An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy) Page 3

  ‘What about you?’ Olly asked me.

  I shrugged, I didn’t know. I wasn’t so sure I cared either way, but I had convinced myself that I needed to hook up with someone.

  ‘Laura little-- Laura, I guess.’ I liked the way she smelled, but most of all I was sure she liked me. She was my best bet.

  ‘Kermit?’ Olly turned to Max.

  ‘Erm,’ Max pretended to ponder this. ‘I’ll try for Kerry,’ he said, as if he was being forced to. ‘If I have to pick one, might as well.’

  ‘Which leaves the rest for me,’ Olly said, buffing out his chest and patting it like a proud gorilla.

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘Hell, if Lenny can do it, why not me? It’ll be easy.’

  Olly soon found out that he lacked Lenny’s charm, and was made to eat his words when the girls rejected him one after another. He might have had more success had he not insisted on saving time by waiting until they were grouped together before asking them.

  ‘We know what you call us.’

  ‘Yeah, we heard you talking about us.’

  ‘You’re a prick.’

  ‘You’re a dickhead Oliver Harris.’

  ‘And how many times do I have to tell you, it was water!’

  Olly decided to take another leaf out of Lenny’s book. He went up in the grades and tried to hook up with a girl from year five. Whilst he was trying his best not to insult his potential suitors, Peter almost instantly won over the new girl.

  Lisa Franks had only been at the school for three weeks after her parents moved to the local area from the city. She needed friends and hadn’t succeeded in making any, so when the opportunity arose to slide into a clique, she jumped at the chance. Peter was surprised to say the least, when he first asked her he had been so nervous that he covered her in spittle and then nearly choked on his own saliva, but she was desperate and he was the first to ask.

  Max had less luck with Kerry, which wasn’t a surprise. He tried to talk to her and she ignored him, completely blanking him as he broke into a full-scale monologue that lasted an entire break-time.

  He didn’t give up. The next day he tried the same tactic, she walked away from him. He tried again the next day and the next, and after a week of trying she finally spoke to him, but only to warn him that if he pestered her again she would bite his nose off.

  During the second week, on the day that Olly was shunned by an entire year of ten year old girls for calling them “frumpy Barbie-Fuckers”, Max followed his parent’s advice and bought Kerry a box of chocolates. Maltesers. Kerry ate the sweets with gusto and told Max to get lost whilst showering him in chocolate spittle.

  Peter, having been dating for three weeks and considering himself a Casanova, offered Max some advice on the third week. Unfortunately for Max, he took it. Kerry slapped him, hard. He stayed away from her for the rest of the week, deciding to play it safe and to study his prey from a distance.

  It was about that time when I made my first move on Laura. We were in the same class so I often spoke to her, but I rarely said more than a few words. Since the challenge to make her my girlfriend I decided to pay more attention to her, which turned me into a gibbering idiot around her.

  It took me a week just to say something coherent, and even then it had been something completely irrelevant. I pulled it back in the second week and things were back to normal between us, she would say hello, I would reply in kind. Not exactly a sign of undying love, but much better than telling her I hated the taste of cheddar cheese when she asked to borrow a pencil.

  I didn’t know how to ask girls’ out, and Peter was no help. ‘It just sort of happened,’ he told me. ‘I guess I’m lucky that way, girls like me -- Lisa loves me. She practically threw herself at me.’ Max tried to help, but the giant red handprint on his face suggested he wasn’t best positioned to offer advice on how to talk to girls.

  ‘Those guys are idiots,’ Olly told me. He had pulled me to one side, leaving Max and Peter alone to argue over who was better at talking to girls. ‘Don’t listen to either of ‘em. They’re a pair of fucking muppets.’

  ‘So what do I do?’ I wondered. ‘How do I talk to her?’

  Olly casually shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But you said--why did you drag me over here then?’

  ‘Advice.’

  ‘What advice? You didn’t bloody tell me anything.’

  ‘Believe me mate, not listening to tweedle-dee an’ tweedle-dickhead over there is better advice than anyone on this playground is gonna give you.’ Olly paused, pondered and then said: ‘Except Lenny that is, that kid’s a stud. What’d he ‘ave to say?’

  ‘He told me not to worry, said it was easy and she’d fall into my lap.’

  ‘Sounds a lot like what Peter said, huh?’

  I nodded, looking visibly subdued.

  ‘Who knew Lenny was retarded?’ Olly looked thoughtful for a moment and then he planted a firm hand on my shoulder. ‘Suck it up mate, what’s the worst that could happen?’

  I thought about Kerry Newsome using me like a punching bag in the cloakroom. I didn’t think Laura had that mean streak but she looked like she could do more damage than Kerry if she did.

  I gulped and tried to look composed, ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Of course I am, now get to it, Laura’s over there,’ Olly pointed across the playground to a small group of girls by the basketball nets. Laura was there, leaning on the pole, playing with the hair of a friend whilst another girl tied braids in hers.

  ‘In class, when she’s alone,’ I said, more girls meant more possibilities for getting the shit kicked out of me again.

  That afternoon was art-time. The class were given paints, brushes and large canvas’s, split into groups of two, and told to create. It was an ideal opportunity for the pupils to mess around, and it was the perfect time for me to make my move on Laura.

  As usual I had been paired with Max. He was gathering paintbrushes and supplies like a hoarder at a boot-sale.

  He was always excited at art-time; his parents were strict and rarely let him make a mess, so in times like these he really let loose. Our corner of the classroom would look like the Somme before the afternoon was out.

  ‘I’m going to paint pirate ships, and sunsets, and islands full of treasure and--’

  ‘Great,’ I said, cutting into his ramblings.

  His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. He held brushes in both hands; his arms -- bent at the elbows, pointing towards a piece of A3 paper stretched over our desk -- were waving up and down.

  ‘And--and--and--and,’ he stuttered quickly.

  ‘You’re not going to pass out are you?’

  ‘--and Lions and tigers and trees--’

  I peered across the room at Laura. She was standing over her canvas, surveying the white paper. A brush was gently grasped in her right hand and pressed to her neck; a stray forefinger stroked the hairless flesh around her jaw. She chewed gently on her bottom lip, nibbling a dried flake of skin which clung to the fleshy fibres.

  ‘--and birds and fish and horses--’

  Laura had teamed up with her friend Jenny. Jenny was popular with the boys, or at least with the boys who thought enough about girls to make her popular. She was one of the first to go out with Lenny and still spent a lot of time following him around. He seemed to like her, but these days there wasn’t a girl that Lenny didn’t like.

  ‘--and Spiderman and Batman--’

  I quickly thought about what I was going to say and realised I didn’t have the slightest idea what to say or where to start. Remembering Mark’s words: What’s the worst that could happen? I forced images of being beaten up by Kerry Newsome out of my head and sauntered over to Laura and Jenny’s table.

  ‘--And Spaceships!’

  ‘So…’ I stopped a few feet short of their table and dug both of my hands into my pockets. Standing on my tiptoes I tilted over to glance at their blank paper, making sure I had their attention. ‘Wh
at you girls got planned?’

  Laura was smiling and I reciprocated. I liked her smile, it made me smile. It was broad, wide and unashamedly happy. It was like a clown’s smile, only I didn’t wet myself when I saw it.

  Jenny on the other hand, wasn’t smiling. She was staring at me with her eyebrows arched upwards, one hand on her hip. ‘Not sure, what about you?’ she looked over my shoulder and nodded towards Max.

  I turned around. Max was frantically waving his hands and springing up and down on his heels. A high pitched screeching sound steamed out of his grinning lips. He sounded like a boiling kettle.

  ‘Oh my god,’ I muttered softly.

  ‘He looks happy,’ Laura noted, adding “and dangerous” in her mind.

  I turned back to the girls and looked sheepish. ‘He gets excited,’ I said, ‘bless him.’

  They exchanged a smile.

  I slumped my head downwards, staring at my feet as I nervously tapped them into each other. ‘So, I was thinking,’ I began, deciding to wing it. ‘Would you mind being -- do you want to be--’ I coughed, I couldn’t say the words. I looked up briefly, but shot back down again when I saw they were staring expectantly at me.

  ‘Do you want to be my girlfriend?’ I forced the words out, then I waited.

  The brief silence that followed seemed like an eternity. I had taken a step back in case she decided to swing for me. I was envisaging her standing on top of the table and yelling, “Everyone, you’ll never guess what ugly little Kieran McCall just asked me” when I received a reply.

  ‘I’d love to.’

  That had been roughly what I wanted to hear, but not quite, because it had been spoken by Jenny.

  I looked up to see her wide eyed stare waiting for me. Her hand had gone from her hip; the “what do you want” look had disappeared from her face. She looked happy.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I never knew you liked me,’ Jenny declared.

  I tried to smile but it didn’t look convincing. I didn’t really want a girlfriend so I wouldn’t have minded about looks, or even personality to an extent, but Jenny scared me. There was an intimidating bossiness in her eyes that I didn’t like.

  I wanted to say, “I don’t like you. You’re mean and you scare me.” I wanted to tell her I was talking to Laura and would have never thought of asking her out. I wanted to say many things, but what finally came out of my mouth was, ‘Of course I do.’

  She shook her arms excitedly and made an “oooo” noise, for a moment she reminded me of Max and I thought things might be okay. I didn’t much like Max either but I still considered him a friend, maybe Jenny could be the same. Those thoughts didn’t stay with me for long.

  After a drink on New Year’s my father had told me that women were great until you married them. He said that a cloud of darkness falls over them the minute you say I do, and they’re never the same again. I thought it was just the drink talking, but then I saw that darkness cover Jenny.

  The smile faded from her face. The excitement and delight disappeared. She glared at me with all the enthusiasm of a scientist at a Creationists Conference and said: ‘we’ll meet up at break-time. Be quick, don’t mess about, I can’t stand people who mess about. Got it?’

  I stood still and silent, not sure how to react. I was wondering if the brief smile on her face had been imagined whilst trying to recall if I had said I do at any point.

  ‘Don’t stand there looking like an idiot,’ she blared. ‘Go back to your own table.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Sorry.’ I turned and began to trudge back, wondering what had just happened.

  ‘And I want a present,’ Jenny called after me.

  I turned back, incredulous. ‘What? What present?’

  ‘Something nice.’

  ‘But I didn’t get you anything, I don’t have anything to give you.’

  ‘Well, you should have thought of that earlier.’

  ‘But--but--but.’

  ‘Just get one Kieran,’ Jenny said, turning her back to me.

  Defeated and deflated I slumped down next to Max who was hacking away at the paper. ‘I’ve got a girlfriend,’ I said, my voice trickled out my mouth like it didn’t want to leave.

  Max didn’t take his eyes off his painting. ‘Laura?’

  ‘Jenny.’

  ‘I didn’t know you liked her.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  When the teacher called an end to the lesson I practically sprinted out of the classroom, leaving Max to clean up the mess he had made in his merriment. The canvas looking like Salvador Dali had had a stroke. My only involvement had been to poke random dots on the paper whenever the teacher was looking.

  I was too miserable to paint, too worried to enjoy myself. I had thought things through though, and I had a plan.

  The way I saw it I had two options. Option 1: I tell Jenny that I made a mistake and face the consequences, which would probably be painful and could possibly be humiliating, but was the right thing to do. Option 2: I pretend I was as interested in Jenny as she thought I was and be prepared to have her as my girlfriend until the day came when she finished me.

  I decided to plump for option 2. I understood that the day may never come when she was tired of me, but I was sure I’d do something to upset her or change her mind between now and eternity, and if not then I was prepared to get married and write off this life as a lost cause. I’d cross my fingers and pray for reincarnation on my deathbed.

  My eyes drifted over Jenny’s coat-peg in the cloakroom. A short white duffel coat with fur trim hung over a Barbie branded backpack.

  I hesitated, stopping short at the sight of her belongings. I shot a glance over my shoulder. I could hear the rumbling excitement of a class of schoolchildren preparing for a fifteen minute break, but none of them were in sight. Unlike me they had all participated in the painting; there were brushes to clean, pictures to show off, hands to wash.

  Feeling indecisive but knowing I had to act quickly; I dug through my own backpack and pulled out a notepad. There was a split second where what I was about to do seemed logical and felt like a good get-out clause, for each millisecond after that it grew exponentially ludicrous. I only paid attention to those first thoughts, ignoring the niggling doubts that grew inside my mind like a rapid cancer.

  My pencil case was full of biros, felt tips, crayons and pencils. In class I spent more time doodling fanciful drawings than I did writing, so I liked to be prepared.

  I pulled one out at random, scribbled on the top corner of a sheet of paper and stuffed it back when it came out dry. I did the same with another two pens before I found one that worked, it was red, but it would do.

  I ripped the top sheet off the pad and folded it in half.

  Through the door, around the corner from where I sat, I could hear the sound of doors being closed and cupboards being shut. Wood on wood, metal on metal. The noise of taps gushing water onto paint covered hands.

  The class was finishing up, they would be out soon.

  I panicked. I quickly scribbled a short message in large, bold letters on the top sheet of paper, tore it off the pad and stuffed it into the front compartment of Jenny’s bag.

  The classroom door opened, the noises increased.

  I quickly jotted down another note. Messier, shorter, bolder. Cramming scrappy shorthand onto a small pre-folded piece of paper. I stuffed that into Laura’s bag and then quickly tried to seal it back up again. A strip of flesh from my thumb caught in the zip, I moaned in surprise and pulled back, feeling a tear as my skin ripped away from the metallic zip.

  The thumb instantly turned red, a white perforated line appeared across its tip and was quickly filled as the blood seeped through. I hissed through gritted teeth and squeezed my hand, trying to ease the pain. The blood trickled through my clenched fist and dropped into Laura’s bag, a couple of drops dripped out of sight, one hit the folded paper.

  Cursing under my breath I quickly closed the zip and stuck my thumb into my mouth, catching i
t just as another drop of blood fell from the paper-thin wound.

  Lenny was the first to enter the cloakroom, and as usual he was followed by a line of females.

  ‘That nice Kieran?’ he asked, motioning towards my suckled thumb.

  ‘Shut up,’ I mumbled back with a mouthful of thumb. I brushed past him, heading outside.

  A startled scream made me turn around. The noise was feminine, and instantly a part of me hoped that Jenny had been sucked into a black hole or had stepped into a one-way dimension, but the attention seemed to be on Lenny. Everyone was looking at him, and whilst this wasn’t unusual, the horror on his face was.

  He was standing over a backpack, peeking inside. The colour had drained out of his face. He had something in his hand, something he had removed from his bag.

  I moved closer, nudging a fellow pupil out of the way to get a better look.

  Lenny stood upright. I could see the object of his horror; it was a small, white fluffy animal. He gripped it tightly, like his life depended on its safety.

  A line of crimson ran down the animal’s back, from its small head to its fluffy tail. It was so stark, so red, that it looked terrifyingly out of place on the pristine toy.

  Max was standing a few feet in front of me, I hurried up to him and nudged him in the back, preparing to ask him what all the fuss was about, but just as Max turned around Lenny pulled another blood stained item out of his bag. A letter. My letter.

  ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me,’ I mumbled.

  Lenny read the letter, looked up at the gathering of his fellow pupils, and then fainted.

  In the playground I stood on constantly shifting feet and tried to look innocent. ‘I don’t understand, why faint? It’s just a letter.’

  The commotion had died down. Almost simultaneously the room of children had shouted for a teacher. Suspecting the worst, three of them had rushed in.

  Lenny was roused before they even got to him; the kids were told to get the hell outside seconds later.

  ‘Didn’t you hear?’ Olly seemed to light up whenever a potentially morbid subject sprang into the conversation. ‘His cat was murdered,’ he said with the intoned mystery of the Crypt Keeper.