Love-shy

by Lili Wilkinson

  ‘Why?’ I asked absently, running over my confrontation with Nick in my head. What had I done wrong? How could I do it differently next time? More direct? Less direct? Maybe I could write him a letter?

  Rin sighed. ‘They’re kind of attached to their boyfriends,’ she said. ‘At the lips.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Annoying, huh?’

  ‘Yep. It just makes lunchtime awkward and boring.’

  ‘Because you don’t want a boyfriend.’

  Rin looked at me. ‘What?’ she said. ‘No, I totally want a boyfriend. I just don’t think I’ll ever have one.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You know,’ said Rin, shrugging. ‘I’m not very pretty. And I’m shy. And … well, I like boys with freckles and blue eyes, but I’m Asian.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘You’re totally pretty, and there are plenty of non-Asian guys at this school dating Asian girls. What about Heidi Lim and Steven Pappas?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rin, ‘but Heidi acts like a slut.’ She giggled and covered her mouth, as if the word had slipped out without her permission.

  I frowned. ‘So does Steven Pappas,’ I said. ‘But he never gets judged for it. And anyway, I don’t think that makes a difference.’

  ‘At least people notice Heidi. And my parents are strict, so I wouldn’t be able to hang out with a boyfriend much outside of school. It’s hopeless. Who would ever want to date a mousy timid Asian girl like me?’

  I could think of a couple of candidates. One in particular. A twinkling of an idea flared in my brain.

  18:15

  The stalker-girl tried to talk to me today. It was as if she could read my thoughts. She knew I was faking it on my mobile phone – it doesn’t even have a sim card. It was awful. I felt completely naked, and she mocked me and stole my phone. Bitch. I wish they’d all just leave me alone. I can’t ever speak to any of them. I’m too shy and anxious and useless. Nothing would ever come out and I’d stand there like a gaping fish while they pointed and laughed. Or worse, something bad might happen again. I’ve got a good thing going at this school. People leave me alone, mostly. The clothes help. I don’t want to have to change schools again.

  LEAVE ME ALONE.

  I wanted to slap him. He was just so melodramatic. Didn’t he see how ridiculous and self-indulgent he was being? Couldn’t he just snap out of it?

  And what did he mean by something bad might happen again? Why had he left his old school?

  7

  I COULDN’T FIND NICK ANYWHERE AT school on Wednesday. I guessed I’d scared him off. I spent the day checking his blog and loveshyforum.com every five minutes to see if he’d posted anything. In the end Ms Tidy took my phone off me, with an apologetic look.

  ‘You can have it back after school.’

  Traitor. And after I’d helped her out by pointing out the spelling mistakes in the study notes she’d prepared.

  I went home in a bad mood, and was surprised to find Josh sitting at the kitchen bench, frowning over a notepad.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, rubbing his head in a tired sort of way. ‘Hi, Penny.’

  ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘He’s on his way home,’ said Josh. ‘We’ve got tickets to Roller Derby tonight, and he said I should meet him here, so I let myself in. I hope that’s okay.’

  Dad should have told me he was planning to give Josh a key. That’s a big thing. I wondered if Josh had a drawer in Dad’s room too. Oh! Was that spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet not a spare at all, and actually Josh’s? I’d just assumed it was a spare. I’d actually used it once, when I’d already packed mine away for our SRC camp last year. Ew.

  ‘Of course it’s okay,’ I said, although I wasn’t sure it was.

  ‘How was your day?’ asked Josh. ‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea or something?’

  I shook my head, and realised that Josh and I had never been together without Dad before. ‘No thanks. My day was pretty crappy. I’m trying to talk to someone for a story I’m writing. But he doesn’t want to talk.’

  ‘Why not?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He keeps avoiding me.’

  ‘Maybe he’s just shy.’

  I snorted. ‘Maybe. How was your day?’

  ‘Pretty crappy too,’ said Josh.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh.’ Josh sighed. ‘Just money stuff. You know. Bills. Debt. The usual.’

  I frowned. Josh wouldn’t … he wouldn’t use my dad for his money, would he? A million dreadful scenarios ran through my head, ending with a particularly lurid one where Josh fell in love with a tattooed drug dealer and used his key to get into our flat when we weren’t here and sold our TV and Blu-ray player for crack.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ said Josh with a smile. ‘I’m fine. It’s fine. It’s just boring having to go through it all.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Hey, Penny? I just wanted to thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  Josh smiled again, and there was a kind of understanding frown that went with it. ‘I know it must have been really hard, finding out about your dad. And your mum leaving, and everything. That’s a lot of change for anyone to go through. And I know you could have totally resented your dad, and you would have had every right to be mad at him. And you also had every right to hate me. So I’m glad you didn’t. Glad you don’t. I think we get on well, and it makes me happy, because you’re a pretty awesome person. And I know it makes your dad happy too.’

  I immediately felt guilty for imagining Josh falling in love with a tattooed drug dealer. Of course Josh loved my dad. You wouldn’t do stupid jigsaws with someone on Friday nights unless you loved them. And I’d seen the way they looked at each other, the way when we were watching TV, Josh would reach out and touch Dad’s hand, and Dad would smile over at him. That wasn’t fake.

  ‘You needn’t thank me,’ I said. ‘I should be thanking you for making Dad happy. You’ve been really good for him.’

  And I meant it. Even though sometimes I missed being able to spend Friday nights with just Dad, I was glad Josh was around.

  ‘I think we’re both good for him.’

  I grinned. ‘Agreed.’

  I heard Dad’s key in the lock, and Josh winked at me as Dad came in, full of stories of exploding toilets and blocked gutters from his staff meeting that afternoon.

  I retreated to my bedroom with a smile still on my face, as Dad and Josh left for Roller Derby. My bad mood had vanished. I was a good person. Josh was right. And I would get Nick to talk to me.

  I was waiting in front of Nick’s locker before the first bell went on Thursday, all ready to ambush him. But the moment he came around the corner and saw me there, his face clammed up and he turned and left the building. He’d probably run straight home again. My bad mood returned, descending like a thundercloud.

  This was too hard. How was I ever going to get him to talk to me?

  I slumped against his locker and slid down it until I was sitting on the floor. There were plenty of people around, putting bags in lockers, pulling out books, and avoiding going to class assembly. Jack Horwicz walked down the corridor holding hands with Anya Pederson, looking as though he might burst with joy. Clearly his poem had done the trick, almost certainly due to my notes. James O’Keefe and Caitlin Reece emerged from the photography lab looking rumpled. Clayton Bell marched past, his arms full of rainbow-coloured bunting for the Gay–Straight Alliance Lamington Drive. I’d spoken to all of these boys without a problem. What did I have to do to get Nick to open up? All my journalistic tactics were useless if I couldn’t get him to speak to me at all.

  There had to be a way.

  ‘You’re looking rather PEZZimistic.’

  It was Hamish. I was surprised he was speaking to me at all.

  ‘I’m having a bad day,’ I said.

  ‘I’m having a bad life,’ he replied. ‘Wanna swap?’

  I looked up at him. He wasn’t loveshy at all. He was just a
dork. But maybe he could help me get to Nick. And he might also be able to help me with my plans regarding Rin.

  ‘Can I buy you a coffee?’ I said. ‘Or whatever concoction of cream and sugar you would like to pretend is coffee?’

  Hamish looked wary. ‘Why?’

  I thought of what Rin had said, about her being invisible. ‘I have a proposal,’ I said, standing up. ‘I think I can help you, if you promise to help me. Meet me after school.’

  We went to Scuttlebutt, a café near school that I liked because it was dingy and atmospheric, and made me think of newspaper reporters leaking exclusives to each other. And also pirates.

  The bearded hipster behind the counter gave me a reproachful look when Hamish ordered a peppermint-mocha whip with chocolate sprinkles. I had a flat white.

  Away from the bustle of school halls, Hamish seemed all nervous again. I supposed he wasn’t used to one-on-one encounters with girls. I decided to skip any small talk, as I knew he’d be rubbish at it and it’d just make him more anxious.

  ‘I need your help,’ I said. ‘Nick won’t talk to me.’

  Hamish raised his eyebrows. ‘So you figured it out.’

  ‘That PEZZimist is Nick? Of course I figured it out. But now he won’t talk to me.’

  ‘You frighten him.’

  ‘But I’m trying to help him,’ I said. ‘I’m not like those other girls. I’m not trying to get into his pants.’

  Hamish spooned sugar into his coffee. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Are you kidding? Nick’s totally neurotic.’

  Hamish just raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

  I observed him carefully. He was a good few inches shorter than me, and slightly plump. His dark brown hair was whisper-fine, the kind of hair that would all fall out once he turned thirty. But he had nice eyes behind his glasses. His skin wasn’t too bad, and the freckles on the bridge of his nose were kind of cute, if you went for that sort of thing. He wasn’t a total lost cause. It was just the angry attitude that was going to repel the ladies.

  ‘Why did you say I wish, when I asked if you were PEZZimist?’ I asked.

  Hamish licked sugary foam from his spoon. ‘He’s got a lot more to work with than I do,’ he said. ‘He’s tall, he’s good-looking. All he needs to do is get over himself.’

  I considered mentioning something about pots and kettles exchanging words, but decided against it. ‘What do you want, Hamish?’ I asked instead. ‘If you had one wish.’

  He answered immediately, without thinking, ‘A girlfriend.’

  ‘But why? Why is having a girlfriend so important? Heaps of people don’t date at school.’

  ‘And look what happens to them,’ he said darkly.

  ‘They study more? Get better grades?’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ Hamish threw down his spoon with an angry clatter. ‘Having a girlfriend means everything.’

  ‘That’s nonsense,’ I said. ‘That’s just what romantic comedies and pop songs have brainwashed you into believing.’

  ‘You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? Well, you’re wrong. A Harvard University paper studied a bunch of high-school leavers for ten years, until they were twenty-eight. And the ones who hadn’t dated in school had an initial advantage, because they stayed home and studied more. But it didn’t last. The ones who had dated ended up richer, happier and with better jobs.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘Did you know that 70 per cent of the best white-collar jobs are obtained via informal social networks? And that 90 per cent of job terminations are because of a lack of interpersonal skills, not a lack of knowledge or technical ability?’

  I blinked. Well, at least it wasn’t small talk. ‘But—’

  Hamish continued, his voice getting louder and louder so that other people in the café turned to stare at him. ‘If you’re in a couple, you’re more likely to recuperate faster when in hospital. You’re less likely to be vulnerable to psychiatric disorders. You’ll live longer and be healthier. If you’re a woman you’re less likely to suffer complications when giving birth, and if you’re an alcoholic you’re more likely to stop drinking. It’s a fact, Penny. Couples have it better than single people.’

  I thought about my parents. Did they have it better when they were still together? My mum certainly did. She doesn’t sound happy when I talk to her on the phone. But what about Dad? I thought about the way he was when he was with Josh – comfortable, happy, relaxed. I remembered the lines that developed on his face in the weeks before Mum had left, and the grey patches of hair that appeared above his ears. He hadn’t been happier then. And neither had I.

  But Dad had Josh now. I wondered absently if Dad would like Josh to live with us. Would they be living together already if it weren’t for me? They’d only been together for six months.

  Dad had someone. And he was happy. Mum didn’t have anyone, and she wasn’t happy. Nick didn’t have anyone, and he wasn’t happy. Hamish didn’t have anyone, and he wasn’t happy.

  And I didn’t have anyone.

  Was I unhappy? I didn’t think so. I mean, maybe I’d fall in love one day, but I had so much to do before then. I didn’t want to mess around with dating and boyfriends and all that nonsense. What a total waste of time. I wasn’t going to date boys who I didn’t think I’d last with. So I preferred to wait until I found the right guy, the one guy, and then fall in love, once I’d established myself as an internationally successful journalist.

  But was Hamish right? Was I jeopardising my career by not dating in high school?

  It sounded crazy.

  Hamish was nearly in tears. He really wanted this.

  ‘So what do you think is stopping you from getting a girlfriend?’ I asked.

  He shrugged in a very emo way. ‘Everything,’ he said. ‘My looks. The fact that I’m shy. Not loveshy,’ he added hurriedly. ‘Just ordinary-shy. I don’t have many friends. I’m not popular. I don’t get invited to parties. I never get to meet any new people, and the girls I have spoken to just don’t like me.’

  ‘I like you,’ I said, trying to sound as if I meant it.

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  He was probably right. I didn’t really know Hamish, but I disliked his defensive angriness, and the way he made me feel as if I might be more like him than I wanted to be. But did that mean that I disliked him? I decided to change the subject.

  ‘I think I can help you,’ I said.

  ‘How?’

  I didn’t want to tell him I could get him a date with Rin, because I didn’t know if it was true. What if Rin wasn’t interested in Hamish? He wasn’t exactly the catch of the day.

  ‘I need you to help me first,’ I said.

  Hamish shook his head. ‘You have to put something on the table,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I’m going home to watch porn on the internet.’

  I definitely couldn’t subject Rin to Hamish. Not yet, anyway. Not until I’d fixed him up a bit.

  I thought about it for a second. ‘You can go on a date with me,’ I said. ‘Like a rehearsal-date.’

  Hamish seemed offended. ‘I don’t want to go out with you.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

  Hamish shrugged. ‘You’re bossy,’ he said. ‘And you’re not pretty. Even though you have an awesome rack.’

  And he wondered why he didn’t get anywhere with girls.

  ‘You don’t seem very shy now,’ I observed.

  ‘It’s because I’m not attracted to you.’

  I’d almost had enough of this. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘What if I take you to Sarah Parsons’ birthday party next week? You can meet new people, hang with the cool crowd.’

  Hamish looked like a dog who’d been offered a terrifying yet enticing bone. ‘What do you want in return?’

  ‘I want you to help me talk to Nick.’

  ‘How? He doesn’t even know who I am. I don’t post on the loveshy forum.’

  ‘But you must kn
ow how he thinks. You’ll know how I can get to him.’

  ‘Why do you think I’d know that?’ said Hamish, leaning back and folding his arms. ‘How many times do I have to tell you I’m not loveshy?’

  ‘I know you’re not,’ I said. ‘But you’ve been visiting the site for longer than I have. You know more about them. Plus you’re a boy. I don’t understand boy-brain at all. You can be my translator.’

  Hamish gazed at me for a moment. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll help you.’

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘So what do I do?’

  ‘Buy me a doughnut.’

  I gave him a flat look, but went to order a doughnut, plus another coffee for myself. I sat back down, staring at Hamish expectantly.

  ‘Well?’

  The waitress brought over his doughnut, and he took a bite. ‘Well,’ he said, his mouth full. ‘First you need to be less intimidating.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Make your boobs look smaller.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You have epic cans, Penny. They’re enough to smother a tiny loveshy boy to death.’

  I folded my arms across my chest.

  ‘Seriously,’ he said. ‘You’re a very intimidating person.’

  ‘Because I’m smart?’

  Hamish shook his head. ‘Because you’re intimidating. You’re loud and bossy, and you talk a lot but don’t seem to do much listening. You think you’re the best at everything, which is probably true. But that doesn’t make you any less intimidating.’

  My cheeks grew hot. ‘I’m not bossy!’ I said. ‘I just like things to be done properly. It’s not my fault that nobody else pays enough attention.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Hamish shrugged.

  ‘And I do listen! I’m a journalist – part of my whole reason for existing is to listen to people’s stories and then share them with the world!’

  Hamish nodded in what I felt was a patronising way. I wasn’t bossy and intimidating. Was I?

  ‘Just tell me what I can do to get Nick to talk to me,’ I said, glaring at him.

  ‘Fine,’ said Hamish, and leaned forward. ‘You have to get into his friend zone.’