Nerd Romance—Cafeteria Confabs
No singing at lunch, and sandwich choices
This is yet another chapter in a series I “finished” last year, but my characters kept talking to me. Then Roz Warren convinced me into fill out the series into a book, so now I’m working on that. Most of what I’ve been doing lately has been filling in gaps or adding to existing material, but this chapter felt like it could stand without the reader having just finished the one before.
Short summary of the story to date:
The series covers two academic over-achievers with limited social skills (aka “nerds”) in the last semester of their junior year in high school in the mid-1970s. They call each other by their initials, so she is “E” and he is “K.” They are engaging in a “practice” relationship, working from an agreed upon list of goals (like eating lunch together at school, sometimes talking, sometimes reading), trying to learn to be more like regular people before they head off to college. Both kids agreed that this is a mutually beneficial partnership, and not in any way a romantic association.
The school cafeteria played background music. Usually it made no more impact on E’s thoughts than the surrounding conversational noises from other students eating lunch together, but this time there was a note of discord. Dissonance. What the hell is that noise?
From K’s side of the table.
E looked up from her book (The Mote in God’s Eye, paperback, borrowed from K) and glared at her practice boyfriend and lunch companion, who was singing quietly (but not quietly enough, to E’s mind) to the song playing from overhead. “‘Cause I’ve been in love before, and I found that love was more, than juuuust holding haaaands…” As he turned the page of the science fiction paperback he was reading (Farmer’s The Fabulous Riverboat), he picked up on her baleful gaze. He glanced around confused before asking, “What?”
“What was that noise you were making?”
His eyes unfocused as he ran through any “noises” he might have been making, by his definition; finding none, he ventured, “You mean my singing?”
“If that’s what you call it.” Her tone implied otherwise. Let’s nip this one in the bud. Possibly with herbicide. “New rule. No singing at lunch. Actually, make that explicit: YOU can’t sing at lunch. No, still not enough, let’s try: You don’t sing. Ever. Or attempt to. If I am within earshot, or currently on the same planet. Clear?”
“Okay. I…” His expression was one E had learned to read: This Is Not My Fault. “I just like that song, is all. I dunno why, I just…” He shrugged. “Like it.”
Oops. Yes, because he was smitten with that bitch Wendy, even if they never got as far as holding hands. Wait. E cocked her head slightly. “So… are you saying, if you fell in love with me?” Careful, kiddo, you can tease, but don’t be mean.
His eyes opened wide. “No no, I wouldn’t — ” E’s stare over the top of her glasses warned him off the path his mouth was about to take him. “I’m… it’s…” He suddenly paused and seemed to be staring up and to the right.
Rut-roh, he’s in data retrieval and analysis mode. Wonder what prompted that? She waited several seconds — experience with K had taught her there was no point in rushing him — before tilting her head in the other direction to signal further interest.
“Okay, I think — and this just hit me, so don’t hold me to it — that I’ve fallen in like with you.” His gaze returned to E’s face and he gave a satisfied nod. “Yes. I’ve definitely fallen in like with you.”
“I’ve…” Never had anyone tell me that before. K, I know we’ve been friends for a few weeks now, but you can still surprise me. “Okay, that’s a new one. What makes you say that?” Dad always uses that line when Mom or I say something that throws him off. I think this is the perfect situation for it.
K had the smile he got when he was sharing knowledge. “Okay, for one thing, you’re easy to talk to. And you make me feel like I can share stuff with you. Other friends I’ve had, they always made me feel like I was saying something stupid, or weird, or — I dunno, just not right, y’know? But you just listen.” His eyes went up and right, then came back to her face quickly. “But you also tell me when I’m full of crap. Which… seems like a contradiction, but it’s the way you tell me I’m full of crap. Like…” He looked like he was having trouble with words. He settled for, “Does any of that make any sense?”
Wow. It really doesn’t, and it really does. “Oddly enough, yes.”
“Oh! And you’re really, really patient with me, when I need you to be! When I’m looping, or having an episode, or whatever. Nobody else has ever come as close to grokking me as you do. And you just seem to… I dunno, you just do it. I feel…” Another search for the right word. “Safe? Safe. I feel safe with you.”
Wow. Again. Part of me wants to give you a big friendly hug, K, and part of me wants to… I’m not quite sure what that part wants to do, and I don’t think the school cafeteria is the place to explore it. “That may be the nicest thing anyone ever said to me, K! Thank you!” She reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re pretty groovy yourself, y’know. And a darn fine practice boyfriend, if I do say so myself. And — “ She gave his hand a last squeeze before she retrieved hers. “ — a really good friend.” They smiled at each other.
He crinkled his face. “You’re right, though, I can’t sing.”
She nodded. “And you have an admirable self-awareness that is highly attractive in the male of the species.” The bell rang, and they cleared their half of the table before departing for class.
“You feeling alright, K? Anything you need to talk about? Everything okay at home?” E’s tone was slightly playful, but she did show some concern in her eyes as she worked at her lunch.
K looked at his practice girlfriend with some suspicion. She is asking this because… I have no idea. Did I do something in chem? I don’t even talk to her in chem when it’s a lecture day, she sits way behind me. K finished the bite of his sandwich, being careful not to drip jelly on the cafeteria table. “I’m fine, E. And you are asking this because I did… what, exactly?”
E gestured at the sandwich in his hand. “You’re eating a PB & J. In the time we’ve been eating lunch together, you have had ham or baloney, no mayo, usually but not always with lettuce, once with mustard but you indicated that you got your sister’s sandwich by mistake. Peanut butter with jelly is a big deal, K. Especially… grape, I think?”
Her practice boyfriend had taken another bite while she talked. When he finished chewing he explained, “We are out of ham and baloney at home. It was either this or leftover meatloaf. I like sandwiches for lunch, so I made myself a peanut butter sandwich. The secret is to spread butter on the bread first, then peanut butter, then add the jelly or preserves in the middle of the bread. The butter water-proofs the bread so that it doesn’t get soggy. And don’t cut it in half, of course.” He took another bite with a self-satisfied expression, then added (mouth full), “And it’s elderberry jelly. It’s good.”
“You can make sandwiches with cold meatloaf, y’know, K. Just slice the meatloaf, put it on the bread, add ketchup as desired.” E started on her own sandwich, which was baloney, as it happened. With mustard, no lettuce.
The two continued their respective sandwiches without further discussion, until K finished his. Should I ask now? Good a time as any, I guess? We aren’t getting together tonight, and we don’t always have a lot of time before English. As he opened his potato chip bag, he asked, “So. E. Question. Do you think I would be okay in the Army?” He started on the chips without waiting for an answer.
E’s expression indicated she was waiting for the rest of the joke. Hearing none, she responded with, “The Army? The United States Army? Like, the one that’s still kinda in Viet Nam, even though the war is supposed to be over? That Army? Um, K, I think they have to do stuff like run ten miles with fifty-pound packs? Can you run ten miles, period? Can you run one mile, period? And the draft is over, you have nothing to worry about. What brought this on?”
K stopped with a chip in his fingers before it got to his mouth. “College. Paying for college. It turns out my family kind of has our college funds tied up in investments. If I don’t want to wait an extra year or two, I might need to find a way to pay for school myself. So I was thinking ROTC. It’s kind of civilian and kind of military, kind of, and I’d have a guaranteed job when I was done — ”
“Which is a nice way of saying that you’d owe the government several years of your life!”
Yeah, I know. “ — and it would mean I would pay my own way and I wouldn’t owe my parents anything. So I’m talking to the school guidance counseler about it. There’s going to be a recruiter here next week.” And I can find out if it makes any sense before I talk to Mom and Dad. He resumed working on his chips.
E regarded him thoughtfully. “K, speaking as a friend… you are not fat fat, but you are going to need to lose weight. You don’t play sports — ”
“I played football freshman year!” Okay, on the B squad, and the only time I was in for more than four plays was the last game of the season where we were getting slaughtered anyway.
“Yeah, well, that was two years ago. You’d have to, I dunno, start jogging in the mornings or something. And you’d have to stop eating chips at lunch, among other things.”
Yeah. I’m basically a slug. Fine. I’m finishing my chips. “Well, it’s Plan B, anyway.” I know I’m fat. I know I’m nobody’s idea of good looking. Even Mom only ever says, “You look very nice, honey!” if she sees me in my suit or something where I’ve tried to look nice. It’s okay, E, I know you didn’t pick me as a practice boyfriend because I’m cute.
They were quiet again for another minute.
“Hey, K? You look fine. Really. And I think you could get yourself into shape if you wanted to. I really do.”
K smiled ruefully. “Sure, because ‘round’ is a shape, right?”
“Hey!” E glared at him. “Nobody makes fun of my friends! Not even my friends! Okay?!” She waited until K nodded. “And it’s not like you’re getting a cover-girl model in me. I mean, my bust, waist, and hip measurements are about the same, I always wear pants, makeup on me is like putting paint on a pig — ”
“Hey! Now who’s dumping on my friend? You look fine, E! You look like…” She looks like E! What’s wrong with that? It’d be weird if she was all sexy and stuff. She’d be strange in makeup, or goofy hair, or whatever. “You look great! Best-looking — ”
“Best-looking practice girlfriend you’ve ever had?” E rolled her eyes loudly.
“Yeah! Dang straight! And what the heck is wrong with that, huh? I wouldn’t trade you for anybody! You’re my E!” And I should probably stop getting loud.
She gave him a smile, reached over, and took his last chip. “And you’re my K. Guess we’re stuck with each other!” She reached out to give his fingers a quick squeeze, followed by a wink.
Next, we find that having a practice boyfriend’s mother who is a school nurse has pluses and minuses.
And the complete series, if you want to start at the beginning:
