What My Girlfriend Doesn't Know Read online

  What my

  girlfriend

  doesn’t know

  Also by Sonya Sones

  What My Mother Doesn’t Know

  One of Those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies

  Stop Pretending

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SIMON PULSE

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  Copyright © 2007 by Sonya Sones

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction

  in whole or in part in any form.

  SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks

  of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Also available in a Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

  hardcover edition.

  Designed by Lucy Ruth Cummins

  The text of this book was set in Oranda BT.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Simon Pulse edition December 2008

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:

  Sones, Sonya.

  What my girlfriend doesn’t know / Sonya Sones.

  p. cm.

  Sequel to: What my mother doesn’t know.

  Summary: Fourteen-year-old Robin Murphy is so unpopular at

  high school that his name is slang for “loser,” and so when he begins

  dating the beautiful and popular Sophie, her reputation plummets,

  but he finds acceptance as a student in a drawing class at Harvard.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-698-87602-8 (hc)

  ISBN-10: 0-689-87602-5 (hc)

  [1. Popularity—Fiction. 2. Self-esteem—Fiction. 3. Dating (Social customs)—

  Fiction. 4. High schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction. 6. Artists—Fiction.

  7. Novels in verse. 8. Boston (Mass.)—Fiction.]

  I. Title. II. Title: What my girlfriend doesn’t know.

  PZ7.5.S66Wha 2007

  [Fic]—dc22

  2006014682

  ISBN-13: 978-0-689-87603-5 (pbk)

  ISBN-10: 0-689-87603-3 (pbk)

  eISBN-13: 978-1-442-42309-1

  For Poppy-

  crusty, courageous, and cute

  Acknowledgments

  Infinite thanks to all the people who wrote and told me that they just had to know what happened next; and to Myra Cohn Livingston, for setting me on the path; Steven Malk, for holding my hand; Betsy Hochberg, for guiding my tour; Ron Koertge and Richard Peck, for talking story; Rose Brock, for listening; Alexis and Michael Sones, for the sunset shoot; Jack Floyd, for his website wizardry; David Gale, for his patience; Mike Esposito, for his footshake; David Schoffman, for his eloquence; Bennett, for his constant pep talks; Ava and Jeremy, for sharing me with Mr. Inspiron; and to the ladies of the pink kitchen—Ann Wagner, Betsy Rosenthal, April Halprin Wayland, Peg Leavitt, and Ruth Lercher Bornstein—for their unwavering wonderfulness.

  And, of course, to the real Murphy, wherever he is. …

  A Piece of Advice from Me to Me

  Better brace yourself,

  loser.

  Because you

  are about to be dumped.

  Big time.

  But It’ll All Be Over in a Minute

  All

  be over

  and done with.

  Sophie’s just standing there

  staring at me

  from across the cafeteria.

  Geez.

  Look at her.

  Have you ever seen anyone so beautiful

  in your life?

  How could a girl like her

  ever have wanted

  to be with a guy like me?

  Even just for two weeks?

  Grace is waving her over.

  Rachel’s calling her.

  “Fifi. Hey, Fee, we’re over here!”

  But I’m calling her, too.

  Calling her with my eyes.

  Come to me, Sophie.

  Come to me …

  Aw, Man

  Who am I kidding?

  I know exactly

  what she’s gonna do.

  A second from now

  she’ll yank those killer blue eyes of hers

  away from mine

  and walk straight over to Rachel and Grace.

  Like I’m not even here.

  Like the best two weeks of my life

  never

  even

  happened.

  But They Did Happen

  With everyone gone for winter break,

  Sophie and I were

  the only two people on the planet.

  It was sort of like we were inside

  one of those little snow globes,

  you know?

  Just the two of us,

  completely alone,

  chilling under that thick glass dome—

  skating

  and drawing and dancing

  and kissing …

  And I practically went into shock

  when Sophie looked straight into my eyes

  and told me she loved me.

  Even if I come down

  with a severe case of amnesia,

  I’11 never forget those two weeks.

  And I’ll Never Forget Those Kisses, Either

  Because

  making out with Sophie

  was a very big deal for me.

  See,

  I’m not exactly what you’d call

  the most experienced guy in the world.

  Okay.

  So I’m the least experienced guy

  in the world.

  Okay.

  So Sophie was the first girl

  I ever laid lips on.

  But it was definitely

  worth waiting

  fourteen years for.

  Even So

  I told her I’d understand if it has to end.

  And sure I’ll understand.

  Because, I mean, what girl in her right mind

  would want to be seen hanging with me?

  With Murphy, for chrissake,

  the ugliest guy at Cambridge High?

  The guy whose last name people use as a diss.

  As in: “You are a real Murphy.”

  Let’s face it.

  I’m the type of guy

  who doesn’t even have any buddies

  on my buddy list.

  So I’ll understand all right.

  But this feels way worse than I thought it would, even.

  Like my neck’s on the chopping block

  and the guillotine’s getting ready to fall.

  Because when I was with her, I was Robin.

  Robin Murphy.

  The guy who Sophie Stein loved.

  The guy who made her laugh.

  Without her,

  I’ll just be Murphy again—

  Murphy the Lowly,

  the guy who makes everyone else laugh.

  But for all the wrong reasons.

  Which Will Truly Suck

  Because I’ve been Robin

  for two whole weeks now.
/>
  Two life-alteringly awesome weeks.

  And take it from me—

  the grass actually is greener

  in the other guy’s yard.

  So I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it

  if I have to go back

  to being Murphy again.

  Though that’s

  what’s about to happen,

  whether I like it or not.

  Just as soon as Sophie walks over there

  to sit with Rachel and Grace

  and pretends like she doesn’t even know who I—

  Whoa…

  Whoa!

  Whoa!

  Sophie’s heading straight toward me!

  It’s Me She’s Racing Over To

  Me!

  Not Rachel and Grace.

  Me!

  It’s me she’s sitting down with.

  Me she chose.

  And she doesn’t seem to care

  if the whole school knows.

  Is this really happening?

  How can this be?

  I feel like I’ve just won

  the lottery!

  Sophie Takes Hold of My Hands

  Right

  in front

  of everyone—

  sending supersonic shockwaves all through me.

  And we just sit here,

  grinning at each other like Muppets,

  knees pressed together under the table,

  eyes locked …

  Until the bell rings.

  “Check, please,” I call,

  snapping my fingers at an imaginary waiter.

  This makes Sophie laugh.

  And the sound of that laugh,

  and knowing that I’m the one who made it happen,

  makes me feel sort of all-powerful,

  indestructible,

  immortal, even.

  So What Happens Now?

  I’ll tell you what happens.

  Rachel and Grace creep toward us,

  clutching each other’s arms

  like they’re approaching an open coffin—

  Grace’s eyes bigger than DVDs,

  Rachel’s mouth hanging open so wide

  you could reach right in and perform a tonsillectomy.

  “Fee,” Grace hisses

  through teeth clenched tighter than lockjaw,

  “what are you doing?”

  When Sophie looks up at them,

  her smile disappears,

  and suddenly I feel like a man overboard.

  Like

  if she lets go of my fingers,

  I’ll drown.

  But She Just Squeezes Them Even Tighter

  While her eyes

  dart back and forth

  between her friends and me

  like a pair of crazed hummingbirds.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  she finally says.

  “It looks like you’re going psycho on us,”

  Rachel says, with a nervous giggle.

  “Well, she’s not,” I hear myself say

  in this surprisingly friendly voice.

  “Sophie’s totally sane …

  and totally amazing.”

  At which point,

  that brilliant smile of hers

  blazes back on like a torch,

  and I can feel my heart catching fire.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Sophie says, all nonchalant.

  “I guess I forgot to introduce you guys.

  Rachel,

  Grace—

  I’d like you to meet Robin.”

  “Robin?!”

  They gasp in unison.

  “But… but…” Grace sputters,

  “this … this is Murphy!”

  “Robin Murphy,” I say,

  holding out my hand for her to shake.

  “Any friend of Sophie’s is a friend of mine.”

  But she backs away from me

  like I have leprosy or something,

  pulling Rachel right along with her.

  Rachel manages a shell-shocked smile

  and mumbles, “Uh … nice meeting you.”

  Then both of them turn and bolt from the cafeteria.

  Sophie and I

  just sit here in silence,

  watching them go.

  Then she says, “Well.

  I’m glad that’s over with.”

  But she doesn’t look too glad to me.

  And Neither Does Anyone Else

  As Sophie and I walk through the halls,

  holding hands on our way to art class,

  it feels like we’re committing a crime.

  Everyone who sees us

  looks offended, grossed out,

  horrified, even,

  as though I’m King Kong,

  and Sophie’s the little blonde

  struggling to escape from my huge hairy fist.

  They’re gawking at us,

  like Sophie’s Beauty and I’m the Beast.

  Like I’m Shrek and Sophie’s Fiona.

  I can feel her palm

  beginning to sweat in mine.

  I can feel her fingers stiffening.

  But when I try to let go of her hand,

  so that people won’t know

  we’re together—

  she won’t let me.

  Instead

  She tugs me into this little alcove

  where the custodian stows his brooms.

  Then she presses her forehead against mine

  and traces a heart on my palm

  with the tip of her forefinger.

  “There’s something

  so great about this,” she whispers.

  “About what?” I whisper back.

  “About this,” she whispers.

  “About being outlaws.

  It’s just you and me—against the world.”

  Now do you get

  why I like her so much?

  I’m a Hundred Percent Hers

  I mean, if I had to choose right now

  between a single kiss from Sophie

  or, say,

  being the only guy at a week-long orgy

  with all of the models

  from the Victoria’s Secret catalog,

  I’d choose that single kiss.

  Honest.

  Okay.

  I can guess what you’re thinking.

  You’re thinking

  my brain must have turned to mush

  from all those years

  I spent in social solitary confinement.

  You’re thinking

  I’m a hopelessly romantic idiot.

  And you know what?

  You’re right.

  So I Make Sure No One Can See Us

  Then I pull her to me and I kiss her.

  I kiss her like my life depends on it.

  And the scary thing is—it does.

  Then I take her hand,

  and we head back out into the hall,

  surfing on a wave of us-against-them.

  I feel exhilarated, brave,

  invincible, even.

  For about a minute.

  But things seem to be escalating.

  Now everyone who sees us together

  does this shrinking-away-from-us thing,

  like Sophie and I

  have a bad case of lice.

  Or maybe a touch of the plague.

  When We Round the Next Corner

  We see Dylan,

  Sophie’s irritatingly good-looking ex.

  And when he spots Sophie and me holding hands,

  he freezes, like he’s been zapped by a stun gun.

  Then he starts snickering

  and shaking his head.

  “That’s wicked funny, Sophie.

  Boy, you sure had me going there for a second …”

  So.

  He thinks he’s been punked, does he?

  He thinks the idea of Sophie and me being together

  is some kind o
f laugh riot?

  I’ll show that scumbag.

  I’ll show him.

  But first,

  I better check with Sophie.

  I whisper my idea to her

  and she tells me to go for it.

  So I do—

  I give her a great big juicy kiss.

  And when we finally pull apart

  and brush past Dylan,

  to head down the hall to Schultz’s room,

  his face looks whiter than Elmer’s Glue.

  A Minute Later

  When Sophie and I walk into art class,

  we’re giving each other props,

  feeling pretty good,

  pretty triumphant, even.

  But when people see us

  laughing together

  and holding hands,

  the room goes morgue quiet.

  And

  all of a sudden,

  my chest feels like

  it’s caving in.

  Sophie lets go of my hand to head to her desk.

  But just before she gets there,

  Zak Benson flings himself down on his knees

  right in front of her.

  Then he puts his hands together

  like he’s praying.

  “Tell me it ain’t so!” he begs.

  And everyone in the room starts snickering.

  Sophie just shakes her head

  and slips into her chair,

  like she can’t be bothered

  with this half-wit.

  But even from across the room,

  I can see her nails turning white

  where she’s gripping her desk,

  see her face going paler than the moon’s.

  She looks over at me

  and shoots me a smile.

  But I can see what’s hidden behind her eyes.

  And my heart almost flatlines.

  Mr. Schultz Says He Wants Us to Draw a Feeling

  A feeling?

  Give me a break.

  Art’s my favorite class.

  And Schultz’s assignments are usually cool.

  But I’m in no mood for this one.

  So I just sit here for a while,

  watching Sophie pretend

  to be all involved in what she’s drawing,

  watching her be so careful

  not to let what’s churning in her gut