Cool Guy Style

Liza had been waiting at his locker for nearly an hour, the paper clutched in her hand, when Robbie finally showed up. He was wearing his Ray-Ban Navigator Sunglasses, as always.

“Hey, babe,” Robbie said. “I thought you had cheerleading practice.”

“I do, but I needed to talk to you,” Liza said. “You weren’t in math class.”

Robbie opened his locker and took off his jean jacket, trading it for the leather jacket he wore when he rode his motorcycle to and from school. “Ha! Do you think a guy like me, Robbie Coolman, goes to math class? C’mon!”

“Well, Mr. Harrison gave back our tests today,” Liza said. “He wanted me to give you yours.” She handed him the piece of paper.

Robbie didn’t even look at it. Instead, he crumpled it up and threw it over his shoulder. “Really, babe? You missed cheer practice to give me a math test I spent ten minutes on tops?”

Liza looked at the floor, so as not see her own reflection in his Navigators. “You got every question right. And you got extra credit for correcting Mr. Harrison’s understanding of the quadratic equation.”

Robbie stared at the paper on the floor for a moment, then turned back to Liza. “You looked at my test?”

“Robbie, I know we’ve been going steady for a while now,” Liza said, glancing around to make sure they were alone in the hallway, “but I feel like I barely know you. Or I feel like I do know you, and you’re not the person you pretend to be.”

“Liza, I skipped philosophy class today too,” Robbie said. “You’re going to have to explain what the hell you’re talking about.”

“It just all seems so weird,” Liza said. “Norbert Dorkington, the teenaged computer whiz and absolute nerd gets wedgied at the all school assembly by the lacrosse team. He goes home and is away for three days–out sick, apparently. Then, the school’s servers go down. The IT guys finally get them up and running a few days later and when they do, Norbert’s name is gone… and suddenly there’s this transfer student no one was ready for: Robert Fireball Coolman.”

“Fireball was my grandfather’s nickname from when he flew fighter planes in the war,” Robbie said. “After he got back, he performed in airshows where he met my grandmother, a wing-walker.”

“That’s a sweet story, Robbie,” Liza said. “But I wasn’t asking you how you got your name.”

Robbie slammed his locker shut. “Then what are you after, Lize? Seriously, look me in the eyes and just ask the damn question already!”

“I can’t look you in the eyes!” Liza cried. “You never take off your Ray-Ban Navigator Sunglasses! Not even when we’re necking at Makeout Point!”

Robbie threw up his hands, exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you? I have a sensitivity to the sun from overexposure during all those surf tournaments I competed in when I was growing up in California. These things aren’t just cool looking, babe; they have great UV protection.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Liza said.

“It is,” Robbie said. “They really do a nice job of shielding your eyes from the sun.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Liza said. “I meant about growing up in California. I didn’t fall for you because you’re a badass. I fell for you because you’ve got a heart of gold and a mind to match. And whether you’re Robbie Coolman, the cool guy, or Norbert Dorkington, the dorky kid, I don’t care! I like you for you!”

“Really?” Robbie said, his voice suddenly quiet and timid.

“Really,” Liza said. And with that, she reached forward and removed his shades. Then, she gasped. Because, under the Ray-Ban Navigator Sunglasses, he was wearing a pair of Ray-Ban Ferragamo Sunglasses.