I am Penelope, a
long haired, tiny breasted sophomore at Holerton High. I dress in
guy's clothes, love heavy metal, and have a secret obsession with
video games and Dungeons and Dragons. And I am in love. He is
currently sitting across from me in geometry class working on a
proof. His name is Robert and, with his neatly brushed hair, crisp
shirt, and glasses, he looks every bit as intelligent as he really
is. He's in all advanced classes which is great because so am I,
which means we get to spend a lot of time together, and he's always
saying clever and witty things. I could listen to him for hours.
We make a great
team for to doing proofs. When it comes to math, I'm no good at
creative thinking and can't always see all the relationships between
lines, angles, etc. and Robert has no problems with this. But then,
he can't turn his observations into a proof because he doesn't
remember all the proof rules. I, on the other hand, have all the
theorems memorized and can recite them at a moment's notice. Robert
looks at the problem and tells me what steps he wants to prove
and then I tell him how to prove them. It's a great system we
have going and it's a good sign for our future life together. Even
though he's obsessed with cheerleaders right now, he will see
that we are meant to be.
Sven Plotz, a
friend of Robert and the object de lust of my best friend
Kendra, is sitting next to him. I'm not sure why she likes him.
He's hyper, random, and spastic. So different from Robert's reserve
and dignity. He contributes to our proof writing team as well...by
trying to distract us and, then, when when we finally manage to
finish the problem anyway, by copying our answers. With this
excellent brand of teamwork, it's no surprise that we finish the
assignment far ahead of the rest of the class. Sven immediately
pulls out a video game hint guide and goes flipping through it. I
grope in my backpack for my latest fantasy novel. Robert starts
pouring over a stack of typewritten pages, muttering to himself and
making strange gestures as he does so.
“What've you
got there?” I ask tentatively. We talk to each other a lot because
we're always working together but casual conversation is still a
little scary.
“It's a play I
wrote for my English class. My partner and I have to act it out
today, so I want to make sure I'm well rehearsed.”
“Let's see what
you've got.” I know Robert's a great performer. He's been in
theater for years and I would love to watch since, one of the things
I love most about Robert is how creative and imaginative he is.
Robert clears his throat and straightens his papers, then begins.
It's a story about a hero whose wife is stolen away by an evil
wizard. Robert is going to be playing the hero and his partner the
evil wizard. But, since his partner isn't here now, he's so talented
he plays both parts. He bangs his fist on the table and says in a
commanding voice, “Give me back my wife.” Almost, I can imagine
we're in the dark cave of the wizard's fortress instead of such a
boring and ordinary place as geometry class.
Robert quickly
switches roles and starts playing the wizard. “You can only have
her back if you perform all the tasks I set you, no matter how
impossible they seem. Your first task will be to retrieve the
perfect pearl that is hidden in the belly of a giant shark.” His
performance is so compelling that Sven actually puts down his hint
book and starts paying attention to us. “The shark was huge and
hideous,” Robert goes on with a dramatic flourish. “It had five
rows of razor sharp teeth, each as big as a man. It's fins were like
small ships and its skin so thick that a sword would barely scratch
it. Our hero knew he had no hope of defeating it in combat so,
instead, he hid in some seaweed close by and memorized the pattern in
which the shark opened and closed its mouth.” As he says this,
Robert takes his hands and mimes the opening and closing of the
mouth. “When he was able to time it perfectly, he waited until the
mouth was at its widest point, then swam inside to retrieve the
pearl.” I'm completely immersed in Robert's performance but I
can't help wanting to enhance it more. Thinking I'm being subtle, I
sneak my hand across the table and swipe the script.
“Why did you do
that?” asks Robert.
“I wanted to
see if you could do it without looking at the words.”
“If I'm looking
at you,” oh yes he is, “I can't read off the sheet anyway.
Unless I had eyeballs in the roof of my mouth. Wait, that would be
really sick. I could see myself chewing.”
“How about up
your nose?” asks Sven.
“Think about
what you would see when you sneezed.”
“What if you
had eyes in the back of your head?” I suggest.
“You would poke
yourself in the eye when you combed you hair.”
“Be careful
with those razors,” says Sven.
“What's that
supposed to mean?”
“He shaves the
hair behind his ears. See?” Sven grabs a hold of Robert's ear and
bends it forward to reveal a small crescent of bare skin behind.
Robert does not appreciate the action at all.
“If you don't
mind,” he says stiffly, shoving Sven away, “I would like to
finish my story now.” He smooths his hair, so that every strand is
just so again and straightens the collar of his shirt before
continuing. Another thing I like about Robert is that he has such
excellent composure and never lets anyone upset it. “For the
hero's final task, the wizard took him to a room filled with
thousands of identical statues of his wife and said to him, 'Now you
must pick the one statue out of all of them which is really your
wife. You only get one chance and, if you choose wrong, she will be
burned alive before your eyes.'” Now Robert switches back over to
the hero again, as he muses on how to make his choice. “'The
reason the wizard must attack me through my wife is because I am
protected by a magic talisman so he cannot touch me. That talisman
is in form of a hair pin, which my wife wears on her head pointing
upwards. The wizard must not know this or he would have removed the
pin and killed me by now. If he does not know about it, it won't be
in the statue copies.' So he carefully ran his hand over the head of
each statue,” Robert mimes this too, “and only one pricked him in
the hand. But, just to confuse the wizard, he ran his hand over all
the heads of the statues a second time.”
At this point,
Sven has gotten bored with the story, so he picks up some of the
large paper polyhedrons on display on the table behind him, and
starts amusing himself by tossing them about, pretending they're
dice. “Once the the wizard was completely bewildered,” Robert
goes on, “he took his true wife by the hand and...” One of the
large polyhedrons hits him in the head when Sven tosses it a bit too
vigorously. “You idiot. That's the second time you have disrupted
my story. You die now.”
“Give me a
chance to escape,” whines Sven in mock fear, holding out an
octahedron to Robert as if it's a peace offering.
Robert picks up the octahedron. “If
I roll a number from one to eight I kill you, Sven.” Then he picks
up the dodecahedron. “What number do you want to be your death,
Sven?”
“Forty two”
“Fine, I get to roll as many times
as necessary to get a forty two.” He rolls the polygon several
times, keeping track of the sum of the numbers, until they total
forty one. Then, he looks at each side carefully until he finds the
one and sets the polygon carefully on the table so it is face up.
***********
I'm sitting
outside my Spanish class after lunch, waiting for the doors to open.
Robert, who's in this class too, is sitting a short way down the hall
from me, his nose buried in a book. Although I would like it if he
talking to me instead of reading, I do like the fact that he reads
books a lot because I read books a lot too, so that's, like,
something we have in common.
My best friend
Kendra, who's also in the class, is sitting next to me. Kendra
doesn't like to read a lot, or at all. She likes to watch MTV and
try on skimpy clothes at the mall. Pretty much the only thing we
have in common is Robert. They're good friends (totally platonic she
assures me). Actually, I started trying to be friends with Kendra in
the hopes that hanging out with her would give me a chance to hang
out with Robert. So far, this idea hasn't born fruit but, in the
meantime, we've kinda bonded. I, obviously, had to open my heart to
her and tell her my secrets and she chose to do the same for me,
which, I think, qualifies us for best friend status. We also have a
long time mutual friend named Julia, which made things a lot easier.
“Officially”
I'm supposed to be having a conversation with Kendra right now. But
I'm not really. Yes, partly because Robert is distracting me but
also because Kendra's friend Sarah (who, fortunately, isn't in our
class) is sitting on the other side of her and I hate Sarah. All she
ever wants to talk about is guys and how “hot” they are. This
interests me not at all since I have absolutely no interest in any
guys except Robert. And I'm not allowed to talk about him because
Sarah (and most other girls) think he's a loser. Not that I would
ever trust her with a secret as dangerous as who I like.
To my great
relief, when I tune back into their conversation, I discover that,
for once, she's actually talking about something else: her cousin's
trip to France. “And guess what she brought my family as a
present,” she cries. “Goose liver.” Kendra and I both make
gagging noises. “And that's not the worst of it. She went to
restaurants there where you can order snails. How gross is that?”
“Almost as
disgusting as eating worms,” replies Kendra with conviction.
Robert glances up over the edge of his book and looks upset, probably
about how loud we're being. “That's really sick. I'm so glad I
didn't have to go to France.”
“I don't know.
I think it would have been worth it,” says Sarah. I'm about to
mention all the wonderful castles in France by way of agreeing with
her, but she's not done yet. “My cousin says the French guys are
really hot.” Okay, time to change the subject.
“Snails don't
actually sound so bad, compared to other things,” I say quickly.
Gross food is so much more of a palatable topic. “I've heard, in
some African countries, they eat ants.” I pause for effect. “Or
termites.” I enjoy listening to and watching their reactions of
disgust, although Robert plainly does not. But I can't let them
finish or they'll go back to their truly disgusting guy talk.
“It's really weird what different people think is gross,” I
continue. “I mean, the Japanese think its gross that Americans eat
raw vegetables like salads.”
“Yes, but
they're eating raw fish and getting sick from it,” says Robert,
temporarily setting down his book. “We eat raw vegetables and
we're just fine.” My heart does a little skip and jump that I've
actually gotten him to interact with me, even though it only lasted a
couple of seconds.
“Okay, sure
there are some things that are just bad for you,” I say, hoping to
keep Robert in the conversation, even though he's already picked up
his book again. “But most food is actually less dangerous that you
think. There's a special Korean dish made from old cabbage and that
doesn't make anyone sick.”
Sarah makes
another noise of disgust. “Fresh cabbage is gross enough,”
she cries.
“I've actually
had this dish,” I say smugly. “It's really quite tasty.”
Sarah appears to turn slightly green though, in the dim hallway, its
hard to be sure. It might be nothing more than my
self-congratulatory imagination. It's actually quite satisfying to
make her ill for once, after all the times she's sickened me with her
talk about guys' butts and biceps and...ugh! I'll stop now. Just
the memory is making me queasy.
“The only
Korean food I know anything about,” says Kendra, “is the hot and
sour soup from the restaurant in the shopping center by my house.
It's pretty good even though those clear noodles in it look a little
weird.”
But now we've
disturbed Robert again. “Do you know what those clear noddles are
made out of?” he asks pointedly. “Strings of pus from cows'
eyes, that's what.” Kendra does not like this information at all.
I'm smart enough to realize that what he's saying isn't true but,
apparently, she isn't. “The best plan is never to ask what's in
food if it's foreign,” Robert goes on smugly.
“I didn't ask
you,” snaps Kendra. “You just volunteered that information all
on your own and nobody wanted to hear it.” Well, except me, but
never mind. Robert ignores her and goes back to his book. But, as
Kendra continues to rant loudly, it gradually becomes clear that he
won't be able to get any reading done. To make matters worse, Julia
wanders by at this moment. She hates Robert so, when she sees Kendra
is attacking him, she joins in enthusiastically. Robert puts his
book down in exasperation. This seems like the perfect opportunity
to start a conversation.
“What are you
reading?” I ask, scooting closer to him.
“Oh, I'm not
reading anything now.”
“Yes but what
were you trying to read just now.” I point at the book.
“Oh that.
That's not a real book. It's a list of codes I can use to hack into
the FBI computers.”
“Why would you
want to do that?”
“I'm actually a
mass murderer and I want to erase my records.”
“I can believe
that,” I laugh. At this point Kendra starts to become distracted
from Sarah and Julia and starts paying attention to our conversation
instead.
“Of course, now
that you know, I'll have to kill you.”
“I'd like to
see you try,” mocks Kendra.
“It will be
easy. My backpack is full of several weapons, which I will now show
to you. Of course, that means I will have to make sure I kill you.”
He takes out his calculator. “Now this looks like an ordinary,
innocent, graphing calculator, but you can type in a secret code and
it will cause several strategically placed nuclear weapons to blow
up. You could blow up the school.” Here he goes with one of his
creative stories again. Swoon. I can't resist urging him on.
“Let's see
these nuclear weapons,” I challenge.
“They have
already been placed. These,” he pulls out his cards, “look like
regular cards but you can stick them in the crack of a door and add a
special chemical (which I'm not going to tell you about) and they
will explode. You could open a safe with them. This book has a bar
code on the back, which I can put through the credit card scanner at
the store and it will reduce the cost of what I'm buying to nothing.”
“Wouldn't
people find it a little strange,” I ask skeptically, “to see you
putting a book in a credit card slot.” Robert doesn't
respond to me, which means he hasn't thought up a good answer. At
this point, Joe Argozy, who is also in our Spanish class, walks past.
“Now, you may
not know this about Joe,” says Robert, “but he has secret codes
in his hair.”
“That's the
dumbest thing I ever heard,” says Kendra.
“No, not at
all. Here, I'll show you. Hey, Joe,” Robert calls to him. “Let
me pull out a piece of your hair so I can show them.” Joe gives
him a dubious sideways glance, like he thinks Robert's crazy and
hurries off down the hall. However, he does walk past us several
more times. I guess he's just pacing up and down the hall, waiting
for class to start. And, every time he walks past, we all crack up
loudly, which makes him even more disturbed.
“How did you
get the code into his hair?” I ask.
“I used my
compass to shoot it into his head.” He pulls his clear flexi ruler
out of his back pack and waves it around wildly, actually whacking
himself in the head with it several times. “This looks like an
ordinary ruler but, when I add a special device...”
“Let's see this
special device,” I challenge.
“I don't have
it with me and, besides, I wasn't going to tell you about it
anyway
“Then it's
defective.”
“No, I can
still use it...as a ruler.” See what I mean? He's so witty.
At this point,
Julia has had enough. She doesn't like Robert at all and doesn't
find him funny or witty (clearly she has no taste) and, also, I think
she's put out because we're paying attention to him and not to her.
“What I want,” she yells over to us, “is a very simple device:
a gun which I can use to blow your head off because you're being so
annoying.”
“Now I call
that ironic,” says Robert, almost as an aside to me, which makes me
shiver up and down my spine, “since she is so much more annoying
than I am. Besides, no imagination at all. I won't even waste my
time describing all the ways you could kill someone with a gun. Now,
if you were to use a...”
“Oh my god,
shut up,” shrieks Julia. Robert ignores her and pulls out his
protractor, which it broken in half.
“I suppose
you're going to say that's a boomerang,” suggests Kendra.
“No, this is a
broken protractor. It can't do anything because it's broken. Now
this,” he waves a pen in our direction, “this looks like a pen,
but it's not a pen. When I write on someone with the ink...”
“It will kill
them,” offers Kendra.
“No, it doesn't
kill them,” Robert replies stiffly, obviously put out that someone
thinks he would be so ordinary as to become predictable. “It
infects them with a disease that decreases their mental capacity.”
“How many times
have you used it on yourself,” I mock.
“No. I'm
immune to it. See, I use the chemical in the other end of the pen
and then it doesn't work on me.”
“Which you're
not going to tell us about.”
“Right. You're
getting the idea.” I feel thrilled that Robert, at least sort of,
thinks I'm clever.
But Kendra is
losing interest and pokes Julia. “Want to go to the mall this
weekend?” she asks.
“Can't, I have
relatives coming.”
“Well, then how
about you, Penelope?”
“Probably.
What do you want to do there?” I'm slightly skeptical.
“I desperately
want to see Bachelor Party.” Oh god! I was right to be
suspicious. This is a truly disgusting “romantic comedy” about a
guy who ends up falling in love with a stripper his friends hire for
his bachelor party. It's supposed to be happily ever after but no
one seems concerned about how the poor bride feels about getting left
at the altar. It's misery every after for her.
“I will not
watch that shit.”
“Aw, come on
Penelope. I want to go really badly and no one else will go with
me.”
“And neither
will I. I said no and that's final.” Kendra looks like she wants
to argue more but, at that moment, the door to the class room opens
and we all go inside and take our seats. Kendra doesn't sit by me so
I'm spared her bargaining, at least for the moment. But, towards the
end of class, while we're supposed to be doing worksheets, I'm
distracted by a loud tap on my desk. I look up and there's Kendra,
sitting backwards on the desk in front of me.
“Penelope,
please.”
“Can't you see
I'm trying to work?”
“Isn't there
anything I can do to change your mind?” I'm about to say no, but
just then, I happen to look past Kendra and catch sight of Robert,
bent over his worksheet on the other side of the room.
“Actually, yes,
there is something...” Kendra follows my gaze and her face falls.
“Oh, no. Not
that. Pick something else.”
I shrug. “Guess,
you'll be going alone then. What's the big deal anyway? I thought
you guys were friends.” Kendra dithers for a few more minutes,
then gets stiffly to her feet.
“Fine, you
win,” she snaps. “At least, maybe I can convince him to bring
Sven along.” She stomps off in Robert's direction and I cross my
fingers and pray.
*************
Kendra,
Robert, Sven, and I are at the mall. We're going to see an action
movie. It won by a vote of three to one. Kendra's romantic comedy
lost (an irony that makes me want crack up, although I politely
restrain myself). But she finds ways to make the movie work for her
anyway. When a car suddenly explodes on screen in a burst of flames,
she squeals and grabs Sven's arm. I do not do the same with Robert.
I know he isn't interested in me because he likes pretty, feminine
girls, the kind of girls who would squeal and grab a guy's arm in a
movie. I'm not the kind of girl who does that, so he doesn't want
me, therefore, I don't do it. My excellent use of logic must be what
got me into advanced math.
As we sit there,
I'm keenly aware that our couples (or potential couples) are horribly
mismatched. Sven and I look very similar with our loose, uncombed
hair and baggy T-shirts and jeans. Kendra isn't exactly the
cheerleader type that Robert likes but she has an athletic build and
looks cute in her crop top and shorts with flowers on the back
pockets. Robert, as always, has on a crisp button-down shirt and
slacks with his hair neatly trimmed and brushed back. He never looks
fifteen. More like thirty and on the way to a business meeting. I
think I like him because he is always serious and dignified, like me.
Next to us, Sven and Kendra are poking each other and giggling. I
turn away in disgust. In the dark, Robert looks like he might be
disgusted too. The fact that we agree on this give me a faint hope
that I might have a chance with him.
After the movie,
we wander towards the doors of the mall to go outside and sit on the
grass. As we walk, Robert takes his fedora and sets it on his head
at an angle. Sven just can't resist. He reaches behind Robert and
knocks his hat forward. Robert gives him a death glare, then
readjusts his hat with an expression of pained superiority. Kendra
and I exchange glances and her desire to laugh is a little too
infectious. In less than thirty seconds, Sven repeats this maneuver.
"If you
touch my hat again, I will kill you,” says Robert grimly. Right on
cue, Sven makes an exaggerated gesture and places one finger on the
edge of Robert's hat. He's grinning like a madman and the immaturity
of it is making me nauseous like cottage cheese that's been left out
in the sun too long. Again, Robert seems to agree with me and
punches Sven hard, aiming at his head but hitting his shoulder
instead as he dodges. I hear Kendra suck in her breath and I can
tell she is concerned about her "sweetheart" getting
injured. Mentally, I’m impressed by Robert. We two understand
that we need to fight to maintain our dignity. It is so important
that we not be dragged down to the adolescent level of other people.
And if it takes violence to ensure that…so be it. But Sven won't
quit. A brawl is exactly what he's been itching for and he hits back
at Robert, grinning more than ever. Now, they're at it, punching,
dodging, and blocking. But Robert still retains his aloofness, like
he's above it all. I imagine that he would have the same detached
expression, even if he were kissing a girl and I like that picture.
But, before they've traded more than twenty blows, Kendra points out
that a mall security guard is eyeing us. Knowing someone has
observed Sven's juvenile behavior when it might be associated with
me turns my stomach still farther as the three of us hurry to the
door and Sven follows because, otherwise, there would be no one for
him to annoy.
We all sit down
outside the doors and, immediately, Robert and Kendra get into a
discussion about Keanu Reeves. I have only the vaguest idea who the
guy is anyway. Having no desire to join the conversation, I watch as
a girl with highlighted hair and heels staggers past us lugging an
oversize Victoria's Secret bag. I sourly reflect that Robert
almost certainly thinks she's more attractive than me and hope she
trips on the curb in her ridiculous shoes. Sadly, no luck. Sven is
also uninterested in the actor discussion, so he pulls a crumpled
paper out of his pocket, unfolds it, and starts reading.
"What's
that?" I ask, trying to pretend that I'm interested in something
other than a guy who doesn't like me.
"Just an old
character record sheet."
"You play
Dungeons and Dragons?" I cry excitedly, his earlier idiocy
almost forgotten in my desire to talk about one of my guilty
pleasures.
"Yea. Well,
I used to and so did he." He points at Robert. Now, I already
know that Robert has played D&D. In fact, I've known it ever
since I started liking him several months ago, because one of Julia's
brothers used to be friends with Robert. But I would never dare to
approach him about it directly. Talking to Sven is a fairly decent
substitute.
"This sheet,"
he goes on, "is for my old wizard. He had twenty five
intelligence and could cast wish every day.”
"Don't you
play any more?" I ask with disappointment
"Not for
several years. No one wants to anymore."
"I know."
I'm starting to lose my awkwardness because I'm so involved in the
topic. "I've been trying to get a group together for ages but I
just can't." I'm even starting to become slightly whiny now,
which sort of embarrasses me and I hope Robert doesn't notice.
"How hard
can it be? We only need four or five people?" We? My heart
jumps a little at the hope that I've finally found even one person to
join me. The next moment it stops completely dead as Sven leans over
and casually punches Robert in the shoulder. "Rob," he
says loudly, startling him out of the discussion of the dumb actor.
"You want to play D&D?"
Kendra frowns.
"That stupid game?" she says mockingly. "Who wants to
play that?" She's looking at me (Kendra knows about my secret
guilty pleasure) in a not very nice way and I desperately want to
point out that the guy she's just spent the last couple hours hanging
all over is suggesting it, not me. But I don't because that would be
violating the girl code of honor. Besides, I can't afford to have
her pissed at me because she knows too much sensitive information.
"Do we have
enough people?" asks Robert, ignoring Kendra.
"Well,
there's three of us here. Four, if Kendra wants to come along."
Sven grins, knowing this will piss her off. She smiles sweetly
while giving him the finger. "Also, I can ask Jeff and Mike At
least one of them will probably agree."
"There's
this kid in my science class named Linus," I add, my excitement
getting the better of my shyness. "I'm pretty sure he plays."
Robert considers
for a moment. "Sounds good," he finally says. "But
do we have a place?"
"We can use
my house," I offer without thinking. Kendra covers her face
with her hands in despair. Oh, I'll be getting an earful from her
latter.
"You can be
Dungeon Master then too," says Sven and I nod with tight lips,
not wanting to jeopardize my chances of having Robert come to my
house by admitting I have no idea how to be a Dungeon Master. In
fact, since I've never played the game, just obsessively read the
rule books hundreds of times, I'm probably the least qualified
person involved. Now I'm in a big hurry to get home to my shelf of
said rule books. It may be the last week of school but, suddenly,
I've got a lot of homework to do.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2017
