Chapter 4: I'm Getting There

Summary: Wesley helps Cordelia write her English paper, and in the process Cordy learns a little bit about his childhood.

Positive Traits – Insightfulness


The restaurant had a quiet, laid back, somewhat sophisticated ambiance. It was nice, as far as Sunnydale restaurants went.

The clock on the wall said 7:55. Wesley tugged at his shirt collar and wondered for about the hundredth time exactly what he had gotten himself into. Cordelia was a smart girl, and English was one of her favorite subjects, so it seemed incredibly unlikely that she really needed his help that badly. It was pretty obvious this was meant to be a date rather than a study session.

And yet he had agreed to it. He just couldn't bring himself to say no to Cordelia. Wesley wondered if his weakness for the dark-haired girl was a result of his attraction to her, or the simple fact that she was the only person in this whole town who actually liked him.

Regardless, he had said he would help, so here he was.

The clock struck eight, and in walked Cordelia Chase, looking radiant in a simple dark blue blouse and white skirt. She paused in the doorway and looked around, scanning the crowd for the man she had come to meet. Wesley waved to get her attention, and her face lit up when she spotted him. She crossed the room in a few graceful strides, and Wesley stood to greet her, pulling her chair out like the perfect gentleman he was.

"Hi, Wesley," she smiled at him as she sat down. "You look nice."

"So do you," Wesley said, trying to sound more calm and composed than he felt.

They spent the next few moments getting settled, looking over menus and ordering drinks and appetizers. Finally Wesley asked, "So...about this English paper you're writing..."

"Right. That." Cordelia reached into her bag and withdrew a notebook. She opened it and flipped through a few pages until she reached the section she was looking for, then passed it across the table for Wesley to inspect. "This is all I've got so far. It's just some notes I took while we were watching the movie."

"Movie?" Wesley raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Cordy said. "The teacher was gonna have us read the book, but she said she figured most of us would probably just watch the movie anyway, so she brought it last week and we spent a couple of class periods watching it."

Wesley picked up the notebook and read over the notes printed in Cordelia's neat handwriting.

He looked up at her in surprise. "You watched Matilda."

"Uh-huh," Cordy nodded, looking uninterested.

"You didn't like it?"

"I just didn't get it," Cordelia said. "I mean I guess it's kind of cute, but it just seems silly. How am I supposed to write a serious paper about such a ridiculous movie? The assignment is something like, examine the central theme of the movie, but I couldn't find anything really...thematic about it."

Wesley gave her a blank look. "The central theme of Matilda is quite clear."

"Is it?" Cordy asked. "Then please, by all means, explain it to me. Cuz I don't get it."

"It's about reclaiming control," Wesley began, closing the notebook and passing it back across the table. "Taking back the power from those who...shouldn't have it."

"Like that bulldozer lady?" Cordelia asked.

"Trunchbull, yes," Wesley nodded. "I'll give you an example. Originally, Matilda's powers are triggered by people yelling at her. She has no control over the circumstances or her resulting telekinetic reaction."

"So..." Cordelia thought about it for a second. "She has powers, but she doesn't have power."

"Precisely," Wesley grinned, delighted to see her catching on. "But she doesn't just leave it that way. Once Matilda realizes the source of her power, she begins working to gain control over it. First she incites her father's anger to make him yell at her so she can slam the door, then she only has to imagine being yelled at in order to make the box of cereal tip over, and finally she reaches a point where she doesn't need the yelling at all. By the middle of the film, Matilda has made the power completely her own. It belongs to her, not her abusers."

Cordelia picked up her pen and began writing quickly, copying down everything Wesley was saying. "That's great. Keep going."

"In a similar vein," Wesley went on, "Matilda needs only do a few things to Headmistress Trunchbull to make the other children see that the fearsome woman isn't quite so fearsome after all. Once Matilda has proven that Trunchbull isn't all powerful, that she can be brought down and humiliated, the children cease to be afraid of her, and the entire school rises up against Trunchbull and drives her away."

He paused for a moment to wait for Cordy to finish writing. She scribbled a few sentences and then looked up at him expectantly.

"Perhaps the most important thing to note is that Matilda begins to find strength inside herself before she learns of her powers," Wesley continued. "The incidents with the peroxide and the super glue, for example, are the first small steps she takes to fight back against her father's cruelty."

"Huh," Cordy tapped her pen against the notebook, a contemplative look on her face. "That's a good point. Okay, but answer this. What was up with that cake scene? Did that really serve any purpose, or was it just there for like, obligatory grossness or something?"

"It was a little over-the-top, that's true," Wesley admitted. "However, it is immensely important, and it does in fact fit with the overall theme of reclaiming power."

Cordy made a face. "Really? How?"

"Trunchbull forces Bruce Bogtrotter to eat an entire cake in front of everyone, purely out of malice," Wesley explained. "Her intention is to humiliate Bruce and scare the other children into submission, to show them that she has the power to turn even their most enjoyable experiences into miserable ones. But Matilda robs her of that sadistic victory simply by standing up and cheering for Bruce, prompting the entire student body to follow her lead. All it takes is a little encouragement to turn the children's fear into excitement and Bruce's humiliation into triumph. And in doing so, Matilda ignites the first sparks of rebellion against the vile headmistress."

Cordelia finished writing down his analysis, then looked up at him again. "This is some really great stuff. What else you got?"

"I could go on for hours about Matilda," Wesley said. "But I believe I've given you enough to get you started."

"How weird is it that the movie I'm supposed to be writing about just so happens to be a movie you've seen before, and...clearly put a lot of thought into already..." Cordelia trailed off, and Wesley picked up his menu and tried to look absorbed in studying the dessert selection.

"Wesley," Cordelia reached across the table and pushed the menu down so she could meet his eyes. "Why do you have so many deep insights about a kids' movie that only came out like three years ago?"

"Ah...well, I, um..." Wesley stammered. "I read the book when I was a boy, and ah...well, it was one of my favorites. So when I heard a movie had been made, I wanted to go see it."

Cordelia remained silent, studying him with a curious look on her face, like she knew there was more he wasn't telling her.

"My father is not the..." Wesley hesitated as he searched his brain for the right word. "...nicest man. Growing up, he could be quite...difficult to please sometimes."

"Did he yell at you a lot?" Cordy asked. "Like Matilda's dad?"

Wesley nodded.

"Did you ever wish you had her powers?"

"It wasn't her powers I wanted," Wesley said quietly. "Just her courage."

"Because she fought back even before she knew she had powers," Cordelia repeated Wesley's earlier explanation, realization dawning on her face as she gained a new understanding of what it meant.

"Yes," he said. "I always...admired that."

A waiter appeared with their orders, and Wesley and Cordelia ate their appetizers in silence, the notebook sitting between them as a reminder of the unwritten paper and their unfinished conversation.

Finally, as Cordelia dipped her last mozzarella stick in the small container of red sauce in the center of her plate, she looked across at her dinner date and asked the question that had been brewing in her mind.

"You didn't have a great childhood, did you Wesley?"

He shook his head. "No."

"I'm sorry," Cordy said. She was quiet for a moment, unsure of what else to say. "But...you're okay now, right? Things are better now?"

Wesley considered her question. He was thousands of miles away from home, neither of his Slayers liked him, one of them had turned evil, every single thing he had tried to do since he came to Sunnydale had resulted in failure and just made things worse, and his father still wasn't proud of anything he had ever done.

But there was one bright spot to being here. She was sitting across the table from him at this very moment, giving him her full attention and reassuring him—perhaps without even realizing what she was doing—that he was worth something, that he meant something to at least one person.

"I'm getting there."