Dan's Conundrum - 1. Chapter 1

It should have been a new start, the first day of term. A sixth former now, and the lack of uniforms meant I had risen to a new rank. A rank well earned, no doubt. To top it off the weather wasn’t bad either – for Manchester anyway, which was usually gloomy all year as though God was depressed by His mutinous designs. But today it was all bright and warm, reminding me of a home far away. The sky was blue and the remnants of summer still lingered in the air – hey, it was supposed to be pathetic fallacy, but even then I could feel that something wasn’t right. Up above, I caught the morning sun leering behind a cloud. Yes, there you go, a happy thought for the day – the sun was in fact stalking us all, watching us, completely ridiculed by what we do. It could well be true. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were looking at me right now just to see how much of a fool I could make myself seem, and what disasters I could inflict on humankind.

Unsettled by the thought, I decided I didn’t like the sun anymore and made my way indoors with haste. If it were looking for amusement in this direction it would not find any. If it looked this way, it would find my same old self, utterly uninteresting, acting on the set of behavioural codes refined by years of experience: speak to no one, unless you were spoken to and only if they were friendly and wanted your response. If they should show their fangs, just walk away. Don’t show it on your face. And my objective this year? Four As, nothing more, nothing less.

Only grades stay forever yours.

I head to the form room, not particularly looking forward to meeting my new classmates. Turned out they weren’t completely new either. If there was one face I recognised immediately, it was Jenna, sitting in the middle of our form room with the other girls, chatting away. She had shoulder-length curly brown hair, dark eyes and at times a cheeky smile. And dimples. She was one of the popular ones. Every guy I knew in my last school said she was hot, though she never did anything for me. Whether she was actually attractive, I couldn’t really tell. With her sometimes unacceptably short skirts I found it easier to cut out her figure from my vision, blocking her completely.

When I walked into the room she looked up at me, her lips curled into a half-smile, noting my existence. I returned the gesture by picking a seat on the far side of the room. It was kind of natural for me to sit there. Somewhere remote where social interactions were not required. For God’s sake, Dan, you’re 17 this year. Still afraid of a girl. Er…no? I didn’t sit on the far end because I was scared, right? I didn’t like that interpretation. How about this: I was sitting alone on the far end because I had the wisdom of not making an unwanted approach. Nobody liked strangers sitting next to them for no reason. If she wanted me around, she would say so, wouldn’t she?

For ten minutes, a wash of new faces poured into the room, all seemed to prefer taking up seats in the middle and the back roll. There were established circles of friends from what I could tell, though that hardly mattered. Not my business, really. I wasn’t some kind of spy. I just observe. Our form teacher Mr Woods was a short, stout-looking man in his fifties. Back towards us now, he was rubbing out the phalluses on the whiteboard. Someone had left a mark of their godly reproductive prowess on the last day of term.

Mr Woods for a few seconds erased the graffiti with ease but at the opening of the classroom door he paused, turning to face the rascal who had just come in. ‘Come on, you’re late.’

‘Sorry, sir,’ he murmured. I was intrigued and for future references I wanted to know who the rascal was. I turned. Then my eyes came into focus and I saw him, stared at him, unable to tear my eyes from him. Crap. That never happened before – I had always been able to look away and prided myself in it, until this guy came along. My jaw was still dropped and unable to close. My heart pounded, my throat constricted as he strode confidently into the room, casually looking for seats. Then his eyes connected with mine.

Shit. He caught me staring.

He walked over. ‘Hi.’ His voice was a sweet, pleasant, lyrical baritone. It was so perfect. He smiled and without hesitation, sat next to me. Did he just sit down next to me? Is this even real? He was one sexy blond god, though at closer examination his short hair was a delicate mix of blond and light brown, depending on your angle and lighting. What’s the word for that colour? Maybe I could ask him. Hey, how would you describe this beautiful hair colour of yours? Or something similar. He had thin lips, pale blue eyes, and a really cute nose. As he removed his leather jacket to put on the back of his chair, I caught his whiff of sweet fragrance and all I wanted to do was lean closer and smell him some more. What was he using? Did he know what he was doing to me already? His white t-shirt traced the perfect curve of his abs – he worked out, but not excessively. He had no rock hard biceps or chest – that made him kind of cuddly. At least I thought so. He was a walking piece of art, amazingly put together.

I swallowed hard. ‘H-hi.’

That sounded pathetic. I wanted to say it again. He must have thought I was a fool – too late now. I whimpered the word like a little kid nervous and desperate to get away. But there had got to be something I could say right now, and occupy him perhaps, so he wouldn’t find me weird and decide to sit elsewhere.

‘Er… What’s your name?’ I asked stupidly. This was shameless. Was that even appropriate?

He smiled at me and said, ‘David. What’s yours?’

‘I’m Dan. Nice to meet you.’ I held out my hand and immediately regretted it. What if he ignored it or said ‘no’? Or worse, what if he laughed? A second longer and I would have taken it back, but with sweeping confidence he held my hand and shook it. His grip was firm, sincere, and his hand was much warmer than mine. Touching him sent a chill down my spine. I never wanted to wash my hand again. David. What a beautiful name. At least, the way he said it was so perfect. If I were to repeat the name it would certainly sound so crude. Would he be offended if I couldn’t say his name with such magic? I loved everything about him, his scent, his presence and his voice, and I loved how he made me weak and tingly inside too. Was…was I in love? If not, then why was my body responding to him?

Really, Dan, don’t be silly. Use your head. Think about it. Your body is responding because you’re attracted to his genes – compatible genes. Instincts will tell you that you want to reproduce with this guy and you want his babies. That’s what’s happening. So control yourself. For all you know he might not be what he seemed. He could well be straight, a complete moron…

At least, I wouldn’t have to wait long to find if he was actually an idiot. Only idiots make fun of my second name. When it was my turn in the register Mr Woods paused, frowning at the word. There we go. I should be used to it by now. But I was about to embarrass myself again on my first day. And this time in front of David.

‘Dan -’

He didn’t even bother to try, which was just as well. That at least spared himself from being corrected. He looked at me expectantly.

‘It’s pronounced “Unngh”.’

When I finished, I felt the bemused eyes of the class on me. A familiar feeling, but one I couldn’t describe fully still. It was a mixture of confusion, ridicule, or both. Had I heard that right? The name ‘Ng’ sound like a comical grunt. You know, the sort of sound people make when they were doing the unmentionables during the heat of the moment, or at least, that’s what people told me after the register in my first school.

‘Right, okay…’ He moved swiftly on, not convinced. Perhaps he thought me silly, though he couldn’t come up with a better way to say my name. Anyway, I didn’t choose my last name. ‘Ng’ was the homonym of all negative prefixes in Cantonese, my mother-tongue. As a surname I preferred Chan – but then 100 million people would have the same surname as me and that wouldn’t make me feel special.

When the register was done, David turned to me as though intrigued by something and asked, ‘So, what’s your real name?’

I looked at him blankly, surprised at the question.

‘You do have one, right?’

‘Yeah, I have one alright,’ I replied. Then I added, ‘But I’m not telling you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re going to laugh at me.’

He smiled encouragingly. ‘I promise I won’t laugh.’

‘Just call me Dan,’ I said. Surely, if I told him everything about me on the first day, he would have no reason to speak to me again. Best to stay mysterious. Plus, why would he want to know?

He shrugged, though not offended. ‘Okay.’

Dan isn’t my real name. When I came to the UK this was the name I gave myself. For no particular reason. I could easily have picked Oliver, or Scott, or even Tom. From then on Dan was like a new person, a new identity. Why would anyone want to know my real name anyway? Who I was was not important. I am Dan now. Life is easier this way.

There were couple of notices to hand out. No smoking or drugs on the premises – nothing that concerned me. We were given our own individual timetables for the year. Instinctively, I asked David if we shared any classes.

‘Looks like we both got English Lit,’ he remarked, nodding.

‘And P.E.,’ I added – though P.E. was a compulsory class, an hour a week of non-intellectual (I would argue mind-dumbing) activities. Certainly not the reason I came to this sixth form. I remembered fondly how the P.E. teachers in my old school gave me the worst effort grades possible, year after year. I was simply beyond the subject and the idea of sport.

Even with P.E., we only shared seven classes a week, including the form period. Fate was not on my side. We should be sharing every single class together and become best friends. Aside from Eng Lit, I took Biology, Chemistry and Maths, while David had English Language, Drama, and Music. I felt like switching subjects already, just so we could be in the same classes.

He told me quietly, ‘We have English next.’

‘Yeah.’ Though that was quite evidently the case. Did he not see from my gleeful eyes that I already knew? He probably didn’t. He wasn’t supposed to. Were there no one else around I would have been screaming, jumping up and down and kicking things.

This was how English Lit became my favourite subject.

When the bell went, we slung our bags over our shoulders and followed the others outside. The corridor was busy now, with hundreds of sixth formers rushing to their next lesson.

‘Do you know the way to English?’ he asked, examining the timetable.

‘Yeah.’ Actually, I didn’t know the way, but I said yes anyway. Appearances must be kept. At least, I didn’t appear completely useless. Not in front of him.

He grinned at me. ‘Thanks.’

He sounded genuinely grateful. Or was he just relieved that someone knew the way? Might there be more behind that smile? I was nervous again, suddenly self-conscious, realising I was walking with the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen, and he was grinning at me. My sweaty palms returned.

When stood up, David was easily a couple of inches taller than me. And I was already five-foot nine. Even now I still had problems not looking at him. It was like an urge, just to check if he still existed or if he looked just as good from another angle, or if I looked again, common sense would kick in and he would cease to be special, like he was just an ordinary guy. Much to my annoyance and my infinite delight, he was just as perfect, just as entrancing.

‘How are you finding this place?’ As soon as the words left my mouth, they formed into a pointless question. You idiot. He’s not even had his first lesson yet. A bit soon for an opinion, don’t you think? But at least that would get him speaking and I rather liked listening to him.

‘I like it,’ he said, in a matter-of-fact way.

‘What do you like about it?’

‘Well, I heard the drama department here is quite good,’ he explained. ‘Good teachers, good opportunities. At least that’s what they say. I can’t wait to find out.’

‘You want to be an actor?’

‘Haha, no, not really. I’m not that good. I enjoy it, that’s all.’

‘I’m sure you’re a very good actor,’ I said. I had no evidence whether he was in fact a good actor but I said it anyway. That’s unusual of me. When I was around him I started saying strange things – not good.

‘Thanks.’ When he accepted my compliment my heart skipped a beat.

There was nothing more to say. We walked on for a minute in silence. He was done with me, I thought. I’d outstayed my welcome. He was only talking to me because he was bored. Any moment now he would turn and tell me to go away. I should be prepared. Surprising me, David attempted a conversation of his own.

‘Where are you from? Were you born here?’ he asked, still smiling.

It was almost flattering that he asked if I were born in this country. Almost. ‘No, I was born in Hong Kong.’

‘When did you come over?’

Something was missing here. There was no malice or judgment in his voice. None of the usual, hey, was it hard, hiding yourself in our cargoes? Or the how much did you pay to even get here? He just seemed interested, or at least trying to make conversation. But I wasn’t going to fall for that.

‘About six years ago. I came when I was ten.’

‘With your family?’

‘Yeah.’

He thought for a moment. Now he seemed really interested. ‘How are you finding it?’

‘It’s alright.’ That was an over-simplification. We say ‘it’s alright’ when we really just want them to stop asking. Perhaps even he knew it, but I wasn’t going to say any more. What, tell him that my life sucked but it just got a lot better when he came along? Yes, he would really appreciate that.

‘Why did you come?’

I paused before telling him, ‘It’s a long story.’

It must have been something in my voice, like he’d already touched a nerve. He seemed to understand it was not a subject and left it there. For a few seconds I thought I’d turned him down, rejected him, denied him his conversation. Was I too mean? I felt a little guilty already. Talking would have been better than silence. And what if, though unlikely, he were actually being friendly?

‘It’s because of the handover,’ I explained. ‘And for the record I do have a British passport.’

He chuckled at my reply. ‘Calm down. I’m not working for the border agency, you know. And for the record, I don’t have a British passport.’

I stared at him. ‘You don’t?’

He nodded. Of course. He didn’t need a passport. He was born here, you silly. He wouldn’t need one if he didn’t travel abroad. What were you thinking? All the while he regarded me as though reading my thoughts.

‘Nah, I was kidding. I have a passport alright.’ He lifted a hand. ‘And why are we talking about passports anyway?’

I shrugged.

Then he stopped dead, as though struck by lightning, horrified. I stopped too, in alarm. Did I do something? I searched his face, but he gave nothing away. He turned to look at me, slowly. Confusion filled his gleaming eyes.

‘Are you sure this is the right way?’

I snapped back into focus and surveyed my surroundings, noting how quiet it was. There was no one else in sight. Just us. Where were we anyway? We must have turned a wrong corner. A dark corner. The lights were off. If people must have sex in college, this was where we would find them.

‘I don’t know. We may have gone the wrong way…’

‘May have gone the wrong way?’

Obviously we’d gone the wrong way. There, my reputation as a school guide was ruined. He’d never trust me again. I couldn’t begin to explain. He stared at me incredulously.

‘I thought you knew the way!’ he laughed. If there was an accusation I didn’t feel it. I felt somewhat relieved.

‘Sorry.’ I sighed and gave a nervous little laugh. We stared at each other for a second there, in silence. The initial laughter had all but faded. Maybe we’d stopped finding it funny. Maybe we both noticed there was nobody else around. It felt strangely private and special. Theoretically, we could…I suppose, close our eyes and succumb to our feelings, movie-style. Or maybe he would just slap me if I did that.

‘Should we head back now?’ he asked, grinning at me.

We headed back the way we came. We still made it to English on time. As naïve as I was, I thought I could have David all to myself this lesson.

But I was wrong.