Love-shy

by Lili Wilkinson

  ‘His friend zone? Please explain.’

  Hamish’s face clouded over, as if I was forcing him to talk about something that distressed him. ‘It’s when someone stops viewing you as a potential partner, and sees you as just a friend. It’s the curse of the shy guy.’

  ‘A curse? Why? What’s wrong with being someone’s friend?’

  ‘Once you’re in the friend zone, you never get out.’

  I laughed. ‘Are you serious? Heaps of people who are friends end up together. It happens all the time.’

  ‘Nope. Once you’re in, you’ll never get out.’

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘It’s not The Twilight Zone. Don’t be ridiculous. How are you supposed to get to know someone if you can’t become friends first? How are you supposed to judge if they’ve got a nice personality?’

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ Hamish said. ‘Girls always say they want a guy with a nice personality, but they don’t. They either want someone who’s hot, or someone who’s rich.’

  I wanted to smack him. ‘Do you think maybe you don’t have a girlfriend because you run around saying that all girls are shallow?’

  ‘It’s a real problem, Penny,’ said Hamish. ‘Particularly for shy guys. All we want to do is make a girl happy. So we’re nice, we’re accommodating. We tell her how beautiful she is, and we buy her flowers and send her love letters. But that’s not what girls want. They don’t want nice guys. They want mean, aggressive alpha guys. You act like a caring human being, and she’ll end up going shopping with you and taking you to the hairdresser before she runs off on a hot date with some tattooed meathead on a motorbike, leaving you to water her plants and let the cat out.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘What you’re saying now? It’s really offensive.’

  ‘Because you know so much about dating.’

  ‘I know more than whatever misogynistic men’s magazine you picked up that charming little series of impressions from.’

  ‘Believe me, don’t believe me,’ said Hamish, finishing his doughnut and licking his fingers. ‘I don’t care.’

  I sighed. ‘So what does this have to do with Nick?’

  ‘If you’re in his friend zone, he won’t be scared of you anymore. He’ll know you’re not trying to hit on him, so he’ll relax.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘So how do I get into Nick’s friend zone?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Hamish. ‘I guess you have to find a way to talk to him that completely removes all aspects of romance. A situation where romance and sex are totally, utterly, not options.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘That shouldn’t be hard, given that I have no interest in pursuing either romance or sex with him.’

  Hamish nodded. ‘You just have to figure out how to let him know that.’

  I thought about my plans for Hamish and Rin all the way home, and as I got out of the lift on our floor, I was convinced that it would work. It was a win-win situation. Everyone would benefit!

  I walked straight past my apartment, and knocked on Rin’s door. I heard a burst of Japanese inside, and the sound of bare feet padding towards the door.

  ‘Penny!’ Rin seemed disproportionately happy to see me.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘I just came by to see what you’re doing over the weekend.’

  Rin shot a look back into her apartment. ‘Hang on,’ she hissed. ‘We can’t talk here.’

  She pushed me back into the corridor and followed me out, closing the door behind her. ‘My parents,’ she said. ‘Very strict.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Well, Sarah Parsons is having her birthday party on the weekend, and I thought you might like to come along.’

  Rin’s eyes lit up. ‘Really? Sarah said I was invited?’

  ‘She did indeed,’ I lied.

  Rin looked as though she might burst. ‘That’s so exciting!’ she said. ‘I’ll have to tell my parents something. I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Oh my God, what am I going to wear? Will there be lots of boys there? Who else is going? Should I wear heels or flats? Will there be dancing? Oh, and you have to stay for dinner.’

  I blinked. That was a lot to take in all at once. Rin opened the door to her apartment and dragged me in after her.

  ‘Take off your shoes,’ she said, and pointed to a rack of shoes by the door.

  I slipped off my sneakers and put them carefully on the rack.

  ‘Okaasan!’ she called, and pulled me into the living room.

  Rin’s apartment was the same as ours, except with different furniture. Their sofa looked much squishier and more comfy than ours, and instead of a proper dining table and chairs, there was a very low square table with cushions around it. A big fat buddha sat on a little red mat on the sideboard near the window, grinning at me.

  Rin’s mum was in the kitchen doing something involving rice and vegetables. It smelled amazing. I didn’t think I’d ever smelled cooking in our apartment. Just the slightly damp smell of freshly arrived takeaway food.

  ‘Okaasan, kochira wa Penny desu,’ said Rin to her mum. ‘Tonari ni sunde iru gakkou no tomodachi desu.’

  Mrs Tamaki smiled. ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Penny,’ she said in accented English, and made a little bow. She seemed very young to be Rin’s mum, her black hair pulled up into a neat bun. She wore a pale blue cardigan, a fabric apron over loose cotton pants, and white linen slippers.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs Tamaki,’ I said, returning the bow.

  ‘Can Penny stay for dinner?’ Rin asked her mum.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to intrude. I’ll be fine at home.’

  ‘I’d like to meet this new friend Rin tells me about,’ said Mrs Tamaki. ‘Please stay.’

  Rin took me into her bedroom. It was covered with posters of anime and manga characters, and soft toys and figurines. She pointed out each one to me, happily explaining what they were from and what their special abilities were.

  ‘I should lend you some manga,’ she said. ‘I think you’ll really like it.’

  I laughed. ‘I might have to learn Japanese first.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Rin. ‘I’ve got some in English too.’

  Those big eyes and teeny mouths kind of creeped me out. But I let her press a few comics into my hand, and listened carefully as she explained how to read them, back to front starting from the last page.

  Mrs Tamaki called us back into the living room, and I was introduced to Mr Tamaki, who had just arrived home from work. He was tall, with a kind face and silver hair around his temples. He wore a very nice suit that I thought my dad would approve of.

  We sat cross-legged at the table, and Rin poured me a glass of Coke. Mr Tamaki had a beer.

  ‘Itadakimasu,’ said Rin and her parents, bowing their heads.

  ‘We’re saying thank you for the food,’ Rin explained.

  ‘Like saying grace?’

  ‘Sort of. Except we’re thanking the chicken for giving us its life, and the farmer for growing the rice and vegetables.’

  ‘And Fumiko for cooking it,’ added Mr Tamaki with a wink.

  I liked the sound of that. ‘How do you say it again? Eat a dirty mouse?’

  Rin let out a yelp of laughter. ‘Itadakimasu.’

  ‘Eeta-dacky-muss,’ I said slowly. Rin and her parents looked pleased.

  ‘Can you use hashi?’ asked Mr Tamaki, indicating his chopsticks.

  I picked up mine and clicked the ends together to prove it. Mr and Mrs Tamaki seemed impressed.

  Dinner was amazing. There was miso soup to start with, then a green bean and spinach dish called goma-ai, and something else called oyako donburi, which was chicken with egg and mushrooms on rice.

  Rin’s parents asked me about school, and nodded admiringly when I told them I was a good student, and that I was involved with the SRC and the Gazette and Debating and Orchestra. Rin beamed the whole time, clearly delighted to have a friend who her parents approved of.

  I asked about Rin’
s brothers, and Mr and Mrs Tamaki nearly fell over themselves telling me how well their uni studies were going, and which areas of medicine they were planning to specialise in. I wondered if either of the boys had a girlfriend, and remembered what Hamish had told me about people who dated in high school ending up more successful than people who hadn’t.

  ‘What do you want to do when you leave school, Penny?’ asked Mr Tamaki.

  ‘Study journalism,’ I told him. ‘I want to be a journalist.’

  ‘A difficult line of work,’ he said. ‘Very stressful.’

  ‘But rewarding,’ I said. ‘I want to tell the important stories. The ones that aren’t being told.’

  I thought of Nick, and hoped that Hamish’s friend-zone theory was correct.

  I was expecting something exotic for dessert, possibly involving sticky rice or red bean paste. Or more Pocky. But it turned out to be rocky road ice-cream, which was just fine by me.

  After dinner I thanked Mr and Mrs Tamaki for their hospitality.

  ‘You must come again,’ said Mrs Tamaki. ‘Any time.’

  I stood up, my knees creaky after sitting cross-legged for so long. Rin walked me to the door.

  ‘Thanks for dinner,’ I said. ‘It was delicious.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Rin. ‘Thanks for inviting me to the … you know.’ She winked.

  I winked back, and realised that for the first time in my life I was genuinely looking forward to going to a teenage birthday party.

  21:44

  I don’t like the bright sun, or the shock of cold water. I’ve been thinking about that church camp my parents sent me on when I was eleven. They’re not very religious, but my father thought it would help me be more social. As soon as I arrived, I hated it. On that first afternoon, we were all told to change into our bathers (I always wear a T-shirt because I burn very easily) and headed down to the lake.

  The water was cold. So cold that when it lapped around my feet, I shivered and my toes ached. But I wanted to go in. It would just take some time. It always takes time, because I’m sensitive to the cold. So I eased myself in, little by little. Inch by inch. But the other boys laughed at me and called me a pussy and a faggot. I didn’t care, I was used to it. I just ignored them and kept inching in. But they wouldn’t go away. They came closer and splashed me. Every splash was like sharp blades raking across my body. I screamed at them to leave me alone. It didn’t work. They got rocks from the lake shore and threw them at me. Hard. I got out of the water and ran for the cabins. It was hot for the rest of the camp, but I wore long sleeves every day to hide the bruises. I didn’t go swimming again. I never went swimming again.

  I read Nick’s post six times. Could it really be true? Could kids be so horrid to each other? I pictured tiny skinny Nick in his board-shorts and T-shirt, cringing and crying from the water and the rocks, while all the other boys laughed at him. No wonder he was messed up.

  8

  FRIDAY WAS THE SWIMMING CARNIVAL. Everyone dressed in their house colours and stood on the sidelines and cheered. My house was Merri, and our colour was white (white? Who ever heard of a white school house?), and it was always difficult to think of a costume theme. There were only so many times you could all dress up as angels, so this year we’d decided to come as doctors and asylum patients in straitjackets. All the non-swimmers wore white face-paint and scary panda-eyes, and our house cheer was If we don’t win, we’ ll bite off your arms and legs!, which at least was different.

  I won my first few races easily, which was no surprise. I’ve been swimming competitively since I was eight. Plus I’ve got a good strong mindset and don’t allow myself to be distracted during a competition.

  Except for today. All the time I was waiting for my races, I kept an eye out for Nick. The whole school was supposed to attend the carnival, but it would be pretty easy to wag and stay home. But then, Amy Butler was competing, looking very petite and lovely in a sleek black one-piece. Wouldn’t he relish this opportunity to watch her compete? Her hair was tucked into a swimming cap, which Nick probably wouldn’t like, but there was plenty of figure to look at. Then again, maybe he’d get freaked out by all the near-nudity. He probably was wagging.

  I felt I should approach Amy and talk to her about Nick, but I honestly wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to expose his secret to the school – that’d scare him off completely (and be kind of mean). But maybe I could get them both to come to Sarah Parsons’ party? I was sure Amy would be going. I hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat of last year’s Tia Maria incident.

  The carnival was finishing with the relay that would decide which of the four houses got the Swimming Cup. I hated relays – the other people in the team rarely had the same level of commitment as I did. Luckily, as with Debating, I swam last, so I’d at least have an opportunity to fix any disasters perpetrated by my team members. As I was standing in line waiting for the starting pistol to fire, I scanned the seats around the pool for Nick.

  And there he was.

  The new 25-metre pool and aquatic centre had been built last year, and it still smelled of paint under the chlorine. Nick was sitting up the very back of the raked seating, away from everyone else. I could tell he was watching Amy Butler. She was in Fawkner, the blue house, and she was second-last in her relay queue, so she’d be swimming just before me in the butterfly leg. I was the anchor for my team, swimming the freestyle leg.

  The starter gun sounded and the backstrokers kicked off. Olivia Fischer was the first swimmer for my house, and she did okay, but didn’t manage to get the lead. Sarah Parsons was next, doing breaststroke. She was rubbish, letting the Fawkner and Rushall teams get ahead of her, even though they’d been trailing behind Olivia in the first leg. Amy Butler was diving in for butterfly before Sarah had made it halfway back to us. After what seemed an age, Arabella Sampson finally dived in and I stepped up on the starting blocks, cheering her on.

  Arabella made good time and almost caught up to Amy Butler. But as I bent my knees, ready to dive, I saw Amy pull herself out of the water and I automatically glanced up to Nick. As if he could feel me watching, his head swung around to me, and with a start, he got to his feet and made his way down the aisle – not towards the crowds, but towards the fire exit. I’d spooked him again. But I couldn’t let him get away this time.

  Arabella touched the edge of the pool and I dove over her head into the water. I had to finish the race quickly so I could catch up to Nick.

  I swam as I’d never swum before, cutting through the water like a knife. My tumble turn was perfect. With every stroke I imagined Nick taking another step towards the door. I practically flew through the water, taking in great gulps of air on alternate sides every three strokes and focusing on my six-beat kick.

  As I touched the end of the pool, I stuck my head up out of the water and searched for Nick, ignoring the cheers and yelling around me. He was nearly at the exit.

  My teammates whooped and screamed my name. I knew I’d won, but I didn’t care. This was my chance. I had to get to Nick. I hauled myself out of the water and ran towards him, stepping as carefully as I could so I wouldn’t slip.

  ‘Penny! You have to stay in the pool!’ said Sarah Parsons. ‘What’s wrong? Are you sick? Penny!’

  I waved at her in an I’m fine sort of way, and kept going. Water streamed off my hair and arms, and I left Penny-footprints with every step I took.

  I slipped through the fire exit door just as it swung closed after Nick. He strode across the quadrangle, empty but for a few chip packets and aluminium cans.

  ‘Nick!’ I made sure I didn’t call out until I was close enough that he couldn’t bolt. He was trapped between the stairs to the library and the bike sheds. He looked down, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Calm down. I only want to talk to you. I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day. I want to apologise.’

  Apologies weren’t easy for me at the best of times, and this time it wasn’t even tr
ue, because I hadn’t done anything wrong! But Nick continued to stare at the ground and do that weird thing with his fists.

  ‘J-j-just leave m-me alone.’

  Well, at least he’d spoken to me. That was a step in the right direction.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Chill out. You don’t have to be shy with me. And there’s no one else around, they’re all inside.’

  I put my hand on his shoulder and felt him convulse slightly. I snatched my hand back. Of course he’d freak out when I touched him. He’d barely ever spoken to a girl before, and I was practically naked.

  Nick stared at me, his face a mask of horror. All the cool aloofness fell away and I saw how utterly terrified he was.

  The look of horror got worse, and his trembling more intense, then his mouth sort of twisted. And then I was covered in something wet, warm and foul-smelling.

  ‘Oh God,’ he said.

  When you’ve just been vomited on, all over your breasts, it’s hard to know what to say. I was grateful he’d bent over as he’d done it, so it hadn’t hit my face.

  Vomity warmth seeped into my cleavage. I stood before Nick Rammage, in my bathers, dripping with pool water and spew. He appeared to be completely frozen.

  ‘Well,’ I said, as a chunk of what appeared to be half-digested gummi bear dripped off my right breast and landed on my big toe. ‘I know that loveshys aren’t supposed to be attracted to large-breasted women, but I didn’t know you were so repulsed by them!’

  Nick made a soft choking sound. Oops. Probably shouldn’t have mentioned my boobs. Probably not the kind of thing that a loveshy in the middle of a freakout would find funny.

  ‘S-sorry,’ he said, so softly I could barely hear him, as he half turned away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  I remembered my conversation with Hamish yesterday. You have to find a way to talk to him that completely removes all aspects of romance. A situation where romance and sex are totally, utterly, not options.

  There was vomit between my breasts and between my toes. The smell was making my eyes water. If ever there was a situation where romance and sex weren’t options, this was it. It was time to put myself in Nick’s friend zone.