Dan's Conundrum - 2. Chapter 2

When David went into the room, he glanced around before picking a seat in the middle row in the centre of the room, with two spare seats on either side. He didn’t even hesitate before sitting down, like it was natural for him to sit there, like he knew even before he went into the room, that this was where he belonged.

But that was not where I wanted to sit. I never liked sitting in the middle. I wanted to sit on the side like we did in form period. I had always sat there – it was where I belonged. You know, forget it. I’m not sitting in the middle. No chance. If this was where he wanted to sit then so be it. He could sit there for all I care.

Just as I was about to move away something came to mind. What would that imply, if I sat on the side? It might seem unfriendly. Like he smelled bad and I wanted to stay away at all costs. How would that make him feel? Would he still come and sit with me, or would he be ridiculed by this exaggerated show of distance? Did he actually want me to sit next to him? It was kind of possible. He left not one, but two seats empty. That should be considered too. He might be offended if I sit elsewhere. Sure, he didn’t put on a sign saying I mustn’t sit there, but I had been wrong before. He might tell me to go away as soon as I took a single step closer. And, more likely than not, he could have reserved the seat for someone else.

His girlfriend.

Well, that’s alright. She could sit on the other side. We could take a seat each.

His two girlfriends.

Okay, that made more sense. Someone like him would normally have two girlfriends. Why would he want me next to him anyway? It wasn’t like I had anything to offer. But if you ask me what I want, then of course I want to sit with him if only to get another sniff of that fragrance. Should it really matter if we were in the middle of the room…?

When he was settled on his seat he looked up for a moment. He narrowed his eyes like I was a distant object, puzzled by my indecision, or perhaps my awkwardness of standing there, rigid, not moving an inch. Confused, we stared at each other. Then came the embarrassing silence. It was like he expected something, like he expected me to sit there with him. Like no other possibility had crossed his mind. He was challenging me, daring me to sit next to him. Fine. He won. At least I let him. I pushed the thoughts of rejection from my head, sucked in a deep breath and sat beside him.

‘What took you so long?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to sit here.’ It was a valid reason, or at least, it sounded logical when it was inside my head. As soon as the words left my mouth they felt silly already. Jesus, Dan. You’re so ridiculous.

‘Seriously?’

I nodded.

He crossed his arms, unimpressed. ‘Man, why the hell not?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, feeling the foolishness in my own voice. ‘You might have saved the seat for someone else.’

He frowned. ‘Well, you can sit next to me if you like.’

It took me a moment to process his words, and what they meant.

‘Thanks.’

It was all I could say. God, was I blushing? He gave me permission to sit next to him. An invitation effective until he said otherwise. No one’s given me that kind of permission before. I looked away, trying to distract myself from the silky thrill inside my chest. There were poems on the wall, Kubla Khan and Songs of Innocence so I tried to read them. But I couldn’t concentrate. Not anymore. He let me sit next to him. I couldn’t believe he’d just…

That was when I noticed movement from the corner of my eye. Well, it was more like the rod cells at the back of my retina sending impulses to my brain when a substantial threat was detected. I turned my head, responding to the stimuli and possible danger, immediately noticing a fellow who was heading for us. He wandered into the room as though lost, drifted in our direction like his mind was elsewhere before sitting presumptuously on the other side of David. He didn’t even wait for his permission. Did it occur to him to ask? The boldness of this move amazed and even appalled me. How could he be so sure that the seat wasn’t reserved? Who the hell did he think he was?

He was Chris, the campest guy in my last school. He only started turning camp in Year 9. He wasn’t like that before. God knew what happened to him. When he came out he got picked on for a while but within weeks the commotion had all but died away. The boys must have gotten bored or realised the pointlessness of picking on Chris. Surrounded by girls most of the time, he wasn’t exactly defenceless. Naturally, those boys didn’t want to get on the girls’ bad side. For reproductive reasons of course.

Chris and I had never spoken because I never spoke to anyone. But even if I had the chance, would I have wanted to speak with him? Well, no. It was all well enough that we were both in English this year and I wouldn’t have minded that until he sat so presumptuously next to David without permission. He had dyed his hair to light blond with a fringe covering one eye – I’d long forgotten what his natural hair colour was. He had sharp cheek bones in his face and thin brows. From the side he looked skinny and frail so it would seem that even someone such as I, who never exercised or worked out with much zeal, could easily have knocked him out. He even had one of his ears pierced over the summer! It was so obvious that he was gay. And it was also obvious that I needed to protect David from him.

‘Hey, what’s your name?’ he asked David in an effeminate voice. Here we go. His advances had begun.

‘Name’s David. What’s yours?’

‘Chris. Very nice to meet you.’ They shook hands.

‘Hey, Dan,’ Chris said to me. I was surprised he even knew my name. I was annoyed with him, of course. I hated his composure and his innocent look, as though talking to us would grant him the indisputable right to sit there. Why wasn’t David telling him to go away?

‘Hey,’ I muttered.

Then Chris turned to David again. ‘You look familiar. Have I seen you before?’ Another question, giving David no space to breathe. Chris was relentless. As much as I hate to admit, he was an absolute master when it came to taking people’s seats. He brushed his fringe aside, revealing more of his face. Simple trick of courtship. That I could understand, at least: he was trying to make himself more appealing, a move I did not appreciate.

‘Yeah. I work at my uncle’s restaurant. You were that guy who couldn’t decide what to order.’

‘Oh yeah, I remember now. Sorry about that,’ he said. I didn’t know what they were talking about but he wasn’t sorry at all, really. Chris leaned back on his chair a little.

‘Nah, it’s okay.’ David smiled at him.

While the rest of the class settled down, the two of them talked. They talked. I was silent. I was annoyed. Very annoyed, so for a moment I even forgot what I was annoyed about. What was it? Then I remembered and the memory smelled like rotten eggs. Within seconds this person was miles ahead of me, knowing exactly what to say to get David talking. The two of them just seemed to click. Talking was so easy for them. I could see why: Chris wasn’t shy and he could talk to anyone he liked. David probably the same. I was nowhere near. True, I was more of a listener. But the world was not ruled by listeners, was it? It was ruled by those who speak their mind.

Miss Robinson, our English teacher, stood smiling at the front of the room. She had medium brown hair, glasses and a pair of studious-looking eyes, though within minutes we could tell she was no way as scholarly as she first seemed. She was a funny, upbeat teacher in her thirties. From the front she picked up some notes and passed each of us a piece of paper detailing what we should expect in this year’s course. We were to study Frankenstein, The Great Gatsby, Hamlet and a few short poems. I never read any of them before but still, they sounded interesting. Sort of. As long as David was next to me, anything would be interesting. Anything would be wonderful. But for the rest of the lesson we went on to making notes on The Great Gatsby and there was no chance of talking to David again. Or steal him back from Chris.

I should have known, really. It was not me who managed to hold David’s attention in the end. He walked off with Chris, and they were chatting amongst themselves when I headed off to Biology in the opposite direction without so much as a goodbye from him, or a promise that we would speak again, or that he wanted to speak with me again. Why would I be hurting over that? It was nothing. I know I shouldn’t care about it, but evidently I just wasn’t good enough for this kind of contest. Even if Chris was the campest individual I had ever met he still out-did me. He’d stolen David from right under my nose. Whatever David saw in him was beyond me.

Hey, maybe Chris had something I didn’t. Maybe he knew a secret trick. Maybe it was his job, seducing guys.

Biology seemed to pass by in mere minutes when we were taught hydrogen bonds and monosaccharides – things I already knew. I couldn’t wait to head to the library at break. I just wanted to be alone. There would be solitude and plenty of time to evaluate the current situation. Or rather, the current crisis.

When I entered through the double doors, opening into a small, quiet place that smelled full of books and computers, I knew I was home – this was how I spent my lunches and breaks in my last school. And it was exactly how I was going to spend them this year too.

You know, a lot of people believed that libraries were boring. Not really. There was a great deal you could do inside. So for example, I could go pick up Richard Dawkins’s The Selfish Gene and commit myself to reading a chapter a day, or I could go on one of the computers, open Microsoft Word and type something random. Write a rant probably, about Chris. Or play chess online. It could be a lot of fun. Being alone wasn’t so bad when you were used to it. Life could be bearable if you knew how.

While waiting for the computer to load, I stared out through the window onto the stretch of green field outside. Would David be out there somewhere? I searched with my eyes and found him standing under a tree behind the tennis courts, hands in pockets. He was talking to someone. He was chilling with a friend. Jenna, maybe? That seemed to be her. She’s a drama queen and no doubt they would have met in Drama class. I didn’t much care. From here, this window, I could stare at him for minutes without getting caught. He looked just as wonderful as he was close-up. I wanted to take a photo of him with my phone but he was too far away. Though on second thought I could equally just relish the scene with my own eyes. There was a natural beauty to it. I took a mental picture of the scene which I could store safely inside my head. I spent a minute admiring his clean shape against the greenery, and the light shadow he cast on grass. He was my angel on Earth. Someone ought to make a portrait of him of that moment, and I’d buy it.

Within seconds my concentration was broken when I saw the figure of Chris approaching my dream guy with purposeful steps, charging down the last hundred yards or so. Why was he here? Somehow he’d found his way into my picture. Now the whole scene, the whole image, was ruined. I shook my head, turning away from the window in a gesture of contempt. For the lack of better things to do, I made myself stare at the computer screen instead.

Bitch.

* * * * *

My heart ached every time when I thought of him, his smile, his adorable eyes and his gentle voice that pulled the strings of my heart. He smelled like heaven on Earth. He was intoxicating. It was only when he was absent that you feel it in the gut and life felt ever so meaningless until you saw him again. When he was around everything would be alright and you needed nothing else.

Hypothesis: he was a drug.

A walking drug. The kind that walked down the street and everyone would take a second look. The kind that triggered immediate biological responses, like eye muscles relaxing; the pupils dilating; blood-flow increasing to lips, cheeks and other relevant body parts, releasing of chemicals that made you want to…well, reproduce with them (in Darwinian terms). But the fact was, I really missed him – and it wasn’t because I was thinking, Hey, you there. You look fertile. I want to have you in my sight all the time to ensure you are mine… Or maybe subconsciously I was. I don’t care. But surely my interest in him was not a sexual one and therefore could not be explained biologically? Look, I just wanted to see him for no other reason than that he looked and smelled good. I don’t know how to explain. I never felt that way before. Or at least, not to the extent of wanting to see someone again, again, and again for the sake of wanting to look at something pretty. Every minute he was there begging for my attention, begging to be cuddled. Above all, he made me feel good. I even smiled to myself when I thought of the way he glanced at me, the meaningful looks he gave, as though I really mattered. Like I was important. Like I was worth something to him.

Come on, Dan. That’s just stupid. It’s all your imagination. He doesn’t feel the same way about you.

That was when reality struck me. He wasn’t nice to you. He was nice to everybody. That was true. He’d rather spend time with Chris any day, than someone like you. Also true.

When the final bell went, I dashed straight for the back entrance thinking I would not see David for the rest of the day. Where he once stood behind the tennis courts was now occupied by several moronic members of our year, piling on each other like wild men. They were defiling the place and there was nothing I could do. I walked to the car park where, behind fences, wild blackberries were growing and could be picked with ease. Not something I would do though. They were probably polluted, taking in a healthy amount of exhaust gases each day for God knew how many years. The college was hardly going to be responsible in the case of food poisoning. Hey, perhaps one day if I got kicked out I could come here and forage for food.

As I walked past the gate I heard my name being called. No one had any reason to call me. They wouldn’t be good reasons, anyway. I carried on walking, pretending not to hear anything. If I turned around now I would see the finger gesture. I would be hurled insults. From experience it was best not to respond to them. Still he called my name. Quite a stubborn one, wasn’t he? He should have gotten my message now that I was not to be disturbed. I kept on walking. He wouldn’t rest. Then I heard rapid footsteps approaching from behind. He was giving chase. At this rate I would no doubt be out-run. In alarm I turned, raising an arm, ready to defend myself.

It was David.

What the hell was he doing here? He was jogging towards me with a grin on his face. The sun was in his eyes and he was squinting hard, but that was cute too. His gaze seemed to burn right through me. I felt my nervousness return. He was running after me. And he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. His smile was contagious and I felt something in me struggling free, making me smile back at him.

‘Hey,’ I said. God, his hair was beautiful, shining like gold in the sunlight.

‘Did you actually hear me?’ He frowned.

I stared at him, mouth open and struggling for words. ‘Umm…sorry, I was just thinking…’

‘About what?’

I blinked, once. ‘Nothing.’

‘Oh?’ That he could believe at least. I was thinking about nothing. He left it there. But he wasn’t quite done with me. ‘Where were you? I haven’t seen you anywhere since English.’

‘I was in the library. Doing work.’

‘Why don’t you come out?’ He seemed to mean all of it. He wanted me out there, with him. An invitation of company outside of classrooms.

‘I’ll…I’ll think about it.’ I meant yes. Yes, yes, and Yes! I didn’t want him to know I was that eager to be out there with him. He would no doubt freak out and never speak to me again.

‘Okay.’ He looked at me sadly, like a puzzle he couldn’t understand. He sucked in a breath, shrugging as though he put forth an idea that was rejected on the spot.

Silence. My response backfired. I didn’t know what to say. There was no way to continue that conversation. Anyway, it didn’t matter. There were more important subjects at hand. Important questions that needed answers. Mysteries that needed to be solved.

I asked before I could stop myself, ‘How would you describe your hair colour?’

At first he didn’t seem to understand, like it was a random question not supposed to be answered. But it wasn’t random, for me at least. I really wanted to know and I had been wanting to ask since this morning. When he figured that I was being serious he threw me a look that seemed to say, What the hell? Of all things in the world, you’re thinking about my hair?

‘Light brown? Dark blond?’ He shook his head. He didn’t know for sure. Apparently it was a godly colour even he himself couldn’t name.

We started walking together in the same direction. How did that happen? We didn’t say anything. Maybe when he shifted his balance from one foot to the other and then leaned slightly one way that I picked up the hint he wanted to get moving. It was subtle, his body language, but I still felt manipulated.

‘Where do you live?’ I asked.

He told me. Aha! Now I knew where he lived. I could walk him to his house. David’s house. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he lived in a celestial palace.

We walked on for a while, not quite knowing what to say to each other. We just seemed contented to be in the other’s company. There was the occasional smile and look he gave me and I smiled back. There was something between us, I thought, and I felt my nervousness return as silence between us extended to minutes. It was suffocating.

‘You still haven't told me why you came here,’ he began.

‘You really want to know?’

He gave me one of those you’re still avoiding the question stares. Why did he do that? He was irresistible today.

‘It wasn’t a choice. Parents thought the schools here would be better for me.’

‘Schools? Here? Good?’ He gave a cute little laugh.

‘At least in the sense they try to realise your potential and not throw you out if you fail. It’s about learning and having fun along the way.’

‘Really?’

‘Why, you think I’d lie? I have no reason to lie.’

‘No, but…’ He thought for a moment. ‘It’s just interesting.’

Really, he meant I was boring. He was too kind, too polite to say it out loud. It was best if the subject was moved away from me immediately.

‘So…how was your first day?’ I felt like asking.

‘It was good, thanks,’ he replied, smiling. ‘I met a few nice people today.’

‘That’s nice.’ Am I one of them? Is Chris one of them?

Silence again. It made me uncomfortable.

‘What do you do, then, outside of school?’ I turned to him.

‘Er…hanging out, football, Xbox and work. You know, the usual.’

I stared at him. ‘You work?’

‘Yup. I work at my uncle’s restaurant.’

‘Oh yeah. I heard you and Chris talking about it in English.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, throwing me a sideway glance. ‘One evening he and his family came and I was taking orders, you know? He couldn’t make up his mind. I kept going back to check like five times. It was like he wanted the attention.’

‘Your attention, you mean.’ I corrected.

‘Why?’

‘Maybe he thinks you look good.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m just normal.’

Just normal? He was amazing! What kind of town did he come from anyway?

‘Well, at least you have a nice hairstyle,’ I remarked. He stopped instantly and regarded me. Shit, I thought. I crossed the line. His hair was just like most boys, short and trimmed above the ears, and I seriously liked it. It looked so natural. But I had just admitted to liking a boy’s hairstyle…

‘Seriously?’

‘Umm…I mean, it’s okay. It’s doable.’

‘Doable?’

‘You know, forget I said anything.’

He frowned. ‘Man, I find your hairstyle much more interesting.’

Maybe it was. I blushed. It was my wake-up hairdo, and random every day. But was there a hint somewhere? Or criticism?

‘I know. I really should start taking care of my hair.’

‘You should.’ He winked at me.

Did he just tell me to take care of my appearance? Did he just –? No, never mind. But did he just criticise my looks? Why would he want me to look good anyway? True, it was for my own benefit. Calm down. He was only being friendly. Besides, he looked away now. It didn’t seem like a personal attack.

‘I’m here,’ David said. He stopped in front of a semi made of red bricks with a black, sloped roof. It had a small front garden but no car. Well, not a celestial palace then. It was okay.

‘Nice house,’ I said, forcing myself to memorise the address.

After a pause he asked, ‘Wanna come inside?’

My eyes widened in surprise. ‘Anyone else in?’

‘Well, my mum’s not coming back for another hour or so. We can go on the Xbox or something.’

I thought for a moment. It’s not a bad idea. Never tried Xbox before. We could have some fun. But if I had gone in, I might get…

Somehow, I heard myself say, ‘Nah, it’s okay.’

He raised an eyebrow as though I had done something wrong again. But he shrugged. ‘Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

I watched him disappear behind that door. It was seconds before I realised the magnitude of my crime. Yes, Grandma once told me I should never go inside a stranger’s house alone – because I might get raped, or worse, made into soup. Then the police would never find me. This was what I had been taught all my life. By instinct I’d refused his offer. Surely he wasn’t planning to rape me? No. Really? No. He couldn’t. So why didn’t I just accept? I could already feel the bitterness rising in my throat and the agony that was soon to follow. Would it be too late to knock on his door now? What should I say? This was ridiculous. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed so. Eventually, because I was a coward, I was on my way home again. Hands in pockets, annoyed and frustrated, I hurried from the place. This whole thing sucked.

If only I’d said yes to somebody, for once…