He waited until she'd finished her titration, until she was sat, by joyous coincidence, next to him. She neatly inscribed calculations into her notebook. Her face tensed with concentration. Usually, he couldn't see much of it because her golden hair spilled over and obscured it, but she had tied it up today.
It was true that his heart beat faster around her.
Encouraged by her distraction, he leant down and slipped the letter into her backpack.
"Hey, what are you doing?" she asked.
He shot up, hitting his head on the underside of the lab bench. The letter sailed to the ground.
No. While his left hand rubbed the sore spot on his head, his right went for the errant words. They were taken before he reached them and all he could do was meekly return to his seat while Cindy read the letter. Her face betrayed everything, including Adam's hopes: she covered her mouth, laughed, made an uncomfortable sound.
It was not just her. Soon her friend Evelyn was leaning over her should, sneering. With a cackle she snatched the letter up. "You cannot be serious, what the actual fuck."
"Language!" Mr. Tomas said without looking up from his game of solitaire.
"You're not meant to read that," Adam said.
No one listened, nor did they care what they were meant or not meant to do. They were gawking at him. Those faces, each in the liminal space between child and young adult, could hide none of their amusement, pity, or cruelty. Embarrassment burnt beneath his skin, and he looked down at his own notes. They were chicken scratch compared to the slow methodical writing he made himself do for that letter.
Cindy was staring at him too, mouth just a bit agape. "What are you trying?"
Michael thought (incorrectly) that he was being discreet when he pointed his phone towards Adam.
It didn't matter as long as Cindy said yes. "Do you want a walk with me on Saturday?" they asked. "It's not a joke. I just really like you." Want a walk with me? What was that? His pits moistened, and he forced himself to look up at Cindy. She was backing away.
What did I do wrong? Adam asked.
Michael's friend James-who was taller than most teachers and certainly stronger-came up beside Adam and put his arm around him. "Ayyyy, get in there, lad!" he cheered. Michael and the other boys followed his lead. One of them made lewd gestures.
Adam tried to shake James off, even though the warmth of his muscular arm made his chest tingle pleasantly. Even though the feeling reminded him of the first sip of water after a long, sweltering car ride. It was all wrong. James and the other boys weren't part of this. This was just between him and Cindy.
"Ugh," she said. She looked to her Evelyn-who had burst into a fit of giggles. She beckoned Cindy over who could move all her notes away from Adam faster.
He finally managed to free himself from James.
In a mocking voice, Michael said, "If you would do me the honour of going out with me." He gave a wry smile. "What are you, a Victorian?"
At least half the class erupted into laughter.
Having found an opportune moment to pause his solitaire game, Mr. Tomas looked up at the class. "Alright, settle down, you rabid monkeys. If you're done with the experiment then you should be revising for your mocks." His gaze dropped back to his computer screen.
He tucked his shoulder-length hair behind his ear and took a bite of his sandwich.
They could think what they want. Their idiocy was their problem, not his. None of these people were his problem-in fact, if Cindy didn't understand, if she was content making assumptions with incomplete information, he didn't even want to walk with her. Or hold her hand. Or stare into her blue eyes. Or kiss her lips which were always a bit dry, just like his. He had wanted those things this morning, and for the past few months, and now he didn't. He'd make himself not want them because what fool could want someone who didn't want them back? There was certainly someone in this world who was like Cindy in all the ways that mattered (intelligent, liked metal, pretty) but who also understood that such a letter was a declaration of romantic intent, something to be flattered by. He didn't expect that she'd say yes (although he hoped and dreamed of it every night). He expected only that she'd acknowledge his feelings.
Adam chewed up the rest of his food quickly and made his way out of the cafeteria, to the side of the school that faced the parking lot. No-one was there. He sat with his back against the brick wall and stared at the cars.
If someone would give him such a letter, he'd be grateful, so why wasn't she? If someone told him they adored him, they wanted to spend time with him, they enjoyed his presence at all he'd be so pleased that he'd record the moment in his rarely used journal. At least he'd do that if they were attractive-if they weren't, he'd still be happy about it, though.
Adam thought about the most unpleasant person they knew: James. Even if James gave him such a letter, although he'd have to turn him down, he'd do it politely.
"I'm flattered, but you're not my type."
Was that so hard?
It was then Adam wondered, What exactly had happened to the letter? He hadn't retrieved it, so presumably Cindy was still in possession of it. Would she throw it away? She certainly looked at him like he was something that belonged in the trash, so it seemed appropriate she'd discard his feelings too.
As it turned out, the letter was in the sweaty hands of a huffing, red-faced Principal Fields who was striding towards Adam.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"Didn't do anything wrong?" Fields asked with a scoff. "You understand that you made Cindy uncomfortable, don't you?" He stabbed his finger into the letter on the table.
"I won't do it again." Adam shifted in the seat. He was too hot. He was going to end up with sweat stains on his school shirt again if this didn't end soon.
"I don't think you're sorry."
"So? I won't do it again. Isn't that enough?"
Fields let out an exaggerated sigh, clasped his hands together, and looked directly at Adam. "Would you look at me please?"
Adam looked at Fields drooping nose, then a constellation of freckles on his jowls which was not unlike a two-spooned big dipper. I better not look like this when I'm fifty, Adam thought. I'll kill myself if I do.
Satisfied, Fields continued. "To answer your question, young man, it is emphatically not enough. What do you think the point of school is?"
Adam remained silent waiting for the answer to what he thought was a rhetorical question until Fields snapped his finger. "Well?"
"To teach children and teenagers?" Adam tried.
"To teach them what?" Fields pushed.
"Basic knowledge of the sciences, arts, critical thinking." His gaze made Adam look at the guinea pigs again. He wondered if they were former pets.
After a moment of silence, Fields tucked his lower lip beneath his teeth and nodded. "Right, yes, that's not wrong. But it's also incomplete. It's our job, my job, to teach right from wrong, good from bad, respectful from disrespectful."
Adam realized Fields was enjoying the lecture, and probably that he did this to everyone who came to his office.
Fields continued: "In other words, we must show you how to be a responsible member of society. At the moment, you are not. So, it is not enough that you say you won't do something again, rather you must understand that what you did is not acceptable."
Finally, Adam thought. A way out. Something he could agree with to make Fields think he'd won. "I know it's not acceptable," Adam said entirely truthfully.
"Do you, though? A moment ago, you said you'd done nothing wrong."
"I did something wrong," Adam said, by which he meant he'd acted incorrectly rather than immorally. I'll never show my feelings to anyone again. At least, I won't do it first.
Fields looked at Adam for way too long. "Do you regret your actions?"
"I do." This was also not a lie.
"Are you sorry?"
"I-," Adam said. He looked at the clock. He'd already been held back, and his parents would ask why he was late if he spent any longer here. "I am sorry." The words felt slimy on his tongue.
"Good. You have decent grades, Adam. A few A stars, mostly Bs, if I remember correctly. You've got a bright future ahead of you, if you put in the work. But you have to learn how respect others." Fields gestured to the door. "You may leave now."
The short woman looked at him horrified when he wriggled out of her grasp. She flicked a few strands of wiry grey hair behind her ear. "I swear every day you become more and more like all the other bratty kids. And you stink. Go take a shower."
Adam was already halfway up the stairs. "Thanks, never would have considered that before. It's not like I take a shower after school literally every day." He hurried into the bathroom as if he could outrun her reply. Maybe he did since she said nothing more.
He winced when he turned the light on. The lightbulb in the bathroom was a little brighter than the others in the house. Because the only window which sat just above the back of the toilet was so small, Adam had to turn it on even when the sun was out.
Clothes forgone, he climbed into the bathtub-shower, turned the water to its coldest setting and made himself stand under it as long as he could, scrubbing the slimy lie off his tongue, until his breathing turned so shallow, he felt like he might pass out. Then, when he could take it no longer, turned it as hot as possible, and revelled in the burning-tingle as his skin adjusted.
Hormesis was the state of an organism responding to stress. Apparently, the sudden switch in temperature was good for you, a kind of biological reset. It made him feel better.
When he was thoroughly clean, he stepped out into the steaming bathroom, and made sure to open the tiny window so his mother would not have another excuse to complain at him. He dried his shoulder length brown hair, then wrapped a towel around his waist and peeked out the door. His mother was downstairs, out of the way. He gathered his school clothes, hurried down and slipped into his room where he finally changed into something fresh.
Rather than put his embarrassment-soaked school shirt in the wash, which meant passing by the malicious hugger, he turned on his PC tower and launched Team Fortress 2 (setting his profile to invisible, of course, because otherwise someone might get the idea to message him on Steam about the incident). He stopped only to briefly say "Hi, good thanks, school was fine," to his dad when he arrived home.
When dinner was ready, he sat on the far side of the couch to his parents. Some mindless show hosted by an obnoxious comedian played on TV. The comedian, hunched over, said "No Doris, square, you need to throw the blueberry muffin at the square. You know, four sides?"
Doris nodded solemnly as if she'd been given some piece of sacred wisdom and then proceeded to lob the muffin at the circle.
His mouth exaggeratingly agape, the comedian turned to face the camera. She's such an idiot, that face said. It's so funny because she's dumb and you all know what a square is and would do better at this. You're so smart audience, and I'm acknowledging that. Don't you feel so validated that you're in the know, with people like me, the host of this stupid show? You aren't like the drab masses (i.e Doris). The audience roared into laughter so loud it forced Adam to squeeze further into the corner of the couch and shovel the bland vegetables into his mouth yet faster than he already was.
"He's a real character, isn't he?" Adam's dad said with a bemused grin, turning to his mother who had not said a word the entire evening. He then turned to Adam who was similarly silent since all he could think was that he had to leave the room before his hearing got damaged.
Adam's parents' pet, Puffy, leapt off Adam's mother's lap. A branch had tapped against the glass door from the wind. Despite the fact that this happened every windy night, Puffy was severely offended; she let off a sequence of ear-splitting barks and scratched furiously at the window.
Adam swallowed down a chunk of food with a gulp of water. "How dare something stupid like nature interrupt such quality entertainment, right?" Puffy didn't seem to catch onto the sarcasm and kept yapping, determined strike the fear of dog into the arboreal fiend.
Adam's dad turned the volume up. Fortunately, Adam had finished his food. He deposited his plate in the kitchen, retreated to his room.
The nightmare was over, for now, and his day had finally begun.
As the night air cooled him down, Adam paced around the room. Thank the heavens it was a Friday. Although Principal Fields may have been appeased, Adam knew that the other students would not be. They'd be texting about him the group chats he was not a part of (the ones for friendships rather than homework), bonding over quoting him and making unflattering memes. Best they get it out of their system now, so they have less inclination to direct their comments to him on Monday.
It turned out that their schoolmates' antics were not confined to their personal chats: when he checked his phone, Adam saw his nickname had been changed to "ribcage" in the maths homework chat. He tapped the wifi button off and put the phone on his little beside table. He'd look tomorrow, but he would not let them breach this sacred time.
He had the ideal distraction in mind.
The room had cooled enough so he turned his desktop back on, opened up his Tor browser, copied "FearChanaghvzhvo.xyz/tv" from a text file he kept in a folder called "Secret Knowledge" and pasted this into the address bar. The black and red imageboard slowly loaded in. Since he last checked a week ago there were a few of new threads about disturbing, yet easily found movies. This was not what Adam wanted. He needed something to scrub his brain. And so, he scrolled, and scrolled, and got stuck on a thread by someone who thought there were hidden messages in Pandorum. The replies told him to take his medication and GTFO.
Then Adam found the thread he was looking for.
Adam copied the magnet link into his torrent browser and the movie started downloading. It was a few gigabytes so he put on Oh Wow! by Cutting Pink With Knives (because he liked more than just metal, but Cindy would never get the chance to know that, would she?) while he alternately stared out the window and checked the progress of the file. The synthetic noise washed through the folds of his brain until the download completed.
He worried this wasn't an authentic copy. How could it be: no matter where he asked, no-one else had heard of it. Until now. The only reason he knew about it was because he was lurking in a guro-focused IRC and a few people were talking about it and sharing screenshots of the worst scenes. He couldn't stop thinking about those stills. Adam had downloaded them weeks ago. He opened them up again. They were so baroque that it took a second to adjust and see all the twisted and broken detail: scribbles of black lines on red lines became a rose carved out of muscle and sinew that used to be a tongue; a white blur that looked like crumpled paper became white stalks with dark, sharp hook-heads wriggling out of an eyeball; disparate pink shapes were at once recognized as bloody teeth, displaced from the transformation of the person's face.
If he saw this scene, he could be sure it was the correct film. He opened the file up in Windows Media Player, turned his monitor around to face the bed, and wrapped himself in his drab sheets. Then he pressed play.
The phone camera is pointed at a woman's corpse in an icy bathtub, her head is turned to the side. She's so pale and has a strange marking along her neck. A man is leaning over her, feeling her pulse, tears in his eyes. He has short hair, damp with sweat, and looks up at the camera. His expression has snagged somewhere between grimace and smile. "Look, she's alive!" He pulls her up and the camera is blurry so you can't tell at first what it is, but there is something off about one of her eyes. It's still difficult because the short haired man is brushing his hand against it. He's quiet now.
The woman gasps and bolts upright. She tries to get to her feet but slips. The camera man drops the phone to the floor as both of them leap forward to catch her. There's a momentary distortion when it collides but the camera is ultimately undamaged except for a crack in the corner. It's pointed to the ceiling and only shows a little of the camera man's body. "It's okay, it's okay!" the short-haired man is saying.
Frame jump. It's the woman's face now, behind her are some trees. Despite her no longer being in ice (in fact it looks very warm) she's still pale with a blue tint to her skin. The quality has improved also because the lighting is much better. Her eye is covered in wriggling antennae, and this doesn't bother her. She's smiling.
"How are you feeling?" the cameraman asks.
"Strange," she says. "But it's okay. I'm just glad that it works."
The camera pans to the right to the short haired man who is holding her hand. "Are you ready?" she asks.
The man stares, takes a deep breath. "Yes." The woman stands up in front of him and cups his face in her hands. He tilts his head in her direction as she presses her mouth against his. She kisses him slowly. She pulls back, something is not quite right. Her head tilts back, the little as flat, black proboscis emerges, eager to push past the man's lips. She pulls him presses her pseudo-lips onto his. Pleasure flashes across her face. There is a little tremor in the man's throat as he swallows something.
She withdraws her head, a bridge of dark mucus hangs between them, and finally withdraws her second tongue.
When he is done swallowing whatever she deposited inside him, the frame cuts to him on the bed. He's cold and pale and his face is bloody and mangled. The woman from the bathtub is caressing his side. She smiles at the camera (which has been still compared to the other shots) then turns it off.
Another frame cut. The same bedroom but its day now. The man is static in the bed. The sheets that surround him are covered in a yellow-red substance almost the same colour of the dawn light. He stirs.
"Niel?" the cameraman says.
The woman comes over to him and allows him to sit up. The sheets fall off him revealing his naked form. His bulging stomach seems out of place on his otherwise athletic body, especially because he doesn't seem fat but rather pregnant. The camera lingers on his genitals which are confusing; the area around the groin is hard and segmented, and instead of a penis there is a thin slit and a pair of hairy folds which open and close in time with the man's breaths.
The camera jerks up, away from the man's pregnant belly and his mutant genitalia. The woman kisses his face, tears flowing from her single human eye. The camera man approaches the bed, focusing on the bizarre face; it is also sticky with same sunrise substance. His eyes have burst into dense bouquets of antennae, slick and translucent, and other darker antennae surround them.
It does not fade out as Adam expects. He stares a long while before he screenshots the image and types up his response to the film.
Adam put his phone away. He lay back and stared at the ceiling, thoughts turned to The Bug Lady. By ‘them' the dream version of her was talking about his parents. Also, his teachers, fellow students, Cindy and James. Everyone. They were all awful so why did he carry on like their opinions mattered? Like anything of the world, they constructed around him was any more real than the dream he'd just had? He'd seen what love could be now. Love was lying in your lover's essence, trusting it to transform you. Adam could do that, let himself be twisted into something beautiful for someone like her.
It was so simple; she just wanted to mix with him.
So easy and natural.
So unlike Cindy whose desires and interests were far beyond Adam's comprehension.
More than that, she was so impressive; she moved like she was the next great leap in human evolution and she knew it. A pang in his heart told him he wanted to be part of that, that he was such a small piece of all he could be.
That was the message of the dream, he realised. It wasn't just randon noise as many dreams were; it was a genuine communication from The Bug Lady or her people. People who watched the film must establish a kind of link with her kind, calling them to join her. He was elated at the prospect.
He was not so naïve, however, as to assume joining her would be easy. The first issue was that he had no money and no info. The Bug Lady was certainly in a different country, although he didn't know which one, and even if he did know, he could not afford to sustain himself while he sought her out.
But for this purpose, he could save up. This was a problem that could be solved by the application of money. He didn't need to be rich - even on a modest salary, he'd be able to save enough (especially since all his savings could be diverted to this purpose). The second issue was far more concerning. Was he worthy? There had to be some criteria by which The Bug Lady chose that man. He was muscular, healthy, handsome, possibly an athelete. But physical power alone could not be the sole reason; if that was here interest, why focus on humans at all? Why not apes or elephants or lions? It it was something to do with humans then it had to be that factor which humans set humans apart from all other beasts: intelligence.
That was it. That is how he could prove his worth.
Adam asked himself if he was intelligent. His classmates percieved him as an ordinary, awkward teenage boy, complete with all the self-absorption, rudness, and crying that came with. What if they were right? He was the spit of his mother and father, after all. A contaminant to be rejected with instant violence. He'd have to change that. If he couldn't, if he was just as terrible as all any other human, he deserved to live and die among them. No, he couldn't let it end that way. If he put the work in, showed that he was exceptional, the best humanity had to offer, of course The Bug Lady would accept him. Surely the Bug Lady's sort didn't care about grades, but they must care about merit in some sense, and grades were one way of proving that, if only, at least to himself. He had never worked or cared about anything before so he had no idea how much he could improve if he tried.
For the first time, Adam intended to truly apply himself. There was no other way to know. He decided that if he did not achieve the top score in all subjects, then there was no hope. That wouldn't be enough. It would just be the first step. But he needed to know he could at least overcome that. He'd study hard, become a scholar at the top of his field, and then trade that all in for a one way ticket departing humanity.
With anxious conviction chittering like roaches in his limbs, Adam threw open his math textbook.
This pleasure drained when he sat down at his laptop to write an essay for history ("Has The Government Been The Main Factor In Securing Rights for the People of Britian?"). He found himself dissatisfied. He had an opinion ("no but technically yes") but his mind starved for examples to support that opinion. He could have looked at his notes, but had to make himself remember it. An hour later, he'd written nothing, his eyes were filled with tears, and it was dinner time again. He sat in his usual spot and quickly swallowed the slippery omelette he was given.
"Why are you crying?" his mother asked.
He said nothing. It was easier to pretend he didn't hear her than tell her the truth. She questioned no further.
History was stupid, Adam decided. He wrote the essay using his notes and did a few more questions from the math textbook to make up for his shortcomings. He did not need to be an expert on everything, just be exceptional in one or two areas. There was no sense dividing his efforts.
Several articles Adam found when he looked up "Best ways to get smarter" said that sleep was essential to learning, and exercise increased blood flow to the brain. From then on, he went to bed early almost every night, and did a quick 10-minute workout routine before he studied.
He wondered what exactly the relationship was between the two-insect people in the movie. Were they equals, or was he her servant? Would he mind serving something as great as The Bug Lady? He decided he'd take great pleasure in it.
The rest of the class slowly filtered in as it approached 9:00. Nick Andy sat down at his assigned seat next to Adam, but today he pulled it a bit away. Adam pretended not to notice. In fact, he was glad to be given the space since he never liked how Nick tried to talk to him about Call of Duty all the time. Once Adam tried to tell Nick about an RPG game he liked, Disgaea, instead. He went through the whole set up to begin talking about it in earnest and then Nick ignored him to chat with James.
"Ah ribcage himself," James said as he entered the room, and took his seat. Adam looked away from the moth but did not respond. Ribcage was not his name, so not responding was the appropriate thing to do. "I have to know, man, were you serious with that letter? Like, genuinely?"
There was no reason to lie. "I was," Adam said. It was better to be known as authentic rather than someone who wanted to hurt people.
James burst out laughing and called out "Told you so!" to George who'd just come in through the side entrance. He was one of the last to enter and went straight to James's desk where he asked for confirmation.
"Yes," Adam repeated.
"But like … that's so dumb? Why did you think that would work?" George asked.
Yes, in retrospect it was dumb to think just any person, even someone who seemed like she might get it, would understand his heart, or respond to that letter. Adam turned around and said, "In my defence, I didn't know she wouldn't appreciate it."
James, Nick and George went on to discuss football for a minute before Mrs. Stanely finally silenced everyone with a finger-whistle. "There will be an assembly today," she said. When the bell rang, Adam had already worked out what it would probably be about and considered, for the first time, ditching school. Yet the migration of bodies and years of habit compelled him to go into the gymnasium with all the other Year 10 and 11 students, where he sat down and waited for Principal Fields to add another layer to the resentment his peers had built up.
"There have been some cases of inappropriate behaviour," Principal Fields began. "I understand you're all teenagers, but we simply cannot have this sort of thing happening, especially on school premises." Whispering emanated across the hall. It was quickly shushed but Adam felt their eyes on him. Even the people sitting next to him knew and some stared blatantly. At first, he looked down at the scuffed gym floor to hid is reddening face but then he remembered the only reason he was doing anything anymore: The Bug Lady. Would she think him worthy if he backed down from these people? He looked up and into the eyes of every person he caught staring at him. Most of them looked away after a few seconds of this, and only one boy scoffed before he turned back to face the front. Fields droned on. The rapid-fire rhythm of Adam's heart was far more interesting, so he listened to that instead.
"Um, hi?" Adam said. It was the first time she'd greeted him.
"James told me that you were serious." The three crossed the road and found a spot by some bushes at the corner of the parking lot to chat. "I thought it was a big joke, and I guess how I reacted was too harsh."
Adam looked up from the ground as Cindy told him this.
She quickly added, "My answer is still no. I'm sure you're nice and all, but the letter was a tad over the top."
He shrugged. It wasn't over the top but there was no point arguing that fact. When he understood the accurate way to phrase his response he said, "Yeah, I should have thought harder about whether you were the right person to give a letter like that too."
It was not quite a frown and not quite a smile on Cindy's face. "Sure, yeah. So, everything's chill? No awkward energies during chem?"
It felt like a lifetime ago that he even thought about Cindy. His thoughts were pulled to the Bug Lady now and he was on his way to being the sort of person from whom she would accept such a letter. Still, it was nice that Cindy didn't hate him. Even if she didn't have her priorities in order with regard to mates, she was pretty cool. "Yeah, I just want everyone to forget about it. I'm over it now."
The not-quite-frown turned into a smile. "Glad we sorted that. See you around!" She and James took off to the gas station. James said something funny, and she laughed and pushed his arm. He hadn't realized they were friends and wanted to observe more but decided the risk of them noticing was too much.
Adam looked up Niel Wood. The first result was a new story from news24, already a week old, about how he'd gone missing and asking for information. The resemblance between Niel Wood and the man in the movie (prior to his transformation) was indisputable.
A zap of panic prompted Adam to quit seeding the video to the three remaining leeches and move the files to a different location on the laptop (he couldn't bring himself to delete his precious Bug Lady). He took a deep breath and realised what had made him so cautious: it had been known for a few hours now, possibly longer, that the video contained Niel Wood. It was likely the last footage of him before his disappearance. Yet the article made no mention of the video. Maybe it was a fluke, Adam thought, and clicked on a few other more recent articles.
None of those mentioned the video either.
Someone was suppressing the information. Information he had on in his computer. He didn't know what they'd do if they knew he had it. What if his parents found it? First they'd disown him for having such imagery on his laptop and then they'd report him to the authorities.
That wasn't what really mattered, though. Along with chill of paranoid sweat Adam also felt the weight of hope: if the Bug Lady was real, he wouldn't be alone any more. It wouldn't just be him against the whole world for the rest of his life; it would be him, her, and their army of insect-hybrid children, unopposed due to their sheer number.
He really had to make sure he was perfect. The best humanity had to offer.
Because Adam had already completed the syllabus, he filled out the worksheet sheet quickly so he could give more attention to the pair of them out of the corner of his eye. His desk was towards in the middle row, right next to the wall, whereas James, his friends, and Cindy sat directly in front of the Mr. Plover's desk. Supposedly this was so he could stop them, particularly James, from disrupting the class, but since he often walked out during lessons, it was a somewhat pointless arrangement. It was especially annoying for Adam because it meant there were several people who would obscure Adam's line of sight, so he had to settle for glimpses: Cindy smiled at James directly even though he wasn't looking; James smiled at Cindy when she turned to respond to a crude joke her friend made; James touched her shoulder in admiration when she took a turn at the game and scored a goal on her first try. She seemed comfortable with it there.
He'd been keeping an eye on both of them for a while now and he'd noticed they were always together these days. He always thought of James as exactly the sort of person Cindy would want nothing to do with; wasn't it because she associated Adam with James that she rejected him? Given what he'd seen, he was not so sure now. He decided long ago that Cindy didn't make sense to him, yet he couldn't stop trying to understand why she didn't want to even try to go on a date with him. He respected her decision, of course, but he could not understand it, and he found it impossible to let go of things he could not understand. He wanted to just ask her, but the incident was months ago, and bringing it up again would be troublesome.
There were still thirty minutes left of the class and he couldn't spend all his time wondering about unknowable things like this. Adam flicked through the textbook to the end part which had bonus exercises. He was running out of these too, but he'd done almost every other exercise in the book.
He'd just started on a tricky recursive integral question when the door opened; a tall, tense girl walked in. She glanced among the faces, meeting their eyes. Everyone had paused what they were doing because they'd never seen her before, even though she was wearing their uniform.
"Is this Mr. Plover's class?" she asked in general.
"Actually, it's Mrs. Samson's," Charlie said from the back.
"Oh, I was told to go to 3B and that the teacher would be Mr. Plover." She looked back out the hall. "I'll ask at reception." She walked out quickly. Adam heard a few supressed laughs from behind him. There was no sign of anyone going to do anything, so he stood up, hopped over his desk, and went out into the hall after her.
"Excuse me!" he said to her. She jumped at the sound and spun around.
"Oh sorry. You startled me." She looked at Adam expectantly. This close he could see a few pockmarks on her soft face.
"Charlie was lying. That is Mr. Plovers class. He just tends to leave it unattended." Adam looked back; James, Cindy, and Charlie were watching from the doorframe.
"Aww, you ruined it man," Charlie said, rolling his eyes.
James gave Charlie a disappointed look then walked out to stand next to Adam. "Yeah, sorry, we should have said something sooner. Um, we're just doing a worksheet right now. Plovo will be back by the end of the lesson. What's your name by the way?"
The girl's eyes darted between the four of them, and she was silent for a moment, before she said, "I'm Denise." James nodded then introduced himself, Cindy, Adam, and Charlie "the comedian" who had returned to his seat by then.
Back in the classroom, James pointed out there was an empty seat in the back, while Adam handed Denise one of the spare worksheets. Since she was behind him, Adam couldn't see her without being obvious but he was very curious. He could at least hear her seat neighbours ask her questions such as "Where did you come from?" "Why did you transfer schools?" "Who do you have for physics?" but she spoke more quietly and he had to strain to hear her responses (fortunately everyone was trying to do the same so the classroom was fairly quiet): "I lived in London", "A big misunderstanding", "Mr. Lord."
After that, she stopped did answer any further questions and said she'd be happy to talk more during lunch. People still tried but either Adam didn't hear her response, or she completely blanked them. He enjoyed the thought of them looking confused at getting complete silence.
The reporter said this: "Niel Wood's parents have revealed that he has been suffering from an unspecified degenerative condition, and that his mental health had consequently been suffering."
The channel changed. A familiar theme tune sung out over the sound of train. Was it 21:00 already? "Bloody Affairs" his mother's favourite drama and aired every Sunday at 9pm. Adam started eating his food faster; he hated this show. It wasn't just the melodrama of it all, the overacting, the contrived plotlines. It was the very premise: the show was about cheating, and he'd rather not think about that concept at all. Especially not the night before an exam.
Then he remembered; tonight, was a double bill. Two hour-long episodes one after the other. They wouldn't be done until 11pm, meaning Adam would be unable to sleep until midnight; he'd only have a maximum of seven hours of sleep, he'd be tired and stress, and he'd quite possibly do badly. There was no other option; he had to ask for something for once, even if it meant he owed them.
Perhaps he wouldn't owe them so much. His parents, at least, did benefit from him doing well at school. He realised this shortly after his grades improved a few months ago. He didn't understand how she could brag about him as if she had actually contributed to his success rather than been an obstacle, but the delusion was useful; it meant she could be reasoned with.
He waited until the commercial break and then, in the most polite and measured voice he could muster, asked "Could you turn the TV off at ten pm, please?" He made sure she heard the please even though he thought he shouldn't have to say it. "I have an exam tomorrow; I need to be able to sleep."
His mother turned to him with a puzzled look on her face. "What do you mean? The TV has never been a problem before."
"I find it hard to sleep when it's on really loud," he said at once This was a mistake; he was contradicting her, and she'd use this chance to position herself comfortably in the role of his enemy. He had to backtrack. "Maybe you could just turn the volume down when I try to sleep?" It was a weaker request so had a better chance of being accepted. If he put headphones on and listened to music, and also a pillow over the headphones, he could maybe keep himself relaxed at least until the TV was off, and then he'd sleep faster.
Adam's mother sighed. "It's not that bad, you'll be fine. Besides, it's just a mock exam." Then she turned to the TV as the ads ended and the show came back on.
He'd lost. He couldn't try again or else it would start a fight and he could not deal with that stress on top of everything else.
It wasn't just a mock exam. It would determine his reputation until the next exam.
"Okay, how do you integrate ln of x?" James asked.
"Fuck, I always forget this one." Cindy gave a little stomp and rubbed her hands as she thought.
Adam leaned over. "You have to do a trick where you integrate x ln x first and then you rearrange that."
"I forget you're good at math," James said, flipping through the book. "Okay, how about this question?" And so, James and Cindy kept giving questions and Adam kept answering them. His nerves vanished as he kept going, and he felt good about helping, even if he still wasn't quite sure what to make of them.
Denise showed up as they were going through the recursive integral question Adam had been doing when he saw her first. He felt a strong sense of déjà vu. Cindy waved her over and asked her how she was feeling.
"Nervous. My old school had a different exam board, so I'm not used to some of these questions." Mr. Plover had emailed them feedback on the mini quiz at the end of last week, and everyone had been sharing their scores. Adam had gotten 49/50, James 30/50, Cindy 30/50, and Denise had gotten 45/50. She had nothing to be nervous about.
Denise leaned over the book paper Adam had been scribbling on. "There's a faster way to do this, actually." She took out a pen and asked Adam if he minded handing her the paper. He did not, although he felt nervous again in a different way; he was no longer buzzing, but rather a little lightheaded. He watched her manipulate the integral in a way he wouldn't have thought of but he understood the idea part way through. She came up with the correct answer in about three less lines of work.
"That's neat," Adam said when she handed back the paper. "Did you learn that at your old school?"
"Yes. A friend taught me." Denise laughed. "You know what they say, a good mathematician is a lazy one."
The invigilator stepped out of the building, gesturing for people to move in. Cindy and James got their last-minute whispering in. Adam was afraid of being scolded for talking even though the exam hadn't started yet so he stayed quiet.
Before they took their seats, he saw Cindy give James a kiss on his cheek as she told him good luck. He tried not to think about that until the exam was over.
On the first day, he woke up late, put some cereal in a bowl and took it to his room before either of his parents had a chance to see him and disturb his peace. The dog started barking, though, but that was unrelated to him. It was annoying, but he felt a sense of vindication; he was right to go without milk since otherwise he'd have to either eat in discomfort, or wait until the dog shut up, but be left with soggy cereal.
As he waited for peace to return, he searched through piracy threads on reddit, amassing a collection of obscure visual novels. This was how he planned to spend the seventeenth of February; having not indulged in video games for a long time he felt like he'd earned the right to do it again. He'd have preferred to do this on the actual day of his birthday, but his parents were using it as an excuse to go down to London and do shopping and see a musical; something they were well aware he hated. Or maybe they just forgot?
When he tried to download Saya no Uta, a flood of pop-up ads appeared on screen; he was used to this, and his mouse moved deftly between each X (avoiding the fake Xs which would have no doubt invite some malicious load). Before he could finish closing them all, the doorbell rang; his mother shouted, "Could you please get that?"
The dog was more than pleased to have another excuse to yap.
"In a moment!" The ads were almost gone, and the download had started.
His mother threw his door open. "No, not in a moment, now. I'm busy!" She waited by the doorway (something she was apparently not too busy to do). Adam closed the final pop up, minimised the tab out of habit, and headed downstairs without a word. The dog was pawing at the door, emanating all manner of disgusting pants and growls and barks.
"I already know you hate me," Adam whispered. "At least you can't lie about it like the rest of them." There wasn't even anyone at the door, just a letter hanging out of the mailbox. He took it, almost set it aside on the counter before he read the name. It was addressed to him. He placed it in his pocket and went upstairs to his room, intending to read it, but on the way up he heard the vacuum turn on and saw his mother hoovering his room, scowling at the floor.
Of course, she was mad; he had a bowl on his desk, clothes on the floor, and papers scattered everywhere. It was best to completely avoid her for now, so he said he was going for a walk and left before anyone could say he shouldn't, or to encourage him to bring the dog. He went into town, towards the library for the first time in a long while. He'd had far less time for reading fiction since he'd started studying so seriously. Maybe I will get a book, he thought, but realised he hadn't brough his library card.
He found it quite empty except for a few old ladies who were there to receive tech support from volunteers. He went, first, to the Young Adult section and picked out a book that he didn't necessarily like the look of, but which wouldn't seem out of place in his hands. Then he sat on a beanbag in the corner of a designed reading area and took out the envelope. He opened it up and quickly placed the letter in the book so he could read it without attracting attention.
He once wondered if letter writing was possibly not romantic, and that was why Cindy rejected him so swiftly, but now he knew for sure that wasn't that case. What else could his heart be feeling? Each time he re-read her words, elation vibrated through his fingers. He didn't realise he was smiling until his cheeks hurt. Denise liked him. She had told him in such a cute way. Of course he would go meet her.
He carefully folded the letter and put it in his pocket. He'd never considered how he felt about her until now; it was true that he didn't know much about her but what everything he did know appealed to him; he found her shiny hair pretty and liked that she was very slightly taller than him. She also studied hard but wasn't conceited about it. Why hadn't he noticed that she was so interesting before?
The Bug Lady. That was the reason. The elation he felt stilled itself in seconds leaving only a sense of emotional vertigo. Adam paused and lifted the book up again. He was about to leave, prepare for the date, but this was something that had to be reckoned with; if he committed to Denise then he could not commit to the Bug Lady who had become his raison d'etre. If he couldn't commit to Denise what would the point be in even going on a date with her?
She was not the Bug Lady, she was just a powerless human, but that wasn't her fault. She didn't deserve to be unloved because of that. Besides, Adam was also just a powerless human, and he expected The Bug Lady to love him; he had to give the same courtesy to others. It was only fair and there was nothing Adam abhorred more than unfairness.
They walked towards each other, and Adam felt himself smiling again, remembering how the letter made him feel.
"Hi!" she said. "You came." She opened her arms for a hug.
Adam accepted and pulled away quickly; better not to linger to long and put her off. He changed his internal counter for Days since last physical contact with someone I like from 128 to 0. He hoped he didn't get any sweat from his palms on her clothes; he avoided touching them.
"How could I not?" He looked at her and then at a nearby dog going on a walk; she probably wanted to be looked at, but he couldn't tell if he was leering. "I was really happy when I read your letter."
Denise did not stop looking at Adam (at least she was every time he glanced at her). He definitely liked it, so he let his eyes linger on her face a little longer; she had prominent cheekbones and he wondered how they'd feel against his face. "I'm glad! Want to go for a walk and chat?" She offered her hand to him.
"Yeah!" He reached for her hand but stopped himself. "Sorry, my hands are sweaty. It's normal to be nervous, right?"
She laughed and grabbed his hand anyway. "I don't mind."
The walked along one of the longer trails in the park towards the section where some sculptures of sheep were displayed. There were some kids and presumably their father all playing Pokémon Go around them, so Adam and Denise weren't able to linger.
"So, how are you?" Adam asked, finally. There were many things he wanted to ask other than this, but they all seemed far too forward.
"I'm good!" Denise said. "I feel like I'm settling in better now. My sister is always in a bad mood, though. She misses her friends."
"I didn't know you had a sister. How old is she?"
"Thirteen." Denise and Adam slowed down as they came up to an old man and his dog on the path walking about as fast as a snail with a cement shell. Denise whispered, "Let's just go around?" Since this was usually what Adam did anyway, he nodded, and they made a pass.
Unfortunately, Cavengate was a small town and as such it had a small park; they were already back where they started. It would be far too boring to go around again. "Sorry," Adam said. "You wanted to get to know each other but I feel like I've not asked any good questions. I would have thought of some but … well, it was quite short notice."
"That's okay." Denise sat on the bench and Adam sat next to her; closer than he'd sit to a stranger, but less close than he'd like to in an ideal world. "What's your biggest secret?"
Adam looked up from the spot of the ground his eyes had settled on and blinked at Denise. "Well, I mean--."
"Relax!" she cautioned and put her hand on his shoulder. This did exactly the opposite of relaxing Adam. "You don't have to tell me, but you can if you want."
His first thought was The Bug Lady. What if he told her and then the next day, he found himself in an "accident" orchestrated by whatever forces were supressing the video. Still, the secret burned inside him, and he had to tell someone.
"Adam?" she questioned with a trace of concern. "You're really thinking about this. I didn't actually expect you'd have a big secret."
"Give me a moment." It probably wasn't the right time he didn't know her very well. He recalled an older secret, something he hadn't thought about in a while, and decided it was safe to tell Denise that instead. "I think I'd prefer to be a girl than a boy."
The words had transferred the stunned silence to Denise, if only for a moment. Her expression turned curious, and she lifted her hand to her delicate lips as if to shush herself. "Really?"
"I didn't expect to tell you. Or anyone really. It's only really a secret from my parents but no-one else knows because it never came up in conversation."
Denise looked Adam up and down and nodded. "I think you'd be a pretty girl. Why, though? It's not that great. You know, with patriarchy and sexism and misogyny and periods and the like."
"I mean, expect for periods, none of that is really inherent to being a girl, is it? That's just how people treat girls." Adam had forgotten his policies on minimally staring at Denise amid the excitement of this conversation which he had only been able to talk about anonymously online before. He watched her thoughtful face carefully.
After some deliberation she said, "No, I suppose not. I mean if someone told me I could be a man tomorrow and not have to deal with any of that again … well, I would still say no."
"Yeah." Adam realised they'd been talking about his topic for longer than any other time people had talked about a topic he'd brought up. He knew that he was coming across as terribly self-absorbed and so he asked, "What's your biggest secret?"
"Ah, how the turn tables." They both laughed. "I'll tell you on the second date."
"There's going to be a second date?" Adam asked.
"Well, I want one, and if you also want one, then there will be. Do you want one?" She looked at Adam expectantly.
"I do!" Denise already knew that he did, or else she wouldn't have asked so boldly. Adam did not know how she knew but he was glad she did.
The began to chat about less serious things; Adam asked what Denise thought of all teachers. She found that they were a bit more varied than her old school where everyone was equally shit. Her favourite was the physics teacher Mrs. Long because she was the most relaxed but also fairly knowledgeable. Her least favourite was Mr. Stand because he was both incompetent and strict. She asked Adam about any school gossip, and he said he didn't really know any other than old gossip he was part of.
"Ah, the letter incident." Denise went quiet. "I ran into Cindy the other day and we chatted. I asked about you and she told me. That's why I got the idea to write you a letter."
"Lucky me." Adam's smile faded too although he conversation still seemed to be going well. He wondered if he did something wrong and went over everything he just said. Normally he wouldn't even ask, but Denise had so far put him at ease. He didn't want to disturb her by seeming too fragile but equally he'd rather disturb her sooner than later. So, he asked, "Did I say something weird?"
Adam was a little relieved to see Denise shake her head immediately. "No, not at all. It's just that … this is going to bother me, so I need to get it out of the way; you don't have any feelings for Cindy still, right?"
"Nope, not at all." Adam answered quickly. "She didn't really like the letter so I figured why should I like someone who doesn't like me anyway?" He still had feelings for the Bug Lady but since his feelings for Denise were quickly overtaking those, he felt no need to bring it up. Besides, he'd thought about it and realised these were very different things.
Denise gave a little sigh and loosened up her shoulders. "Okay, that's great. I just get worried about stuff like that. Anyway, do want to get lunch at Gregg's?"
"I didn't bring any money. I could run home and get my wallet, though." He was only a short walk away, although his parents would question why he was going out again; as far as they were concerned, he'd just gone to the library.
Denise stood up and offered her hand to Adam again. "Just pay me back on the second date."
The lunch was satisfying if not very fancy. Adam and Denise walked along the riverside, at Adam's suggestion, while they ate their sausage rolls. He was telling her about his birthday plans when he realised the time. He'd never been out this late alone before. He admitted to Denise that his parents didn't know he was on a date, and they expected him back soon. Thankfully she didn't ask for more explanation.
"It's been really nice," he said. "I'll come up with some suggestions for a second date." Even as he said this, he knew that he'd exhausted everything in the town that could possibly be considered fun, but that was an issue for later.
"I'll think of some too! Maybe we can take the train somewhere. Oh, but your parents--." She waved away the thought. "Sorry, I know you're in a rush. Just one quick thing before you go. Come closer."
"Hmm? Why?"
"So, I can tell you my secret." She grinned at him. He leaned in and directed his hear towards her mouth. "My secret is …," Denise began. Then he felt something soft and blissful against his cheek. His breath caught in his throat. He lost his balance and almost tumbled into the water. He supposed that actually would be a good moment to drown because that was the happiest, he'd ever been. She ended, "… that I want to kiss you."
"Where are you going?"
"We're going to eat in the city."
"What time will you be back?"
Why did she ask that? When he was younger and she took him with her when she went to sit and chat with friends, he was bored to the point of agony and asked when they were going on. He said what she told him then: "I don't know. People don't plan these things."
"You'll be back by 7pm. Who are you going out with?"
This was one he had prepared for. "I'm meeting James and Cindy." This might be true and that was good enough for Adam; James and Cindy would be there initially since James wanted to borrow Denise's notes to help him catch up. He and Adam had studied together a few times since the beginning of the mid-term break but he found Adam's handwriting incomprehensible.
"Aren't they dating?" his mother asked.
"Yes?" Adam said after a pause.
"I hope he doesn't get jealous and beat you up."
"See you later."
"Yep," the conductor said, avoiding eye-contact and puffing his cheeks out in exasperation. Adam thanked him and boarded. He found an empty seat and took out the book, The Dark Tower, he picked out to give to Denise. He hadn't much time to get a gift, so this was second-hand from a charity shop. It was in decent condition, however, and something was better than nothing.
Ten minutes later, the train stopped, and he disembarked, lined up at the exit gates, left the line when he realised he couldn't find his ticket, found his ticket in his left pocket, rejoined the line, scanned his ticket, hurried away from the flow of the people, took out his phone and texted Denise, "I'm here."
As he sent this, she ran up towards him and gave him a long hug. He counted: 1 second, 2 second, 3 second, 4 second, 5 second, and then he pulled away because, surely, he was overstepping his welcome and she was only still hugging him out of politeness. He had to show her he liked her enough to respect her personal space, and that meant giving up on the comforting sensation. Besides, it was already the longest hug he'd had in years. Letting it go on longer was just greedy.
"How are you?" Denise was dressed up neatly in a white knit top and long skirt; almost like she was going for an interview.
In contrast, Adam had worn his favourite shirt (plain white with an ornate gold-coloured illustration of a skull) and one of his three pairs of black jeans. These were the only two items of clothing he had bought for himself and so really there was no other option; he had to represent himself. Anything else would be dishonest.
"Did you already meet with Adam and Cindy?" Adam asked.
Denise gave an enthusiastic nod. "I did. He and Cindy have gone mini golfing. Which sounds really fun but … I did want this date to just be the two of us." Adam liked the sound of that. Other people just complicated things. Especially James. Loud, friendly, and funny, he was a charismatic black hole that absorbed all the attention in the room.
He had to show Denise he was also interesting, even if he couldn't be quite so … direct as has almost-friend. His gift. He opened his backpack and produced the book. "Before I forget," he said. With a wide smile, Denise accepted the item and flicked through it, her expression curious. "I don't know the kinds of books you like, but it's one of my favourites. I can look for something else if it's not your sort of thing."
"Aw, no, thank you." She went to place it in her white side-bag but couldn't manage to find any space. Adam offered to take it back for the time being and give it to her at the end of the day. "I actually mainly read non-fiction … but I really appreciate it. I'll give it a go."
He made a mental note. Only non-fiction. It hurt. He tried to digest the hurt like bitter medicine. It didn't work. How could he talk to her about his favourite books if she didn't like fiction? Would they never chat over the characters they related to or gush about those they had crushes on? If he was with her forever, he'd miss out on these perfect moments he'd been imagining (although he been imagining with the Bug Lady until recently). Maybe, though, she'd come to like this book and all that would be remedied and all he had to do was wait and encourage her and eventually it would all be perfect-
"Adam?"
"Sorry, was just thinking." He had been quite for a long while, he realised. He had to rectify this quickly. "Anyway, what non-fiction books do you like?"
"I can show you! I was actually thinking it would be fun to go to a book shop." She took his hand-a gesture that still set his heat racing-and took him out of the station.
Adam had to weave among the patrons as he followed Denise inside. She walked quickly past the little café on the side, seemingly unbothered by the long walk up the steep cliff, pulling Adam by his hand. He stole a glance towards the fiction section before he was taken into uncharted territories.
When they reached their destination, a shelf labelled Science in the non-fiction area, Denise scanned the shelves from top to bottom, pointing out the books she was interested in and the one she was planning to read. His heart eased, just a little, when she showed him the sort of books she liked. Sapiens, A Short History of Nearly Everything, What If? They were a mix of easy popular and hard popular science books; things he was interested in now. He mentioned that he hadn't really cared about science until recently, but he'd been watching some YouTube videos.
"These are better," Denise told him. "If you want a really broad perspective on things."
Things would be okay. Maybe they could show each other something new and they'd both be more complete because of it; maybe she felt the same way about Adam and fiction books. This was an acceptable trajectory and, bolstered by this optimistic vision, Adam purchased Sapiens, which Denise said was her favourite.
Denise was happy that Adam got the book; she even offered to pay for it, she was that invested in him reading it. But he declined. He couldn't owe her something, especially on the first date; that would just make her resent him for squandering her resources. Especially when he'd only spend a few pounds on the gift for her. What if he didn't even like the book?
They found a spare seat in the café just as another, older, couple left it. The two servers were clearly over worked so the couple were happy to wait. As they did, Adam asked why that book was her favourite. Denise answered quickly, "I just think it's easy to take for granted everything around us. But if you really think about it, it's super weird that we're even alive and live on a planet full of other living things, and they all come from the same cell. And that that cell only existed because things randomly worked out for it. It makes me appreciate life more."
"That's … really nice." Adam smiled. They were all one, in some sense, and it made him feel like he had significance. He was a spec of organic matter, but he was part of a much larger mass; something that had colonised an entire planet. These were thoughts he'd had long ago. Before he realised that all the other lifeforms on the planet hated him, even those he was most closely related to. Now, though, there was Denise, and she liked him. She was the only person who liked him, really, so he let himself feel happy about being a part of the same lineage as her. "Makes you wonder where it will all go."
"The book talks about that too! I love speculative evolution." She was pleased by the question.
Adam perked up at those words. "Maybe I should have gotten you The Time Traveler instead. But I'm guessing you've seen the movie anyway."
Denise shook her head. "No, I haven't actually. Why do you think I'd like it?"
"A lot of the book is set in the future where humanity has split off into two different species. One of them lives above ground is very placid and almost like us except more childlike and the others live underground and are aggressive and ape-like. It's so interesting to think of how things would end up that way. But the bit I …" he drifted off. He wanted to talk about the bit he liked most, the ending where the Time Traveller sees what the last living thing on earth might be, a thing both simple and alien, but he realised he'd been speaking for so long already. He wouldn't risk losing her attention by speaking any more.
After a second, she said, "Sounds like something I might like! Maybe after I finish the other book."
He hoped that her opinion of his recommendations wouldn't be tarnished if she didn't like The Dark Tower. The Time Traveller was probably a much better recommendation, but he couldn't take back the book now. If it weren't for Sapeins in his backpack this would worry him more. Even if she didn't like the book, it was a fair trade, and he could do another one in the future.
"Shall I go up and order?" Denise asked. He was thirsty so he agreed. "What do want?"
"I think the hot chocolate. What are you going to get?"
She looked at the menu again and pointed towards the mango and pineapple tea. "I've been getting into fruit teas. They're calming."
His mother had also been ‘getting into fruit tea' and this thought eeked out a frown on Adam's face. He had to remind himself that Denise was not his mother even if she also liked fruit tea. Both his mother and Denise breathed air-did that make them the same person?
Attention giving to battling these thoughts that threatened to wreck his affection for the only person in the world who liked him, Adam did not notice that Denise had left. He hadn't got a chance to pay her. He checked the price. 3.50. In his wallet, all that was left was two pounds in two pounds coins.
When Denise returned, he offered this to her. She laughed and waved him off. "Oh, don't worry about it. Let me treat you."
"Are you sure? I don't mind paying."
"It's really okay."
It was fine, Adam supposed, since he'd bought her the book for about the same price. The only issue was that now things were precariously even; one wrong move and he'd owe her and she'd feel like he was contributing nothing to the relationship. But it was fine. He'd sort it out soon by reading the book she'd given him.
Her tea arrived, as did Adam's hot chocolate. He felt a little childish for ordering something sweet. Denise vanquished that worry when she asked if she could try some. He pushed the glass over to her and she took an amusingly long sip that left a little creamy mustache on her lips.
"Uh," Adam said, unable to hold back his smile. She was so pretty. How did he not notice it before? He wanted to touch her face, wipe the whipped cream of her lip. But it wasn't like he could do that or even ask to do that. That would be too weird. "You have something on your lip."
She covered her mouth and licked it off. "Is it gone?"
"Yes."
She pushed the glass back to him. He was about to take a sip but he paused. Her lips had just touched this glass. It wasn't a mere indirect kiss but a fresh indirect kiss. It was his first kiss with Denise and it was happening right now; was he ready for it? Or should he wait until a better, more perfect moment? But what if there never was such a moment and he missed his chance.
He matched the position of his to the thin layer of chocolate where hers had been and drank slowly.
"You seem happy," Denise said.
Adam realised his cheeks were hurting. He was smiling so much. "I am." He considered whether he should tell her and decided he should; he'd already told her he wanted to be a girl and she'd accepted him. If she was the one, she would accept this too. "Do you know what just happened?"
"You … drank some really nice hot chocolate?"
"No, our first kiss. Well, indirect kiss."
Her mouth made a surprised O. "You're cute." She took the hot chocolate again and had another sip. "And there's the second."
They passed an ice-cream store. He was about to offer but he was still full from the meal and he suspected she was too. Besides, he had used up all of his money, so it didn't matter.
They came up to the Cathedral at the top of the hill. It was all hard edges and sharp spires and dwarfed the nearby houses. Adam couldn't remember the last time he saw something so big up close before. Do you believe in God? Perhaps that was the question; it was a bit sudden, a bit serious, but it had a plausible reason for asking it given where they were.
Before he could, however, Denise asked, "So, Adam, what do you like to do for fun?"
He almost stopped dead in his tracks. I should have thought of that. "I've been playing a lot of video games. Action RPGs. Strategy games. Uh … I've also been quite into horror movies lately." He wondered if The Bug Lady's film even counted as a movie given it was probably real. "What about you?"
"Well, reading, of course. Guitar too, but I only started a few months ago."
"Oh, what kind of music do you play?"
"I like indie rock. The first song I learnt was Viva La Vida by Coldplay."
Adam did a good job of stopping himself from grimacing. Of course, she wasn't going to be playing death metal riffs if she'd started a few months ago; just because she played boring music didn't mean she was a boring person. It didn't mean she didn't appreciate good music. There were some good indie rock bands too.
"Do you know anything by Muse?" he asked. He still had to check that she had some taste. To settle his heart. What if she actually did only like terrible music? How could he live a life with her if the soundtrack was so bland?
"Ooh, I learnt Starlight recently. Are you a fan?"
Adam smiled. It was something. "I like a few of their songs."
He arrived at the house and knocked on the door. As he waited in the cold evening for someone to answer, he imagined his mother's inevitable accusations/questions: why had he sweated through his shirt? Why had he not texted her to let her know how he was doing? Why did he leave his breakfast bowl in his room? At least it was 18:30, well before the deadline, so she couldn't make a comment about that.
It was his father who answered the door instead. "Hey, boy. I haven't seen you all day," he said. "Did you have a good outing with your friends?"
"Yeah," Adam said, relieved to enter the warm house, and that it was his dad who greeted him. He was almost always easier to deal with. "We had lots of fun. I got a book."
His dad locked the door after him and had no further questions. "Mum put your dinner in the fridge."
Adam thanked his dead and hurried up to the shower room. He was a little disappointed to find she hadn't sent him any messages until he realised, she might be having similar issues. He texted her:
It was not Adam's way to use exclamation marks in his texts except for very special occasions. This certainly counted, he had no doubt, but he'd have to constrain himself for a while. Maybe one per week was a good pace? He had to keep it special.
With his main worry dealt with, Adam couldn't stop smiling as he hurried through the steps of his showering. He'd actually been on a date. With a really pretty, interesting, smart person. She seemed to have fun too. He had had his first indirect kiss. On reflection, it was the happiest day of his life. It was his first date with his one true love-he would have to commemorate this somehow. Maybe a video diary. He could do one after each of their dates and show it to her the day they got married; wouldn't that be the most romantic thing?
Done showering, he dried his hands and checked his phone.
Her reply was short. She was busy. It was okay.
Adam dried himself fully, got dressed, went downstairs and took his portion of the roast dinner to his room. He didn't know what to do with himself while waiting for her next text. He decided to stream a horror-action anime about genetically engineered assassin girls. Every few minutes, he would check his phone, heart beating in nervous anticipation, and then sinking in disappointment. She's still eating. She probably talks to her family during the meal. Maybe hangs out with them after. He tried not to check for another two episodes.
Again nothing.
He finished the anime and checked again.
Nothing at all.
It was about midnight. She was probably asleep. It meant she'd forgotten about him but … it didn't mean she didn't like him. He started the second season to distract himself and finally crawled into bed when his eyes were too dry and heavy to carry on.
I did have a really fun time for the first part of the date
but was something wrong after the bookstore? You were really quiet. I wasn't sure how to bring this up but it's easier if I just ask. Was it something I did?
He typed quickly, sleep-deprived brain kickstarted by the urgency of her words.
She replied to a minute later. But Adam did not have a chance to see the text; his door was thrust open. The dog bounded in through his mother's legs and hopped onto his bed. Adam pushed the vile thing off before it shed its greasy fur over his duvet. "Go!" he commanded.
"Adam," his mother said. Her tone was icy. "Get dressed and come to the lounge." She walked away. Adam shoo'd the dog out of the room and closed the door again. What the hell was that about? He tried to think of things he'd done (or forgotten to do) since coming home but came up blank.
He checked the text from Denise.
Denise was important-the most important thing, he decided, she was his girlfriend after all-and he wanted to keep texting her. Unfortunately, he needed to deal with whatever inane reques his mother had; if he wasn't careful, she would stand in his way of seeing her. He put his phone away, threw on his clothes from yesterday, then went to the lounge.
His mother sat in her usual spot, her stern-faced staring at the wall. The dog had curled up beside her, seemingly indifferent to the hostility of her supervillain's aura. She turned head towards Adam with deliberate slowness, expression unchanging, and pointed to the other couch. "Sit," she said.
Adam knew she was sincere in all her dramatization. If it weren't for that, he'd be laughing at her. If it weren't for the fact he relied on his parents for shelter and education, and eventually, the resources to escape from them, he'd be laughing. Instead, he sat with bitter obedience. "What is it?"
"I'm giving you one chance to apologise or you're grounded."
"Apologise for what?" Adam asked, forgetting his mother was unreasonable.
"Don't play the fool, you stupid boy."
"I'm sorry?" he said.
"For?"
"That's what I asked you." This time, he did not forget she was unreasonable. He just couldn't really stand to deal with these silly mindgames first thing in the morning.
She took a deep breath. "Who said you could talk back to me? You're such a rude kid. After all I've done for you, and you have absolutely no respect for me. You think I'm just a maid? That I like cleaning up your mess? I thought you weren't like all the other boys who just treat their mothers like servants, but you are. Maybe that's just how boys are. It's disgusting, and you should do better."
Adam gripped the upholstery. "If you tell me what I did wrong, maybe I do something about it." There was no amount of careful wording that could save this so he didn't bother. He simply did not know what he did wrong and until he knew there would be no progress.
"You lied to me. You know I hate lying. I saw James's mother at Tesco yesterday. I asked if she knew where you, James and Cindy were going today. She said I must have gotten it mixed up. I said, ‘Aren't James and Adam meeting up in Lincoln today?' She said that James was going out with Cindy and that he'd be back soon, nothing about you." She did not blink as she recounted this tale. "What were you doing? Are you a druggie now?"
Adam's heart dropped through the floor and kept burrowing. It couldn't deal with this; he'd be banned from leaving the house, never mind seeing Denise, the only thing that mattered. What he wanted to say was ‘I didn't lie' as if the truth could somehow absolve him. But his mother did not understand truth even if she thought she demanded it.
He knew what she wanted. Control. Conformity. Confession of Adam's transgressions against her. She wanted to feel like she was in the right, a guiding force for her errant son. She wanted to play the forgiving mother.
"I'm sorry," he said. He told himself he meant he was sorry for getting caught; even if his mother didn't mind lies, he still did. "No, I'm not into drugs. I was on a date."
She was quiet for a moment. "I swear to God Adam, if you're still lying, I'll smack you." She'd never threatened violence before. Was it that unbelievable that he was on a date?
"It's true!" he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you because it was too sudden to let you know." That was true although the main reason he didn't want to tell her was because she was unpredictable and might have stopped him from going.
"Show me the girl," she demanded. Adam went to get his phone. He opened up Denise's facebook page and handed it to his mother.
"I've never seen her before," his mother remarked.
"She's a new student. She transferred from London recently."
He watched as his mother went through her profile. "Get me my glasses," she demanded. Adam did as she said, mortified but unable to otherwise. It was worth it; he could still turn this around. She put her glasses on her head and tiled her head chin up awkwardly as she went through his and Denise's messages. She read each and every world as she slowly scrolled through, observing the part of himself Adam had tried so carefully to keep hidden, to keep safe, from her; the feeling part.
As soon as she was done, Adam snatched the phone back and put it in his pocket. He still felt gross.
"She's really your girlfriend?" his mother asked. Her tone was softer.
"Yes," Adam said.
She was quiet for a long moment before closing the phone. The anger drained out of her face, replaced by an approving smile. "Aww, puppy love. I'm proud of you. She's pretty enough/ Is she a decent person?"
"Yes." He wasn't sure what answer she was expecting. He took his phone back from her and shoved it in his pocket.
His mother stood up from the couch and stared at Adam. "Well, I'll be the judge of that, and if she breaks your heart, I'll break her neck." By the glee beneath her words, it was clear to Adam what his mother really meant. She wanted Adam to be hurt. Or she didn't care about his happiness and relished the opportunity his potential heartbreak presented: she could show the world just how strong her "motherly instinct" was, show them all that she was an excellent mother who loved her son more than any other mother loved theirs. And she could do all this without the hassle of actually loving Adam; violence was easier.
He stepped out into the living room, dressed in something atrocious: a far too formal collared blue shirt and jeans that were too long for him. Neither of these two items had seen the light of day in over a year. Unfortunately, his compliance with her fashion was the condition of him getting to see Denise.
His mother said, "Oh, you look so handsome."
He said thanks. His own opinion was he looked awful and that he wouldn't blame Denise from breaking up with and/or stabbing him on the spot. But his mother did not press Adam for his own opinion, and he was grateful for this.
There was no way he'd show up looking the way he did. No way he'd let his mother ruin the one good thing in his life. He had a plan.
"Okay, I'll be going now," Adam told her.
"Wait, wait," his mother told him and pushed herself up and away from the couch. She came up to Adam and put her hands on his shoulders. He held back the urge to shake her off. "Now, you better be polite to her, to keep it in your pants, and to thank her parents for the meal they made." She said this as if it was useful advice.
"Yes, I know." Adam gazed longingly towards the door. With a shrug and uncomfortable half laugh, he said "I'm going to be late." He struggled out of her grip and hurried towards the door before she burdened him with more advice.
"Don't forget your jacket!"
Adam did not. He could not forget it tonight.
When the door closed behind him, he smiled. He was happy not just because he was going to meet Denise, but because, now that he was outside the house, he was sure he had won. As expected, she insisted he wear the jacket. The jacket he had earlier cut open, gutted of its insulation, and stuffed a secondary, actually decent, outfit into. Nothing fancy, just a slightly worn out black hoody and black trousers. He considered just wearing it under his clothes, but it was too risky.
He made a detour to a public toilet by the train station, locking himself in the first available cubicle. It smelt weird and he tried to hold his breath, as he took out his true outfit. The shirt and trousers were a little crumpled and covered in remnant stuffing. It was still better than wearing something that represented her. He carefully brushed as much of it off as he could into the toilet.
At Denise's front door, he managed to pass of his reaction as mere surprise and complimented her anyway. "You look nice!"
They hugged and it felt nice despite how she looked. He'd have to bring it up at some point. Her parents probably just made her, he told himself. Maybe all parents wanted to drain the joy out of their children. With this in mind, he was able to see past the obscuring pigments to the Denise he had fallen for.
She invited him in and took his deflated coat-looking at it with a passing confusion-as she hung it up. He followed her to the lounge. He could hear a woman and man laughing from a nearby room. Her parents presumably.
"Thanks for having me over." Adam relaxed his shoulders and gazed at the little glass decorations of animals atop the fireplace. Actually, every part of the room was decorated. There were little embroidered cushions on the couches, a white and beige throw rug in the centre of the room, pictures of the family throughout the years hung up on the wall.
"No problem. Just make yourself at home."
Adam pointed to the photos. "Can I look?"
"I mean you can … but it's a bit embarrassing. It's just photos of me as a kid mainly."
In one photo an approximately ten-year-old Denise was holding her arm bashfully in front of the lion statues outside of Buckingham Palace. In another, she was a bit younger and going down a slide at a waterpark with a pale, balding man he supposed was her dad. He seemed to be enjoying it more than her. In a third photo, she was definitely a teenager. She was wearing braces and forcing a smile. Adam was familiar with forced smiles.
"Oh, you must be Adam!" a woman said behind him. Her voice sounded like a news presenter's and he felt wary about speaking lest he embarrass himself and Denise by association.
Adam turned around and smiled as warmly as he could manage at the tall blonde woman coming towards him. Denise's mother's jewellery jangled as she shook Adam's hand, smiling a toothy grin halo'd by vicious red. "I'm Angie, so nice to meet you."
Doing his best to meet her gaze, Adam went through the usual words: "Hi. I'm Adam. Nice to meet you too. Thanks for having me."
"Think nothing of it. Let me just introduce you to Harold. He's been dying to meet you."
"He just got her, mum," Denise protested, but Adam was already being dragged towards the kitchen.
In the kitchen he was greeted by a man sipping a glass of red wine. This was not the man he was expecting based on the photos. This man was in far better shape than most adults he knew and had a full head of hair, though it was greying on the sides.
"So good to meet you, Adam. How are you holidays? Did you go anywhere fun?" Wrinkles formed around his eyes when he smiled.
The question caught him off guard. "Oh, uhm, it's good? Not gone anywhere yet but my parents are taking me to see Strangers on a Train on my birthday on the tomorrow." He wasn't sure why he said it, but he felt like he did the right thing when Harold gave an approving nod.
"Oh, it's wonderful. You're a fan of history then?" Harold put his glass down on the cabinet near the stove top. Two of the hobs were in use, one boiling potatoes, the other something more colorful.
Before Adam could answer, Angie shoo'd Harold away from the oven with a playful slap to his ass. She retrieved a roast and placed it on a ceramic board on the counter. Adam backed away further to give her space, also so he could stand closer to Denise.
"Okay, dinner is ready!" Angie announced, turning off the hob.
Denise had already gone over to retrieve a stack of plates and a knife. She places these by the roast beef and asked Adam, "How many slices would you like?"
Harold almost leapt across the kitchen towards Denise. He held out his hand and said a little too quickly, "It's okay, Neezy, I'll dish up."
"Harold," Denise whispered. "I'm not a child." She handed him the knife anyway and went to stand by Adam. She let out a sigh. Although he wasn't sure what was going on, he moved his hand a little closer to her. She took it and gripped it so hard it hurt a little. He hoped that it made her feel better, at least.
Denise's father dished up a large serving of beef and vegetables for Adam. "Thanks," he said. He meant for the effort, rather than the food which looked as tasteless as what he was used to eating at home, and waited for Denise to get her meal before he took it to the table. After washing his hands, he sat down next to her and thanked Angie for the meal.
As he ate, Adam received a lot of questions from both Harold and Angie, all the while Denise tapped her foot against his under the table.
"How long have you been going to Moore Academy?" Harold asked.
"Seven years? Since I was eleven."
"What universities are you applying too?" Angie asked. She carefully cut a bite-sized piece from her slice of beef.
Adam drank a little water to cleanse his mouth before he answered. "Cambridge, St. Andrews, Bristol, and I can't remember the other two right now. Sorry."
Harold smiled. "Ah, I went to Bristol myself. It's such a beautiful city. I studied politics. What will you be studying?"
"Mathematics or physics," Adam replied.
Angie made an approving noise and teased Denise about going for the smart ones. Adam wondered if he should ask Angie if she went to university, if only to throw the line of questioning away from himself. He thought better of it; if she hadn't, she might be embarrassed by the fact. He didn't want to ask Harold about his degree because he might end up seeming ignorant if the conversation went down that route.
Before he could come up with an acceptable question or comment, Harold asked, "What do you think of the outbreak in South Africa?"
This gave Adam pause. Angie remarked, "It's a bit dark for a dinner conversation, isn't it?"
"Well, I'd like to hear Adam's opinion. I think it's very interesting." Harold folded his hands together and stared at Adam.
"Well, I'm not too sure yet. There's not much info on it." It was better to admit ignorance, even if he did know more than he was letting on.
"Mhm hmm," Harold said. "Exactly. That's what makes it quite interesting. Usually when there's an outbreak, every news station is eager to give out details. What causes it, what are the symptoms, the death rate, interviews with the afflicted … but we have none of that. All we've really been told is that the borders are closed."
Adam nodded along as Harold spoke. He wasn't wrong.
"Now, Adam, we just met. I don't want you to go home thinking I'm a conspiracy theorist nutjob, but you have to admit it's all a bit weird? There's also the fact it broke out in a quite affluent town. Usually these things transfer from animals and affect rural villages first."
"I guess it could have affected a farming village first," Adam suggested. "But maybe no-one reported it?"
"Well, maybe but they have teams on watch for this sort of thing." Harold had more or less forgotten about his food. "It's not likely that they'd miss this. I don't know what's going on myself, mind you, I'm just speculating. But I reckon it's not a disease at all." Harold went on to all-but-suggest it was a coverup for a governmental fuck-up.
Given an opportunity by Harold's monologue, Adam, a prodigiously fast eater since childhood, made short work of the remaining mountain of food. He hoped he didn't look too inelegant. He thanked Denise's parents for the meal again, and drank down the remainder of his water to refresh his mouth.
"We're going up to my room now," Denise said. "See you later."
He followed her up the carpeted stairs and into the first room on the right.
Denise's room was more girly than he expected. An oasis of cuteness in an ocean of formality. A handful of stuffed toys dozed peacefully on her floral bedsheets. Her ajar wardrobe, filled neatly with soft blues and pinks, was reflected in white-framed mirror on the make-up table beside her bed.
Denise closed the door, sat on the bed, and let out a wistful sigh. "I'm so sorry about them. Interrogating you and … well, embarrassing me when I was just trying to be courteous to you."
"It's okay," Adam said. He was unsure if he could sit on the bed. It was her bed, and she hadn't invited him. He pulled up the seat in front of the make-up mirror and sat on that instead. "Um, is it okay that the door is closed?"
Denise nodded. "Yeah, of course. I just want to get away and cool off for a moment."
"Can I help?"
Denise shrugged. "I don't know. Just be with me a moment."
He waited with her. He was tempted to offer his hand, to place it over hers in a show of solidarity. It's what he would have wanted if he were her; but she'd given no suggestions to his request to help. If she had wanted his hand over hers, or a hug, or to talk about it, she would have said something. So, Adam contented himself with looking around the room while she collected herself.
Eventually Denise continued. "They're usually not that bad. It's just because you're here."
"Like they're nervous for you?"
Denise shrugged and lay back on the bed. Adam saw a hint of her soft tummy and looked away immediately. "More like … nervous for you. I hate bringing up exes. Really, I do, but I think you should know there were some big issues between me and my ex."
Ex? Until this point Adam had imagined Denise as alone as him, untouched by the unworthy hands of others. It was silly, of course. She was pretty and smart and kind and all the things anyone could want; but the fact she paid attention to him had made him categorise her as the same type as him; unwanted and alone.
She went on. "I'm not sure if I should tell you right now. I want this to be a fun evening."
"It's okay. You can talk to me about stuff." He didn't want to hear more about her having an ex, but he had to know. What if they'd kissed already? What if they had sex? Maybe that's why she was so … calm about the indirect kiss. What if he kissed her better than he ever could?
No. It was okay. He'd been working hard, and he could just learn to kiss better if he was subpar. Besides, she was trying to tell him something. It wasn't the time to worry about these things.
"I-thanks." She sat up again, went over to Adam and hugged him. It was nice, even if he couldn't help but imagine her hugging her faceless, nameless ex. "He cheated on me, and I … well I wouldn't call it an overreaction but everyone else did. It was wrong, I guess. That's why they're a bit weird."
"That's why Harold went on a rant about the outbreak?" Adam asked.
Denise laughed, half dragging Adam to sit in the bed with her. "He's always a bit like that. I think he was just more vocal because of the nerves."
Adam positioned himself so their hips just barely touched. That was the appropriate distance, wasn't it? Close enough to show he wanted to near her but without any pressure. She didn't pull away, so he guessed it was fine.
"I like your room," Adam said. "Mine is so plain compared to yours." He looked over at a stuffed crocodile sitting on the pillow. Clearly a favourite.
"Thanks. My old room was way prettier. We thought about painting it purple but since I'll move out to uni next year, I said there wasn't much point." Denise's hand brushed over Adam's; she withdrew it and apologised.
"It's okay! We literally held hands yesterday."
"True." She laughed. "I guess I'm nervous too. It's the first time we've really been alone."
Adam was keenly aware of this fact and nervous too; his palms, back, and pits sweating despite the multiple layers of anti-perspirant. But he'd operating at this level of nervousness during every interaction he'd had with Denise, so he was more or less used to it.
"I'd never cheat on you," he told her. He wasn't happy Denise got her heart broken but he was happy it was so much easier to be better than the waster who broke it.
Her warm palm rested against the side of his face, turned his head towards her. She kissed him. The soft parting of her lips, a gentle exhaled breath, her hand sliding on the duvet as she adjusted herself. Her lips curled. He felt that curl upon his own lips. It was as if her smile was his smile. After all, it meant the same thing and stemmed from the same stimulus. The kiss and what it meant: I like being near you, I like you, I want you, I trust you.
"Adam," she whispered, pressing her hand to his chest. "I can feel your heartbeat. Are you okay?"
He didn't doubt it; the staccato beat almost overpowered her words. He kissed her back, once, twice, to show her that he was more than okay. His bones hummed with elation.
Until now people had kept him at a distance. He did not know why he deserved such a quarantine of the soul. Something intrinsic, probably. He believed he possed an inexorable contaminat that all people instinctively feared. Except Denise, for some reason. She alone was immune to this terrible thing. She kissed him directly and then did it again. She closed that distance, unafraid, even attracted to the thing on the other end. She accepted him and because she had he was no longer alone. He had to hold onto her forever.
I can't stop thinking about our kiss!!!!!!1! You made me feel really special
Thank you for just listening to me so well.
Still can't believe we kissed. Hopefully you won't be so distracted next time we go out now that we kissed properly!
I had such a nice time with you too. I can still feel your lips so intensely every time I imagine it! I think I'm going to dream about you tonight. Let's meet up again as soon as we can. I wish I could see you every day, I've honestly never been so happy, and I don't want it stop.
Also sorry for the late reply. Had to deal with my mother again. Since my dad picked me up I couldn't change outfits back again. She noticed, obviously, and then told me "I don't know who raised you that way, but it wasn't me." Even for her that's a bit … out there. Hopefully she never finds out I ruined the jacket. She's not said anything to me since.
Yeah, let's meet up the day after tomorrow 😊😊😊 You can tell me about Strangers on a Train. Want to get lunch somewhere in town?
Lunch sounds great. I'll look up some places.
After replying to the thread, Adam waited in bed, almost fell asleep again, while his mother showered in the hotel bathroom. When she was done, he set about getting ready himself. Again, his mother had picked a "smart" outfit for him during their trip to the theatre. Collared shirt and suit pants. It wasn't completely terrible. He might have even chosen it himself, but it was the very lack of choice that made him want to burn the fabric off. Still, he had used up all his good will and it was tactical to let her cool off. She couldn't hurt him, but she could make it harder to see Denise.
Shortly after brushing his teeth, he greeted his father.
"Morning," his father said, scratching his side with one hand, covering his mouth with the other.
Once Adam had gotten dressed, everyone was ready. They went downstairs to partake of the buffet. Adam enjoyed several helpings of cornflakes, a cheese and onion omelette, and the crispiest croissant brimming with apricot jam. He allowed himself a smile; maybe the trip wouldn't be so bad.
The plan for the day was to go sightseeing around London until the afternoon when Strangers on a Train would be playing. After that, it was Adam's choice, since, as his father reminded his mother, it was Adam's birthday after all. He decided on the Tate Modern at Denise's recommendation. It would be the first thing they went to do, and he was excited to take pictures of the art for Denise.
I hope you're having a good time in London. Can't wait to see the photos! Here's a picture of me. I realised we don't have any photos of each other yet
Btw, I can't stop reading the Dark Tower. The really short sections made it hard to put down. It's so weird and fun
Adam never took any photos. How could he when his mother ruined him only a few moments away from the only thing he was looking forward to on that retched day. His beauty, what little of it he had cultivated, had been snipped away bit by bit by the barber's scissors. He didn't say a word to his mother, and barely any to his father, from then on. This only seemed to bother his mother for a little while but soon she was having the time of her life riding the London Eye, taking photos at Buckingham Palace, and teasing Adam about his ‘mood swings'.
Wretched being, Adam thought, as he watched her blow her nose.
That photo Denise sent did cheer him up a bit. She was holding the book up with one hand, showing off how much she had already read. At this rate, she'd be done in a few days.
"If you want to be a misery-guts all day, that's your problem, Adam," his mother said. "You're cutting off your nose to spite your face."
He refused to look at her. What world did she live in where he could just brush something like this off? Like he was doing something wrong when he'd given into her insane whims despite his screaming instincts. He should have just refused. It was his right.
He should have taken the scissors from the barber's hands and driven them into her eye.
The brutal thought eased his heart a little.
He only spoke to order an egg and bacon croissant when the waiter came around. Then he pulled out his phone and read Denise's replies.
*hug
He devoured his croissant in a few bites, ignoring admonishment from his mother as he did, and then browsed the image board again to see if there were any updates on the situation. That would distract him at least. There he found someone had drawn an anime-girl mascot for the emerging disease. They'd called her Blossom-chan. In the original picture she was dressed in loose, casual clothes, with a distinct red top revealing her left collar bone. This was reminiscent of the ones worn by a woman in one of the recent videos. In other iterations, the outfit varied, but she always had yellow flowers sprouting into a sizeable gap where the top-right corner of her head should be.
Cute as she was, and she was cute, Adam felt the need to point out that a better mascot would be the moth lady from the first video. Still, he saved the higher quality pictures of Blossom-chan.
His dad turned the radio on. Let's Groove by Earth, Wind & Fire started playing. Adam was thankful for the sound even if 80s music wasn't his thing. At least he had Denise to keep him company. She was giving her detailed thoughts on The Dark Tower. She found some of the scenes a bit weird, but she was fascinated none-the-less.
It was implausible, Adam thought, but no more implausible than a mind-controlling plant-disease. Actually, it was much more reasonable … but then why was the original video being supressed so hard? If it was a marketing campaign, then there would be no need. Beyond a layer of added intrigue, how did that benefit them? Hardly anyone outside of the forums and imageboards was aware of the first video.
Adam's train of thought was de-railed when his mother said, unprompted, "Is this Denise a bad influence?" She said her name with such vitriol that Adam wanted to tear her tongue out so that she could never defile it again. "You get a girlfriend, and you suddenly turn into a brat, is that it?"
All Adam could say was, "No."
After placing a black beanie on his head, he left for Denise's place. It was not too cold, despite the grey skies. He took the ruined jacket with him anyway, lest his mother snoop around his room while he was gone. When he was near Denise's place, he texted her, and she came out not a moment later, greeting him with a tight hug.
Her mother waved and smiled from inside. Adam returned the gesture before he and Denise made their way out of the neighbourhood. Denise said she knew a good walk and led him onto a path that divided pieces of farmland.
The wind whipped Denise's fair hair into her mouth. Adam smiled at the surprised face she made. Once she'd tied it back, she asked "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. It'll grow back, like you said." His hair grew fast, and he'd already looked up a list of ways to make it grow faster. He wasn't going to be able to get castor oil, at least not without his mother taking it as passive aggressive, but he could eat more multivitamins.
She stopped. He did too and she at once wrapped her arms around him, bringing her face close so that her windcooled cheeks touched his own. Her skin was so soft. Adam cried.
"Sorry," he said about leaving his tears against her cheek. He liked seeing the shiny patch, but he didn't want to bother her.
"Don't worry about it," she told him, and wiped away the tears. "Can I see?"
Adam took off the beanie and made an uncomfortable face. Denise titled her head and hmm'd. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You honestly don't look bad."
"I know that … I just don't look how I want to look." He put his beanie back on. They resumed their walk, holding each other's hands.
Denise nodded. "You only have to deal with it for a little while longer."
He knew that too, but it was nice that she acknowledged it too. Only a few more months. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. "Are you okay? You said your dad was being a bit paranoid."
"It's probably fine. Sometimes he just gets obsessed with stuff and then moves on after a few weeks. Also, he's not my dad. I like him, most of the time at least but he's, my stepdad." She spoke quieter despite the isolation.
The couple turned a bend and walked along the next edge of the barren field. No-one else was about at this time except for an elderly couple far in the distance. He was glad to be alone with Denise. It was the only thing better than being alone in his room.
"Ah. I was wondering about the photos."
"I wish she'd take them down." Denise stretched her shoulders back. She was almost as tall as Adam since he was slouching. He liked that. "My dad cheated on my mum, that's why they divorced. She says he's a good person, but a good person wouldn't do that."
Adam made what he hoped was a sympathetic sounding "Ah."
"It's in the past now anyway. Where do you want to go after this?"
"Maybe we can get ice cream?" Adam suggested. "I think we both need to cheer up."
Denise laughed a bit. "Ice cream in this weather? You're mad."
"I just like ice cream!"
Denise kissed Adam on the mouth. "Cutie."
When the class ended, Adam and Denise tried to catch up to Denise and Cindy in the hallway. Cindy jumped when Denise tapped her on the shoulder. "Are you in a hurry somewhere?" Denise asked. Cindy had been walking quickly after all.
Cindy shook her head. "I'm, uh, just nervous about chemistry."
Odd, Adam, thought since she was the person who had the least to be nervous about. He thought nothing of it as the four of them walked together to the chemistry classroom. As expected, Cindy got one of the highest grades. Adam congratulated her, then asked Denise what she got.
"I got an A. I was so close an A*." Denise placed the offending paper in her bag. "You?"
"I got B. Barely."
Later, when Denise and Adam sat together for lunch apart from Cindy and James, Denise asked if he thought anything was weird.
"No?" Adam offered.
"They didn't say anything after we joined them. I think they're off with me for some reason." In retrospect this was clear, but Adam had not noticed it. It was his natural state to be ignored, after all. "Maybe I should go ask them about it." She looked towards the table where James, Cindy and their other friends were sat. A few faces turned away. Except for Michael who gave a big, freckled grin and made a quick stabbing motion. James moved to caution him and lower his hands.
Denise shot up and walked away without a word. Adam walked after her. When she noticed, by the archway between the two main buildings of the school, she stopped. "I need to be by myself for a moment. I'll talk to you later."
"I hope you're okay," Adam offered but he wasn't sure she heard him. He went back to his table. If she wanted to be alone, he'd leave her alone. Besides, he'd left his lunch and bag unguarded since he was so concerned. He recalled how someone had hidden it from him the last time he did that.
His belongings were in their correct place. He sat down again and finished off his sandwich. He didn't bother glancing up James and Cindy's table. Better not to provoke whatever was going on. Despite his portrayal of indifference, James came over anywhere and sat next to him.
"I need to tell you something about Denise," he said.
"She said you're being off with her."
James looked up at his other friends, wrung his hands, and whispered, "Jasmine's cousin went to the same school as Denise. Apparently, Denise stabbed someone. Or at least threatened them … it wasn't really clear." Adam had no idea who Jasmine was. "I want to ask her about it but it's not the right time. And I can't just be awkward. Can you and her meet me after school today?"
"I'll ask her."
"Hey. Sorry," she said, placing her hand over his. He hadn't realised how much he missed her contact. "I want to talk to you." Since most people had already gone home, the couple had no trouble finding a quiet spot to chat near the soccer field.
Denise sat down against the fence. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks tear stained. "I didn't stab anyone," she started. "I want to make that clear. I was never going to stab anyone. I did threaten to stab my ex. Like I had the knife and threatened him with it. It was so stupid. I just wanted him to realise there were consequences to be a cheating piece of shit. I also ripped up his bag." Denise held her head in her hands. "I was worried about this coming out. But I've been so worried about it lately because … well, I wasn't sure what you'd think of me. You must think I'm a psycho."
Adam shifted closer to Denise and leaned against her. "No. If you weren't going to stab him, then it sounds about fair to me."
Denise was silent for a moment. "Really? You're not scared I'm going to stab you?"
"I mean, I just won't give you a reason to." Adam smiled at her and placed his hand over hers. That was okay, he believed since she'd started holding his hand without asking too. "I can't really imagine you being violent, though. You're so … calm."
With a laugh, Denise hugged Adam closer. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Denise pulled Adam in for a kiss. He pressed his lips against her and made a surprised sound when her tongue cautiously probed him. He parted his lips, letting her in. When Denise made a soft sound, he moved the top of his tongue against the side of hers. A tentative, experimental gesture. He posts on Tumblr of girls complaining that about ex-boyfriends kissing with their whole tongues and how gross it was. He'd like it if she did that to him, though. He'd like that very much.
"Do you want to come over?" Denise said. Her cheeks were bright red. "My mum should be out seeing friends."
When they tried, sheepishly, to moan each other's names Adam asked that she call him "Aster".
When they were done, they lay together naked on her only mildly disturbed bed. Denise rested her head on Adam's chest. He tried to engrave the feeling into his mind; her head's comforting weight, the tickle of her hair, her periodic exhalations warming his skin. He wanted her to never get up.
"Are you worried about being lonely?" Adam asked as he stroked along her spine.
"Nah," she said. "You're all I need, cutie." She pecked his chest.
His fluttering heart told him he would love her forever. He had found his ideal match, and she was all he needed too. After all this time, and searching, he had met the person he could dedicate all his love too.
He put his clothes on as she threw them to him, then took out the chemistry revision guide from her bookshelf. Denise fixed her hair in the mirror, fanning her cheeks to cool the raging blush, and then the pair of them went downstairs. Adam's body felt like with anticipation about what Denise's mother would say-did she know? She had to know. It was inevitable that a couple would be intimate with each other, given the opportunity.
Lucia was in the kitchen, drying her just washed her hands. In the end, all she said was, "Ooh, a new haircut, Adam?"
"Hi, Lucia." Adam gave her a smile. "Yes, but I'm not happy with it."
"Well, I think it looks great. Did you offer Adam anything to eat, Denise?"
Denise admitted that she had not, although that was not strictly true if one expanded the definition of eating to non-food items. Lucia then offered Adam a slice of the cake which had been baked by her friend and he politely declined saying he was not hungry. This was strictly true, although he would have liked a slice. He did not want Denise to seem like a bad host, and moreover, he did not want to come across as glutton to either her or her parent.
As Denise caught up with her mother, Adam remembered his own. As expected, his phone had blown up with texts asking where he was, who he was with, if he was okay. He replied saying he'd gone over to Denise's place again.
The thought of something so wretched as his mother interacting with someone so angelic Denise made him a little sick, so he did not reply. She knew where he was and that he was safe, so he had no further responsibility to her. He put his phone away and followed Denise and her mother, each carrying a slice of cake, into the lounge. He sat next to Denise, leaving what he thought was an unsuspicious gap between their legs.
"Congratulations on your results," Lucia said, taking a delicate bite of the cake. "Denise was bragging about you." It took a moment for Adam to realise Denise had probably texted her mother shortly after receiving her own results.
Denise coughed and Adam smiled at her blushing anew. "I mean, I just said you did well. And you did!"
"Thanks," he said to Lucia. "I'm just relieved the wait is over."
Denise and her mother began conversing about their days. Although he already knew how Denise's day went, and her mother's day did not interest him, he still listened intently to the conversation. There was no mention what happened just prior to Lucia's arrival, or what happened with James and Cindy, yet the conversation went on much longer than Adam expected. The oddest thing of all, however, was the laughter.
After their conversation settled down, Lucia turned the TV on to the news.
A stern looking man was making sharp gestures as he explained, "-fungi or something else entirely. What we do know is this: It is highly infectious, and the vectors for transmission include airborne droplets and infected fluids. In all cases, an infected person will become delirious, although not always violent."
A yellow banner shifted along the bottom of the screen announcing WHO URGES SOUTH AFRICA TO CLOSE BORDERS, AFTER HUNDREDS DEAD IN JOHANNESBURG.
Everyone went silent.
Adam knew it was a lie. Not everyone became delirious; The Bug Lady and her partner possessed all their faculties. Were they among the dead?
The interviewer raised a finger. "But was this response warranted? The UN is calling this a massacre."
"You need to keep in mind that pandemonium had broken out already, before the arrival of the special forces. When they did arrive, we have clear video evidence of them helping the wounded and shooting only those displaying NILS symptoms."
Denise held Adam's hand tighter. It felt good to be relied on. He was anxiously focused too but for different reasons; if they were all dead, his chance to escape humanity died with them. Surely it was not so easy to eradicate them right? Surely, something so strange and special as this, couldn't just be destroyed like that? The Bug Lady, who was beyond humanity and all the petty concerns that came with it, could not have been killed by humans.
"Is it true that the infected people came back to life?"
Adam expected the interviewee to scoff, but he did not. "Yes. It is. This is exactly why they had to take such drastic action. People who had received mortal wounds were found to have woken up in their body bags, violent and confused. Once they noticed this, cremation became mandatory."
The interviewer was silent for one long blink. "I see. Well, we're almost out of time. One last question; what steps are being taken to ensure this outbreak is contained?"
"Like I said, the borders have been completely closed, even for emergency transport, while the CDC investigates the origin of the outbreak and determines that the pathogen is eradicated."
They couldn't keep the boarders closed forever, could they? There was no rush, Adam reminded himself. It's not like he could even go to South Africa right now anyway. He'd have to wait until he started uni. He and Denise could both go then. That was if he could convince her. Adam's jaw clenched. He'd had to convince her or else he'd have to stick with humanity for the rest of his life.
She loved him. She said as much. Of course, she'd see his point of view. She was his ideal partner.
"Denise, you asked me what my biggest secret was," he told her. "Come over tomorrow and I'll show you."
He avoided reading or watching anything romantic, and put Sapiens, which he'd only got one chapter into, deep into his cupboard so he wouldn't see it. Still, he was always aware it was there. She was always on his mind. When he saw her in Mr. Plover's class the following Tuesday it set his head in a spin, and he could barely concentrate on the exercises in front of him. At least, when class was over, she was the first one to leave. No-one else wanted to talk to her. He had no idea where she ate lunch now, but it wasn't the cafeteria or their usual spot by the soccer field.
Usually, no-one wanted to talk to Adam either, but James came up to him during lunch. "Are you and Denise okay?"
"No," Adam said.
James patted Adam firmly on his back. Since he hadn't had any physical contact with another person since he showed Denise the video, he wanted the patting to go on. He wished James would rest his hand on his back so that his warmth would leach into him-but then he straightened up, prompting James to stop. It was not right to want the warmth of another when Denise was there; he had to wait for her. If he showed restraint and dedication to her, she'd eventually realise how much he loved her, and how pure his intentions were.
"It's okay," James said. "Probably for the best. Not worth getting stabbed."
"She didn't stab anyone," Adam muttered. "And even if she did, I'd still love her."
With an uncomfortable sound, James excused himself back to Cindy.
