The Romeo Club полностью

Sweat beaded my forehead as I slid out of my soccer uniform. Coach Meckler was in one of his moods today, which meant I smelled worse than baboon farts. I so needed a shower. But, more than that, I wanted to collapse on the floor and pretend to be dead for, like, twenty hours.

My brother Drake barged into my room. “Okay, I’m desperate. I need your help here.”

“Gah! What are you doing?” I covered myself with my jersey to hide my bra and underwear from view. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Sorry.” He spun around, facing the door while I tugged a T-shirt over my head then threw on a pair of basketball shorts.

“You can look now,” I said, plopping down on my bed. “So what do you want?”

“I need help.” He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, making it stick up worse than it already was.

“Yeah, well, tell me something I don’t know.” My fingers trailed along the edge of my blue comforter as I followed the stitching.

“Funny.” He rolled his eyes, adjusting his glasses. He picked up one of my magazines from the dresser then glanced at me. “I-I want to get Chloe Anders’ attention. And well, I thought you might be able to kind of help with my image. Maybe take me shopping, teach me how to act and talk to her. That kind of thing.”

A makeover project? Oh. My. God. This would be epic. And fun. Trust me, my brother had needed an image change for years, but wouldn’t let me anywhere near his closet, let alone give him advice.

I squealed and rushed at him. “Yes. This will be so much fun.”

“Um—maybe you should shower before hugging me. Your stench is making my eyes water.” He jerked back.

“Who can think of bathing at a time like this? I have to make a plan. We need to go to the mall. Get some highlights in your hair. And you are definitely losing the glasses.”

“What? I like these.”

“You’ve had them since, like, eighth grade. Believe me, they do nothing for your face. Unless, of course, you want girls mistaking you for a certain young wizard or some middle-aged chemist.”

He sighed, but his face was easy to read. He wanted my aid. “Fine. I’ll trash them.”

“I promise, you won’t be sorry. I’ll make you one of the most desirable guys in the senior class.” I walked across my room and over to my cluttered desk to grab a pen and notebook. “Let’s make a list of everything we need to do to get you on Chloe’s radar.” Who’d have thought? Chloe Anders? She was super smart, pretty, and did all kinds of music related stuff, like symphonic orchestra and band. She was right up his alley, well other than her being popular. But still they had a ton in common.

“Delyla—whoa, let’s not get carried away. I don’t want to change everything.” His green eyes widened, and he held his hands up, as if to fend off an attack.

“Would you quit worrying? It’s not like I’m Dr. Frankenstein trying to turn you into a monster. We just have to lay the ground work and that takes planning.”

Which was true, my nerdy older brother did have a few things going for him. He was a drummer in the school band. And a lot of girls loved musicians. Plus, underneath his saucer-like glasses he did have pretty, ivy eyes. He was tall, maybe a little lanky, and he had a dimple in his cheek when he smiled. Girls totally went wild for stuff like that. Not to mention, he had good teeth. His hair definitely needed to be cut and highlighted. Give it more blond and tone down the dirty dishwater-thing he had going on.

We’d have to wean him off some of his video games and make him go out in public more. It’d do him no good in the real world to know what a level twenty-five elfin sorceress could do, unless of course we got attacked by dark dwarves wielding poisoned axes.

I mean, let’s face it, he’d have to learn how to talk to real girls, not imaginary ones who tromped through whatever video game world he happened to be playing in. Okay, so I kind of played the games too, but I wasn’t as obsessed as Drake and his friends. I actually had a life. Soccer. Hot boyfriend. Good grades. Dates. Parties. And I’d get to go to my first prom this year.

“Earth to Delyla.” Drake gave me a nervous look, as he waved his hands in front of my face. “You can’t tell anyone you’re helping me. No way do I want people messing with me because my little sister’s giving me dating pointers.”

“My lips are sealed.” I grinned.

The Monday Night Football theme song blared from my cell. Rex’s ringtone. Drake cupped his mouth with his hands and gave a few fake barks.

“Knock it off.” I reached for my phone.

“What? It’s not my fault your boyfriend has a dog’s name.”

Yeah, we’d been having this argument ever since I started dating Rex Tallac last summer. Drake insisted on howling every time he called, dropped in, or saw a picture of him. He told me Rex wasn’t a real name. And when I tried to defend my boyfriend’s honor, Drake reminded me of our first German Shepherd we had, who coincidentally was named Rex. So, yeah, I kind of lost that battle.