I sit next to her in English and write a little note that reads ‘I miss you.’ I tentatively push it across to her, dreading her response. She writes back ‘We need to talk.’
That does it. My heart sinks and dread engulfs me, weighing me down. For the rest of the class, I sit right beside Rhonda, paranoid that she’s going to end it with me. But why? Was I a crap lover? Did I do something wrong while we were doing it? Did I not do something I was supposed to do? She told me it was her first time too, so she doesn’t have anything to compare my lovemaking to. And to be perfectly honest, I thought I was pretty good. But there was pain and there was bleeding. No one ever tells you about that gritty reality. Was it all too much for her? Did it burst the romantic bubble surrounding us? Was I just a giver of pain to her now? And why is she funny with me now, after being perfectly OK with everything for a while?
The thought of losing Rhonda makes me feel helpless and worthless. I’ve become so used to having her around and having her inside my head when she isn’t around. She’s my constant companion. I’m going to have a tough time dealing with life if all of a sudden she isn’t there anymore. I imagine sitting in church, struggling with the stark realisation that Rhonda has left me. I’d much rather die than have to endure both church and a broken heart simultaneously.
At the end of my last period my science teacher, Mr Fraser, holds me back.
‘Stan, I was watching you today. You were barely present. If you’re not going to participate and pay attention in class, your grades will suffer. I certainly don’t want to see you being held back a year. I’m sure you wouldn’t like that very much either.’ Mr Fraser pats me on the shoulder. ‘I just want to give you some encouragement. Don’t let your grades fall. It will be your biggest regret.’
As I walk down the long veranda, making my way to the north-west corner of the school, I challenge myself to be more hard working. It would really suck to be held back a year and it would be an absolute insult to share a class with kids a year younger than me. No amount of swear words can express how much of a blow that would be. I start thinking about all the swear words I know. Shit, fuck, bitch, motherfucker, dickhead, fuckface, fuckwit, shit-for-brains, wanker, arsehole, the ‘c’ word… I round the edge of the building and come face to face with Brenton and his crew, Peter and Jamie. Brenton leers at me. His hatred towards me bursts from each and every one of his pores.
‘Well, look who we have here! If it isn’t Mr Lovey-Dovey himself, Stan-wee.’
‘That’s very grown-up of you, Brenton,’ I say.
‘You think you’re hot shit cruising around with Rhonda, don’t you?’
‘Not really.’
‘Oh, yes, you do. I can see it in your girly face. You’re always walking around with a stupid fucking smile on that girly little face of yours. And you know what? Whenever I see your stupid girly face around, I feel like smashing it.’ Brenton holds up a fist, and Peter and Jamie snigger.
‘Have you fucked her yet? I bet you haven’t. You’re too much of a pussy. I bet you’ve got a really small dick too. It’d be embarrassing to whip that out, wouldn’t it, Stan-wee? You’d best do it in the dark. That would be your safest bet. You might be able to get away with that tiny wiener of yours in the dark.’ They’re all laughing like morons.
‘Thanks for the advice. You seem to know a lot about tiny wieners.’
Brenton wastes no time in smashing his fist into my face. He catches the right side of my face, up near my temple. The ring on his middle finger manages to cut me just near my eyebrow and I feel blood gush from the wound.
Peter and Jamie react in unison, ‘Whoa! Nice one, Brent!’
‘Hold him! Hold him! I haven’t finished yet!’
Jamie and Peter grab me under the arms and Brenton shoves his knee into my groin. Twice. I double over and they let me fall to the ground.
‘That’ll teach you to talk back, you loser!’
As Peter passes me, he kicks me in the ribs. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he says.
Their running footsteps fade away. I roll over on to my back. A heavy, egg-sized object is placed in my hand and a head comes into my field of vision. It’s Bruce. He helps me to my feet.
‘You showed up at the right time!’ I say.
‘What was I going to do? You were asking for it with your smartarse comments. I almost joined in with the beating.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
I see three hazy figures in the distance. I throw the heavy rock and a few seconds later I see the middle figure buckle. Got him. I collapse and rest my body on the warm concrete.
‘Nice shot. He’ll have a nasty lump from that. He didn’t know what the hell hit him.’
Bruce lets me rest for a while and then he helps me up and we head home. The blood on the side of my face is drying, and I feel like a tough guy from an S. E. Hinton novel, or a character from some Hollywood blockbuster, who manages to emerge through smoke and debris, limping, but looking indestructible and strangely attractive.
I’m bursting to go and see Rhonda to find out what she wants to talk to me about. But I can’t go looking like this. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Hopefully, it won’t be bad news. Hopefully, she still wants to be my girlfriend. Lost in all my worries, I soon realise that I’m walking home alone. Bruce had served his purpose.
I was relieved that Mum and Dad didn’t go to town on me for getting beaten up. I mean, of course, it would be absurd for them to get mad at
me
, but somehow that’s what I’d expected. Instead, they were consoling and wanted to know what’d happened. For a while, I even liked Mum again. After she’d cleaned away the blood, she gently stroked my fringe away from my forehead and looked at me with a caring, sincere expression that almost broke my heart.
So I told Mum and Dad what had happened. How Brenton and his posse had surprised me after school, how they were looking for a fight, how Brenton is jealous as hell of my relationship with Rhonda. I didn’t tell them that I’d spoken back to him or about the specific comments he’d made. I wouldn’t feel comfortable telling my parents about that.
Oh, yeah, Mum and Dad, Brenton was telling me how he thinks I have a small dick. He was also asking whether or not I’d bonked the brains out of my girlfriend yet. He doubts that I have the capacity to have sex, given the size of my penis and he recommends I do it in the dark.
Dad wanted to contact Brenton’s family, but I pleaded with him to let it go. I said all sorts of things: I’d just get teased for involving my parents; these things happen between teenagers; situations like this are character building – if they didn’t happen, we’d grow up thinking the world was a beautiful place full of beautiful people. I finally convinced him.
In the morning, I study the damage to my face. Mum has placed a little strip of adhesive fabric on the cut near my eyebrow, which will have to stay there for about five days. It makes me look kind of cool, to be honest. I’m actually looking forward to going to school. I reckon Mandy O’Connor will find my wound irresistible. Ever since the school social, where she had her friend Susan slap me on the face, she’s been keeping her distance. But whenever I happen to see her, she’s looking at me. She stares at me with stony eyes, but I can tell she’s still hooked. The poor girl just can’t break the spell.
I’m waiting around on the veranda. It’s a few minutes before my first class is due to start. I receive several high-fives from the guys milling about.
‘Nice one, Stan!’
‘Yeah. You should see the other guy.’
Steve and Jeremy come up to me. ‘What happened, dude?’
‘It was nothing. Brenton decided he needed a punching bag.’
‘That arsehole! He’s not here today. I’ve seen his mates, though; they’re looking a bit nervous,’ Steve says.
‘I’m not surprised. It was three against one.’
‘Oh, the tough guy needed an advantage, huh? How piss weak!’ Jeremy shakes his head.
‘Well, you missed a kick-arse rehearsal last time, buddy,’ Steve says.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, we were really productive. Somehow, through the haze of sweet smoke, we managed to write a new song,’ says Jeremy.
I raise my eyebrows at him and wonder whether the new tune is as good as they are implying or whether the Mary Jane being consumed at the time has influenced their judgement of the song. ‘Sounds good, you guys. We’ll definitely have to get together soon. I miss our rehearsals.’
Truth be told, I haven’t seen much of Steve, Jeremy or Mike since I’ve been going out with Rhonda. I’ve cancelled a couple of rehearsals with them, which makes me feel like a bad friend who’s let them down. It feels so good to be talking to them now, just like normal. For a bunch of pot-smoking scallywags, they’re damn good friends.
‘I like your little bandage, Stan. It makes you look tough.’
‘Thanks, Steve.’
They both high-five me and then head off to their first period of the day. As their distance from me lengthens, my dread grows. Where’s Rhonda, and what the hell do we need to talk about?
At the end of a painfully long day at school, she and I walk in silence to the cemetery. Her pleated skirt flaps rhythmically in the breeze. It sends me into a bit of a trance, and, before I know it, we’ve arrived at the cemetery. I wish that the time hadn’t slipped away so fast. Why must my thoughts always overwhelm me? Why can’t I stay focussed on the ‘now’? I have the terrifying thought that this might be the last time we ever walk somewhere together.
She sits down rigidly in the little shelter and motions for me to sit with her. Then she starts crying. I don’t know what to do. I let her cry for a while, until it gets uncomfortable. I have to say something, even though I’m shit-scared about what her answer might be.
‘Rhonda, what’s wrong? What is it?’ She looks up at me; tears are rolling down her red face.
‘Stan?’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t be mad at me.’ Oh, my God. She
is
gonna break up with me.
‘I won’t be mad at you.’ My voice betrays my misery.
‘I don’t know how to tell you this…’ She looks away briefly and then looks back at me with a determined look on her face. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. ‘I think I might be pregnant.’
Of all the words I thought might come out of her mouth, I’d never, for a second, anticipated those. I’m so relieved. ‘Oh, thank God for that!’
‘What do you mean – “thank God”? Did you hear what I just said?’ She starts crying again.
I put my arm around her. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you were going to break up with me … I … I …’ I don’t know what to say.
‘For God’s sake, Stan! I’m not ready to have a baby! I don’t want a baby! I want to go to uni!’
‘Hey, it’s OK. We’ll work it out.’
‘How can we work it out? What is there to work out? I’m not going to have an abortion, if that’s what you mean. I couldn’t do that.’
‘I’m not suggesting that you should. We’ll work this out. I just need some time to think about it.’
She gets to her feet. ‘Well, make sure you think fast. I’ve been dealing with this all by myself and I’m running out of ideas.’
‘Why didn’t you say something? We could have gone through this together.’
‘Oh, yeah, like you’re gonna go through a pregnancy the way I will. You know what, it pisses me off! Men have it so easy. You can do whatever you want with that thing of yours…’ she waggles a finger at my dick, ‘…and there’ll be no consequences for you at all!’
‘Rhonda, please don’t speak to me like that. Your consequences
are
my consequences.’ She’s made me angry for the first time. How could she think so badly of me?
‘Oh, don’t insult me with your fifteen-year-old maturity! You’d soon get sick of it, even if you do decide to stick by me at first. You’d get sick of watching me get fatter and fatter, and you’d probably turn to someone else for comfort. But I don’t have that option, do I?’
I grab her by the shoulders. ‘You stupid, stupid girl! Do you not know what you mean to me? You’re right, I
am
fifteen and I may not be the most mature person in the world. But I know I’m going to stick by you no matter what.’
‘Stan, we hardly know each other! You don’t even believe in aliens!’ Rhonda shakes my hands off her shoulders and stands back looking at me helplessly.
‘Who cares? Why do we have to know each other? People can be married for years and still not know each other. I know that you make me feel fucking amazing and happy and overwhelmed. I’ve never felt so fucking alive in my entire life. I’m not going to let you go, Rhonda.’
A little smile emerges on her wet face.
‘I know I’m not the smartest guy in the world, but we can work this out. I don’t know how but I know we can.’
I hold her for a long time while she cries into my chest. I try to sooth her with reassuring words.
After a while, I hear a twig snap. The old man is standing about three metres away, staring at us. He doesn’t say a word. He just stands there with the arms of his wheelbarrow resting loosely in his hands. This time round, the dirty bastard doesn’t have his hand down his pants, but he still manages to come across as a sick pervert, with the way he’s standing there staring. I feel like telling him to fuck off, but I don’t want to upset Rhonda. Instead, I lead her out of the cemetery, through the front gates. On the way home, we start working through our situation.
‘The thing is, my period is late. I was meant to get it on the weekend. I might be pregnant, but I don’t know for sure. I need to get a pregnancy test, but I can’t bear to go into the chemist and buy it.’
‘I’ll buy it.’
‘Will you?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘What are you going to say to the person behind the counter?’
‘Nothing. It’s none of their goddamn business. They don’t need to know why I’m buying a pregnancy test.’
‘But what if they say something to you?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll make something up. I’ll tell them I’m doing a science experiment to see if the test works on my pregnant guinea pig.’
At this, Rhonda laughs. She laughs so hard that it makes me laugh and we laugh hysterically all the way to her front porch. We both have tears streaming down our faces.