Even though I know
it's a bad idea, I agree to see a movie with Kendra the following
weekend in an effort to make up with her. I still really believe
she's the one at fault but since she doesn't agree I have to be
conciliatory if we're to move forward. The movie is a romantic
comedy which pleases her and Julia (who also comes with us). It's
not horribly offensive like Bachelor Party but is both
depressing and boring. But, since I'm trying to be nice, I bite my
tongue and do my best to conceal this fact.
After the movie we
decide to wander randomly around the mall. After all, it's not like
we have anything else to do with ourselves. “I have news,” says
Kendra importantly as we walk down the hallway.
“About Sven?”
sneers Julia.
“No.” Kendra
turns and, for no logical reason, glares at me.
“I said nothing.
Give her the evil eye,” I reply crossly.
“This news is
about something important, about the guy I like in fact.”
“ As I was
saying...” Julia mutters and gets kicked hard by Kendra in
retaliation.
“So, is this someone you like-like?”
she asks, quickly moving back out of kicking range, “or just filler
until..” She quickly cuts herself off as Kendra steps towards her
again but everyone knows she's about to say ”until you stop being
mad at Sven?” It's not like we haven't seen the pattern enough
times before.
“No, I like-like him,” says Kendra
sourly. “He's only a year ahead of us so it's not, like,
impossible.”
“Come on, who?”
“Joshua Gram.”
“Him?” I say, disappointed. “He's
pretty boring. He was in my science class last year and had no clue
what was going on the entire time...and that wasn't even an advanced
class.”
“What happened?” Julia asks
Kendra.
“He works at the counter at the
fitness center so, every time I sign in or out, I see him. He likes
to smile at me.” She gets a dreamy look on her face.
“Are you for
real? What can you possibly see in him?” I say, making a face.
“What kind of a
question is that?” Julia wants to know. “What do you see in
Robert?”
“Easy. He's
really smart, he's witty and makes me laugh, and his
confidence is magnetic.” Julia turns to the nearest potted plant
we're passing and pretends to throw up in it.
“Easy there,”
Kendra objects. “That's my friend you're trashing there.”
“But you're not
dumb enough to like him. In here.” She grabs our wrists and
pulls us along excitedly as we draw opposite Spencer's Gifts.
“Anyway,” I
say, finally managing to escape her relentless grip once we're inside
the store, “we weren't talking about Robert. We were talking about
Joshua.”
“Yes.” Kendra
licks her lips theatrically. “Let's keep talking about that.”
“So, why do you
like him?” I ask as we move towards a shelf filled with lava lamps
and black lights.
“Wouldn't this
look awesome in my room?” Julia points to a Doors
black-light poster glowing with psychedelic colors.
“It's alright.”
I shrug. “I prefer this.” I gingerly take down a lava lamp,
it's rounded cone filled with dancing blobs of sea foam green. I've
always wanted a lava lamp but at $65 they're way out of my price
range and I put it back reluctantly before I can run the risk of
dropping it. It's a good thing too, because Julia suddenly grabs my
arm to direct my attention to some sparkly door beads hanging against
the wall.
“Remind me never
to let either of you decorate my house,” says Kendra, rolling her
eyes. “But, as for your question, Penelope, have you taken a look
at the guy?”
“I've seen him
around school, yes. But then, I've also looked at most of the other
people there as well and have absolutely no interest in 99.99999% of
them.”
“Don't play
dumb,” says Julia over her shoulder, still fingering the door
beads. “The guy is hot. It's as simple as that.”
“No, it's not,”
I reply, standing on tiptoe to reach over a pile of magnetic stars to
take down the 3D pin art box behind them. “Seriously, what does
that even mean?”
“It means he
looks good.”
“But it's not
like there's some kind of absolute standard for that. I mean, I
certainly don't notice anything special about how he looks.” I
tilt the small clear box in my hands back and forth, watching the
pins slide in and out of their holes.
“I suppose
you're going to argue Robert looks good.”
I shrug. “The
way he chooses to dress and carry himself shows he's intelligent and
confident and I do find that...well...you know. But I don't think
anyone's looks alone could make me like them...or stop me from liking
them.”
“Obviously not
with your track record.” Julia and Kendra proceed to gush over how
“hot” Joshua is (whatever that means) and this makes me very
angry. I'd really like to gush about how wonderful Robert is. But
that's not allowed. Just attempting it will get me laughed at.
However, bad as
that is, it's not the real issue here. As I slip my hand into the
pin art box, I wonder for the billionth time since the world around
me hit puberty what the hell is wrong with me? I don't have the same
thoughts or feelings as the other people my own age. All that stuff
they say is normal and natural for us to go through just seems to not
happen to me, or to do so in only the most generalized, vague ways. I
suppose I could be the most epic late bloomer in existence and,
sometimes, I pin my hopes on this possibility—that, when my time
comes, my breasts will actually develop like the other girls'. But
that explanation doesn't really hold much weight since I've had body
hair and periods since twelve or thirteen, just like I'm supposed to.
No, all my physical developments (except bust size, of course) seem
to be right on schedule but the corresponding emotional developments
are impossibly late. I want a refund from the delivery company.
No, a more likely
explanation is that—due to genetic mutations or whatever—I'm just
some kind of freak of nature. I was born without desire like some
people are born blind or deaf, missing a limb or mentally challenged.
And, like them, I can't help wondering what my life would have been
like if I had been normal or wishing I had been normal (at least I
assume they think about that). I tilt the box, feeling the
pins prick against my skin as the shape of my palm appears on the
other side of the central panel, outlined by the raised pin heads. I
feel rage boil up inside me and know I'm about to do something
stupid. “If you ask me,” I say (which, of course, they don't),
“you would have done better to stick with Sven.”
“Are you
insane?” Kendra looks up from a bottle of “sexy body
spray”--just colored water really—that she's been squirting on
the back of her hand. “You're actually going to defend Sven?”
Prick, prick, prick. The pins dance on the surface of my skin,
making the whole area shiver. “He may not have many redeeming
characteristics. But even one or two would be more than this guy
has.”
“Seriously? This sounds really interesting.” Julia is also
paying attention now. “Let's hear about these redeeming
characteristics.”
“Well...uh...” I hadn't exactly expected to be put on the spot
like this. I fiddle with my hands to gain a little time and the pins
tingle back and forth over my hand. “He's real,” I blurt out.
Kendra and Julia give each other sidelong glances and I quickly race
ahead before they can say anything. “He's the kind of person who'll
help you on a class project or hang out with you on the weekend,
who's easy to have a conversation with, even if he doesn't have
anything interesting to say. I bet you've never hung out with
Joshua, or even hung around to talk to him after your work out.”
Kendra tosses her head. “Well, if you think Sven's so great, he's
all yours,” she replies dismissively.
“That's not the point.” I jerk my hand back out of the 3D pin
art box and drop it on the floor, leaving my hand pulsing with angry
red scratches. Yes, the pins are dull but not dull enough for me to
be so careless. “I don't want him,” I say savagely. “But,
since you did, you must be able to like someone for reasons
other than this “hot” thing.”
“Because Sven totally isn't,” laughs Julia as she heads off
towards the clothing racks.
“No, but...well...I mean...I though...” It's not hard for Kendra
to see this isn't going anywhere good—for her anyway—and, instead
of finishing her though, goes wandering after Julia to look at the
T-shirts. Before following, I take a moment to pick up the pin art
box from the floor—fortunately, it didn't break—and put it back
on the shelf. When I rejoin them, they are eagerly admiring a shirt
that reads “a hard man is good to find” and shows a guy with very
little clothes on and so many overdeveloped muscles that he barely
looks human. I feel my face get hot and am terrified that passers
by will think I'm looking at the shirt too—and, worse, liking it—so
I quickly slide a couple feet down the aisle to a rack of t-shirts
only have text on them and make a great show of reading the words
very intently.
The first shirt I see reads, “kisses for a dollar.”
“Oh my god,” I yell. “This is unacceptable. You guys, come
look at this. They're promoting prostitution.”
“What? Kendra looks up reluctantly from the stupid t-shirt and I
wave the offending piece of clothing at her. “So?”
“What d'you mean so? It's encouraging girls to give sexual favors
for money. That's prostitution.”
“Whatever, Penelope.” Totally enraged, both by the shirt itself
and by their response to it, I realize I need to do something to
distract myself in a hurry—before I destroy the shirt, and all the
ones like it—so I quickly pick up the next item of clothing in the
row. This one is a clingy baby doll top that reads, “Why should I
be satisfied with just one guy?”
“Argh! Now they're endorsing cheating,” I shriek in fury. This
time, they don't even look up. Probably, they're hoping anyone
within earshot will think they don't know me. Or, maybe, they're
just so utterly enraptured by “a hard man is good to find” that
they're honestly oblivious. It's at this moment that it occurs to me
that there is yet a third explanation for the way I'm different from
those around me. Maybe my lack of desire is a superior mutation,
like the long neck of a giraffe, that renders me immune to the
stupidity and self destructive impulses that plague other girls. I
think one guy is way too many if he's dumb or boring or sees me as a
piece of ass. For one thing, any guy who would condone these
shirts—or the male equivalent of the one Kendra and Julia are
looking at—would definitely be beneath me. If there's any truth in
natural selection, I'll rule the world. I'm certainly better than
anyone who would pay money for stuff that's insulting them.
I feel good and toss the shirt back onto the rack without bothering
to hang it up neatly. Let's see what other trash they have that I
can pat myself on the back for not buying. I reach for the next
shirt eagerly. It says, “why would I want a brain when I have
these?” The last word is in huge block letters printed exactly at
chest height—chest height for a normal girl that is. Without even
fully realizing it, I instinctively hunch my shoulders and put one
arm across my body. Since none of the length of the fabric would be
used up horizontally, the words wouldn't be at chest height if I wore
the top. They'd be sagging somewhere down near the bottom of my
ribs.
Yes,
evolution did compensate me by giving me a brain but I no longer feel
confident that I got the better end of the deal and this fact alone
makes me even angrier. The brain should
be better. I should
be the successful one because that's what I got. But I'm worried
that, because the rest of the world has other values—obviously,
since people are able to sell this shirt—I'll wind up getting
shafted in the end. Yes, that would make the rest of the world evil
but doesn't change the fact that I could still get shafted. Wait,
who do I think I'm fooling? Robert has passed over me—the only
girl in the entire school who could possibly give his brain power a
run for its money—in favor of Oochie, Poochie, and Hoochie who are
dumb as logs. Damn right I'm getting shafted.
******
After several weeks of
arduous
travel(due to their lack of sufficient horses Robert points out
bitterly at every opportunity), the party has finally reached the
home of the wizard who owns the giant ruby but he really doesn’t
want to see them so he simply makes himself invisible. Sven,
naturally, does not have a spell to counter this.
“It doesn’t matter if he’s
invisible. He’s still there,” says Jeff. “We can still catch
him.”
“How are we supposed to do that?”
asks Mike.
“We can link arms and then he can’t
walk around us.”
“That’s ridiculous,” objects
Robert. “He could just walk under our arms.”
“Fine, we’ll just move our arms up
and down as well so he can’t do that.”
“That’s an even dumber idea.”
Robert starts flapping his arms up and down, doing a bad imitation of
a bird flying to mock him. Jeff looks very put out.
“Why are we bothering about the
wizard?” asks Sven. “We don’t need him. We just want the
ruby.”
“Amazingly, you actually make a very
good point,” says Robert. “We must search the house. Each of us
will take one floor, with two on the ground floor because it’s the
biggest. That’ll be Sven and Mike I’ll search the cellar. Jeff
can search the attic, along with the upstairs and…”
“But what if we miss something?”
objects Jeff.
“Since we have a map of the house,
we can refer to it carefully to make sure we don’t.”
“Why would you have a map of the
house?” I ask severely.
“Well, if we don’t have one, it
would be easy to make one.”
“Robert, in order to make an
accurate map, you would have to have already been in every room in
the house so the map would be redundant.”
“Let’s just search the study,”
suggests Mike. “That’s the most likely place it would be
anyway.”
“All right. You walk into the
study. The walls are of dark wood and so is the furniture. There is
a desk against the opposite wall and a small fireplace in one
corner.”
“Can we see any boxes, chests,
closest, secret compartments?” asks Robert eagerly.
“Yes, Robert, you can see lots of
secret compartments,” I reply sarcastically. But, in spite of this
lack of secret compartment knowledge, they do manage to track down
the ruby. After all, It was in a huge, magically trapped chest so it
wasn't exactly hard to spot. Now, all they need is to perform a
special ritual to bind the eye into the idol. Unfortunately, the main
item needed for the ritual is a werewolf pelt. The party is very
concerned because they're not sure they’ll be able to kill a
werewolf. Now Robert makes his insolence come down on his own head.
He keeps his copy of the Monstrous Manuel with him at all
times and looks up whatever they're fighting, which is technically
cheating. Now, he looks up werewolves and finds out that they change
back into their human form when killed (which makes them virtually
impossible to skin). Now, I did not know anything about this. If I
had, I would never have assigned them that particular item. I
thought they could just kill the thing and then skin it. When I
reveal this fact, with much malicious glee, they are not happy at
all, especially Robert.
He immediately begins trying to make
another elaborate plan to solve the problem by skinning it while it's
still alive and, amazingly, one of Sven’s potion purchases looks
like it might be useful after all.
“But you can’t just put it to
sleep and then try to skin it,” objects Mike. “As soon as we try
to do it, it'll wake up.”
“Well just have to tie it up then,”
says Robert.
“But do we have rope strong enough
to hold it?” Sven, who, obviously, hasn’t been paying attention
to what happened earlier, points out that it will clearly be able to
break the ropes because werewolves automatically have super-strength.
Everyone else yells loudly for him to shut up and I chuckle evilly.
“Anyway, how are we going to give it the potion in the first
place?” Mike goes on quickly. “It needs to be in wolf form and,
in that case, it's probably not going to want to drink a potion out
of a bottle.”
“Couldn’t we just distract it?”
asks Jeff weakly.
“Yea, that
would work real well,” says Robert mockingly. “We can just say
‘Look over there’ and then start skinning it. I’m sure it
won’t notice.” As usual, Robert manages to brow beat everyone
else into going along with his plan so they set out to look for the
werewolf. But, when they find it, it’s asleep in human form in a
local graveyard. So they hold another long debate and eventually
decide that Robert should hide behind it while Jeff throws rocks at
it so that it will wake up and get angry. When it changes form,
Robert will jump on it and force its mouth open so they can feed it
the sleeping potion.
The plan works fairly well but, the
second they've skinned it, it turns back into human form. And,
shortly after, a group of high level priests arrive at the graveyard
to perform a ritual for the dead. Upon seeing the skinned human
corpse, they assume the worst and become hostile. The party stupidly
decides to retaliate instead of trying to explain and end up getting
their asses kicked.
“So we'll start next session with
you guys in prison,” I say severely. “Serves you right.”
“By the way, I have an important
announcement to make,” Robert declares as people are packing up
their books and dice.
“What? That you're the god of
awesomeness?” asks Mike sarcastically.
He exchanges glances with Sven, who
replies, “Why would he need to announce that? Everyone already
knows he thinks it.” They snicker and roll their eyes.
“Shut up you two.” I wave my hand
in their general direction, while remaining focused on Robert. If
he's going to announce something, I don't want anything to interfere
since it must be extremely important and intelligent. Of course, I
think that every time Robert opens his mouth.
“I applied to attend the junior
summer law camp at South Eastern University,” says Robert, “and I
just got my letter of acceptance today.”
“That's wonderful,” I gush.
“Which means I'm going to be
ridiculously busy for the next month and won't be able to make it for
D&D.” I gasp, as if I've been punched in the stomach, then
quickly exert all efforts to conceal my distress, though it's
probably already too late. It was probably too late long ago. I'm
fully convinced now that he knows what I think of him and is
disgusted by it. After all, I look nothing at all like Oochie,
Poochie, Hoochie, and Smoochie. He's probably making up the whole
law camp thing (not that he isn't totally smart enough to get in to
it if it did exist) and, even if he's not, he's doubtless
delighted by the convenient excuse it provides to get away from me.
I spend the rest of the day feeling wretched and try to avoid talking
to Kendra when she calls the next day. After all, Robert doesn't
want to avoid her.
************
Still seething
from Robert's news, I grudgingly agree to have lunch downtown with
Sven and Linus before our next D&D session. We're sitting on a
bench outside The Carcass and they are happily consuming
multiple quarter-pounders with cheese. With no table manners
whatsoever. Depression always destroys my appetite so I'm nibbling
timidly at a bagel with lox and capers.
"What's
that?" asks Sven, pointing at my bagel and wrinkling his, very
large, nose with distaste.
"High class
food," I sniff. "You wouldn't understand." I reflect
bitterly that Robert probably understands lox and capers better than
I do. Sven rolls his eyes.
"Oh, don't
mind her," says Linus sympathetically. I glare at both of them
and there's an uncomfortable silence. "So…does anyone know
what's up with Mike?" Linus asks, probably just to say
something.
"He said he
had stuff to do," I say. "He'll come over when he finishes
it. Whenever that is…"
"Well, I
have stuff to do too," says Sven, finishing his second
cheeseburger and standing up. "See you guys in about an hour."
After he's gone,
Linus finishes his burger more slowly and I keep picking at my bagel.
Suddenly, I look up and who do I see but Robert walking on the other
side of the street with a garment bag over each arm? "You
stupid bastard," I yell after him but he keeps walking and
doesn't seem to notice.
Linus observes my
outburst with surprise. "You like him?" he asks after a
moment of thought.
"Yea, pretty
much," I say sourly. Better to just be honest. Trying to lie
now will just make me look dumb. "And a lot of good it's doing
me too."
"So I
noticed." He slides closer an puts and arm around my shoulders.
"I know how much it sucks,” he says quietly. "The guy I
like will never return my feelings either."
"Uh…guy?"
I've never had a gay friend, even though, according to popular
wisdom, all girls apparently need one. I don't have a problem with
it, I'm just surprised because he seems so much like the rest of the
guys we hang out with. I certainly can't see us talking about shoes
or whatever girls are supposed to talk about with their gay friends.
"That's
right," he says, slightly defensive, then glances significantly
at the empty spot at the end of the bench. My brain is very busy
being mad at Robert today so it takes a while to realize what he
means.
"Oh my god,"
I cry in disgust. "You like Sven?" Linus nods. There goes
the last of my appetite. What is with all these people liking Sven
anyway? It must be really nice to be fat, greasy, belch at will, and
have the brains of an avocado and still have people throwing
themselves at you. I, on the other hand, can't manage, even though
I'm polite and bath regularly. I blame the fact that Sven's a guy
and standards are always so much lower for guys. Girls have to be
pretty and feminine and shit like that. I hate being a girl.
"Well, I'll
never understand why,” I say, trying to conceal my queasiness as
best I can, "but good luck…I guess."
"Thanks,
good luck to you too," he says as we finish our lunch and
prepare to walk to my house.
Jeff is out of
town, Robert, of course is not here, and Mike is, presumably, still
busy, so it's just me, Linus, and Sven today. But this is probably
for the best because my family's having company tonight and don't
want a bunch of guys trashing the living room, so we've been removed
to the guest room. There's nothing to sit on there except the bed.
Sven kicks off his shoes and lies down on it as if he owns the place,
taking up the whole thing. Extremely put out by this, I huddle up
down at the end, pulling my knees up to my chest and trying to
balance my rule book on them with difficulty. Linus squeezes onto
the edge of the bed, about level with Sven's chest, seeming not to
mind the lack of personal space at all.
Not mind? Of
course he doesn't mind! Suddenly, I remember what Linus told me at
lunch. So nice for him that his life doesn't suck as much as mine
does right now, but I really don't want to see confirmation of that
fact. Grinding my teeth, I keep my eyes focused on the rule book.
"You wake up in a cellar," I say stiffly, "still sore
from the fight where you were knocked out. You still have your holy
symbol," I point at Linus without looking, "and your
dagger," I point at Sven. "But all your other supplies are
gone. The others are not here and you both have your ankles chained
together."
"So are my
ankles chained to his ankles or just to each other?" asks Sven,
obviously thinking this is funny.
"Just to
themselves but the chains are heavy and make a lot of noise. There
is a pile of sacks of grain in one corner, otherwise the room is
empty." They spend nearly half an hour wasting most of their
spells on the door. Then, they finally have the bright idea
of moving the sacks and find a sewer grate underneath. They crawl
into the grate and I take malicious pleasure in having the chains
catch on anything and everything and assigning penalties accordingly.
Looking up from
plotting their course on my map of the sewer system, I see that Linus
has slowly relaxed so he's actually leaning on Sven now. "As
you round the corner, your chain snags on a piece of rock and you
fall on the hard ground," I snap. "Take three damage."
I’m furious. Linus knows how wretched I am today, that
seeing someone else get close to the person they like will just rub
my own loss in my face. He was so sympathetic earlier. But now that
his own feelings are at stake, he selfishly decides to ignore mine.
It feels like another mini-betrayal on top of Robert's betrayal
earlier and it's more than I can take. I'm so miserable and so angry
that I'm no longer thinking. Half wanting to spite Linus and half
just longing for some comfort, any comfort, I fling myself down on
the bed and put my cheek against Sven's knee. If he isn't pushing
Linus off, he better not push me off. I'm no catch but at least I'm
female. Nothing happens and I try to ignore how embarrassed and
uncomfortable I feel as I describe their ambush by a group of giant
frogs.
As we reach the
third round of combat, I feel a gentle movement against my neck and
my spine turns to ice. Sven raises his leg I'm not leaning on and
rests the knee against my shoulder, then places his foot against my
back. I feel hollow all through my body and time slows so each
breath seems to take forever. He flexes his toes on my back and I
tell myself it's because his foot itches and not because it's me.
"Roll for
initiative." My voice cracks as I say it. This is not like
when I hit him with the book. Whether it's on purpose or an
accident, there is no way I can view this action as an attack.
Besides, if anything, it's really my fault, so I don't have my anger
to protect me now. Nothing stands between me and the knowledge that
a guy is touching me, seemingly on purpose, in a nice way, and at a
time when I feel so rejected. Tension spreads through my muscles. I
dare not move because I'm terrified he'll come to his senses and pull
away from me. That or think I'm trying to come on to him. I assume
everyone analyses other people's actions as much as I do. My palms
fill with sweat so it's almost impossible to hold the book steady.
About an hour
later, they leave, after having finally escaped the sewers. But,
long after they are gone, I sit there, rigid, on the edge of the bed,
feeling my heart turn over, each beat slow and heavy like the stroke
of a sledge hammer. Even hours later, I can still feel him touch me,
still smell the unwashed odor of his skin clinging to my shirt. I
can't get him out of my nose, my skin, or my brain. I keep seeing
Sven laughing, showing all his big white teeth, or giving his
mischievous look, the front part of his hair falling across his face.
He's got really blue eyes. I never noticed that before.
Filled with
restlessness, I get up and pace the room, then catch sight of myself
in the mirror. My cheeks are red, not blotchy like with anger, but
glowing with pent up energy. Then I see my eyes in the reflection.
I know that look. Those are Kendra's eyes. In them I can read the
truth and Doom falls on me.
©Amanda Hamlin 2024
