UNATTAINABLEBYDESIGN
Copyright © J. James Farmer

CHAPTERTWO - A CERTAIN FASCINATION

“Bonjour mon ami,” Zoe smirked as I sat down in front of her. People around us began packing onto the tiny run-down bus. I bared my teeth subtly, trying to remember how to pronounce French words properly. I’d dropped French last year- a lot had stuck, but the rules of pronunciation had vanished.
“Peut-on parler anglais?” Her smile faded into a narrow eyed glare. Zoe hated it when her bubble was burst while she was still flocking joyfully inside it.
“D'accord, utilisons la langue commune!” she said with an angry roll of her eyes. I was surprised that no venom accompanied her words into the air. Zoe looked up from fiddling with her Hello Kitty pin buttons. “I got your email,” she said.
“Then why the hell didn’t you reply?”
“I was going to, but then I got sidetracked watching TV.” Naturally, her best friend’s emotional crisis would be outweighed by a rerun of a melodramatic soap opera.
“It’s OK,” I lied with an understanding smile, secretly wishing I’d made my email a lot more dramatic to provoke a response.
“I wonder what Russ will say today,” Zoe pondered aloud, waiting briefly for a response. “I mean, he called you, right? So that’s got to be a good thing.” I turned to face her, resting my arm on the bar above the seat.
“I honestly don’t know, I’m trying not to get my hopes up in case they come smashing down.”
“Well if they do, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces as always,” she assured, covering my hand with hers as she looked warmly towards me.
“I know. I just hope he isn’t meeting with me to end our friendship; that would destroy me.” She looked at me, her eyes full of compassion.
“I'll have my fingers crossed,” she said sweetly, flashing crossed fingers on both hands. “He doesn’t deserve you either way,” she muttered under her breath. I wasn’t sure whether she meant me to hear. I pretended I hadn't.
“So what do you have planned for today?” I asked, trying to make conversation to pass the journey faster.
“Nothing much, I have coursework to hand in for English.”
“Shoot!” I bit my lip as I remembered. I hadn’t remembered to do any of my English coursework.
“Already got you covered.” She giggled and pulled out a folder from her seemingly bottomless bag and handed it to me. I opened it and saw that it was perfect. The hand writing was almost identical to mine. She peered over to eye her masterpiece.
“I threw in a few typos. You know, to keep it realistic.” I was good at English but I wasn’t too thorough on my proof reading, so the odd typo (clearly illustrated by the fifteen on this essay) would evade my eyes and I would hand it in – proud – until I got it back with words underlined in red.
I always loved how Zoe made sure that I didn’t fail school. She had no real reason; she was just so motherly and was always putting me above herself. Unlike most girls here, she wasn’t a socialite. She was the opposite; a misanthropic recluse who loved Anne Rice novels, television shows and her cat Mabel, who was about to have kittens. Kittens are so adorable...
I used to love playing with Russ’s two kittens, Ruby and Topaz, while he was in his room changing out of his football uniform. Later he would compare me to a kitten as if on cue. He called me ‘innocently adorable’ and ‘easy on the eyes’ like a kitten. The only problem with Russ was that he led me on quite regularly. I never knew if it was an innocent compliment or if it was flirtfully intended and if I ever brought it up in conversation, he would simply act oblivious to it, as if I’d just pulled the entire thing out of my head.
My head flinched backward as Zoe flicked me in the head. “Dude, we’re here,” she said square in my line of sight, eyeing my pupils to check I was back from daydreaming. My brain caught up with reality a few seconds later, replaying the past twelve seconds for me.
“Was that really necessary?” I shot, rubbing my brow.
“Aw, did I hurt you?” she teased in baby talk, sticking her bottom lip outward to its full physical potential.
“Yes.” I countered in a hurt voice. Her nail had caught me and it stung. I don’t have the biggest pain threshold ever, in fact I’m really quite wimpy. I don’t like pain and I like the fear of experiencing pain even less.
“Anyway tough guy, I have to run. I saw Russ as we pulled up. He’s waiting out front by the gate.” My heart stopped then jumped back into life, sending a flurry of spasms around my chest. This happened whenever I was in contact with anything to do with him. Even his name or his scent would set me off. I would call it butterflies but they are neither strong nor big enough to cause what I felt inside. It felt more like juggernaut trucks running rampage in my intestines.
Zoe turned into the aisle only to be pushed back into her seat by a brunette girl, one of the school’s inner circle of skanks. “Watch it fat ass,” spat the brunette, moving her head from side to side as she said ‘ass’. Why didn’t she just go the whole nine yards and add a wagging finger and giant pouting lips to complete the effect?
Zoe said nothing in response, simply keeping silent as the brunette rearranged a hair that had deviated from her impossibly perfectly-groomed head. Most of the girls at this school had serious vanity issues. They weren't clones, but they all strived to look better than one another. This competition had now gotten to the stage where the majority of the girls in the school were clad with make-up so thick that you assumed they had used a trowel to apply and spades to flatten it to skin level.
I stepped into the aisle, blocking her path. For some reason I was viewed as higher up in the cut-throat food chain of high school, since I was the best friend of their queen’s hubby. She stood still, probably trying to find a unique thought in her head. It was a battle of the ranks; she knew I ranked higher than her. High school social grouping was like the military, you had to earn your rank. Finally her ‘mind’ had come back to her over-accessorised form with the original thought she had just excavated.
“Move.” she said, trying to act like she wasn’t several inches shorter than me. I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head with a coy smile, shaking my head slightly. Her shoulder went back and her chest came out. “Do you know who I am?” So many great come backs raced through my mind, so many delicious selections of words. Which to choose, which to choose?
“Guinea Pig Barbie?” I said in a child’s gasp. Smiling to myself on the inside, I could see Zoe in the corner of my eye laughing hysterically with her bag shielding her mouth.
The brunette’s shoulders went back further and her chest continued to extrapolate, possibly trying to knock me over. Her head reared backwards and she raised a wagging finger toward me. “You did not just say that!” she shrieked, definitely trying to sound ghetto... or like something from the ‘hood’. I frowned as I walked towards her.
She backed away, matching my pace and perhaps trying to keep the same distance between us. I reached my hand out to Zoe, helping her to her feet. I let Zoe walk in front of me, then turned to the girl and rolled my eyes at her. Then, smiling to myself, I turned back around to follow Zoe off the bus. If you wanted to survive here you had to speak ‘gurl’.
I made my way towards the little pathway which was the only non-road way to the gates of the school, and I was nervous enough not to want to add playing in the crazy soccer mum traffic to my nerves. The pathway was a small route overshadowed by trees. The smokers used it to conceal themselves from whichever teacher was on patrol. There was something so appealing to them about smoking under-age, it must have seemed so adult to them. I didn’t really understand it; I had never tried a cigarette in my life and I had no intention in changing that status. But with the smokers came –
“Hey J!” Della squealed at me. She was a petite girl desperately trying to ram her way into the inner circle. She had forced herself on me ever since I once complimented her on her hair and introduced myself in the lunch queue.
“Hi D” I said in a wary tone, keeping my distance just in case she was going to jump into a frolic as she normally did with her erratic energy.
“Have you heard the latest?” she asked, bouncing on her heels. Della was also my ears on the inside (well, outside staring in) of the ‘gurl’ world.
“Nope” I said, intrigued. The gossip was normally crazy but juicy nonetheless. She bounced faster now, making me feel almost seasick.
“Oh-mi-gawd, you are going to love this!” she squealed, again increasing the pace of her bouncing. I widened my eyes quickly as if to say 'spit it out Tigger, I don’t have all day.” She got the hint.
“Joanne is going to get Russ to take her to Tenerife!” She clapped to herself as she said 'Tenerife'.
“Tenerife?” I repeated, taken aback. Russ was taking her to Tenerife? Why? Russ hated hot weather. It must have been a lie. Besides, it wasn't like she needed the tan; she already bore a striking resemblance to an Oompa-Loompa.
“That’s not what I heard,” I replied, reclaiming my long-dormant throne in fuelling the school gossip. “I heard Russ is planning to dump her for cheating on him” I said; proud that I could stir the bowl with complete anonymity.
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. “Well spank my arse and call me Sally,” she muttered in a daze. I believe that was ‘gurl’ talk for ‘wow’.
“But you didn’t hear it from me,” I whispered as I walked past her toward the gates, toward where Russ stood, hearing Della mutter “Oh-mi-gawd” several hundred times under her breath. I had no doubt that that little gem would get around faster than Joanne herself.
I turned the corner with an unbalanced pace, distracted by the various romantic movie endings playing on a loop in my head (with obvious casting changes to the two main characters being the only distinction). Could this be a happily-ever-after in the making? I was getting ahead of myself, I knew it. But one little part of me just wouldn’t shut up and keep its feelings and various innuendoes to itself.
I waited for my internal organs to implode as I emerged from the corner. I waited for his eyes to reduce my brain to mush with a simple glance. It didn’t come. I was fully intact.
“He isn’t here” I muttered to myself, unaware that the thought had wrestled itself from my mind to my lips under the radar. My heart pounded sharply; I looked in every direction, wondering where he was. Zoe said he was here. No more than six minutes could have passed since she told me, how far could he have gone in six minutes?
I stared at the ground, trying to hold off the awaiting heart spasms as long as I could, but he stepped into my line of sight earlier than I had anticipated. My heart clenched, then began to tingle and dance uncontrollably, throttling the breath from my throat as I stood in awe of his presence.
“Hi,” he muttered, still not used to the mousey shy stage that came over me whenever I saw him for the first time in a day. His curious blue eyes singed the back of my neck as the sensation of euphoria spread across my skin like wildfire. I didn’t reply which was just like me; my silence was the equivalent of a response. He stared at me, still trying to figure out what was going on with me. The silence didn’t break. It just hung in the air, making the moment even more awkward. Then he finally spoke, sharing his flawless voice with the rest of the world.
“What’s up?” he said uncertainly. My heart rate I thought to myself, which was a good sign. It meant my brain was solidifying. I shrugged in response, waiting for the last few bodily functions (such as the all-important ability to speak) to return. We began to walk away from the school, moving at a brisk pace so that any of the teachers on patrol would not see us and force us out of our plan to ‘talk’. A few minutes passed and I felt more of myself return to normal with each step. Finally, I knew I could speak again.
“So, I hear you're taking Joanne to Tenerife. That sounds like… fun.” I choked on the word fun intentionally. One must test the water. He looked up from the stray shoelace he’d be eyeing for the past five minutes. He looked angry. I hoped not at me.
“I am not taking her to Tenerife, I hate hot weather.” Just as I said. “Besides, Tenerife? It’s so commercialised and tacky,” he continued, cringing at the thought. We turned off the road and detoured into a footpath so we could avoid being spotted by any late teachers speeding to school. For teachers, the paragons of responsibility, they sure didn’t think twice about the danger of mowing down pedestrians.
“So you said you wanted to ‘talk’ right?” I asked, losing the inner battle deciding whether or not to speak first.
“Yeah, I did. I mean I do... want to talk.”
We turned another corner; I followed him blindly, thinking of my next question. How do you address this? Whatever ‘this’ is. We had arrived in our normal class-skipping location: Ridgewood Graveyard. It was secluded enough so that we couldn’t be seen, and who looks for truants in a graveyard? It was perfect, all the dead people beneath us notwithstanding. We dawdled toward the small wooden bench that overlooked a picturesque view through a thin lining of trees. He ushered me to sit down first like a gentleman.
“Wait, when did I become the chick?” I blurted out without letting myself think twice.
“'When did you become the guy?' is a better question.” He smiled at himself proudly. My eyes narrowed; he was right. I wasn’t exactly pulling off the stereotypical male persona of bottled emotions and not discussing the ‘mushy stuff’. Crap, I was the woman.
“Touché” I admitted. Russ: 1, Jon: 0.
“So, you're in love with me… How’s that going?” he said awkwardly, fiddling with the sleeves on his blazer.
“Fantastic, I’m waiting for the ‘I love Russ’ mug to come in the mail.”
“Be serious now.” He stiffened his voice and his posture at the same time. My palms started to sweat and the awkward silence was being broken by the thumping of my heart in my throat.
“Well, it’s hardly a walk in the park.”
“I can imagine.” He looked at me for a split second, then returned to reading something a few yards over. “Joan Valentine, 1946-2005. She joins her husband Lenny in Heaven,” he read, not reading the quote ‘Love is forever,’ which was carved in a fancy scroll across the top of the marble slab.
“Yeah, thanks for that. It’s really setting the mood.” I kicked him gently, hoping it would steer him back on topic.
“Sorry, I’m just nervous,” he amended. He’s nervous? Yes, my heart is on the verge of becoming a smoothie and he’s nervous. What an arse. At least I didn’t say that aloud. I let my loosely-swinging leg kick a pebble at the tree directly in front of me. He pulled out a penny and threw it at the tree, hitting the same place as my pebble.
“Why are you nervous?” I hedged, peering at him with an innocent childlike expression.
“Do you wanna go for a walk?” He was already standing and was gesturing toward the trees with his eyes.
“Can’t we stay here?” I wasn’t going to give up, I wanted to say what I came here to say, not to go on some nature walk with Captain Avoidance.
“Please?” He turned on his lovable charm, “I want to stretch my legs, please?” Another shot of charm. I sat silently; a disgruntled look had made its way onto my face. “Please?” OK, overdosing on charm now. No, no, no, no, make him sit his arse down! I shouted at myself mentally.
“Alright!” I threw up my hands and stood up. You idiot. The rational section of my brain was somehow not in control anymore. I took a step, then stood frozen as my brain finally won some leeway.
“One condition.” Russ stooped in his tracks, with a deer in the headlights look. “I get twenty questions, no avoiding. Honest answers. Or I go back to school right now.” He shuffled as he thought.
“Five questions.” He shot back.
“Fifteen.”
“Ten.”
“Twelve.”
“Three or nothing.”
“Four and it’s a deal.”
“Done.” I won! Well not really, but still... go me. Now you need four questions.
“Here’s my condition: I get four questions, too. You ask your first one, then I ask mine and so on. OK?” I wanted to argue but it seemed pretty fair.
“Fine.” My legs began to walk without permission as we minced towards the lining of trees that seemed to be shaped like an arch into the field beyond. The field was full of long grass, with green as far as the eye could see.
“You can go first” I said, using generosity as a cover for my lack of a pre-thought question.
“How long have you been in love with me?” Wherever his nervousness was now, it wasn’t in this field.
“Around two years now,” I rounded down. “And five months,” I added, making sure I kept to the honesty clause. Silence. He looked thoughtful, but not shocked. “My turn,” I uttered at such speed to change the subject. “Do you feel anything for me?” I winced inside, preparing for the no or even the ‘are you calling me gay?’ outburst.
“Yes.” My heart stopped. I was somehow still walking, autopilot maybe? I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, which I could only assume was my non-beating heart.
“What do you feel for me?” I asked, hope was finally flickering inside me.
“Nuh-uh.” He wagged a finger at me. “My turn.”
I kept thinking of profane phrases to call him, but I was getting sidetracked with the sharp grass that was cutting into my arms, growing stronger with the power of the slicing wind. I vaguely regretted not wearing a long sleeve shirt.
“OK. Shoot.” I hurried, trying to get to my question.
“Are you a virgin?” My one track mind shook to its core.
“How is that even relevant?” I snapped at him.
“It’s my question. Relevance is irrelevant,” he said through a grin.
“This is so stupid,” I complained, trying to avoid the question.
“It’s your game, play it,” Russ said through the same grin.
“I’m not going to answer that, pick a new question.” I folded my arms.
“Oh c’mon, Spoilsport. Pull out now and I’ll answer no more of your questions.” Well crap, he had me cornered now. Stupid, smarter-than-me Russell Cooper!
“OK! Fine! Yes! Happy?” I shot evil looks at everything around, several concentrated ones at him.
“Your turn.” His smile became even more smug. I pushed my question back by one as I tried to think of a question to wipe the smug look off his face. We reached the edge of the field and started into some woodland, the solid ground now becoming moist and shifty.
“Are those rumours about you and Thomas Pole true?” His smug smile was gone, totally obliterated off the face of the Earth. Score one to Jon. His eyes grew dark and piercing with the suddenly limited amount of light.
“Yes... well no. Kind of. The rumours were exaggerated.” He fidgeted with his hands, picking at his cuticles. The rumour had been that Russ was found at a party, naked in bed and making out with Thomas Pole. Russ had shrugged it off as a lie, but I always wondered, mainly to fuel my own hope.
“Why do you love me?” he suddenly asked, distracting himself by looking at the tree branches high above us.
“I don’t know,” I said automatically.
“Yes, you do. You can’t love someone and not know why. Spill.” His tone was aggravated; attempting to avoid questions that must be getting to him.
“I love you, because...” I stopped as I tried to put my feelings into words that made sense. “Because you are you. You are witty and you just get me, you seem to know me better than I do. I can’t explain it better than that.” He didn’t reply; he just stared at me, then above me, then down at me again.
“My turn” I broke the ice, while I started pondering which question I wanted to ask. I kicked the few remaining long-dead leaves from autumn as I weighed the consequences of each question. One could lead to the answer of the other.
“What’s the truth about you and Tom?” I hoped it was the right choice. He deliberated.
“Tom had walked in on me having five minutes of peace from a vodka-fuelled Jo bugging me. He brought tequila and we ended up making out. Tom wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Della, that little short girl who's always trying to suck up to Jo, walked in on us,” he explained. It wasn’t what I had been hoping for. An alcohol-fuelled snog? That’s barely a development; a drunk person will do anything that pops into their head. Wrong choice Jon. Wrong choice indeed, my thoughts taunted.
“Are you comfortable being gay?”
“I never said I was gay,” I replied, adding some innocence to my tone of voice.
“You’re in love with another guy, how are you not gay?”
“Touché” I said blankly. I tried to think of an answer for what seemed liked two seconds, but in fact was more along the lines of three minutes. “I think I will be, when I’m with someone who makes me comfortable. Like, say … you?” Subtlety was not my strong point today.
Russ blinked. When his eyelids slid back, his eyes were simply dazed and confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but I quickly put my finger on his lips to stop him.
“It’s my turn,” I whispered. “How do you feel about me?” I removed my finger slowly to let him speak, but he didn’t. He stared deep into my eyes and I let myself get lost in his. We were both suddenly leaning inwards. I closed my eyes. The first kiss is special right? A dream about to come true. Expecting to wake up any time now. Any time. Now. Please don’t wake up.
“INCOMING!” something shrieked, making us both jump. A dooming funeral-esque tune rang from Russ’s pocket. We stood motionless for a few seconds, listening to the polyphonic funeral march as the mood died and was buried. Seconds passed and Russ plucked his phone from the inside pocket of his blazer, his expression stale. The tone was set for one caller and one caller only, and she knew exactly how to ruin anything potentially amazing.
“It’s Joanne” He sighed, flipping his phone open. “Hello?” he answered in a seemingly normal tone. “…What? Why?” His expression changed as I could hear her voice twittering on. I heard my name and he shot a look at me, his eyes bordering on furious. “Now?” He sighed again. “Fine. I’ll be ten minutes.” He snapped the phone shut and threw it into his pocket before walking past me, keeping his livid eyes on me until he couldn’t turn his head anymore.
What did I do?
“C’mon then!” he shouted from behind me. I turned to see him waiting. The fury had spread to the rest of his face. I began to follow like a lamb to the slaughter. He continued walking, treading hard and breaking twigs with a crunch as he pounded, before gliding silently. He was Angry Russ. Totally different beast. More dangerous.
“You said that I was going to break up with her? Why,” he spat, several steps ahead of me. His tone was rough and deep, like he’d turn and rip my head off at any second.
“In my defence, it was meant to be anonymous.” I defended.
“You think anything you say to Della Michaels stays in that screwball head of hers? She probably sold you out the split second Joanne spoke to her.” His tone was becoming rougher with each word. “But why would you say that in the first place?”
“I was replying to all that Tenerife crap,” I said, raising my voice.
“Wait.” He stopped right in front of me, leaning with an outstretched arm against a tree so that I couldn’t get past him. “You’re jealous of her? You?” I thought he was going to smile at me and call me a moron, but he just seemed to get angrier. “Of her?” He returned to his pacing, going faster now. I could barely keep up without going into a flailing sprint. We were in the field again now, a fast pace coupled with sharp grass proving to be a very painful experience I was not keen to come across again.
“Will you just wait?!” I shouted as he dashed on, putting more distance between us. I don’t think he heard me. I continued, now sprinting. There were only a few more painful slices until I was out of this damn grass. Someone should really mow this damn field. Russ was waiting for me at the opening to the graveyard.
“We should probably go back to school separately, so we don’t look suspicious. I’ll go in first,” he said in a raised voice before turning and stalking right back into his fast paced strides. I was now somehow going faster, trying to get his attention.
“Russ! Just wait a minute!” I want to explain and he was just ignoring me! I dashed into the clearing, almost falling over, then continued. Eventually I did fall flat onto the grass as my shin collided with something hard. I had felt it break on my way down. I looked at my feet. It was the angel statue on the grave Russ that was so interested in. I’d tripped over it and broken it, the angel now just a skirt and sandals. Its torso was a few feet away, standing upright and looking as though the rest of it had been buried. I peered at the grave marker and reread the heading in the fancy scrawl:
‘Love is Forever.’
I sure hope so, I thought to myself. I picked myself up and half-limped, following the direction of Russ, who was now out of sight. At least a leg injury would qualify as a legitimate reason for being late.



MORECOMINGSOON


Copyright Statement: All rights reserved. No part of this publication may reproduced in any way. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. You've been warned people.