access road to get to the highways. Lots of cars moving pretty fast. Impossible to cross on foot unless you're in the mood to end up as a pancake with tire tracks. Got the image?

  Okay, you're back to imagining the building, strategically positioned along Storrow Drive. Say you're on the twentieth floor, and there's a little ledge sticking out from the building. That's where the boys are. I know, I told you it wasn't real. Bear with me.

  How do I explain this...? Hmm... Okay. It's like this. You like a boy. He blows you off. You're feeling bummed out, because you like him and all. You're sort of thinking that maybe you should go out on that ledge and fall off. Then you'd land on Storrow Drive and get run over by cars and your spleen would get dislodged from your body and sail over to the sidewalk, where someone would pick it up and rush off to the hospital with it for an organ transplant. So someone else gets your spleen while you're paper-thin and covered in tread marks. Why? Because you let some guy get to you.

  Well, The Ledge isn't for girls. It's for boys. Instead of you feeling all bad about yourself because a boy blows you off, you're supposed to somehow get him to fall madly in love with you, and then you can ignore him, and then he gets all bummed and goes out onto The Ledge. Watch out, spleen!

  And even if you like a boy and he likes you, you always have to keep him teetering close to The Ledge so he never treats you badly. As long as you're holding The Ledge over his head, you're in control.

  I have never put a boy on The Ledge. Neither have my best friends, Frances Spinelli or Natalie Page. But Allie? She might only be fourteen like the rest of us, but she's learned a lot from her big sister, Louisa. Allie has put lots of boys on The Ledge. Of course, all she has to do is walk around in public and not smile at any boys, and they're all on The Ledge.

  Allie is beautiful. She could easily pass for twenty-one. She has big boobs and curvy hips and this long blond hair that's just the right thickness. Boys love her. Men love her too. But Louisa has convinced her to keep putting boys on The Ledge for now, instead of getting involved with any one of them. I think Allie might actually use Louisa as an excuse, and the truth is that she's simply not interested in settling down with any one guy just yet. Which is fine with the rest of us. If Allie went off and got a boyfriend, it would seriously interfere with girl time. We've been a foursome for eleven years, and I'd hate to think of Allie going off with some boy and leaving us a threesome.

  Frances is also beautiful. Her mom is from Hawaii and her dad's Italian, so she's got this dark, exotic look going. She never wears makeup and it doesn't matter. She has these long, thick eyelashes, and she has no appreciation for them, because Frances isn't interested in boys. Or so she says. Allie, Natalie, and I don't believe her. We're going to try to tempt her into admitting she likes boys. It's our current agenda.

  Natalie's also gorgeous. She runs cross country and track, and she's all skinny, with legs that go up to her ears. Louisa tells us that men adore women with long legs, in which case Natalie's not going to have much trouble putting men out on The Ledge.

  Then we come to me. Blueberry Waller. Could I get a worse name? My parents are eccentric, and I've suffered horribly for it. What kind of parents name their daughter Blueberry? I go by Blue, but I still get weird looks. And Waller? What kind of last name is that? I think I'll get married as soon as I turn eighteen so I can get a new last name. I might change my first name too. I don't have a middle name. The least my parents could have done was give me a decent middle name so I could scrap the Blue shtick and go by something decent. But they didn't.

  So here I am. Blue Waller. Nothing exotic or fancy about me. No legs that go on for miles, no boobs that attract men of all ages. Just straight brown hair, freckles, and brown eyes. Normal fourteen-year-old body. My breasts have grown a little bit, but they aren't enough to get the attention of any boys, unless I wear a really tight shirt and hugely padded bra, but my mom would never let me do that. The only advantage I have physically is that I'm short. Louisa says boys love short girls. Well, let's hope so or I don't have much of a shot at putting any boys out on The Ledge.

  So here we are. One month into our freshman year at Mapleville High, in the boring town of Mapleville, Massachusetts. Our first year at the high school.

  And not one senior boy has noticed us.

  Or junior boy.

  Or sophomore boy.

  Okay, fine, no freshman boys either.

  We haven't contributed anything to the population of The Ledge. No spleens have been rushed over to the hospital for emergency organ transplants.

  High school has not lived up to expectations so far.

  Louisa swears it'll get better, but that's Louisa. She's the kind of person who could turn a Saturday afternoon folding laundry with my little sister into a social event.

  We're determined to follow in Louisa's footsteps. She's even said she might finagle an invitation to a party for us.

  Now, that would be cool.

  In the meantime, Natalie has been training with the cross-country team, and I decided to try out for the school musical. Of course, I can't sing, but there's one non-singing part. And when I was at tryouts I saw the most amazing boy.

  * * *

  It was a half hour after I got to tryouts that I saw him. Natalie was at cross-country practice, so she couldn't go with me. Allie and Frances attend a different school, so they couldn't try out, but they're my b
est friends, so they came along for moral support. Plus, since they go to an all-girls school, they love any chance they get to hang out with me and Natalie at our school. They think it's so awesome to have boys wandering down the halls and stuff.

  Anyway, we were sitting there in the back row, like we always do, because if you're in the back row you can keep an eye on everything, but no one is looking at you. Or if someone wants to look at you, he has to twist around in his chair, and then we'd totally see him.

  Of course, if we were trying to be noticed, like by a boy or something, then we'd probably want to sit closer to the front. Then he'd have to look at us all the time.

  But this particular afternoon we were in stealth mode, assessing and stalking. Hence the back row.

  Why were we in stealth mode? Because I hadn't really decided whether I had the courage to audition. Granted, I'd signed in when I first arrived, but there was a distinct possibility that when my name was called, I was going to pretend I didn't exist. Or hadn't heard. Or was in the bathroom. Regardless of my excuse, I probably wasn't going to respond.

  But in case I wanted to, I'd put my name on the list.

  There were quite a lot of people there, actually; most of them seemed to be upperclassmen. I nudged Frances. "I think we're the only freshmen here."

  "Shh. I'm trying to work." Frances had her pre-algebra book open on her lap, as usual. Frances was on scholarship at her school, and she was always working really hard to keep her grades up. "I have to finish this assignment first."

  Fine. That was why I brought both of them with me, so that at least one of them would be paying enough attention to provide moral support. "Allie."

  "What?" Allie was watching the stage, where some girl was singing a song about rainbows. She was actually pretty good.

  "I think we should leave." I'd made my decision. There were too many kids there that seemed to know what they were doing. No need for me to make a fool of myself.

  Allie glanced at me. "Why?"

  "Because." I didn't exactly want to admit to Allie that my knees were trembling. After all, Allie was all about self-confidence. You couldn't put boys on The Ledge without self-confidence, and, as I said earlier, Allie has handed out quite a few tickets to The Ledge. "Because I decided I don't want to be in the musical. It looks boring."

  “Don't be intimidated by them. That girl isn't a very good singer."

  Okay, fine. When your best friends have known you since you were three years old, you can't exactly hide much from them. Like the fact that you're way too scared to actually get onstage in front of a bunch of talented upperclassmen and read lines from a play. "You think she's not very good?"

  "Not at all. She can't even hit the high notes, and she's off on her octaves." Granted, Allie was a very talented singer, but still. It made me feel better. Especially since I wasn't going to try out for a singing part anyway, so I wouldn't have to compare myself to her.

  Then another girl got up onstage, and she was good. Plus she was beautiful. And she was older.

  That did it. "I'm not doing this. No way. Maybe when I'm a sophomore. We're the only freshmen here." I tugged on Frances's book. "Pack up. We're leaving."

  Frances grumbled, but as true friends do she started packing up her books, while Allie ran to the bathroom in a preemptive strike in case the urge struck on the walk home. I was just bending over to pick up my backpack when I heard him.

  His voice was like warm caramel melting through my body, making my legs wobble. I think the whole assembly hall became silent.

  And when I looked on the stage, he was perfect. Beautiful. Dark hair that curled a little bit at the ends, jeans that fit his hips just right, a leather jacket hugging his wide shoulders, and eyes that penetrated my heart all the way across the room.

  Oh, my gosh. This was what high school was all about.

  "Ready?" Frances tugged at my arm, but I shook my head.

  "Shh!" I waved her away. I had to hear this boy sing. I had to watch him. He was perfect. No doubt he was a senior. And a star. He'd be in movies by the time he was twenty-five.

  I was vaguely aware of Allie returning, but I scooted slightly away from my friends so they wouldn't distract me.

  He was amazing. When he finished the song, I clapped—for about one second, before Allie grabbed my hands. "No one else is clapping," she said in a hiss.

  "But he was fabulous," I protested. He deserved to be cheered. He would change lives with that voice!

  Allie didn't let go of my hands. "Remember The Ledge?"

  "Uh-huh." I wasn't even listening to her. All I wanted to do was watch him. He was standing with his arms by his sides, talking to the director. He must be pretty tall, because the director barely came up to his shoulder.

  "You can't put boys on The Ledge if they know you like them," Allie reminded me.

  And mar that totally amazing face with tire tracks? And what would it do to his singing voice if he lost his spleen? "I don't want to put him on The Ledge."

  Allie flicked me lightly on the side of the head. "Yes, you do. Trust me. Especially a guy as cute as that one. He needs double time on The Ledge."

  Why would I want to turn him into a pancake on Storrow Drive? I wanted him curled up on the couch next to me, not covered in black tread marks. "No, I definitely don't want him on The Ledge."

  Frances had folded her arms across her chest, which was not as big as Allie's, but definitely bigger than mine. She was inspecting the guy carefully. My guy. She was checking out the guy I'd noticed and staked my claim to. "Think he's a senior? He looks at least seventeen," she said.

  "Oh..." Seventeen? A guy who was seventeen wouldn't be interested in a fourteen-year-old with small breasts and freckles.

  The director turned away from the boy and peered at his notes. Then he looked up at the assembly hall. "Blue Waller, please."

  Oh, my gosh. I grabbed Frances's arm. "Did he just say my name?"

  Frances was grinning. "He sure did. I think he wants you to read with him."

  "No way." I couldn't do that. Go up onstage? With him? And read? No way would my brain be a functioning unit that close to the most perfect guy I'd ever seen.

  "Blue Waller? Are you here?" The director sounded a little annoyed now, and the guy shifted on the stage, peering into the assembly hall.

  Looking for Blue Waller, no doubt.

  That was me.

  He was looking for me.

  Holy cow. The most perfect guy I'd ever seen was looking for me.

  Time to faint. And hide. And get cosmetic surgery before he could see me.

  "She's right here," Allie shouted, lifting my hand and waving it at the stage.

  "Allie!" I yanked my hand out of her grasp, but not before the director nodded at me and ordered me to the stage.

  I glared at Allie. "I was going to sneak out the back."

  She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't put a boy on The Ledge if he doesn't even know you exist."

  I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm not going up there."

  "Really? Coulda fooled me." And then my former friend planted her hands on my lower back and began pushing me toward the stage, while Frances settled into her chair looking rather entertained and being absolutely no help whatsoever.

  I leaned back against Allie and resisted with impressive force, so that she was making incredibly slow progress toward the stage. The director and Perfect Boy would grow tired of waiting long before I got there.

  "Blue," she said quietly.

  "What?" I felt a little smug. No doubt was she about to give up manhandling me toward the stage.

  "You look like an idiot right now, and that boy is totally watching you."

  Against my will I looked up at the stage. Sure enough, Perfect Boy was staring right at me, a dopey freshman girl who was literally being pushed toward the stage by her friend. My humiliation was complete.

  But it was too late to bail. Only thirty feet from the stage, I was definitely close enough that he could see
my face. I had no choice but to pretend I was cool and sophisticated and hope that he was half-blind and hadn't been able to clearly see Allie shoving me toward him.

  I immediately started walking forward of my own volition, as if I hadn't been trying to escape. Soon I was only twenty feet away from the stage. And from him. Oh, my gosh. He was watching me. And smiling.

  Oh, no. What was the smile for? Was he laughing at me? Smiling at Allie? Flirting with any one of the many gorgeous girls milling around? "I think my legs are going to collapse," I whispered to Allie, hoping she'd whisk me off to safety, but all she did was pat me on the shoulder and veer off to take a seat.

  She was definitely no longer my friend.

  How dared she leave me on my own?

  With a guy.

  Who was totally cute.

  I lifted my chin. No, I could do this. I was a solo warrior. If I made it through alive, Allie and Frances were going to pay for making me do this.

  And I was definitely going to ignore the fact that I had dragged them there in the first place with specific orders not to let me wimp out. Yes, sure, I had told them that, but they were supposed to realize when it was time to adjust the plans.

  All the rules had changed when a boy became involved. I hadn't even had time to check my hair. And it was too late now. The director was pointing me toward the stage and Perfect Boy was holding out his hand to pull me up.

  Oh, my gosh. Should I take his hand? Or should I go the long way around and use the stairs? Or maybe I should just pretend I don't speak English and I'm looking for the bathroom.

  No wonder everyone says high school is stressful.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Come on up." Perfect Boy smiled at me.