Meta-Jenny

There was a big tournament at the weekend which Jenny and I were going to together, so I got up early the day before to get some practice in. It wasn’t any good though, because Jenny was right – I really did have two left feet. By the time she came to join me it was mid-morning, and what with stumbling about the outdoor court missing pretty much every shot I was just about as hot and bothered as could be.

“You took your time getting out of bed!” I told her crossly.

“I don’t need as much practice as you,” was her smooth reply. “And to be honest, your jealousy over my skills makes me very uncomfortable. I think I’m going to want to find a proper boyfriend instead of you after we’ve been together.”

It was already a hot day, and by now I smelled more than I guessed Jenny ever did. My cheeks burned.

“Then why don’t we just get it over with?” I begged her.

“Because I don’t want to be with you,” was her reply.

It was said at last. Fuming I turned my back and tried to resume practice.

Tournaments though had a funny way of bringing me and Jenny closer. We went, and then we went home together because her Mum had invited me to tea afterwards. Side-by-side that afternoon we sat on the bus back, Jenny with her trophy, me with my participation-ribbon.

I’d been reading quite a good book about a boy who sounded a bit like me, and I took it out as Jenny and I travelled. He was taking a bus too, his school bus, when a girl and her boyfriend the same age as him got on. How well I knew how he must have felt! That feeling she must surely be looking down on him, if she even noticed him at all...it was one of the very hardest to bear. Next chapter things picked up though, for him at least, as he got the glimmer of a smile from another girl. I knew that excitement too! When they just eyed you it was a little thrill, but an actual smile (even a tiny one!) kept you happy for the rest of the day.

He was almost too frightened though to get the bus home after gym though, because then he’d see a schoolgirl younger than him but who wore eye make-up and lipstick. She’d sit with her feet insolently propped up and her legs outstretched on he double-seat while lazily eating the last of the sandwiches from her packed lunch. Then the boy would sit very quietly by himself, blushing and ashamed to be seen in his gym kit and perpetually frightened she’d start to tease him because of it. It was agony for him to keep his eyes timidly fixed ahead and not turn them fretfully to those long outstretched legs.

The plot thickened because there was a funny girl too who he started seeing on the bus in the mornings, who wore glasses like he did and whose eyes he began to meet. I guessed who he most wanted to see though over every other girl was the one who’d given him the ghost of a smile the other day. I turned the page to the next chapter, wondering whether this morning he’d see either of them.

First there was a bit about him struggling into his school uniform and fretting to get the bus stop in time. There was yet another feeling I really knew! Then I couldn’t help giving a big yawn. The story was exciting, but all that practice and then the tournament itself had tired me out.

“Put your head on my shoulder and get some sleep,” Jenny suggested. “Or do you want to read a bit more first?”

“Um,” I replied, “read a bit more please. It’s the kind of book that teases you, I mean I want to know what happens on the school bus but the boy’s not even got to the bus stop yet!”

Jenny laughed. “It can’t tease you as much as I do,” she said, almost fondly. “You can go to the end of the chapter you’re on, but don’t be too long.”

I did as I was told, and on finishing the chapter closed the book.

“You read too many of those stories about girls, I don’t exactly approve,” Jenny declared. “So what happened next?”

“It’s still teasing me,” I told her, indignant at the author as well as Jenny. “He forgot his sandwiches and had to go back, and then his gym kit!”

“That’s not teasing,” Jenny explained patiently. “It’s to make you feel what the boy in the story’s feeling. He’s got his panties in as much of a twist as you over whether he’ll catch his bus.”

Getting someone’s “panties” in a twist on purpose still sounded a lot like teasing to me, but what I said was:

“You’re really clever, Jenny,” and I blinked my eyes winningly. “You’ll make a great student!”

She actually did blush a tiny bit. I’d started to wonder whether Jenny might finally be warming to me, though with her it was impossible to tell. Anyway I knew I’d already forgiven her for the horrid thing she'd said yesterday, and that I always would.

I rested my head were she’d instructed and fell asleep almost straight away. My dream however was of an awful memory, one so embarrassing that my waking self remembered Jenny was there and I almost panicked at the thought of her finding out!

Fitfully I scrambled back to consciousness and sure enough she was back beside me. She asked me at once what I’d been dreaming about, and my heart lurched again. Then I remembered with a secret sigh of relief I didn’t have to tell her – I could always make something up instead!

“Oh, just gym class,” I lied, stammering guiltily. “Guess that’s because of what we’ve been doing all day. It was just about how frightened I get at the start of every lesson, and how the other boys tease me, and how flustered it makes me when I can’t keep up,” and I couldn’t help sighing again.

“Team sports are meant to be best for boys who are struggling,” Jenny chided, but only lightly, and once again I thought I almost saw something like affection on that light-freckled face.

“I guess gym skills aren’t one of the things we’ve got in common,” I agreed glumly.

“Opposites attract,” Jenny smirked, not that that was exactly what I wanted to hear, as she knew full well how it hurt me to not be as good at gym as her.

She looked like she was trying hard not to smile.

“I know I should let you sleep,” said she, “but I’m dying to know why you were singing that old song you only ever hear on the cheerleader practice CD for girls.”

I groaned.

“If I promise to tell you the story tomorrow, can I go to sleep again?” I bargained weakly.

“Tomorrow,” Jenny made me promise. Then I plonked my head back on her shoulder and dropped off at once, drained totally of strength.

“I know how bad you want to be like the boys who can play well,” Jenny said to me as we were walking from the bus station to her house. “The important thing is you tried, at least.”

Jenny’s Mum had the tea ready when we arrived, though I was too tired to even note what it was, probably Jenny’s favourite cheese sandwiches and something very sweet for her sister. I drew back Jenny’s chair so she could slide into it and her mother, smiling, said the same thing someone else had said a bit ago about how I was very well-trained.

Jenny giggled. “Only I’ve got to train him at gym too,” said she. “Bit of a difference!”

I blushed.

“Don’t tease him, Jenny,” her mother said fondly. “We can’t all be as good at it as you.”