Desirable by Frank Cottrell Boyce

Chapter 1
    How Not to Party
    You won’t believe this but I used to be a loser. Like one time it was my birthday and Mom said, “Let’s have a party, George. Ask anyone you like.” And I couldn’t get anyone to come. Not one person. I did ask Tiny Biggs, from the Warhammer Club at school, because he’s a loser too. He said, “Will there be food?”
    â€œLoads of food. Chicken wings. Pringles. Birthday cake.”
    â€œSounds good.”
    â€œSo you’ll come?”
    â€œCan’t. Sorry.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œSocial suicide, isn’t it? If anyone found out I’d been to your house, I’d be a joke. No offense.”
    Tiny won’t sit with me at lunch time for the same reason. The only time he talks to me is during Warhammer Club. That’s because there are only two people in the Warhammer Club – me and him. Tiny thinks that things are going to be different in the future. “Girls are obsessed with fashion,” he says, “And celebs. All we need is for Hilary Duff to say she likes Warhammer, and the next thing you know, we’ll be fighting the women off.”
    So far, Hilary Duff has not gotten into Warhammer, so it’s still just the two of us.
    There’s a girl who gets the same bus as me called Danielle. I thought about asking her to my party too. I thought about it in detail in fact. I knew I wouldn’t be able to ask her just like that. I haven’t spoken to a girl since fifth grade, except in self defense. But I did work out a plan. If I dropped my bag just as I was getting on the bus, she might spot the birthday card that I’d carefully left sticking out of the side pocket and she might say, “Oh. Is it your birthday? Are you having a party or anything?”
    And then I’d say, “My mom’s gonna cook a big meal – chicken wings, birthday cake, stuff like that.”
    And she’d say, “Stop, stop. You’re making me hungry.”
    And I’d say, “Come and get some if you like. There’ll be plenty to spare.”
    And she’d say, “Great!” and come home with me. And we’d all live happily ever after.
    I wrote the whole thing down on a piece of paper and learned it off by heart, so I’d be ready.
    And it nearly worked, too. The bus did come. I did drop the bag. But then Danielle didn’t look down and see the card. She just stepped over the bag, and got on the bus. That slowed me down when I was picking things up, so by the time I stood up, the bus was moving off with her on board and I got left at the bus stop.
    So my birthday dinner was just me and Mom and Dad and Grandpa. Mom said, “Well this is cozy.”
    â€œIt’s great,” said Grandpa. “Can we do the birthday cake now?”
    Dad said, “We haven’t even had the chicken wings yet!”
    â€œI know,” said Grandpa, “But I’ve got to go in a minute. I’m having my hair cut.”
    Even my own Grandpa didn’t want to have dinner with me on my birthday. Mom lit the candles. Grandpa said, “Do you remember Patrick’s birthday and you said he could have five friends and fifty turned up!?”
    Patrick is my big brother. He’s at college. He’s very popular. And smart. And good at soccer. And drawing. And piano.
    â€œAnd then when it was time for the cake, he took a napkin, put it in front of the cake, blew and then ... the whole cake vanished!”
    He’s also good at magic tricks.
    â€œHow did he do that!?” asked Grandpa.
    And he’s good at math. And fixing things. And talking to people. I don’t know how he does it. Any of it. I don’t know how he gets good grades, scores goals, makes friends. These things are all as weird as vanishing cakes to me.
    â€œI got you a present,” said Grandpa, passing me a little package. “Go on, open it. My haircut’s not going to wait forever.”
    I opened