A note to all of my readers

This is fiction, yes, it is, and this time every single character that I've made up here is nothing like any of my friends (they might share a few traits, but that was accident). I want to say right now that the narrorator, Benjamin, is fiction. I am not him. He is not me.

Otherwise, that's about it. Sorry if the chapter drags, too.

I watch them, every single day, in the same place.

Those five girls, the Asian one, named Dana, the pretty black one, Quinita, the slobby red-head clique leader, Cyndi, the snobby blonde, Hanna, and the brunette who had bigger breasts (and thighs) than all of them. I’m a pretty sad guy. Yes, I do watch them talk, and sometimes I have a pathetic, fleeting hope that one of them, even the annoying China girl, will come over and talk to me. They never do, and I’m starting to lose hope.

This is a story of my perversion, I think.

OoOoOo

I had followed the pretty one, Quinita, to this house once. It was big, and even though they drew the shades, I could still kind of see what they were doing. Giggles and chocolates I’ll bet, and...I think that they were talking to some weird guy...but I’m not sure. I had simply gone home after that. It was raining, so I hurried.

There was another time, though, that I noticed the red-head (Cyndi) talking to this one guy in an alleyway. He was pretty built for someone who looked around my age, I thought. Luckily they didn’t seem to notice when I walked by, lucky because I don’t want pretty boy to see my acne-scarred face and point me out to her so that they could laugh.

Around the time that I observed all this, I found school events much more interesting. The girls standing up to Brady, the big asshole of fifth grade. The girls laughing and racing on the way home. The girls passing notes in class (the ones in my class, anyway). I wondered if I was in love with them, not just Quinita, who I think is the one that I like the most.

Yes, I answered myself, you are in love with a whole group of girls at school.

I felt shame.

Don’t ask me why, but even though boys my age constantly fall in love with a whole bunch of girls instead of just one, I thought that it was wrong in a way. It didn’t feel right. I realized how it didn’t even feel right to be in love with just one of them, Quinita. So I did what a lot of confused people do; I turn to others for help. Except while they turned to invisible strangers online or parents who wouldn’t understand or friends who would act like they understood but didn’t, I turned to books.

This was very odd for me...I’m a Lemony Snicket, J.K. Rowling kind of guy, and here I was, in the most lonely part of our school library, reading Lewin’s theory on group behavior and even going into philosophy. Since my parents would do nothing but worry endlessly, I kept it all a secret. Eventually I got to Freud’s theories, and was checking out books that were wa-a-y above what my reading level used to be back in my mainstream-novel days. And I understood them. I formed opinions, and would create my own theories.

Pardon, I need to get back to my obsession, the girls. I began to notice weird, weird, things, like I said, that just got weirder. They would vanish in school. I don’t even know what happened to that little sad girl, Sammy, that was once in the clique (once being at least a month ago), but that question was replaced by the mysterious question of that muscular guy who they kept seeing. Not to mention the freaky Halloween thing, when that rumor floated around about Hanna’s parents.

Staying pathetic, as usual, continued to watch them. I had an epiphany one day and realized that, even though they were my obsession, I had no love for them. I would give my life for any one of them, yes, even the Asian or the snob, but I wasn’t excessively jealous of Caleb, muscle-head who was interested in Cyndi (I caught his name while the girls were talking in class), or of the other ‘normal’ guys who would talk to them.

My ‘company’ was slowly changing as well. Instead of being by myself at lunch, this smart kid named Izzy and his weird, Japanese friend Haru (Harutaka, I think) who could bend his skinny legs behind his head started joining my vacant table instead of sitting with the rest of their RPG-playing pals. Despite my prejudice against Asians and little smart-asses who suck up to teachers during class, we got along pretty well.

That was only the beginning. These little dorks (although Haru was actually pretty tall) started following me on the playground, and taking my valuable Girl-Watching time away from me (I wasn’t about to stare at them with these idiots watching my every move). Naturally I questioned if this was it for my new friends, if I would be stuck with guys who talked about stuff I couldn’t care less about.

When, at lunch, some weird guy who was held back started sitting with us because his clique was getting to big to fit him at their table, the first thing I thought was ‘oh great, he’s going to kick the crap outta me,’ when, in reality, he was a pretty gentle guy. His name was Tyler, and because of his love of Final Fantasy, Tyler and Izzy became best buds.

So a week and a half or so passed with the four of us (lemme tell you, we get weird looks on the playground now, and some heckling from Tyler’s old jock buddies,) when on a day where we had nothing else to do, my bunch and I sat on the swings (nobody likes the swings I guess) and Haru noted another tall boy who was wandering alone on the asphalt, sort of trailing some guys playing football. Unlike Haru, he was incredibly self-conscious of his height, and had a hunch when he walked.

The next day, (not once did I think of staring at the Girls, I had my own group now) we went over to this kid. I recognized him.

Christien Felix, more pathetic than I am (was?). Picked on by everybody, I mean everybody, because of his...Well...”Hi you guys! What are you doing here? I saw you yesterday on the swings, but I didn’t say anything, because no one likes the swings, and you always go around in that group now, which is funny because the football team here-“ motion toward the ‘team’ that is ignoring him, “-has been talking after games-“ ‘games’, that’s a laugh, “-about how strange all of you are.”

While he was inhaling, I stopped him. “You never play with them Chris. Maybe you should just leave them alone.” Actually, I said, “You talk too much, no wonder they won’t play with you.” The others looked shocked (except Tyler, who sniggered a little bit...He must have thought I came over to tease Christien). However, I know for a fact that sympathetic, evasive comments don’t work with him. He’s not the most intuitive guy I’ve ever met.

Since God hates me, and Christien can’t get a clue, he ends up hanging with us. Along with all the stares, people are calling us names now. It began with ‘freaks’, ‘losers’, etc., but when they noticed Christian (who kept quiet when jocks were around) hunching in what would suddenly become the most private, shadowy part of the table, it turned into ‘fags’ and ‘twinks’.

Turns out that their ‘their’ being school kids in general by now) judgement of us wasn’t entirely off. Christien admitted to us that he was a homosexual. How we reacted to this news:

Haru nodded and raised his eyebrows. Izzy rubbed his temples. I looked at Tyler, who nodded, but not in the surprised way Haru did. Since I was kind of the ‘appointed leader’ of our group, I said, and I really did say this; “We’re all freaks, like they say, so if you don’t want to be thrown in with that along with having to deal with being gay, than you can leave.”

It was gold. Christien smiled and said that he wouldn’t give up such great friends, if it was okay with us, and the rest of them said it would be fine while looking at me with a sort of awe. Was this how Cyndi, the leader of my fading obsession, would feel after resolving issues like this? Did girl cliques have to get through this sort of thing?

--

Funny that, even though I had a bigger group (I don’t want to call it a ‘clique’) I was able once again to watch my girls. Beautiful, beautiful girls. I began trying to convince myself that I was in love with them, in desperation to avoid being anything like Christien (his hunch was lessening, on a note) and I gave up. Again.

My girls, although I was not in love with them, were still beautiful to me. They grew every day, too, Quinita finally getting something more than mosquito bites for a chest, and Hanna more confident then ever. I admitted that I was stalking them when I took a camera with me on my way home and snapped pictures of them while they were walking. My duck-and-run skills were honed enough so that they would never see me, even when they turned around.

I had a corkboard posted up on my wall with pictures of my girls on it in my room, a room my parents never went in. I didn’t even care if they saw the pictures, I would make up an excuse for it, I figured.

Until Benjamin’s Clique decided to invite themselves to Benjamin’s house, MY house, I had thought myself safe. Quinita and her fat, nameless friend smiled at me over their shoulders on my wall.

--

Haru was the one who knocked on the door, smiling like a dumbass, my mom at work and my dad also at work. Tyler was behind him, and they were the only two I could see, but I should’ve known better than to let them in.

“What do you want?” I barked at Haru, who laughed (we watch a lot of films; that was a line we thought was funny or something). Tyler blinked. “He’s the new guy,” Haru whispered in an ultra-suave Kirk Leeroy line (from the same movie), “don’t worry kid, I have a new pair of panty-hose in case you wet yours,” he patted Tyler’s shoulder.

Tyler glared. “If all you guys are going to do is quote movies you know I’ve never seen, I’m leaving, and I’m taking them with me,” Tyler moved to one side, revealing Izzy and Christien approaching on the sidewalk. “A party now. Hm.” My face was swept calm, but on the inside, I was freaking out. I didn’t have time to hide the corkboard in my room. They would all see my pictures...

“So you’re not letting us in?” Tyler asked, and Izzy put on a fake puppy dog face. “Get in here,” I said. There had to be some excuse I could use for the pictures. “Neat! I’ve never been to your house before...It’s pretty big. So where’re your parents? Siblings? Ah, an only child, lucky, I’ve got twin brothers that are younger than me and a stupid older sister. What did you say? Oh yeah, she’s in college, engaged right now.”

“Congrats.” Izzy, I think.

“Thanks, but I’m not the one getting married,” Christien blushed, noticing how that info had a good chance of sticking with him all his life, and the rest of us knew it too. Haru snickered. “Shut up! At least my parents are okay with interracial marriage!” Haru stopped snickering and glared, “It’s not like I’m all arranged like you make it sound! They’re old fashioned, I can’t help it.”

Tyler grunted. He was already on the couch. Haru, Izzy, and Christien were talking by the door, taking their shoes off, Haru now teasing Christien about not wanting to take his shoes off because Christien has a foot fetish, I do not says Christien, You guys are retards says Izzy, and–

Okay, I managed to keep them out of my room for a while with the help of Tyler, who happened to have brought a copy of Final Fantasy twelve (X-2, not twelve, dumbass!). Everybody was raptured by it, even I had a hard time looking away from the girls in short-shorts and how they spun around naked (censored with a fantastical glowing light, of course) during fights. Christien frowned and asked if he could make a sandwich, and I said sure, the stuff is in the fridge. Haru told him to make one for him too.

When my PS2 started acting up, Tyler shut it off (after saving the game of course). “Where’s your room?” Tyler said, looking down the hall past me, directly at the door to my room, which is covered in posters of punk bands that I don’t even listen to anymore (I got turned into a jazz kind of guy after all that reading).

Christien, happy that we were no longer playing Final Fantasy ‘X-2', was naturally the first person inside of my little room, and, even though it took up practically half the wall, he did not see the pictures. And if he did, then he didn’t say anything. I was next in, and I stood in front of my corkboard, Tyler squeezed in, Izzy was next, then Haru, who I swear was touching the top of the doorframe.

I was caught. “You’re into films and photography?” Haru said while looking at a picture on my board. He looked at others, closely, pulling back now. “I know her! She’s Dana Hua, my sister babysitted her like, a year ago.” Izzy looked at the photos with him. I was mortified as he pushed past me and stared at my girls with Haru, who now had a group photo (taken from the back, of course) in his hand.

Christien stood there, sort of just looking at the wall, and Tyler snorted. “ ‘Babysitted’, honestly. I don’t even like classes and I know that it’s ‘babysat’-“ ”This is weird, Ben, how come there’re only pictures of these girls?” Haru asked me, ignoring Tyler. Christien looked from Haru to me with interest. It had become annoyingly quiet.

‘Don’t say anything, don’t say anything,’ was the rapid thought in my head, but of course I had to say something. “I’m studying photography, and that’s a subject; Group behavior. I wanted to get them when they weren’t posing, or trying to look like they were interacting, you know?” Haru nodded, understanding, while pinning the picture back up, carefully inserting the pin where the hole was before. Izzy did the same.

“They’re good.” Christien. He was smiling in a weird way.

He knew.

“Thanks,” I said while I leaned against the door, “yeah, sorry about that,” I said to Haru who tripped over something in the hall. “ ‘s okay...” he rubbed his forehead. It hit the doorknob to the bathroom. “Idiot, who actually gets hit with a doorknob except another doorknob?” Christien kicked Haru while walking past. “OW! That doesn’t even make sense...”

We ended up making more sandwiches and watching that WE channel, because Christien wanted to see a flick, and Tyler wanted to see babes, and Izzy said that he didn’t care, and I noticed how Izzy had been sort of quiet during this whole visit. He also seemed a little angry.

Good thing that he took it out on the movie...Christien’s flick was battered sore by Izzy’s critiques. “So...Why is it that even though she spills all of her ‘important’ papers all over him, she just walks away with the guy after he picks up, like, five.” Christien took it upon himself to defend the plot and answer Izzy’s question, which wasn’t really a question at all.

“Because she loves him and doesn’t care about those papers as much as she cares about–“

“–As much as she cares about the stranger she just met?”

“Like you would understand love at first sight!”

“Like you would understand a good plot.”

“Izzy’s right, this is a sucky plot. Look, it only has half a star,” Haru hit the ‘info’ button.

“Shut up, at least I don’t watch weird indie movies that feature Hitler’s clone as the main character!”

“That was a short! And it was a good one, right?” Haru turned to me. I nodded. It was a good short, after all...Well, actually, we all just like to see Christien pissed.

“Of course take his side!”

Tyler chewed on his ham sandwich, Izzy continued to be moody and critical, Haru and Christien argued about Hitler, and I looked at the clock. Six thirty, about. Did I get the mail today? I don’t think so. “Hey guys, I’m going to go and get the mail, I’ll be right back,” I said, and nobody heard except Tyler who said, ‘have fun’.

It was chilly out. Almost winter now, and I realized that I had made a new group of friends in only a year when I was used to being alone at tables and partner-less in class all my life. No mail today, bummer, mom was expecting that CD to come in...Someone laughed.

It was a girly laugh, the sort of laugh that is usually followed by a parent saying ‘don’t do that!’, except this one was the high-pitched giggle of the fat girl in Cyndi’s clique. I say ‘fat’ with affection, because although she is fat, she does have the prettiest face, next to Quinita. Speaking of Quinita, she followed her, wearing an expensive-looking magenta zipper hoodie. Her hair was all braided with little beads at the end that clicked when she walked.

I took my time getting the invisible mail out of the mailbox. Watching them across the street got harder to conceal as they briskly went behind me, and I had to struggle to not turn my head. If I had been convinced of what I was doing was normal, I would have told them to stay there while I go get my camera. But that isn’t how a highschool boy treats a middle school girl.

My earlier epiphany that I didn’t love them sang out to me, yet the obsession stayed. It hung on like burrs, and I think that my new friends were only distractions to it. I turned around and saw Christien looking at me sideways out the window. I met his eyes, and he raised his eyebrows, like saying, ‘well, well, well’. God I want to punch him out so bad. Even if he is a pretty okay guy if you get past the ‘gay’ thing, which still bothers me.

--

My friends left, Christien whispering as they all walked out the door ‘they’re in fifth grade’ and I nodded and slammed the door behind him. Fuck him. It isn’t like he’s all average, so what does he think he’s doing? Haru nearly hit his head on a tree branch while they were walking, in a group, to their houses. Funny that we all live in the same neighborhood...Except Izzy, who apparently rode his bike here. I felt sorry for him.

The house was to myself now, and I was in a calm mood now, unlike earlier where I had to fake being calm...But ‘calm’ brought ‘sleepy’ with it, because ‘calm’ has problems getting the hint that I don’t want any company, kind of like Chris, I guess.

At the edge of my livingroom, all screwed up and warm from us sitting on it, the couch looked (and felt) inviting. I lied down on it and shut my eyes, imagining my Girls walking home from school, and imagining the pathetic teenager that followed them around, taking pictures of them without them knowing it. He’s such a loser.

Since whatever font that they use here sucks, I hope that it looks better on a page than it does in this tiny, sucky-fonted little square. We'll see, huh?

This was going to be a short story, but we'll see about that too.