Everything That Counts

By Melissa Algood

'I’d been treating life like a chess game, forgetting to live in the moment when I had a chance. I had to change all that.' decides Blake Morgan.

Blake is the biggest geek in all the graduating class of 2005, possibly in all of Annapolis, maybe even the entire world. He decides that talking to a girl, doing something unexpected, getting an F, and performing a brave act during his senior year will make him into a whole other person. Maybe even cool. Yet when he checks something off the list he hurts the few people who love him just the way he is. A loser. Is he able to repair the damage? Is changing who you are worth it? Can Blake be an astrophysicist and have a supermodel as a girlfriend? Blake Morgan is stupid enough to wreck his life, but is he smart enough to put it back together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Algood
• Release date: Mar 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463673638

Melissa Algood

Melissa Algood is a true-crime obsessed dyslexic who read Helter Skelter and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in one sitting. Although not at the same time.Everything That Counts is a coming of age story about the biggest geek in the graduating class of 2004 as he attempts to be cool. ‘The Greater Good’ romantic thriller series includes Unseen and Gone in which the body count matches the make out count. Her award-winning short fiction can be found in Everyone Dies: Tales from a Morbid Author.Melissa's moved over twenty times in her life including California, Puerto Rico, and D.C. before making Houston her home. She's a hairstylist in the 'real' world and lives with her longtime love and their tuxedo cat.You can find out more about Melissa by checking out her blog https://melalgoodauthor.com or pick up copies of her work from amazon.com/author/melalgood

Book preview

August 2004

It was my eighteenth birthday, and I was going to die a virgin. Not because I was sick, or lived in a war torn country, or had to hunt for my food. It’s because I was a geek.

Every guy I knew was better with girls than me, especially my older brother David. I assumed he was the living embodiment of every woman’s wildest dreams because he was constantly surrounded by them. All the characteristics that made the Georgetown University political science major look like the cover of a magazine was the inverse for me. David’s long straight brown hair hung ever so slightly in his eyes. Mine was wavy, unruly, and regularly gelled flat to my head. He stood six feet, broad-shouldered, muscled, and tan. Although I was taller, pale skin covered my boney frame since the only muscles I ever exercised were those needed to carry my AP Physics book.

He looked like a Congressman; I looked like tech support.

Girls thought David was hilarious. I thought he was a tool. His current ‘friend’ sat next to him wearing a tight, dark green top. Instead of looking at the candles atop my German chocolate cake, I couldn’t stop watching her chest rise with every breath she took.

Blake! You’re getting wax all over the icing! squawked Mike, my younger brother, and David’s doppelganger. Although he sat next to me, and I couldn’t see his face, I knew he’d rolled his eyes.

Give him a chance to make a wish. The only light came from my cake, but Mom’s black hair shone as she tucked it behind her ear. Her face was soft, but the wrinkles around her eyes were imprinted on her face even if she wasn’t smiling.

I knew it was a cliché to wish for a girlfriend, but I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and blew out the eighteen candles anyway.

What did you ask for, kid? David nodded at me.

You know it’s bad luck to say, Amber, the sorority girl, cooed.

The stained glass chandelier suddenly blazed above us. Dad returned to the head of the table. The light muted his age spots on his face from hours on the golf course with clients.

Mom extended the plate of chocolate and coconut in front of me. I stared at the slice for a moment, listening. My parents talked about work, Amber whispered in David’s ear, and Mike’s fork scraped the plate.

I had to get out of there. The fact that my parents gave me a gift certificate to a bookstore for my birthday proved that my greatest fear had come true: I’d been treating life like a chess game, forgetting to live in the moment when I had a chance. I had to change all that. I’d spent the summer devising a plan of action, or a set of steps. The fact alone that I had to come up with a to-do list including: talking to a girl, doing something unexpected, getting an F, and performing a brave act during senior year would somehow make me more confident. Maybe even cool. Although the whole idea was pathetic. That’s why I told only one person, Jasper, about my plan. Thankfully he didn’t make fun of me.

Can I be excused? I asked.

You didn’t even touch your cake. My mother shot me a stare as if to say, I spent all that time baking it, and you’re not going to eat it.

I pushed the plate away. I’m not hungry.

He just wants to see his girlfriend. Mike raised his voice an octave, mouth covered in brown icing. "Sophie!"

My brother’s teasing didn’t help as my mind filtered through the one hundred different species of germs that prospered in my brother’s mouth. How many times do I have to tell you she’s just a friend who happens to be a girl?

David raised his eyebrows. What the hell’s wrong with you, man? You need to remember you’re a goddamn Morgan!

I rubbed my face and groaned into my hands.

Boys!

My hands dropped to the table and I turned to Dad as he said, Both of you need to leave your brother alone. Especially you, David. When you’re under my roof, you follow my rules by watching your mouth. It’s your brother’s birthday, damn it! He turned to me and nodded. You can go if you want Blake, just be home by curfew.

August twentieth had always been the end of summer as far as anyone in Anne Arundel County public schools was concerned. Sophie and I held a tradition, a stop at Rita’s to celebrate another year of my continuing to be a carbon-based life form, and the last night before our overbearing school workload. The dessert stand was at one end of the brown brick shopping center. Two pizza shops, a movie rental store, a grocer, and a dozen other businesses were sandwiched between Rita’s and Sophie’s dance studio.

After purchasing a couple of cups of gelati, we’d amble down Hilltop Drive, turn onto one of the many streets named after a tree. We’d gaze at the stars contemplating if in another galaxy there was an alternate Blake and Sophie doing the same thing. In an Annapolis where people went mountain climbing instead of sailing.

So how was it? Her cherry flavored Italian ice desert matched her crimson hair. Since I was a foot taller than her, I had the perfect view of the bun wrapped tight on top of her head. It reminded me of a cinnamon roll. Sophie’s hoodie was zipped up; covering the black leotard I knew was underneath it. The oversized bag on her shoulder made her lean to one side, but I’d never asked if she needed me to carry it because even if she was a ballerina, she was tougher than me.

The same, I said. My Dad made a huge deal of cursing, while cursing. Mom made me German chocolate cake even though I hate coconut. David has a new girlfriend. Citrus ice with its swirl of vanilla custard ignited my taste buds.

Then it’s not the same.

I shrugged. Whatever.

"But you always say you feel stuck. Like nothing’s new. Like you’re a game of checkers."

I believe I used chess as an analogy.

What I’m saying is that you don’t notice the little things in life that make it worth living.

I wouldn’t describe my brother bringing someone new home as a new experience.

Sophie rolled her eyes. You know what I mean.

Here one day just fades into the next.

She sighed. I see that the precipice of adulthood has brought on depression.

I smiled. I guess it has.

Well, how would you like to celebrate your new level of responsibility and thus elevate you from the depths of despair? Her voice had a steady rhythm to it. Sign a contract, buy cigarettes, register to vote?

I don’t want to become an adult. Not yet.

I got an idea. A crooked grin covered her lightly freckled face.

The air smelled like salt, a cool breeze washed over my face, the moon glittered on the water. I couldn’t wait to leave Maryland. After eighteen years of drudgery, opportunity hovered on the horizon. Yet, I’d always miss the water.

We sat on the warped wooden bench looking out onto the Magothy River. Sophie at my side, scraped the bottom of her cup, and tossed it to the trashcan. She missed by a yard.

I laughed. I don’t know why you try anymore.

Because one day I’ll get it. She walked over to the empty cup and placed it into the receptacle.

The waves were calm, the metal links from the swings clinked, leaves in the trees rustled above us. I had spent six summers with Sophie since she’d moved from California. At first we were competitors, continually tied for highest grade on every math and science test. We found that if we stuck together, at least we wouldn’t have to eat lunch alone.

She dug in her messenger bag and handed me a rectangle wrapped in dark blue tissue paper. Happy birthday, Blake. I hope you like it.

I tore through the wrapping and saw a red cover, with two spiraling ribbons of gold on the right. Etched in white lettering read, "The Double Helix. My fingers ran down the spine, flipped it open, and thumbed through the pages. Where did you find a first edition?"

I have my ways.

The tip of my index finger moved from left to right, scanning the words.

Sophie giggled. No wonder you wear glasses.

Why?

It strains your eyes to read about the atomic structure of DNA by moonlight.

I shut it and turned back to her. Thanks for the book.

You’re welcome. I’ll be expecting something just as difficult to acquire in a few months.

You get to ask everyone in the neighborhood for candy on your birthday, Sophie.

Yeah, but I had braces for three years, and my parents used to be so uptight they confiscated most of it when I did go out.

I remembered the last time we went trick-or-treating — her thirteenth birthday. We took Mike, in a Batman costume, from house to house. When she showed up on our doorstep wearing a white lace gown and full size wings with feathers she’d meticulously handmade for months, I felt embarrassed for not dressing up. Even though the whole reason I didn’t was to avoid feeling like a loser. Sophie dug through her purse until she found black eyeliner and drew a lighting bolt on my forehead.

Seriously, I laughed. Harry Potter?

Sophie arched her eyebrow. Be quiet or I’ll make you carry a wand. Besides, Harry Potter is really cool.

I gave her every piece of candy I’d collected that evening.

Back on the beach, I pushed my glasses up my nose. Is Chris coming home soon? Sophie’s brother played lacrosse with David. I had seen him intermittently the past three years.

She shook her head, still gazing out at the water. Doubt it.

Do you know where he is now?

Iraq, still.

All of David’s failures absorbed my parents’ attention, and his triumphs on the lacrosse field seemed of far greater value than mine in the classroom. But I would never want him to have to face death every day like Sophie’s brother. If David made me seem like a little boy, compared to Chris, I was an infant as far as my manliness was concerned.

He’ll be okay. I realized that I should hug her, console her, but I didn’t.

There’s a 63 percent chance that’s true.

How do you figure that?

It’s easy to find out how many troops are deployed, and how many are, you know. Her green eyes grazed mine. Not coming back.

She was just like me. In a stressful situation, you form a hypothesis, perform an experiment, sift through the data, and learn to accept the conclusion as fact. Although, I’m sure she hadn’t thought of the probability alternating greatly since Chris was a medic. A ruthless warrior would kill a healer if they knew it would mean the death of many more men.

I didn’t want to share my thoughts, and was pleasantly distracted when she poked me in the ribs with her elbow. Something pretty cool happened today, Blake.

What?

I auditioned for Swan Lake at the Kennedy Center. Her cherry-stained lips turned up. And it went really well.

That’s amazing! When do you find out?

By the end of the week.

You’ll get it. Whenever I saw her dance, I could tell she loved it. Grace was such an innate quality for Sophie, she pointed her toes when she put on her socks.

You really think so?

Of course! I poked her back. They’d be lucky to have you.

Would you come to the show in the spring, if I get it?

You want me to?

Duh! You’re my best friend. She shoved me and I swayed to the side.

I thought that was Lily.

No. She shook her head and her face glowed, her words as soft as the wind. It’s always been you.

Me, too.

It’s not Jasper?

No, it’s always been you. I poked her in the ribs again.

I ran a comb through my wavy brown hair, a glob of gel sitting in my hand like it had every other morning of my life. I needed a change. So I rinsed off my hands and left my brown hair a wavy mess like Mike always did. Maybe it would work; he’d just turned fifteen and had a girlfriend.

Back in my room with midnight blue walls, which my mother claimed were relaxing, I pulled on a t-shirt, wrapped a belt around my jeans, and laced up my sneakers. The four walls I’d spent my entire life in were filled with books on subjects ranging from Ansel Adams to Stephen Hawking. A twin bed was shoved up next to the window, and a couple of posters hung on the wall, including one that Sophie had given me a few Christmases ago. It read Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts. The simple two-tone poster was a replica of a sign that Einstein had in his office while teaching at Princeton. I didn’t get it; the words were meaningless to me since everything could be quantified. For instance, the moon is 4.56 billion years old while the Earth is 4.8 billion years old. A celestial body, roughly the size of Mars, crashed into the Earth and blew parts of the planet into space creating the moon. Facts were my drug of choice even if Sophie preferred to contemplate outside data sheets occasionally. The poster remained on my wall in the hopes that one day I’d experience something that would alter my reality.

Before I left my haven, I gently pushed Machiavelli’s The Prince back so its binding matched up with the rest of the titles on the shelf. It was yet another object Sophie had given me, a book we’d read together the summer before high school. Mostly so we could learn Italian. She still wrote me notes in the musical language.

Mike and I trekked downstairs, grabbed some buttered toast prepared by our mother who told us to have a great day.

We shoved the toast into our mouths in response, and each of us downed a glass of orange juice. Sophie knocked on my door at precisely 7 a.m. I opened it, and followed her to her shiny white 2001 Honda Accord.

Trying something different? She eyed my hair.

Yeah. I shrugged.

Looks good.

Hey! Mike rushed out after us. Can I have a ride, too, Sophie?

No way. I grabbed the door handle. You’ve got a million friends. Ask one of them.

Blake, c’mon, you’re my brother. Mike whined.

David didn’t give me a ride when he was a senior and I was a freshman. I opened the door.

Yeah, but he’s a jerk. You at least hang out with me. He dug his toe into the dirt on the side of the driveway.

I turned to Sophie. She tilted her head to the side. Her red hair shimmered in the early morning light. Orioles sang above us. What’s the big deal? You said it yourself. He has a million friends. He’ll get another ride by the end of the week. Besides — her peach-colored lips formed a crooked smile — you’re not a jerk.

I nodded to her and then turned to my brother. Get in, I sighed.

Shotgun! He yelled and shoved me out of the way.

She laughed at me in the rear-view mirror as I buckled myself into the back seat. We drove down a single lane of traffic that remained congested on the sharp right turn the car made to enter the senior parking lot.

Once Sophie parked, Mike practically bolted out of the car. With a few strides, I was able to catch up with him. Are you okay? I asked.

Mike slowed, knitted his eyebrows, and replied, Yeah, why?

I looked at him and realized that he didn’t see what I saw: a kid. Mike might be full of bravado when it came to his friends, but I knew the real Mike, the one who would cry himself to sleep the night before the first day of school out of fear that he’d do something wrong and be ostracized by the other kids, when in truth he had nothing to worry about. Life had been easy for Mike, and I could only hope that it would stay that way after I left for college.

You need help finding your homeroom?

Nah. He shook his head. They post it on the office door, right?

I nodded. But if you need anything, you’ll let me know.

We neared the steps to the school, he lowered his voice so I could barely hear him above the ruckus of students greeting their friends. I’ll be fine, Blake.

Just remember that there isn’t a pool on the third floor, and most of your classes will be in ‘A’ hall because—

He cut me off, finishing my thought: I’m a freshman. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.

And like that, he was gone. Not just from my side as Mike made his way toward his lacrosse buddies, but he wasn’t the little brother that wanted me to read to him before he went to sleep, or build rockets with in the backyard. Neither of us were men, but now that we were both on the precipice of adulthood, our relationship had altered. I knew I wasn’t the only one who noticed it when Sophie stood next to me looking on at Mike and his friends.

The tips of her fingers lingered on my wrist for a moment. See? You were right. He already found his friends.

Yeah, I sighed.

She looked up at me. You know he still loves you.

Whatever. I pulled the door to the school open and started toward my classroom.

Homeroom was the place where the last