Don't Play Strip Poker With A Nerdy Girl

There was this girl I had my eye on. She lived down the street and was in a couple of my junior high classes (I realize they don't call it junior high anymore, but they did then). I couldn't stop staring at her. Above the neck, she had short dark hair and thick glasses -- sort of like Velma from Scooby Doo, so I call her that here. Below the neck, she was already very shapely, although she only wore clothes that were flattering to her assets when she wasn't in school.

We were both latchkey nerds with hard working parents and we'd go visit each other sometimes after school to study. She was one of those who'd pick up items in your room and and say, "Can I have this?" To me that was so ill mannered, but I was smitten with her, even though it was rumored she had an older boyfriend already.

Velma really liked my book collection. Most were paperback classics I'd found at used book sales but some were more expensive hardback editions. I'd bought them with the proceeds from odd jobs like raking leaves, but a few were left by my older sister when she got married.

Velma said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "You don't need all of these books. I get straight 'A's, you don't." Then she started humming to herself and picking out books from my shelf and piling them in her arms. I remember she took Count of Monte Cristo, Huckleberry Finn, as well as some my sister left like Where the Red Fern Grows and Witch of Blackbird Pond. I told her she could borrow them but I wanted them back in a couple weeks. She didn't say anything, just kept humming.

Before she left, she whispered, "Oh, I've got to have this one!" In my mind, it was the prize of my collection, a mint, leatherbound copy of Moby Dick.

I said, "No way, not that one."

"I might have to write a report on it," she told me.

I said, "They're not going to assign us Moby Dick. Not yet, not this year."

Her tone got snarky. "You don't know, little boy. Besides, you probably think Moby Dick was the captain."

I told her my parents would know they were gone.

Velma said, "You're parents are like my parents. They don't have time to read. They don't know what books you've got."

Well, that was probably true. Her pyscho audacity, along with her nerdy face and short shorts disarmed me. I let her take the books, impressing upon her that she was only borrowing them.

A few weeks later I was at her house and we were studying together. I saw all my books neatly arranged on her shelf. I asked for my books back, and she kept changing the subject. Finally she asked me if I knew anything about probability.

I said "What?"

She said, "Probability, like what will come up on dice, or card games."

I told her yes, but I barely knew what she was talking about.

Then she asked me if I ever played poker.

I told her not only did I know how, I'd played strip poker more than once. My buddies and I had played a little straight poker, but the strip poker part was a lie.

Velma smirked and said, "I'll make a deal with you since you know so much. Let's play poker, strip poker. If you win, you get to take a look at what you keep staring at, and if I win, you'll be a naked little boy and I'll keep your books."


I told her that wasn't fair. I was giving up a lot more if I lost than she was.

She said, "You told me you've played and you're experienced. I've never actually played, so you have to give up more."

So we played. I only won one hand, and she took off her flip flops. It wasn't long before I was down to my tighty whities. I got desperate before the last hand and said, "Hey, let's start all over. This time, if you win, you get to keep the books, plus you can pick five more out of my collection to keep."

She laughed and said, "Nope. We're going to keep playing."

I kept offering her all kinds of deals, stalling and stalling. Then I felt her foot on my lap underneath the table. As she slowly moved her foot back and forth, she looked me in the eye and said, "Brian, we're playing this last hand. I'm going to win, we both know it. And because you've been such a bad sport and tried to be such a weasel about losing, I'm going to keep your books, and not only that, you're going to let me look at your collection again and take as many as I want to keep. Right? That's what you're going to do, isn't it Brian? Right?"

I nodded.

"I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you'll do."

I was harder than I'd ever been in my life, and I'd have done anything she said. So I told her that yes, I agreed to her deal.

She kept her foot on my briefs as we played the last hand. If I had any chance of winning at all, being distracted like that eliminated it. I lost, but she didn't ask me to take off my briefs. She picked up a big brown bag said she had some books coming to her. I got dressed and didn't argue. We went to my house and by the time she was done picking over my collection, she had 22 more books in her bag.

My family and I went on a short summer vacation not long after, and when we got back her family had moved because her dad got a better job in another state. I found her years later on facebook. She lives out in California now, and I stayed a little bit closer to home. I kind of hinted about the past, talking about whether she'd read any good books lately. She understood what I meant, and she said, yes, she still loved Moby Dick. We talked about the whole thing in private messages and had fun reminiscing.

My wife and I can talk about the past, and I told her the whole thing. She said, "Damn, I'm glad you don't gamble anymore."