Chapter One: Comfort Zones and Shoplifters

It always starts with a ‘new kid’. These teen romances- there’s always a school, always a bully, and there’s always a new kid and somehow that’s supposed to make what would have been just another life into something worthy of a story. An angst fuelled, triumph-against-all-odds teen romance. I suppose it’s a natural progression, really. From Romeo and Juliet to ‘Adam and Steve’- let’s swap feuding families with a homophobic society! And instead of the Capulet’s and Montague’s, we’ll have the popular golden boy and the weedy little freak. Hell, while we’re at it, let’s swap the priest for some nutty, gay-obsessed girl with a penchant for yaoi. It’ll be perfect. Yeah, sure.

I hate those stories, and they’re everywhere.

Wait, I tell a lie.

The amount of files I have saved on my computer that follow that exact formula tells another story. So I don’t hate those stories- in fact, I have to admit to reading, and enjoying, rather a lot of them. But that’s not the point. The point is, the catalyst is always the new kid, and all I have to go on here is an exchange student, one year above me who happens to be female. I’m sorry, but I’m starting to lose hope, here, and it’s making me bitter. Well- more so than usual, which might be saying something.

Hence, I have come to the conclusion that waiting around for a catalyst to appear isn’t really working for me. In fact, I’m beginning to think that maybe I should broaden my horizons a bit and step out of my comfort zone- you know, invite a little of the unusual to come and wreak havoc on my life, just to see where that gets me. I have to admit that I’m not too comfortable with the idea, but it’s not like it’s going to be difficult. My comfort zone is rather limited, and that’s after broadening it to include places I’m familiar with, not necessarily comfortable in. My room, school, and Maelstrom- a record store near the school.

I know. It’s a pathetically small comfort zone and I really need to get out more, but let’s face it. The staple of teen socialising is the mall, and if I go there, I’m only going to run into people I already know, and already don’t like. Which leaves the library, the park, and other such fun-filled under aged venues. I would have included the grocery store on the list, but I already work there a few shifts a week. I guess you could put it in the comfort zone, but that feels a bit like cheating to me. I mean, it’s the grocery store and it’s my job. I make pyramids out of fruit, restack the milk and dairy produce fridges and sometimes work in the deli. I really don’t think it counts.

However, in the interests of not going mad, I’ve decided to make the sacrifice and force myself to go visit the mall. Maybe I’ll even learn something about these mysterious creatures I like to call my peers. Then again, maybe I’ll just wander around looking awkward until I find a bookshop of somewhere that deals in the sweet, sweet drug that is caffeine. Maybe I’ll even manage both…

I head to the mall that afternoon as soon as school finishes for the day. It’s a Friday, so it’s not surprising that there are enough students hanging around in uniform that I see everyday in the corridors to make me feel like I’d never left them. I am a little surprised though that more of them haven’t ditched the uniform- I suppose that’d be where having little regard for school policy comes in handy. I don’t have to make much of an effort to get rid of the school boy look. Just lose the tie and undo a few buttons, and look! Just another guy walking around in jeans, a shirt with too many buttons, and a face with too many piercings.

The mall is, basically, a little bigger than I’d have thought was practical for a place this size. Then again, there are certainly more than just teenagers hanging around. There’s a Starbucks at the right hand side entrance, and I note it’s position for later. I do believe that one of those horrid green couches will be supporting me and my latte around five this afternoon. Inside, there’s what I assume is the usual combination of shops selling clothing, shops selling shoes, shops selling accessories and shops selling food. On three levels, with a fourth reserved for a cinema and, gods above, a LAN gaming… place.

I’m beginning to think that this is going to be quite so bad as I had first feared.

I continue my wandering, stumbling across a borders and a franchise CD store with a sad array of band shirts hanging from a rack out the front. I dodge the shirts and head towards the book store. They have a decent selection of fantasy and sci-fi- even some manga in a corner that’s strangely deserted. I take my time browsing until someone wearing a name tag sidles up to me and asks if I need any help. I stare for a moment- I think I recognise this girl from the corridors as well, before shaking my head.

“No, thanks. Just looking.”

She nods and ambles away, but from then on I keep noticing that the staff on the counter glance over at me from time to time, and eventually one of them begins stacking the shelves close enough to make their presence known. I scowl and re-shelve the book I was holding (something by Tanya Huff. It had a gay vampire in it who was King Henry’s bastard son and I had been seriously contemplating buying it) and stalk over to the manga section. I know what they’re doing, and I can’t really blame them. If I was working at the grocery store and saw myself walk in and start browsing, I’d probably get ideas about shoplifters as well. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m torn between just hanging around for as long as my temper can stand it, just to see if they decide to act on their suspicions and rather defiantly (and dramatically) picking up that book again, slamming it on the counter and actually paying for it, which I would have done anyway. Loathe as I am now to give these people my hard earned cash, I really do want that book. I freeze when I hear someone approaching the wall I’m currently looking at, and I glue my eyes to the spine of “Ah! My Goddess,” trying not to turn around and glare at whoever it is. The manga is, like I said, in a corner- but it’s wrapped around it, so to get to the last half of the alphabet you have to walk around it, and you can’t see the first half.

The guy kneeling next to me has a name tag on. He’s carrying a few copies of Legal Drug and X to reshelve, but he’s fiddling with issue 12 of Fushigi Yuugi instead of reshelving them. Because to do that he’d have to let me out of his sight. I’m beginning to think that hanging around for much longer might have dire consequences, involving many people wearing name tags suffering severe bodily harm. Mind you, my high opinion of my own physical prowess is largely unfounded and may be slightly exaggerated. I’ve a feeling that in reality someone’s name tag might be broken and someone else’s emo glasses pushed askew. In order to avoid a confrontation I settle for sighing heavily and obviously, scowling at the guy kneeling in front of Fushigi Yuugi and returning to my Tanya Huff book. After yanking it off the shelf and handing it to the person on the desk with ill grace I continue glaring, scanning the room to make sure I don’t miss anyone out. Book bought and paid for, I say yes to the offer of a bag and leave the establishment, very much put out and vowing never to return. Unless, of course, the book turns out to be any good, in which case I might have to return in order to get the next one in the series.

But no returning until then!

With my perusal of Borders cut lamentably short I had to move my appointment with the green couch forward a bit. A lot, actually. It was only four thirty by the time I was second in line at the star bucks counter. I could smell the coffee beans and the syrups and the frothing milk, hear the tinkle of spoons against mugs and the slurp of people really getting into their beverages. A sweet, sweet combination, and one that worked wonders on my delicate nerves. I was practically calm and serene by the time it was my turn to lean up against the counter and place my order.

The guy who turned out to be serving me was really, really cute- in a preppy sort of way. Blonde hair that fell into blue eyes and the longest god dammed eyelashes I have ever seen on a boy. He looked at me and suddenly seemed confused.

“You’re not usually here this early on a Friday.”

I frowned. “Um, sorry?”

“It’s not even five yet. It’s just that usually you guys invade around six or so. Where’re the others, by the way?”

He looked sincere. No sign of a smirk, just plain old curiosity. It was horribly, horribly confusing.

“I think you might have me confused with someone else.”

“I’m sure I’ve seen you hanging around here with the punk faction on Fridays, though.”

“Nooooo, sorry- I’ve never even been here before, let alone hung around with any punk faction.”

“Oh, really? Sorry. What did you want?”

“Um, latte, please. Soy. And don’t worry- it was probably just the piercings.”

“Soy… latte…” the boy looked up from the cup he was writing on and nodded. “Yeah. You have a few of them. So, are you new here, then? You said you’ve never been here…”

“Oh, um. No. I’ve lived here my whole life. Just never been here. It’s not really, well. It’s just not really.”

“That’s.. odd, actually. Your name?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Cal- with a C.”

The boy set to work with the pen and cup again and grinned.

“Alrighty then, Cal. Your latte won’t be a minute.”

My latte wasn’t a minute- it was about two and half, but I didn’t have the heart to tell the guy this. Instead I took it with a smile and retreated to the green couch. It was just as hideous as I remembered, and just as comfortable as I’d suspected. Latte in hand, I reclined and slurped for the next half hour, watching the people pass me by and sniggering quietly at some of the ones I recognised.

By five I was left with the dregs and ready to go and explore the world of LAN gaming in malls.

It’s a very pretty world.

Although I swear that some of the games are on crack. A necromancer leading a bunch of clay creatures whilst gathering souls and trying to protect his power bases is not the kind of idea I would have banked on if I were a game developer, then again, I’m not a game developer, and it was kind of fun. The stations had nice screens and decent headphones, and the chairs were awesome. They were spongy and they spun. I’m pretty sure that this place and Starbucks make the entire mall experience worthwhile.

By the time six rolled around I’d left the sparkly blue necromantic magic for some heavy artillery and was happily blasting away at some other players trench line. The place had started filling up, and there were a few generic games open to anyone on the network. I guessed that six was the time most people got off work, and a fair few of them seemed to head here afterwards. Maybe they were planning on blasting someone’s head off and pretending it was their boss.

Maybe I shouldn’t assume everyone has the same issues with authority that I do.

In any case, it wasn’t long before I heard someone saying my name, and turned around to see the Starbucks guy standing at the entrance with- alas, alack!- his arm around a short redhead. Well- so much for random conversations with cute baristas leading to love.

The boy approached, female attached, and waved as he got closer. “Cal! Hello again.”

“Hi, uh- Starbucks guy. Sorry. You never told me your name…”

“Oh, right. Sorry about that. I’m Matt,” we shook hands, “and this is Skyla.”

Skyla grinned and nodded prettily.

I felt sick.

“You can call me Sky.”

“Uh, hi…”

“So, trying out all the mall has to offer, are you?”

I shrugged. “I think I’ll be limiting myself to Starbucks and here.”

“Oh?” Matt nodded to the plastic bag next to my monitor and I eyed it warily. “What about Borders?”

“It was an experience I’d prefer not to repeat,” I looked resolutely at the screen, hoping he’d drop the issue but knowing he wouldn’t, and just waiting for that next question…

“Why’s that then?”

“They thought I was going to steal something. I think they had the entire staff following me around the store. I got annoyed.” I’m hoping he’ll leave it at that, and in a way, he does.

He just laughs.

“Don’t worry about it. Some of the store managers they have there are real pricks, but the rest of the guys are okay. They probably felt like idiots following you around. Speaking of which…”

He starts waving like mad to the other side of the room, and I can see someone waving back, albeit with a little less enthusiasm. I must look confused, because Skyla (or should I say Sky?) takes pity on me and whispers conspiratorially:

“That’s Liam. He works at Borders. We meet up here most Friday afternoons.”

Her explanation ends there as Liam throws himself into a chair next to Matt’s and groans. Suddenly I realise why he looks a little familiar- he was one of the ones in Borders this afternoon, hanging around my general presence and being annoying. I smother a scowl as he starts complaining.

“I have had one of the worst days of my life. I hate my job, and I really, really hate my supervisor.”

Skyla sighs sympathetically and pats his knee.

“I can’t be that bad, Liam.”

“It is. She had us on trailing duty. Again. I swear, I scare more people than I sell books to these days.”

“Speaking of which,” Mat pointed to me, “Liam, meet Cal- one such trailee.”

Liam looked up at me and I suddenly wondered why he hadn’t stood out more before now. His hair was dark, and long, and in pigtails that weren’t pigtails. To clarify on that description, his dark hair was in two bunches, long and straight that were bound from just above his shoulders. He looked like a very slim Viking, and I was staring.

“Um, hi. I believe I’m your suspected shop lifter.” And I thought my hair was long. Dammit.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry about that. You were the guy hanging around the fantasy section, yeah?” He glanced at the plastic bag by my side, much as Matt had done earlier. “And you actually bought something. See, it wouldn’t be so bad if someone she set us on actually tried to take something every once in a while.”

I frowned at that and ventured a “…Sorry?” which Liam waved away.

“Nah- so, what’d you actually buy, then?”

I passed him the book and he gazed at the cover for a few moments.

“It’s good. You’ll probably like it. But there are some better ones in there. You get it for the Vampires or the Urban Fantasy aspect?”

The truth is I didn’t get it for either of those reasons- or rather, they were both positive aspects, but not the deciding factor. I struggle briefly with which one I should go for before deciding on just blurting out the inconvenient truth, which in this case has nothing to do with Global Warming and everything to do with warning these guys off before they decide to get to buddy-buddy and everything ends in heartbreak.

“Actually, the fact that both the vampire and the main character are gay was pretty much why I got it and not another Terry Pratchett.”

There’s silence for a moment before Matt grins.

“I didn’t have you pegged as the type.”

“This coming from the guy who thought he recognised me as part of a punk faction? Forgive me if I’m not surprised.”

The tension my comment caused dissolved a little and Skyla sighed. “The good ones are always gay. Except for you, Matty.”

I looked back towards Liam and he shook his head a little. “I’ll give you a list next Friday.”

So I’m assuming that next Friday I’ll be coming back to the mall again, here. Which isn’t something I would have expected but hey, why not. Besides, Matt’s already told me that I have to be there or they’ll be reverting to a three player game, which isn’t half so much fun as neither he nor Skyla have come so close to beating Liam before.

Ha. Next time I won’t just come close, I’ll leave that boy so far behind he won’t know what hit him.

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AN: Okay- my first ever attempt at first person...ish... perspective. The chapters will be about 3.5 pages in size 10, so i'm going to be forcing myself to write more than usual and update and all that jazz. Hope you like