On July 16th, I decide to get the straight poop from Cody on the circumstances surrounding his mauling. Part of me thinks that there could perhaps going out of my way to interact with a boy who not only got fondled by me in his sleep, but also decided to deliver his wimpier version of tearing me a new one just before I left, could cause some awkwardness. But another part of me is longing for the days where I could just sit down and listen to people rant about their lives, however inconsequential and meaningless their ramblings were. I want to hear someone complain with quietly voiced snark instead of with their flailing arms for a change.
Clipboard lady had told me on my first night that there was a decently equipped medical ward here. I assume that's where these insane sadists ditched mangled Cody. I can only imagine that it's a pea-coloured canvas tent like on M*A*S*H, with surgeons up to their wrists in blood. It's in the lowest level, in the back, where they keep things like barbecues and other crap that the guests probably shouldn't touch because we'd manage to kill ourselves with it. In which case, all things considered, makes it sensible they'd put the infirmary right next door.
The infirmary isn't exactly a 'ward', more like a single room. It's bigger than the average school nurse's office, but God forbid if two people decided to play sodium hydroxide supersoaker fight, because there seems to only be capacity for one person. I peer in timidly to make sure he isn't being attended to by any nurses or gigantic black chefs pretending to be nurses before I enter.
To my surprise, Cody isn't wrapped in head-to-toe bandages. He is shirtless, with a wrap around his chest, and a rigid plastic contraption fixed to his arm with peach-coloured bandages. He has a bit of patchy discolouration on his skin, but considering that he was apparently mauled by a bear, he doesn't look worse for wear. I slowly step in, and he immediately notices me. His mouth forms an expression not upset enough to imply he's unhappy to see me, but not overjoyed either. Almost confused.
"Hey." I say, for lack of a better conversation starter.
"Hi." He replies. "Why you here?"
Though his tone is pleasant, I raise my hands in mocking defensiveness.
"Hey, don't worry, if you start going into cardiac arrest or something, I promise I'm not too lazy to run and get help."
He smiles warmly. "I would laugh a little harder if it didn't tug my stitches. He points at his chest.
"That's…." I say, scooting a plastic chair nearer to his bedside. "Actually why I'm here."
He appears alert. "You launching an investigation or something?"
"No, I'm just curious, like, how are you still alive?" A wrinkle appears in my forehead. "Like, I thought you got attacked by a friggin' bear."
"Ah, that's the magic of TV for you…" He says lightly. I remain unimpressed.
"Let me get this straight. They faked a bear attack. To make good TV."
"Nope, the bear really did paw at me once or twice, but although you probably think the camera crew consists of evil people, they actually didn't just sit there and film and tell the bear to attack with his u0pstage arm instead."
"So they intervened."
"Yeah, they wrangled that guy right away."
"So you go out with what, just a scratch?"
"Well I kinda messed up my wrist, hence the wrappy thingy, and he did claw the shit out of my chest, which, if it didn't hurt so much, would leave a really badass scar."
"The pain will probably make the scar more badass." I tease.
His eyes light up. "You really think so?"
I close my eyes and form a tight smile. "How many 11th-graders can go around showing off a bear attack scar?"
He places a hand on his chest thoughtfully. "If I can't brag about winning a hundred grand, this isn't so bad I guess." He looks off at nothing in particular for a moment. "Awesome." I'm glad that I somehow made this kid feel like a traumatic animal attack that will probably result in bad dreams and him donating all his childhood teddy bears to value village feel good about it.
"The fullbody cast was just for show, then?" He nods.
"So…how is it here, outside the infirmary? It won't be long til I leave, I think they just wanted me to avoid getting my stitches dirty or wet for a few days and figured quarantining me is the best way to do it."
"Well, there's a pool, there's a hot-tub, there's waterfront property…."
He glowers at me. "Anything fun to do that isn't, you know, wet?"
"Xbox and Nintendo, if you're into that stuff…" I add a touch of sarcasm to my remark because I know he's definitely into that kind of stuff. "The food is pretty good too. Not exactly gourmet, but like, extreme high end cafeteria. Like rich kid food."
He groans when I mention food. "I'm hungry…could you like, get me something? It doesn't cost money, right?"
"Agh, I'm sure I could squeeze it into my busy relaxation schedule. What do you want? They got really awesome sundried tomato soup today…"
"Yes, some of that sounds wicked. "
I turn towards the door.
"And some cookies too?" He smiles.
"Sure thing."
"And Noah?" I roll my eyes slightly, but the innocence in his voice sucks me in.
"Could you throw on that movie?" He points vaguely at the TV.
I pick it up. "No way. You like Miyazaki?"
He smiles like a maniac who is ever so slightly high on painkillers. "Of course! He's like, a genius or something. I like Princess Mononoke!"
"I've always been more of a Spirited Away person myself…it's like the best movie ever."
"Haha, the frogs!" We both snicker at something that's not quite a joke.
"So…this one?" I ask, holding up Howl's Moving Castle.
He affirms this. It annoys me in a funny way, because I decide right then that I'm going to have to walk all the way back here in order to sit down, and watch this movie with him. He might be a desperate nerd, but he's a desperate nerd with taste.
"Noah." He says, one last time when I almost successfully made it to the door uninterrupted.
"Whaaaaat." I drone.
"….I like you better when you're being nice."
"As soon as you're able to walk, I'm not your bitch." I say flatly, but with a subtle smile.
He responds simply with: "Thank you!"
So now I'm lazily reclining on a hard plastic chair in Cody's recovery room, sock feet propped on his bed, eating cookies and discussing the validity of choosing Emily Mortimer's raspy, British voice to play Sophie. Then we briefly argue over the validity of Disney owning the rights to the all the English dubs of Miyazaki films. I shut him down immediate citing good translation, no loss of material, and excellent casting. At least he's learning not to mess with me.
I feel happy, actually, because he's smart and nobody else is. Okay, if I had to use internet terminology to describe him, I would say 'rather noobish'. He acts with such bravado at times, but deep inside, and by deep I mean under one millimetre of fairly transparent coolness, he's a robot-loving geek. Maybe if he just let that be his image instead of this fake cool guy, he'd actually get a date. I feel a bit hypocritical now, because you're probably thinking that since I 'pretend to be popular' I'm totally doing the same thing as him, but you're wrong, because you know what, maybe some people just have a multi-faceted personality.
Maybe I could give him tips or something.
When the movie is over, he again asks me about living arrangements.
"What are the rooms like? Are they better than this?"
"Better than a motel, not quite a hotel."
"Oh…?" I sense a subtle lack of comprehension.
"They're nice, the beds are comfy, but they're small. It's okay though because there's a lot of stuff to catch your interest outside the room, so you basically just need it to sleep."
"I was just wondering, cause I think I'm getting out of here soon."
"When you do…" I add. "Choose room 108."
"Why?" he asks.
"Cause I'm 106" I say with a smile.
The nurse comes in to fondle him some more, or something. Judging by his rate of recovery, that's the only conceivable reason for him to still be in here. I swing my legs back onto the floor and head to the door.
"Later."
It's the strangest thing, I feel happier now. I've spent so much of my life rolling my eyes at the nerds. I know I'm a bit of one myself, but more like, the sort of nerd that gives gadgets to James Bond or the guys who pull off such an elaborate scam job that instead of throwing them in jail, the government takes them on as techno-spies or something. I am a nerd mafia boss. I can manipulate lesser nerds – like casual band geeks, math whizzes, and larpers . I can use them as currency. I can promise them increased stature among the 'normals' if they are inclined to desire it.
I'm a true diplomat.
But when I've floundered and failed at everything I'd set out to do here within a few days, I realize playing any of these games of discrete liaisons is completely pointless now. The cameras are off, and I'm in a land even less permanent than the transitory nature of high school. Therefore, I can take a vacation away from mingling in the meaningless affairs of others.
For that reason, I'm sitting here playing Left 4 Dead with Cody
He left the hospital room today. He still has bandages over the scarring injury on his chest, and he's forgone the sweater-vest thing for a loose green t-shirt as to not mess with his probably gangrenous and bear-slime ridden wound. We both sit with the backs of our heads smashed into the edge of the cold leather sofa, seated on the floor. It doesn't feel right to play video games on a sofa. You have to pain your butt on the ground.
"You wanna be Francis?"
Cody laughs at my choice in character. I select an angry tattooed man in a leather vest.
"He hates everything, and is vocal about how much he hates the things he hates. I figured it was a sure thing."
He chooses a neurotic black guy in a tie, so I don't see how my choice is weird. He dies over and over, and I repeatedly need to go rescue him.
"I thought you said you were good at video games." I jab.
"I can't play shooters!"
When our characters get into an elevator together, I swing an axe at the general direction of his character.
"You suuuck…" I slowly say.
"You know what?" He says briefly. I flinch a tiny bit because I don't want him releasing any nerd rage on me. "I wish that Total Drama Island was on TV. I wonder how everyone is doing."
"How much has aired so far?"
"The episode you get the boot is airing next week. I hate the backlog. I mean, we always know who's going home but I want to see the final version of….actually, what time is it?"
I check my watch. "Seven twenty seven?"
"Aw yeah!" He jumps up from our position on the ground and grabs the remote, switching from the game system input to satellite TV. He scrolls through the channels until he reaches Teleteen.
"Yes! It's on! It's the episode where we didn't sleep!" He turns to me with a joyous expression. I briefly grimace, but it seems like he doesn't have any uncomfortable memories of the rude awakening that day.
The dizzying theme song boots up. I notice that the opening features me sitting with Ezekiel, even though we were never actually close at all. I think they knew we'd be out really early so they just jammed a pair of losers together. The episode is centred a lot on Eva, probably as an omen of her nearing demise. I keep an eye out for myself. I appear briefly running beside Heather. Why am I running? I never run.
"The editing on this show is expressing an inaccurate portrayal of my personality. Since when do I run?"
"They didn't even show shots of me…"
"Oh wait. I take that back. They've got something right." I say, as I watch past self get slammed onto a table by Owen. I hadn't really passed out, or at least passed out due to lack of oxygen or anything else that would warrant CPR, but I figured keeping my eyes shut would work to my advantage. Seeing as I got to complete the race slung over Owen's shoulder instead of having to carry my own weight, I guess it did.
"I'm just lucky I opened my eyes before he started mouth to mouth."
Cody laughs, but quickly cuts himself off with a tiny squeal when Gwen appears in a confessional. I roll my eyes at his seeming obsession with the weird goth girl, as Heather called her. But Trent appears beside her a moment later, and I can't help but feel like a bit of a hypocrite when a smile tugs at my mouth. I notice the both of them are getting a lot of screen time this episode. It's funny, because the whole time I sat a couple feet away watching their lame little relationship bloom over the course of that awakeathon.
"It could be way worse." Television Trent says.
"Oh yeah? How?" asks Television Gwen
"I could be stuck here without you to talk to."
A look of discontent flashes across TV's Heather's face, and I agree with her disdain, in quantity though not in cause. A very small growl escapes the both Cody and I. He immediately notices this.
"What, you on Team Cody?"
"What the hell is Team Cody."
"You think I could have been with Gwen instead of Trent."
I give him an 'are you serious' look. "Um. No."
He rolls his head. "S'okay, I'm not even mad, bro. You wanna know what I did a challenge or two before I got kicked off, and mauled?"
I give him a mildly disinterested smirk. The show cuts to a Wendy's commercial, so suppose now is as good a time as any for story time.
"I set them up!" he says. "I mean, it wouldn't be fair for me to try and seduce her away from the man she really wants." He says this with a hint of egotism but also a hint of disappointment. "I should use my people skills for good, not for selfish needs."
"How noble." I say sarcastically. "Yours is a talent that should be shared with the world."
"I know! I hope that if I can't have her, they have a very long and prosperous relationship and always consider me a great buddy that helped them get together and I hope I can be the MC at their wedding and stuff it would be –"
"You're insane." I say offhandedly, with a breathy chuckle.
He makes a pained, gap-toothed smile. "It wasn't easy."
I wish I could tell him they probably would have gotten together without his help, but for once I actually don't want to needlessly hurt someone's feelings. I don't think I've been in love before, but I've read enough love stories to know that sometimes living in a thinly veiled maya instead of the reality of rejection is much easier. The show returns from break.
The mild intensity of the previous conversation breaks when we both laugh at Cody's unfortunate choice of pillow, resulting in his getting copious amounts of Owen gas passed into his face.
"That seems unpleasant." I say.
"It was. It definitely was."
"Not as unpleasant as this…" I groan, as Trent and Gwen reappear with their drabbling game of twenty questions.
"I wonder if they'll show any of our conversation? We were having awesome epic chat time right beside them…"
"Doubtful. Our little romance isn't quite as interesting to the home viewer as theirs."
"They get a lot of screen time." He says. "Not that I'm complaining though. Gwen still looks beautiful even with bags under her eyes."
"Hey, I'm not complaining either!"
"Aw, what? You don't like her too, do you?"
At that exact moment, Trent appears, waving his hands around yelling 'yip yip yip yip!'
"I wasn't talking about her." I add poignantly.
"Oh?" He looks at the screen as the camera closes in on Trent. "Ohh. I didn't know you…"
I cock an eyebrow slightly. He continues. "Were like…that."
I cock my eyebrow further. "Not exactly observant, are we honey?" I add the 'honey' for good measure. "I mean, come on. Think back on all those times I said 'what-ever-' with that oddly limp-wristed gesture, I … " I snicker. "I'm not always proud of acting stereotypical, but at least it could allow some to take the hint."
He gets a glazed look in his eyes, as if every time he heard me say 'What-ever' in that really gay way is playing back like a little movie in his head. "Well…" he says slowly. "My parents always told me not to make assumptions. At least I think that's what they meant."
I chuckle at the irony. At that very moment, our awkward little instance of awakening flashes on screen. The kisses that I had placed on his ear. It's probably the only screen time we get together the whole episode, and I think the only time I've heard my own voice the whole time, too. Screaming in a very un-manly, and un-hetero way.
"Aw, what. They showed that. The only time we appear this episode, and it's for…that." I say.
He looks at the screen, then at me again. "Oh…that explains a lot."
"What?"
"The spooning….with a dude…"
I nab a sofa cushion and toss it at him. "Oh, shut up, I was sleeping! Don't flatter yourself." He throws the pillow back weakly. It misses me entirely and lands on the floor. We laugh. I can tell the rest is going to be more Gwen and Trent nonsense for the rest of the episode, because I distinctly recall Gwen being the last one to fall asleep. Trent's eyes roll back in his head as though he suffered an aneurysm, and he collapses to the ground.
I take a breath.
"You wanna know why it really happened?"
"The awkward…morning…thing?"
"Yeah." He appears alert. I continue. "I had a dream about Trent."
He snorts.
"He was speaking Italian. "
"Ooh, sexy. I might have been dreaming of Gwen too. Regardless, it felt kinda cool to have someone get that close to me."
My expression goes blank.
"Like, no, don't, well I just mean, I don't get a lot of hugs or anything, don't have many touchy friends. Just like…my parents. It was weird. It was comfy. It was weird."
I smile in seeming comprehension. "Same." I say shortly. "Though…" I start, "I begin to like Trent less and less."
"Ha, why, cause he stole my girl?"
"No, because he has an obnoxiously hipstery personality. You know, not having a crush on anyone is a very liberating feeling. You should try it sometime."
"Love only hurts if you make it hurt."
I do not understand what he means by this.
I stand in the threshold between the kitchen and the veranda, and Trent leans on the outside of the house, outside. He's smoking. I didn't know he smoked. It seems more like something Duncan would do. He looks at me for an instant and a tiny smile tugs at the side of his lips. My legs feel like honey as I step out. It looks like it's twilight outside, so I really have no idea why I'm out here at this hour, and I don't remember there being three barbecues, but something about Trent's expression draws me out of the house.
"Gwen's bangin' Cody now." He says.
I make a satisfied expression as if to say, 'not bad.' At least he accomplished what he set out to do, even though Trent has been tossed to the wayside.
"He can't lift a pumpkin." He seems to say, though his voice sounds cloudy.
I timidly approach him. His cigarette disappears and his green eyes stare into mine. I suddenly realize that I 'can't lift a pumpkin' either, but nonetheless, he embraces me. When I open my eyes we're in my room. I roll on top of him, grabbing a fistful of blue sheets. This is amazing. Wait, blue sheets?
This is my bedroom back at home. How did we get here?
Cody knocks on my door.
"Man. You in there?"
I open my eyes. One of those shitty Seventeen magazines is crushed under my body.
"Are you sleeping or something, it's like eight PM."
I groan. "What do you want Cody?"
"Ezeke…Ezeki…just open the door, please, I don't wanna yell."
I comply
"Ezekiel said he's never played a Mario game. Like. Any of them. Not even Mario Party. I think we gotta show him."
"You want…to hurt Ezekiel's feelings?"
"Yeah! No! I mean. We gotta play, man, it will be fun!" I snicker.
My latest weird sexy Trent dream begins to dissolve in my mind. It got me a bit stiff, if you know what I mean, but I don't think Cody notices or cares. I make a pit stop to the washroom to rinse out my nasty nap-mouth.
As I stand in front of the sink, the last solid remnants of my dream cling to the interior of my neurocranium. It is somewhat worthy of a laugh that I'm having rather lasciviousthoughts about the guy that has gotten in the way of any lascivious thoughts belonging to Cody. I flush at the thought of Cody having sexy dreams about Gwen. The idea of him being a vessel of pleasure for a woman a head taller than him is outrageous at best. He probably thinks he's a real stud, too. Maybe he sees himself the way that sleep-Noah sees Trent. And by that, I mean 'absolutely irreconcilable with the real-life version.'
He knocks at the door, and says my name is a whiny and childish voice. I can't help but smile. Usually, I hate when people cling to me, but that's usually because their comprehension of things I like to talk about is minimal. I'm not saying he knows everything, but he expresses a refreshing willingness to listen to me with open ears and an open mind, and that really feeds to my ego.
"Coming." I call out.
I leave the bathroom and meet Cody in the hallway.
"Let's kick some gangsta ass back to home school." I say
"Word, big ups playa, my nig-" He stops himself as I shake my head in bewilderment.
"Let's leave the new jargon to Zeke, mkay?"
He grins brightly as we head downstairs.
Trent was eliminated today. Ever since Harold came to the playa, things have gone from absolutely dead, to wishing things were more dead. Katie and Sadie stay in their own world like they always have. Eva and Tyler have developed a small competitive rivalry that results in any simple task becoming a sport. Ezekiel's been doing research on how to be urban and modern. Justin's been manipulating Beth's hormonal and depressing attraction towards him in order to get her to do random stuff for him. I've been warming up to Cody, somewhat out of desperation, because most other people disturb me in some way or another. All throughout this, Courtney has been stalking through the house in war paint, wanting to get revenge on Harold. It's funny how she, the obsessive one, the control freak, is the one that wreaks all the havoc.
The first morning Trent got here, I sit near him as we eat our lunch. We sit on the porch furniture outside. Even though we were on the same team, we'd never conversed very much. It's weird to be seeing him, I think, in three dimensions, because I've been seeing him on TV regularly. And someplace worse than TV, as well. It's different. Odd. As if his head is too close to mine.
That might be a contributing factor into why I can't formulate anything coherent to say to him.
"So…how has life been here at the playa, man?" he says.
"Boring." I spit between sips of my drink.
"Leave it to you to have a positive attitude."
I think for a second. "Not as exciting as the island, but nowhere near as deadly. I think it's a good trade-off. I'd rather unbroken limbs than excitement."
"Cool, cool."
I make an unimpressed face at him.
He still seems stranger in 3D, like his head is too large. Even though I feel a brief warm shudder as he sits near me, I realize I don't want to speak to him. The only things he could ever give me are things he'd never offer.
I slip out of my stool and take my dishes into the little room beside the food buffet to be washed. As soon as I step out, I'm startled by Cody standing beside me, hands clasped and sporting a shit-eating grin. I have a looming feeling he's to say 'you like Krabby Patties, don't you, Squidwards?'. Instead, he says:
"So…talking to Trent?"
My shoulders slump. "Before you say anything, I don't like him."
"Yes you do! I mean, you had sexy dreams about him and everything."
I perform a gesture of 'hands up!'
"Okaaay, Cody, can we talk about this elsewhere?"
We slowly make our way back outside, down the stairs, and onto a picnic table situated about halfway across the house's property, talking all the while.
"Okay, okay. So you're saying, you oogled him and had funky dreams about him, and you don't have a crush on him?"
"Yes." I say, unwavering.
He doesn't believe me. "So what did you talk about?"
"Honest truth? Nothing. He's boring as hell. I don't know what Gwen sees in him."
"What do you see in him?"
"Nothing."
"This doesn't make sence."
"Ok, his smile, his eyes, all that stuff, but beyond a superficial level, nothing."
"So then why do you like him?"
"I don't!" I say, beginning to get exasperated.
At this point we're sitting on the table part of the picnic table, feet planted on the seat. "He's just hot, that's all. Haven't you ever heard of…" I search for a word. "Hit it and quit it?"
He giggles. "I don't think!"
"Um…fuck and chuck?"
He laughs again. "I never heard these terms but I get what you're saying. Wow, I didn't know gay people could be so heartless."
"I didn't know 'playas' could be so naïve."
"So you would like…" he lowers his voice slightly "bang him, but not date him?"
"In a fantasy land, perhaps. It would probably be awkward in real life."
"Well, you don't, like, strike me as a romantic type very much."
"You don't say? You seem like you are. I feel like…" I chose my words wisely because I don't want him to freak out. "I feel like you've had other Gwens."
"There's only one Gwen." He says, with a pathetically wistful sound.
I sigh. "What I mean is, you've felt this before, I bet. You want people to think you're such a suave lady killer. But every time, you find someone else to have a crush on, and you don't become a player, because you're blinded to every single piece of tail that isn't attached to the singular object of your obsession."
He makes a sort of embarrassed smile. "If I didn't get rejected so often, I wouldn't need to always have a crush. I'd just have a girlfriend."
"What can you possibly do so wrong?" I eye him up and down. He doesn't have massive amounts of acne, and he isn't overweight, so already he's got something over many, many nerds.
"I just…don't talk." He shifts. "Haven't you ever had a severe, severe crush? I try to speak, I screw up, so I don't speak. "
"Not really." I shrug. "I figure being in love is a load of bullshit. You place all your feelings in the hands of somebody else. You pretty much give another person permission to alter how your feel or to ruin your day. Doesn't sound smart to me."
He shuts his eyes. I don't need to be saying this. He knows.
"It doesn't need to be that way. You just need to…let go." He says with a sigh.
I eye him inquisitively. He continues.
"Sometimes, you reach a point where you know for certain you can't have the person you want. So you can either avoid them and totally modify your daily route to avoid bumping in to them, or you can accept they don't like you and vicur- …vicariously enjoy your one-sidedness." He looks to me for a response, but I have none. "I guess if I was a different guy, I would pray that Trent has a secret gay side and he'd hook up with you, and Gwen would run to me, but I figure there are at least…" He holds his hands out in silence for a moment. "Five, or six, at least, people she'd sooner go to than me."
I hold in a small laugh, trying to mentally flip through everyone on the island and come up with five or more Gwen would take over Cody.
"So that's why I hooked them up. Make her happy so I can be half-happy."
Depressing.
I respond. "See, I don't feel any of this nonsense about Trent. He can date Sadie for all I care. Maybe I let go since the very start. Accept it and observe. No skin off my nose. Thus, I do not 'like' him." I add air quotes for good measure.
He gets a smug look on his face. "Ooh, I think someone's scared of failure."
I raise my eyebrows, slightly offended. "How."
"You are, like, incredible at all school stuff, and you get along with people superficially, and you don't wanna fall for anyone because you don't want your crappy love life to be the one downfall of your perfect image."
I actually roll the thought around for a minute, he might be on to something. Superficially. He speaks again. "Then again, I don't blame you, cause I guess it's more likely that the person you like won't like you back when you're gay."
"This is true." I mull his hypothesis for a moment more. "And despite your failures, you aren't afraid of failing?"
"Pity points can get you places" He smiles at this sentence, but with a crinkle at the edge of his mouth that seems to indicate the slightest disgust with the naked truth behind it. This quickly disappears. "But whatevs." He says, regaining a slight sunny disposition. "That stuff happens all the time to me. It only hurts if you let it."
This time I understand what he means.
I don't really have Trent dreams anymore. Now that I've glimpsed to what extent Cody projects himself upon Trent, the implications of having Trent dreams have become awkward. The only time I had a dream with Trent in it, it really had nothing do with him at all, it was just a 40-second vignette of me playing video games with Cody and he was wearing Trent's shirt for some reason. I pick up on the symbolism immediately, and decide to inform my subconscious to avoid having dreams about Trent henceforth.
Not that I didn't learn anything from my little discourse with Cody, but the main message I got was to know when to fold 'em. Not that I really had anything in my proverbial hand anyway. Actually, the main main thing I'm realizing is, oh my God, Trent sucks so much. He's decided to drag out the ol' guitar lately, and I am constantly subjected to that voice that never enchanted me in the first place. Eighty percent of his songs are love songs. A hundred percent of the love songs are for Gwen. Every time I hear that same basic chord progression expulsing itself from his instrument, I long for the days where I was alone here with Eva and Ezekiel, because Ezekiel had books, like me, and Eva had steroids. Or her MP3 player, but mostly steroids, probably.
Maybe the slight sexual tension I have towards Trent has combined with my annoyance with him to create a real monstrous feeling of wanting to sort of snap when he's around. I make the mistake of walking by him as he plays guitar on a lawn chair.
"Hey Noah! Buddy!" turned away from him, I grimace. I steel myself and turn around.
"What?"
"Have a request?" He says with a grin.
"I don't listen to music." I say.
"Come on, bro."
I sigh. "Okay, I do listen to music, I don't know why I said that. I probably sound stupid."
"I bet I can play whatever you like."
I smirk.
"Play the Beastie Boys."
I walk away and he just sort of stares at his guitar, dumbfounded. I think any attraction I have to him is roughly the same thing as any heterosexual being attracted to Lindsay. Fun to look at, suicide-inducing to actually have and keep.
Okay, maybe not quite so bad.
I don't know how it came to this, but Cody Andersen is my best friend.
My real best friend, my friend that I can sit with and talk with, without thinking of the meaning to any of it. Not a friend at school, many of whom I simply tolerated. So many of those were either so stupid I looked down on them, or so bullied and unpopular I pitied them. But with him, I don't bother with any thoughts of hierarchy. There's only two of us. It can't be a pyramid, a food-chain, or an assembly line. It can only be two people pushing and pulling, linked together, conversing, enjoying each other's company. Happy, carefree nerds, spending a summer locked up together.
I'm lying in Cody's bed right now. He's beside me. He stares up at the ceiling, making hand gestures. He doesn't look at me, but my head it turned towards him. I like how I can still sort of see that he has messed up teeth from the side. I stare at the light freckles on his nose. He speaks with such enthusiasm.
"It was, like, one of the best moments of my life, man. Like, being in robotics club doesn't make you cool, ever, but when I single-handedly won awards for my school? I felt…respected. Like it doesn't matter how nerdy you are once you're really good at something. Don't you think that Bill Gates was like, an uber nerd growing up? But now he's rich as hell and everyone respects him. You just need to be good to get respect. "
It's before suppertime. The house is beginning to fill up more and more. Since Cody arrived two weeks ago, Beth, Sadie, Harold, Courtney, Bridgette and Trent have escaped the tortures of the island in favour of relaxation in this resort. Except now that Courtney is here livid psycho bitch mode, it's not exactly peaceful. So here, at the end of the first floor hallway, is the only convenient place to escape the constant screaming, other than the pool, but the doctor said to Cody he still needs to wait three more days before he can get his scar wet.
He turns his head to me and smiles. I smile too. We're very close together and it feels comfortable.
"I prefer to use intimidation techniques." I say. "People respect me because I can back them into a corner in twenty different ways if I tried. Most of which involve superior intellect and rhetoric skills."
"Rhetorical skills." He echoes. "I wish I could be cool smart like you. You're like, Sherlock Holmes smart. I'm like… Screech from Saved by the Bell smart."
"Aw, you're only saying that 'cause Sherlock Holmes is a major dick with ambiguously gay relations between him and his little sidekick."
"Feel free to take it that way."
"Screech made a porno."
"Like, in-universe!?" He says, outraged.
"No!" I say, rushing with laughter. "The actor did! He had a sextape years later…God, Cody, I think they only drank alcohol on the show one time, and you think they'd get away with that? "
"Hey, you never said Dustin Whatshisname, you said Screech. You need to clarify some things."
"I think saying you're Screech-smart might be more accurate than you realize."
At this point we're lying face to face in his bed, he with his folded elbow behind his head. "Does that make Gwen that black chick he's in love with?"
"There was one episode where he tried to beat up the protagonist over it."
"You can't get in fights with a protagonist, you're usually going to fail." Cody says.
"What an immensely stupid show."
"The early nineties are wrecked."
"We were made then."
"Probably because there was nothing good for our parents to watch on TV."
"Um, gross."
"You have a lot of siblings so your parents probably did it more than mine."
"I did the math, I must have been conceived on Boxing Day, 1991."
"Sinful."
"Happy Holidays."
I enjoy our banter. We still lie face to face in his unadorned bedroom. We've been talking like this, alternating between being nose to nose and face to ceiling, because occasionally your thumbs get just too sore for video games. He grins at me, and I smile back. He rolls onto his back.
He falls off his bed.
I laugh.
So this chapter is almost as long as the entire rest of the story so far... I'm back 2 college now, so I'm not sure if that means updates will be slower or what...I dunno. Thanks for the reviews and faves! I have to say I enjoy this chapter, not very eventful but fun mood.
Edit: The paragraphs were kinda smooshed in a way that killed my small time-skip markers, I hate putting ugly-ass grey bars in the middle of my story but it's the only way that seems to stay there once I save.