Kaimoana Tales
by Kiwi
My Story - 8
Monday morning came around all too soon, and I dragged myself back to school for another day in hell. By now, I had the routine sorted and I arrived at exactly the time when they were going in to their classes.
I didn't use the locker room any more, just carried my books and stuff home, it was only a few meters more.
I didn't have much hope, but, maybe things would be better? Joel had said that he was going to help me, but would he? Probably not after that Saturday night. I really had to learn to keep my big mouth shut. Could I? Probably not.
I went into the classroom and sat in my usual place, alone and in front of the teacher. Then, incredible things happened and my life changed again. The door crashed open and the most amazing person burst into the room. Talk about your grand entrances! Every head turned and every eye in the place was focused on him.
"Hello, Daarlings!" He shouted. "I know you missed me! You can stop crying now - I'm baaack!"
Ohmigod! Who, or what, was this? I'd never seen anything like it. He was in a school uniform, of course - well, you had to, but it was like no other uniform.
His sneakers were more beige than brown and he had no socks on that I could see. Most kids' shorts were long-legged and baggy, mine were too, but not his. His blue shorts were really short, really, really short, and they were so tight that they looked like they'd been painted on. He had a huge bulge in his crotch, maybe that was where his socks were?
His gleaming-white school shirt, by contrast, was way too big - about 6 sizes too big, and it billowed around him like a cloud. His eyebrows were black, but his medium-length hair was an impossible brassy-blond colour.
He wore glasses, amazing glasses. They were big and round and covered half of his face and the frames were fluorescent pink! Ohmigod again.
The book-bag slung over his shoulder was a hodge-podge of garish colours and, I wasn't sure, but I thought that his fingernails were painted. It was hard to tell, they never stayed still. His hands flapped around in the air as he flounced around the room, greeting people by name.
Ever seen anyone flounce? That's what he did - bigtime! He made a full circuit around the room and then stopped in front of me.
"And what have we here?" he squealed. "Oh, Sweetheart! Look at you - you're gorgeous! Oh, be still my heart. That settles that then, we shall sit here today, in front of teacher."
He planted himself in the seat next to me and smiled at the teacher.
"Hello, Miss Simons. Did you miss me?"
"I'm not sure if we missed you, Denise, but it was certainly quieter around here. Did you have a good holiday?"
"Oh, yes! It was fabulous! Fiji is divine and, look at my suntan! I'm even more beautiful now."
"Beautful, is it? And what have you done to your hair now?"
"It's sun-bleached, Darling."
"Sun-bleached? Bottle-bleached, more likely. Okay, Denise, you've returned. Can we settle down and get to work now?"
"But of course! You teach and we shall soak up your pearls of wisdom. That's why we're here!"
"Sometimes I wonder. Okay, Class, page 23 please."
So this was Denise. Denise? That was a girl's name, wasn't it? I wasn't sure what this person was, but he was no girl. What on earth was he? Where had I heard that name before? Oh, yeah. On my first day here, those bitch girls said that I'd be a playmate for Denise. So, THIS was Denise. Wow.
He, she? It? Did settle down and the lesson started. Turns out, Denise was actually a very good scholar, easily the brightest kid in the school, which was probably why the teachers let him get away with the outrageous behaviour. I should be so bright.
We broke for recess and he was up and gone. "Later Darlings. Time to catch-up on the news! Love the hair by the way."
He said that last to me, of course, and then he was gone - flounced out of the room. I stood shaking my head.
"Now you've met the Denise." One of those self-same bitches said to me. "What do you think?"
"Think? Dammed if I know."
"Yeah. Denise is something else, isn't she?"
He, or she, certainly was.
I talked to Joel during the recess. He actually approached me first and, with a sheepish grin, said, "How's it, Virgil? I hear that the fabulous Denise has returned and declared undying love for you already."
"Hey Joel. I've met the Denise. I don't know what to make of him."
"No-one does. Don't underestimate him, he's very bright. If he wants to be your friend, well, do it. He'd be a better friend than an enemy."
"Wouldn't anyone? How about us, are we going to be friends?"
"Sure we are, if you want to. I had a good time Saturday night, I think. I don't really remember much about it. I was a bit wasted wasn't I?"
"Yeah, you could say that. I had a good night too. It was mostly good, except for when we argued again."
"Argued? Did we? I wasn't going to do that. Well, it's over now, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's over. Thanks."
"Cool. I've gotta go, Carol's batting her eyes at me. Later, Virgin."
"Yeah. Laters."
I returned to my book. It was a good way of avoiding the eyes and I could, almost, forget where I was. Amazingly, no-one else spoke to me, or, as they usually did, at me. I didn't think about it at the time, but something had changed.
I would've been happy if they all just ignored me. I could handle that.
When I went home for lunch, there was nothing cooking and Gran was busy packing up the house-truck.
"Feed yourself, Virgil, I'm busy. I should be on the road by now."
"Okay. Where are you off to now?"
"Don't know really. I'll head down to the Coast for a start, there's some old friends that I want to catch up with, and then, I don't know, back to Christchurch maybe."
"Christchurch? Cool. Can I come with you?"
"No you can't. Don't be silly. Lock the house when you go back to school."
"Of course. 'Bye then, Gran."
"Goodbye, Sweetie. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do."
"Is there anything that you wouldn't do?"
"Not a lot, probably. Be good, Boy."
"Well, that's one thing that you wouldn't do."
"Cheek! Get away with you."
Gran was gone by the time I'd had a sandwich and closed up the house. I checked Jimmy's water-dish and I went back to school where I was greeted, loudly, by Denise.
"Darling! Where have you been, Sweetheart? We thought you'd left us for another!"
"Hey Denise. I just went home for lunch. My name's Virgil, by the way."
"Virgin!! What an adorable name! You're not, are you?"
"Not what? Oh. That's for me to know."
"And us to find out? Wonderful! Your hair is fabulous, but we should put some colour in it - give it some life."
"Don't think I want life in my hair. It's okay as it is."
"No? That's a shame. We shall have to educate you, My Darling. How long is it when it's out? Can you sit on it?"
"Yeah, I can. Just, but I can."
"Fabulous! We wish that we could. Our hair is way too short. Maybe we can sit on yours sometime?"
"Sit on my hair? Well, maybe."
"That's a date then! Now come and tell us all about yourself. Where have you been all our life?"
"Where? Well, Christchurch mostly, I guess."
"Christchurch? No, boring place. Boring, boring, boring! We shan't be living there."
"We? I don't know about you, but I'll be living there. The sooner the better. I like Christchurch."
"Oh no, Sweetheart! Boring! You can do so much better than that. We shall have to educate you."
"Educate me? Good luck!"
"Oh, yes! We do like a challenge. We like you too, you're interesting. We need more interesting people around here. Show us your nails."
"Nails?"
"Fingernails, Darling. We want to see them. Oh no! That will never do. You so need a manicure!"
"A manicure? No I don't. I just cut them when they need it."
"No, no, no. You need more than that. Look at mine! We used to bite them you know. Look at them now - Fabulous! It's the little details that make up the big picture. Darling, you're sweet, but you need work.
You shall be our project. Our mission will be to make you fabulous, all over!"
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Then all the little bitches will stop picking on you, Darling."
Okay. Something told me that there was more to this boy than you thought at first. He was loud, in your face and outrageous, but there was more to him. I kinda liked him.
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