A LITTLE LUNCH
FROM THE JOURNAL OF BONNIE GRAYDUCK
I gazed across the cafeteria, and there they were, sitting in a little island all their own in a corner: the Scullens and the Scales, leaning together and talking among themselves, like they were a species apart. (That was a feeling I could relate to.) I became aware of a sort of twittering and realized the girls I’d “befriended”—a blonde called Jessica or Jenny or something, I’d call her “J” and she’d think it was a nickname, and Kelly, a petite brunette, though she looked like a heifer in comparison to Pleasance. “Those are the Scullens and the Scales,” J said. “I know, I saw you looking at Edwin, he’s a dream, but he doesn’t date, I don’t know if it’s a religious thing or what, they keep to themselves.” I detected a note of bitterness in her voice, and knew he’d rejected her—or, more likely, failed to notice her existence. “But at least he’s single,” she said, pitching her voice low. “The other ones are… together. The big one Hermet and the blonde one Rosemarie, and Garnett and that tiny little Pleasance. I don’t care if they aren’t related by blood, I know Dr. Scullen and his wife adopted them, but they all live in the same house, so I think it’s unnatural, they might as well be brother and sister, it’s just not right, and Garnett and Rosemarie really are brother and sister, the Scales, but I guess they’re not dating each other, so—”
“Have they always lived here?” I interrupted, still gazing at Edwin. His jawline… his nose… his lips…
J shook her head. “They lived up in Canada or something I guess? But they’re American, Dr. Scullen was just working up there. They moved here a couple of years ago, and they live a ways outside of town, mostly keep to themselves.”
“He will be mine,” I said. I probably shouldn’t have said it out loud, but there you go.
J giggled. “It’s good to aim high,” she said, a little doubtfully.
“I wonder if I have any classes with him,” I mused. If I didn’t, I’d have to see about making some adjustments.
Kelly said, “Let me see your schedule.” Classes had been going on for a week, I realized, so she might have some idea of his movement. After poring over my schedule for a moment, she said, “You have biology with me after lunch. Edwin’s in that class. But are you really going to…”
“I might say hello,” I said.
Just then Edwin happened to look up, and caught my eyes. He stared at me, and frowned—hardly the reaction I wanted. He looked away, said something to his pseudo-siblings, and then all of them got up from the table and left together.
I walked with Kelly to biology, a long low room with lab tables fitted with gleaming metal fixtures to attach Bunsen burners. “Good luck,” Kelly murmured before taking a seat at one of the tables. Naturally, she already had a partner, which made me wonder who I’d be stuck with—I hoped not that baby-faced nerd Ike who’d chattered at me in one of my earlier classes and trailed me like a yapping dog to the cafeteria. I’d smiled at him, because having a geek in reserve could be useful, but I didn’t want to make conversation, I just wanted to observe Edwin and plan.
I took my slip of paper to the teacher, who read it at least five times before ever so reluctantly signing it. When I turned back to the tables, every one had its requisite pair of students… save one.
Edwin sat at the table, and I walked toward him, eyes shyly downcast. If he had a reputation as someone who didn’t date, a charm offensive wouldn’t work. I needed to draw him in, be a shy and tantalizing enigma. I might contrive to accidentally touch his arm during class, or—
I noticed his face. I mean, I’d been noticing his face, but I really noticed his expression now, and it was furious. He must really enjoy sitting alone, because he didn’t like the idea of a lab partner. Or did he just not like the idea of me as a lab partner? It hardly seemed possible that it was a personal dislike, as we’d never even spoken—how could he have anything against me? People loved me.
I sat next to him, and he moved to the far end of the table, his chair scraping. He stopped looking at me, at least, staring down at his hands, clasped white-knuckled before him on the table. As the teacher lectured—something about parasites—Edwin never moved a muscle. His jaw was clenched so hard I was afraid his teeth would break. I did my best to ignore him… but even though I’m normally the world’s champion ignorer, it bothered me. There are so few things I want, after all, and I usually get them—but if he was like this, he would be hard to win.
Up close, he was even more beautiful, unfortunately, and I thought about moths drawn to flames, and flies to flytraps. I was not happy with being the moth; I was much more accustomed to being the flame.
When class ended, Edwin sprang to his feet and bolted out the door. The A/V nerd, Ike, intercepted me at the door. “Hey,” he said. “You need help finding your next class?”
“It’s gym class,” I said absently. “I’ll take a wild guess and assume the class is in the gym.”
“Hey, that’s my class, too!” he said, as if we’d just discovered a mutual passion for something incredibly obscure, like 16th century antique furniture or dressing up in Ewok costumes.
“Mmm,” I said, and Ike took that as an invitation to walk with me.
“Man, did you kill Scullen’s dog or something?” he said, and I twitched a little, though I hadn’t killed anyone’s dog in ages.
“What are you talking about?”
Ike shrugged. “He acted like you were his worst enemy, and he hardly ever even seems to notice anybody.”
“Oh, was that the boy at my lab table?” I asked innocently. “I didn’t talk to him.”
“Yeah, Edwin Scullen. He’s a weirdo anyway, so screw him.”
This from someone who probably still had Spider-Man bedsheets. “Mmm,” I said again, which was all the encouragement he needed to chatter on about himself and his stupid friends and their plans to go to the lake sometime before the weather got too cold.
In gym class Coach Syph gave me a uniform—eww—and I stood around and avoided playing volleyball. I’m good at volleyball—I’m good at everything—but I wasn’t interested in being recruited to any sports teams or otherwise calling attention to my athleticism, something that had been a problem in the past, as I have a competitive streak it’s hard to tamp down. I’m trying hard to be content with just knowing I’m better than everyone else, without having to demonstrate it all the time, so I flubbed a few serves and missed a few volleys and generally made myself unremarkable.
People are much more surprised when you dislocate their shoulders or choke them unconscious or chase them down in the woods if they think you’re physically graceless.