Zarulium Chronicles I - Destination Nazca
Page 15
Chapter 13: School Christmas party – Aurica – December 22
In the school gym, Joe hovered around the bowl of cinnamon-spiced punch and tried to pretend it was the cool spot to be. Faking being into the dance groove, Joe noticed that two other guys appeared to be muscling in on his turf. One guy was as white as the snow piling up outside, the other appeared to be Asian. Joe decided the threesome represented a sort of multi-cultural club for lonely guys.
Possibly making it lonelier, the other two guys acknowledged neither him nor each other. Each was his own grooving nation, which did not recognize other outsiders. First Nation Joe upgraded his assessment to conclude that the three more resembled a United Nations assembly.
Worsening the situation was the cinnamon. To say it was Joe's favourite spice, was to say he also liked being pepper-sprayed or getting a finger in the eye – or losing a big front tooth. He was a homely, lonely, thirsty guy . . . who didn't dance, but was at a dance.
His situation perfect in the most negative way, Joe didn't really care. He was new and easily forgave himself for not knowing anyone by more than their first name yet.
Lifting him out of the cellar for newbies, earlier this week a new kid joined his class. She was the new 'new kid' so the attention was off him and on her: she would now be the one feeling classmate's staring eyes.
On the other hand, he reasoned she would pass by him quickly. She was a white-skinned and blond-haired girl so she fit into the colour dynamic of the school seamlessly. Additionally, he could tell she had a strong, outgoing – even fearless personality: she would be popular very quickly.
Hidden from everyone's sight though, was that Joe had already realized the feelings he had for her, other kids called a crush. He stole a hopeless glance at her as he poured punch into a paper cup. He suddenly felt his hand was wet and noticed that he had poured a portion of the punch on it while he was looking at her. The punch was also dripping on the table.
That will command her attention! Very smooth, Painted Sun!
He placed a Santa-embossed napkin on the sticky spill zone and thought about ways to avoid embarrassment. Inexperienced in spill zone affairs, he suddenly thought of his twin foster sisters – they were very experienced in such affairs. What would the twins do?
Then he thought of a technique they had taught him just the other day. They had taught him what Joe had later labelled, 'out-gassing strategies and protocol'. Comparing his current situation to that of being the perpetrator in a fart zone, Joe casually moved away from the area.
The girls had explained that the perpetrator must discreetly distance his or herself from the zone as quickly as possible. Comfortable again after strategically leaning against a wall, Joe was grateful of having learned this bit of reputation-saving etiquette. Pleased with his quick thinking solution, Joe concluded that within a few seconds, no one could be certain who had spilled the punch.
He thought about the twins as the songs changed and most of the dancers just kept on dancing. Joe recalled having some difficulty adjusting to the MacDougall girls because they had no interests similar to his own. He arrived shortly after Halloween and the seven-year-old twins were still in withdrawal although not from the depletion of candy like most kids their age. These girls were in 'dress-up' withdrawal.
The twins spent most of November requesting that Joe assist them in dressing up to play 'Halloween'. Eventually, they asked him to join them in their sessions. He wanted to fit into his new family so Joe reluctantly complied every time. However, he stopped doing this after they went too far. The last time they dressed him up they took pictures of him. Later they showed him the uploaded pictures on their Facebook page. Ouch!
While their mother made them remove the photographs, nevertheless, Joe knew the damage was irreparable. Now people would say that he was an Indian foster kid cross-dressing loser. He was pushing freak to a new level.
His mind returned to the dance floor where the girl was blissfully floating about it as if she were the only one there. Occasionally she bumped someone; apologized to him or her with a winning smile; and then continued on her way. He admired her even more for her carefree confidence. If only Joe had that kind of courage.
He concluded that since he lacked courage, his social calendar would consist of spending occasional evenings through the remainder of the winter babysitting his 4-year-old foster brother. When the McDougalls took the twins to ballet class twice weekly, they required Joe to sit for young James.
Joe didn't mind. The kid was super friendly. He loved to play sports and so did Joe. Helping matters, James never teased Joe about how uncoordinated he was.
Joe recognized that babysitting was a position of trust and that if adults trusted him, then they were acknowledging him as a responsible teen. Joe, however, wanted to spend more time with people his own age – male or female. He would be very happy if that person were the dancing blonde girl.
Then he heard a song that was a big hit last year. He thought about where his mind was at with girls a year ago and recalled that he was disinterested in them. When he looked around the room, he realized almost all of the females in his class were interesting to him now: what a difference a year had made.
He wondered if this was what he should call 'progress'. He thought about the word progress, and that he first dreamt about girls at night, but now did so by day too. Girls were even causing Joe to lose focus on the school subjects he was best at – math, science, and music. Some progress!
The song's chorus blasted and Joe decided he was stupid to call himself a music fan and yet remain standing on the sideline while others danced. He decided to spice up his blood with a helping of the revolting punch – what doesn't kill me makes me stronger!
Suavely like Bond, he poured it in the cup spilling nothing; quickly gulped it down ignoring the burn; and then shuffled onto the dance floor. He was at last willing to expose his tarnished reputation to more ridicule in exchange for the girl noticing him.