Geekhood (6 page)

IM:
No! Be strong! Resist!

I give in and take charge of my IM.

“No … no, it’s fine… She’s not my girlfriend, Mum… But…”

“But you like her?” There’s that look of hope again, the one that prays that her son might be freed from the Shackles of Geekdom.

Despite all its attempts to retrieve my dignity, the old EM just isn’t built for this sort of pounding. It gives up and floods my face with blood, which promptly lights up like a solar flare.

“Yeah … I suppose so… Yeah.”

“And what’s her name?”

“Sarah.”

“She goes to your school?”

“I think so.” I’m going redder by the moment.

Mum leans forward in a conspiratorial sort of way, excitement dancing in her eyes.

“Ask her out, Archie. Ask Sarah out on a date.”

IM:
That’s it, she’s finally lost her mind.

“Yeah … great idea, Mum… But it’s not that simple…”

“It
is
that simple, Archie; nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

I would love to believe her, love to be able to embrace that simplistic attitude, but she just doesn’t understand! The mere thought of asking Sarah “out” fills me with dread and self-loathing. Equally, I can’t seem to face the ludicrous levels of excitement that telling Mum Sarah’s already coming over would bring. And I don’t want to jinx it; I’ll tell her when it’s all settled in my head.

“Tony says he wants me to get her round for dinner one night.” Try as I might, I can’t keep the bleating terror out of my voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with him, tell him to back off. I know how awkward it can be to let someone know you like them, but he’s just excited for you. So am I.”

Mum’s earnest little face almost makes me want
to cry. Not tears of joy, but tears prompted by the fact that she’s going to end up disappointed by her
socially-challenged
son.

“Ask her out, Archie. It’d do you good to have a girlfriend. Lunch’ll be ready soon.” And then she’s out of the door and gone with a discernible spring in her step.

By the time I make it down to lunch, Tony has obviously been put on a leash and the subject of Sarah is dropped. However, it’s clearly been dropped from a great height, because the ripples it’s made make any other topic of conversation seem forced and stilted. I restrict my answers to nods and grunts, trying to become one with my roast pork.

After lunch, I thunder back up to my Lair and get some more unpacking done, leaf through old rule books, do a bit of painting – anything except think about what I want to think about, but I know I shouldn’t think about. I can’t help it; I end up thinking about it. I wonder where she lives.

IM:
Stop it…

The parade of local shops is about a five-minute walk away from the new house. Given that I saw Sarah up at the local shops, it must mean her local shops are now my local shops.

IM:
You’ll be telling us that two plus two equals four in a minute!

And given that she was on foot, it means her house can’t be too far away, either.

IM:
How
did
you manage it, Holmes?

I wonder what her house looks like.

IM:
Stop it…

But, try as I might, I just can’t picture the sort of house a girl that beautiful would live in; this piece of the mental jigsaw puzzle has yet to be found. It’s like I want to imagine it right and nothing less will do.

IM:
*Sick noises*

And I wonder what she likes? Should I take a leaf out of Tony’s book and start thinking about flowers? I’ve never bought flowers before; I wonder which ones are her favourites?

IM:
Why don’t you start planning the wedding while you’re at it? It’s not even a proper date, you freak!

My IM’s right. I need to put these thoughts to bed. I keep going with the unpacking, but after a few hours, a hurried sandwich, a few false starts and a bubbly “good night” from Mum, I eventually throw in the towel, crash on to the bed, and take a profound interest in the ceiling. I wonder what Sarah’s doing right now?

IM:
Not expending the same amount of energy thinking about you, that’s for sure…

Sleep ought to be a blessed release from the trials and tribulations of my non-existent love life, but the
Dream is waiting for me.

I wake up with a jolt, just as I’m about to discover the identity of the menacing thing at the bottom of my bed – and realize that it’s standing over me.

Wearing slippers.

“What are you doing down there? And you’re still wearing the same clothes from yesterday! Come on, you’ve got a big day at school today.”

It’s Mum. I groan and roll on to my back, suddenly aware of a string of dribble that’s connecting me to the floor.

“Must’ve fallen out of bed,” I mumble, climbing to my feet. “What’s happening at school?”

That excited grin again. Here it comes.

“You’re going to ask that girl out.”

IM:
No pressure, then.

FIVE

I realize this will cement my position as a Geek, but I like school. I like routine, I like learning – I even like homework. I keep hearing adults say that your school years are the best years of your life and, while there are worse things to be than a bookworming virgin, I hope it’s not true. But today’s got a little extra shine on it – today I might see Sarah. My stomach seems to be home to a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

Me and Ravi snigger through the peaks and valleys of the female reproductive system in Biology, and Matt lends his caustic wit to a debate on the themes in
Of Mice and Men
in English. It’s a regular enough day, but there’s no sign of Sarah.

IM:
I tell ya, I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick…

Lunchtime waves its magic wand and we’re all allowed to talk to each other about the things that matter most to us. For me, Matt, Ravi and Beggsy, it’s planning the Game on Friday night. I still haven’t got round to mentioning that Sarah’s going to be there, and each time I think I’m going to say something, there’s a flurry of panic in my stomach and my brain steers the
conversation away to something else. Usually Kirsty Ford – they bite at that one like fish to bait.  

“Yeah, but what do you think they
look
like?” Beggsy’s saying. “I mean, when they’re
unbound
?”

There’s a brief silence round our table. The rest of the dinner hall keeps chatting and eating, unaware of the Nest of Perversion that lurks scant feet from their packed lunches and fish fingers and chips.  

“‘Unbound’?” Matt mocks. “These aren’t oven-ready chickens we’re talking about…”  

“But they could do with stuffing, just the same,” Ravi pipes up and we all groan.  

“A little more decorum, please, gentlemen,” I interject. “If we’re going to plumb these depths…” resounding sniggers from the assembly “…then let’s at least show a degree of respect. Mr Beggs, you have the floor.”  

“I’m just asking if you think they’re uppies or downies – that’s all.”  

Another stunned silence. Beggsy tries to recover ground.  

“Do they defy gravity or are we talking about a pair of spaniel’s ears? It’s an important question!”  

More laughter from the assembly and cries of “Order! Order!” from me, seeing as I seem to have been unofficially recognized as chairman. And just as suddenly as it starts,
the laughter dies off and, too late, my Grunt Detector
^TM
goes online. It takes me a split second to read the change in my compatriots’ body language: rounded shoulders, eyes down and bland, unreadable expressions all round: the Nerd version of Duck and Cover – Cower and Quake. There’s someone behind me.  

IM:
Uh-oh…  

My EM follows suit, doing its chameleon-best to blend in with the environment, but a hand on my shoulder calls my bluff; I have no option but to turn round. Which I do, very slowly. A muscled forehead ripples at me.  

“You’re that kid outside the corner shop yesterday.”  

Up close, Jason Humphries looks even more terrifying; his skin resembles the surface of the moon and he has visible laughter-lines forming.

IM:
Probably from the twenty-four-hour delight he experiences at being tougher than God.  

For a moment I’m not even sure that he is my age – surely no fourteen-year-old can look so grizzled. And he seems to have more than his fair share of teeth, all of them little, but glittering like knives. The smell of cigarette smoke is thick on his breath as he fixes me with his dead eyes.  

“You’re that kid.”  

IM:
Deny! Deny! Deny! Even in the face of
photographic evidence! You weren’t there! It was your twin! Anything but the truth!
 

“Um … yeah.”  

IM:
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…  

I feel Jason’s meaty hand tighten briefly on my shoulder, suddenly aware that he’s wearing a ring as it presses through my sweater. He blinks like cows do when there are flies bothering them.  

“Who was that girl, then?”  

IM:
Sister. Go for sister.  

“Um … just a friend…”  

The smell of cigarette smoke gets more intense as Jason’s anvil head gets closer to mine.  

“Well, you tell her that I want to meet her, got me?”  

I nod feverishly and I think the word “sure” drops out of my mouth like a rabbit turd.  

“Good.” There’s another squeeze on my shoulder and then he swings away like a shark that’s just detected one part blood in a million parts water. Slowly my friends unfold, like crumpled origami animals.  

“What girl?” Matt’s first out of the starting gate.  

IM:
Oh, great. Here we go again.  

“That girl from the Hovel. I bumped into her again. Yesterday.”  

“Dude!” Beggsy can do wonders with that word.
This time it conveys *Is impressed*.  

“And what about Humphries?” Of all of us, Ravi is the most shaken – and he doesn’t care who knows it. That powerless, fearful feeling is written all over his face.  

IM:
And he’s not even anything to do with it!  

“He was there. With Paul Green and Lewis Mills.”  

“Dude!” This one conveys *Is worried*.  

“And he
likes
her.”  

“Yes, Matt. He does.” I’m getting a little irritated by my friends pointing out the potentially fatal aspects of my situation.  

IM:
Coming through! Dead man walking! Coming through!  

My IM’s cheery sentiment is echoed in the faces of my friends and the cloud of silence that seems to have descended over our table.  

“That girl’s going to get you into trouble, dude.”  

I try and gain control of my breathing.  

IM:
Search your feelings, Archie; you know it to be true…

And no matter how much I don’t want it to be true, it is; Jason Humphries, the Human Avalanche
^TM
, likes the girl that I like. Somehow, I don’t think pistols at dawn are quite his style.  

It takes the journey from lunch to my next lesson for my pulse to return to something like normal. Having said I like school, my heart sinks as Mr Cook reveals the latest dose of geography homework. Tonight – and probably for the next two nights – I’ll be researching precipitation in the North-East of England. In my life, when it rains, it pours…  

The bell sees us spilling like a torrent of ants into the corridor and my inherent Grunt Detector
^TM
scans the terrain for any tracks: knuckle trails, recent kills or even fresh droppings (usually cigarette butts or crumpled worksheets). Clear so far, but Grunts, like lions, tend to watch from afar, hidden in the long grass. Or the toilets, whichever is more convenient.  

Up ahead, Ravi comes out of Maths, turns to see me and waits up. He calls over to Beggsy and Matt, who are heading for the drinking fountain. But all I can see is the person who follows Ravi out of his class.  

“Hello, you.”  

My arm is linked and, once more, I’m gazing into Sarah’s ice-blue eyes.

IM:
She’s in your year! Re-sult!  

Addressing a fourteen-year-old boy as “You” is a
sure-fire
way to grab his attention. However, precede it with an “Oi!” and drop it from the mouth of a fourteen-year-old sociopath and the promises aren’t nearly so inviting.
My Grunt Detector
^TM
does a quick sweep of the locale – so far, so good.  

IM:
Here’s a tricky one: your three best mates up ahead and Starshine on your arm; how’re you going to juggle this one?  

But my Interior Monologue is falling on deaf inner ears at the moment. I’m currently reeling from the difference in the way Sarah looks. No wonder I didn’t recognize her: a) of
course
she’s new. There’s no way that even I wouldn’t have noticed her before, and b) being a Goth must be her weekend thing. Goth make-up has that slightly forbidden feel to it; will what’s underneath reveal a shining beauty, or will it unmask a Gorgon that would put Medusa up among the World’s One Hundred Sexiest Women? Thankfully, it’s the former; her skin is pale and flawless and her mouth curls up slightly more at one side so that when she smiles, it’s like she knows something you don’t. Which, in my case, is probably true.  

Bolstered by the beauty on my arm, I raise the other and call manfully after my comrades.  

IM:
You’re a Geek! You’re not supposed to be doing this!  

But recklessly, for the first time in my life, I cast the mantle aside and stride to my open-mouthed chums with more than a hint of swagger.  

“Guys,” I begin in a commanding tone, asserting
myself as the Alpha Male of the group. “This is Sarah. Sarah – Beggsy, Ravi and Matt.” My mates shuffle and mutter a few “Heys” and “Hiyas” – no doubt in awe of her glowing beauty and possibly unsettled by the cloud of testosterone that has transformed me into a charming, yet not-to-be-trifled-with Man of the World. I briefly consider growing a moustache.  

Sarah deals with the silent adulation like an absolute professional; she greets my friends in turn, making eye contact with each of them, which, for a Geek, is the equivalent of being eye to eye with Superman when he’s got his heat-vision on.  

“I’m really looking forward to Friday,” she beams. “Let me know if you want me to bring anything.” Suddenly, she spots someone upstream. “Got to go; Caitlyn’s got some notes I need. Nice to meet you – see you Friday!”  

And then she’s gone, taking my heart with her and leaving a puff of silence in her wake. Matt breaks it. “‘See you Friday’?” There’s a touch of horror in his mockery and I can feel my inner Robert Pattinson being exposed to the harsh light of Reality. But there’s no time to react; a lump of wall detaches itself from the rest and reveals itself to be Jason Humphries. My Grunt Detector
^TM
needs an upgrade. He makes straight for me, ignoring my cowering cohorts, and pushes me gently with a yellowing finger.  

“Friday. What’s happening Friday, then?”

My inner Robert Pattinson is replaced by my inner Shaggy Rogers.  

IM:
Zoinks!
 

“It’s nothing really… Just me and my mates…” I wish I could keep the fear out of my voice.  

“Just you and your mates what? You having a party?”  

IM:
Please – just make it painless…  

“No… We’re… It’s just a… We’re playing a game. It’s a game.”  

Humphries has a Worf moment, then all the sinews in his head constrict to form something like a smile.  

“A game?” He flicks his head after Sarah and then back to me. “You wouldn’t know what to do with her!” The finger in my chest becomes the focus for a lot of untapped power and I find myself pushed to the floor, covered in precipitation from the North-East of England. “See you Friday, Geek-boy.” Then he too is gone. Beggsy and Ravi help me up and gather my notes. Matt is not quite so forgiving.  

“What did she mean, ‘See you Friday’?”  

I hadn’t realized that my friends were quite so insular. Trying to explain to them that a girl wants to come and game with us is a bit like trying to explain Facebook to medieval peasants. “Temper thy thoughts, good sir! Doth Satan himself conjure up such fantasies? Go! Speak of this no more!” Perhaps I’m starting to grow up.
Perhaps this is where I truly begin the transition from youth to manhood – and maybe my friends haven’t quite got there yet. I might need to buy some aftershave.  

“Guys, guys – I don’t see what the problem is, she’s just a girl! And how often have we talked about getting girls in on the Game?”  

“The point is you should’ve asked us first.” Matt’s moral streak is suddenly asserting itself.  

“Why? What’s the difference? Surely it’s going to make the Game better if we have some new blood.”  

“Dude, you know the score; it’s the Game. We’re mates.” And now Beggsy’s joined the lynch mob. I can feel the foundations of my argument becoming unsteady. Ravi remains quiet and watchful.  

IM:
You’re in the wrong. Put your hands up and admit it.  

Instead, I resort to distraction tactics. Less generous people might call it lying.