I,  Penelope

By

Amanda Hamlin

Chapter One

Dungeon Master

I am Penelope, a long haired, tiny breasted sophomore at Holerton High. I dress in guy's clothes, love heavy metal, and have a secret obsession with video games and Dungeons and Dragons.  And I am in love.  He is currently sitting across from me in geometry class working on a proof.  His name is Robert and, with his neatly brushed hair, crisp shirt, and glasses, he looks every bit as intelligent as he really is.  He's in all advanced classes which is great because so am I, which means we get to spend a lot of time together, and he's always saying clever and witty things.  I could listen to him for hours.

We make a great team for to doing proofs.  When it comes to math, I'm no good at creative thinking and can't always see all the relationships between lines, angles, etc. and Robert has no problems with this.  But then, he can't turn his observations into a proof because he doesn't remember all the proof rules.  I, on the other hand, have all the theorems memorized and can recite them at a moment's notice.  Robert looks at the problem and tells me what steps he wants to prove and then I tell him how to prove them.  It's a great system we have going and it's a good sign for our future life together.  Even though he's obsessed with cheerleaders right now, he will see that we are meant to be.

Sven Plotz, a friend of Robert and the object de lust of my best friend Kendra, is sitting next to him.  I'm not sure why she likes him.  He's hyper, random, and spastic.  So different from Robert's reserve and dignity.  He contributes to our proof writing team as well...by trying to distract us and, then, when we finally manage to finish the problem anyway, by copying our answers.  With this excellent brand of teamwork, it's no surprise that we finish the assignment far ahead of the rest of the class.  Sven immediately pulls out a video game hint guide and goes flipping through it.  I grope in my backpack for my latest fantasy novel.  Robert starts pouring over a stack of typewritten pages, muttering to himself and making strange gestures as he does so.

“What've you got there?” I ask tentatively.  We talk to each other a lot because we're always working together but casual conversation is still a little scary.

“It's a play I wrote for my English class.  My partner and I have to act it out today, so I want to make sure I'm well-rehearsed.”

“Let's see what you've got.”  I know Robert's a great performer.  He's been in theater for years and I would love to watch since, one of the things I love most about Robert is how creative and imaginative he is.  Robert clears his throat and straightens his papers, then begins.  It's a story about a hero whose wife is stolen away by an evil wizard.  Robert is going to be playing the hero and his partner the evil wizard.  But, since his partner isn't here now, he's so talented he plays both parts.  He bangs his fist on the table and says in a commanding voice, “Give me back my wife.”  Almost, I can imagine we're in the dark cave of the wizard's fortress instead of such a boring and ordinary place as geometry class. 

Robert quickly switches roles and starts playing the wizard.  “You can only have her back if you perform all the tasks I set you, no matter how impossible they seem.  Your first task will be to retrieve the perfect pearl that is hidden in the belly of a giant shark.”  His performance is so compelling that Sven actually puts down his hint book and starts paying attention to us.  “The shark was huge and hideous,” Robert goes on with a dramatic flourish. “It had five rows of razor sharp teeth, each as big as a man.  It's fins were like small ships and its skin so thick that a sword would barely scratch it. Our hero knew he had no hope of defeating it in combat so, instead, he hid in some seaweed close by and memorized the pattern in which the shark opened and closed its mouth.”  As he says this, Robert takes his hands and mimes the opening and closing of the mouth.  “When he was able to time it perfectly, he waited until the mouth was at its widest point, then swam inside to retrieve the pearl.”  I'm completely immersed in Robert's performance but I can't help wanting to enhance it more.  Thinking I'm being subtle, I sneak my hand across the table and swipe the script.

“Why did you do that?” asks Robert.

“I wanted to see if you could do it without looking at the words.”

“If I'm looking at you,” oh yes he is, “I can't read off the sheet anyway.  Unless I had eyeballs in the roof of my mouth.  Wait, that would be really sick.  I could see myself chewing.”

“How about up your nose?” asks Sven.

“Think about what you would see when you sneezed.”

“What if you had eyes in the back of your head?” I suggest.

“You would poke yourself in the eye when you combed you hair.”

“Be careful with those razors,” says Sven.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“He shaves the hair behind his ears.  See?”  Sven grabs a hold of Robert's ear and bends it forward to reveal a small crescent of bare skin behind.  Robert does not appreciate the action at all.

“If you don't mind,” he says stiffly, shoving Sven away, “I would like to finish my story now.”  He smooths his hair, so that every strand is just so again and straightens the collar of his shirt before continuing.  Another thing I like about Robert is that he has such excellent composure and never lets anyone upset it.  “For the hero's final task, the wizard took him to a room filled with thousands of identical statues of his wife and said to him, 'Now you must pick the one statue out of all of them which is really your wife.  You only get one chance and, if you choose wrong, she will be burned alive before your eyes.'”  Now Robert switches back over to the hero again, as he muses on how to make his choice.  “'The reason the wizard must attack me through my wife is because I am protected by a magic talisman so he cannot touch me.  That talisman is in form of a hair pin, which my wife wears on her head pointing upwards.  The wizard must not know this or he would have removed the pin and killed me by now.  If he does not know about it, it won't be in the statue copies.'  So he carefully ran his hand over the head of each statue,” Robert mimes this too, “and only one pricked him in the hand.  But, just to confuse the wizard, he ran his hand over all the heads of the statues a second time.”

At this point, Sven has gotten bored with the story, so he picks up some of the large paper polyhedrons on display on the table behind him, and starts amusing himself by tossing them about, pretending they're dice. “Once the wizard was completely bewildered,” Robert goes on, “he took his true wife by the hand and...”  One of the large polyhedrons hits him in the head when Sven tosses it a bit too vigorously.  “You idiot.  That's the second time you have disrupted my story.  You die now.”

     “Give me a chance to escape,” whines Sven in mock fear, holding out an octahedron to Robert as if it's a peace offering.

            Robert picks up the octahedron. “If I roll a number from one to eight, I kill you, Sven.”  Then he picks up the dodecahedron.  “What number do you want to be your death, Sven?”

            “Forty-two”

            “Fine, I get to roll as many times as necessary to get a forty-two.”  He rolls the polygon several times, keeping track of the sum of the numbers, until they total forty-one.  Then, he looks at each side carefully until he finds the one and sets the polygon carefully on the table, so it is face up.

***********

I'm sitting outside my Spanish class after lunch, waiting for the doors to open.  Robert, who's in this class too, is sitting a short way down the hall from me, his nose buried in a book.  Although I would like it if he talking to me instead of reading, I do like the fact that he reads books a lot because I read books a lot too, so that's, like, something we have in common.

My best friend Kendra, who's also in the class, is sitting next to me.  Kendra doesn't like to read a lot, or at all.  She likes to watch MTV and try on skimpy clothes at the mall.  Pretty much the only thing we have in common is Robert. They're good friends (totally platonic she assures me).  Actually, I started trying to be friends with Kendra in the hopes that hanging out with her would give me a chance to hang out with Robert.  So far, this idea hasn't born fruit but, in the meantime, we've kinda bonded.  I, obviously, had to open my heart to her and tell her my secrets and she chose to do the same for me, which, I think, qualifies us for best friend status.  We also have a long-time mutual friend named Julia, which made things a lot easier.

“Officially” I'm supposed to be having a conversation with Kendra right now.  But I'm not really.  Yes, partly because Robert is distracting me but also because Kendra's friend Sarah (who, fortunately, isn't in our class) is sitting on the other side of her and I hate Sarah.  All she ever wants to talk about is guys and how “hot” they are.  This interests me not at all since I have absolutely no interest in any guys except Robert.  And I'm not allowed to talk about him because Sarah (and most other girls) think he's a loser.  Not that I would ever trust her with a secret as dangerous as who I like.

To my great relief, when I tune back into their conversation, I discover that, for once, she's actually talking about something else: her cousin's trip to France.  “And guess what she brought my family as a present,” she cries.  “Goose liver.”  Kendra and I both make gagging noises.  “And that's not the worst of it.  She went to restaurants there where you can order snails.  How gross is that?” 

“Almost as disgusting as eating worms,” replies Kendra with conviction.  Robert glances up over the edge of his book and looks upset, probably about how loud we're being.  “That's really sick.  I'm so glad I didn't have to go to France.”

“I don't know.  I think it would have been worth it,” says Sarah.  I'm about to mention all the wonderful castles in France by way of agreeing with her, but she's not done yet.  “My cousin says the French guys are really hot.”  Okay, time to change the subject. 

“Snails don't actually sound so bad, compared to other things,” I say quickly.  Gross food is so much more of a palatable topic.  “I've heard, in some African countries, they eat ants.”  I pause for effect.  “Or termites.”  I enjoy listening to and watching their reactions of disgust, although Robert plainly does not.  But I can't let them finish or they'll go back to their truly disgusting guy talk.  “It's really weird what different people think is gross,” I continue.  “I mean, the Japanese think its gross that Americans eat raw vegetables like salads.”

“Yes, but they're eating raw fish and getting sick from it,” says Robert, temporarily setting down his book.  “We eat raw vegetables and we're just fine.”  My heart does a little skip and jump that I've actually gotten him to interact with me, even though it only lasted a couple of seconds. 

“Okay, sure there are some things that are just bad for you,” I say, hoping to keep Robert in the conversation, even though he's already picked up his book again.  “But most food is actually less dangerous that you think.  There's a special Korean dish made from old cabbage and that doesn't make anyone sick.”

Sarah makes another noise of disgust.  “Fresh cabbage is gross enough,” she cries. 

“I've actually had this dish,” I say smugly.  “It's really quite tasty.”  Sarah appears to turn slightly green though, in the dim hallway, its hard to be sure.  It might be nothing more than my self-congratulatory imagination.  It's actually quite satisfying to make her ill for once, after all the times she's sickened me with her talk about guys' butts and biceps and...ugh!  I'll stop now.  Just the memory is making me queasy.

“The only Korean food I know anything about,” says Kendra, “is the hot and sour soup from the restaurant in the shopping center by my house.  It's pretty good even though those clear noodles in it look a little weird.”

But now we've disturbed Robert again.  “Do you know what those clear noodles are made out of?” he asks pointedly.  “Strings of pus from cows' eyes, that's what.”  Kendra does not like this information at all.  I'm smart enough to realize that what he's saying isn't true but, apparently, she isn't.  “The best plan is never to ask what's in food if it's foreign,” Robert goes on smugly.

“I didn't ask you,” snaps Kendra.  “You just volunteered that information all on your own and nobody wanted to hear it.”  Well, except me, but never mind.  Robert ignores her and goes back to his book.  But, as Kendra continues to rant loudly, it gradually becomes clear that he won't be able to get any reading done.  To make matters worse, Julia wanders by at this moment.  She hates Robert so, when she sees Kendra is attacking him, she joins in enthusiastically.  Robert puts his book down in exasperation.  This seems like the perfect opportunity to start a conversation. 

“What are you reading?” I ask, scooting closer to him.

“Oh, I'm not reading anything now.”

“Yes, but what were you trying to read just now.”  I point at the book.

“Oh that.  That's not a real book.  It's a list of codes I can use to hack into the FBI computers.” 

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I'm actually a mass murderer and I want to erase my records.” 

“I can believe that,” I laugh.  At this point Kendra starts to become distracted from Sarah and Julia and starts paying attention to our conversation instead. 

“Of course, now that you know, I'll have to kill you.”

“I'd like to see you try,” mocks Kendra.

“It will be easy.  My backpack is full of several weapons, which I will now show to you.  Of course, that means I will have to make sure I kill you.”  He takes out his calculator.  “Now this looks like an ordinary, innocent, graphing calculator, but you can type in a secret code and it will cause several strategically placed nuclear weapons to blow up.  You could blow up the school.”   Here he goes with one of his creative stories again.  Swoon.  I can't resist urging him on.

“Let's see these nuclear weapons,” I challenge.

“They have already been placed. These,” he pulls out his cards, “look like regular cards but you can stick them in the crack of a door and add a special chemical (which I'm not going to tell you about) and they will explode.  You could open a safe with them.  This book has a bar code on the back, which I can put through the credit card scanner at the store and it will reduce the cost of what I'm buying to nothing.”

“Wouldn't people find it a little strange,” I ask skeptically, “to see you putting a book in a credit card slot.”  Robert doesn't respond to me, which means he hasn't thought up a good answer.  At this point, Joe Argozy, who is also in our Spanish class, walks past. 

“Now, you may not know this about Joe,” says Robert, “but he has secret codes in his hair.”

“That's the dumbest thing I ever heard,” says Kendra. 

“No, not at all.  Here, I'll show you.  Hey, Joe,” Robert calls to him.  “Let me pull out a piece of your hair so I can show them.”  Joe gives him a dubious sideways glance, like he thinks Robert's crazy and hurries off down the hall.  However, he does walk past us several more times.  I guess he's just pacing up and down the hall, waiting for class to start.  And, every time he walks past, we all crack up loudly, which makes him even more disturbed.

“How did you get the code into his hair?” I ask.

“I used my compass to shoot it into his head.”  He pulls his clear flexi ruler out of his backpack and waves it around wildly, actually whacking himself in the head with it several times.  “This looks like an ordinary ruler but, when I add a special device...”

“Let's see this special device,” I challenge.

“I don't have it with me and, besides, I wasn't going to tell you about it anyway.”

“Then it's defective.”

“No, I can still use it...as a ruler.”  See what I mean?  He's so witty. 

At this point, Julia has had enough.  She doesn't like Robert at all and doesn't find him funny or witty (clearly, she has no taste) and, also, I think she's put out because we're paying attention to him and not to her.  “What I want,” she yells over to us, “is a very simple device: a gun which I can use to blow your head off because you're being so annoying.” 

“Now I call that ironic,” says Robert, almost as an aside to me, which makes me shiver up and down my spine, “since she is so much more annoying than I am.  Besides, no imagination at all.  I won't even waste my time describing all the ways you could kill someone with a gun.  Now, if you were to use a...”

“Oh my god, shut up,” shrieks Julia.  Robert ignores her and pulls out his protractor, which it broken in half.

“I suppose you're going to say that's a boomerang,” suggests Kendra.

“No, this is a broken protractor.  It can't do anything because it's broken.  Now this,” he waves a pen in our direction, “this looks like a pen, but it's not a pen.  When I write on someone with the ink...”

“It will kill them,” offers Kendra.

“No, it doesn't kill them,” Robert replies stiffly, obviously put out that someone thinks he would be so ordinary as to become predictable.  “It infects them with a disease that decreases their mental capacity.”

“How many times have you used it on yourself,” I mock.

“No.  I'm immune to it.  See, I use the chemical in the other end of the pen and then it doesn't work on me.”

“Which you're not going to tell us about.”

“Right.  You're getting the idea.”  I feel thrilled that Robert, at least sort of, thinks I'm clever.

But Kendra is losing interest and pokes Julia.  “Want to go to the mall this weekend?” she asks. 

“Can't, I have relatives coming.”

“Well, then how about you, Penelope?”

“Probably.  What do you want to do there?”  I'm slightly skeptical.

“I desperately want to see Bachelor Party.”  Oh god!  I was right to be suspicious.  This is a truly disgusting “romantic comedy” about a guy who ends up falling in love with a stripper his friends hire for his bachelor party.  It's supposed to be happily-ever-after but no one seems concerned about how the poor bride feels about getting left at the altar.  It's misery every after for her.

“I will not watch that shit.”

“Aw, come on Penelope.  I want to go really badly and no one else will go with me.”

“And neither will I.  I said no and that's final.”  Kendra looks like she wants to argue more but, at that moment, the door to the classroom opens and we all go inside and take our seats.  Kendra doesn't sit by me, so I'm spared her bargaining, at least for the moment.  But, towards the end of class, while we're supposed to be doing worksheets, I'm distracted by a loud tap on my desk.  I look up and there's Kendra, sitting backwards on the desk in front of me.

“Penelope, please.”

“Can't you see I'm trying to work?”

“Isn't there anything I can do to change your mind?”  I'm about to say no, but just then, I happen to look past Kendra and catch sight of Robert, bent over his worksheet on the other side of the room.

“Actually, yes, there is something...”  Kendra follows my gaze and her face falls.

“Oh, no.  Not that.  Pick something else.”

I shrug.  “Guess, you'll be going alone then.  What's the big deal anyway?  I thought you guys were friends.”  Kendra dithers for a few more minutes, then gets stiffly to her feet. 

“Fine, you win,” she snaps.  “At least, maybe I can convince him to bring Sven along.”  She stomps off in Robert's direction and I cross my fingers and pray.

*************

            Kendra, Robert, Sven, and I are at the mall.  We're going to see an action movie.  It won by a vote of three to one.  Kendra's romantic comedy lost (an irony that makes me want to crack up, although I politely restrain myself). But she finds ways to make the movie work for her anyway.  When a car suddenly explodes on screen in a burst of flames, she squeals and grabs Sven's arm.  I do not do the same with Robert.  I know he isn't interested in me because he likes pretty, feminine girls, the kind of girls who would squeal and grab a guy's arm in a movie.  I'm not the kind of girl who does that, so he doesn't want me, therefore, I don't do it.  My excellent use of logic must be what got me into advanced math.

As we sit there, I'm keenly aware that our couples (or potential couples) are horribly mismatched.  Sven and I look very similar with our loose, uncombed hair and baggy T-shirts and jeans.  Kendra isn't exactly the cheerleader type that Robert likes but she has an athletic build and looks cute in her crop top and shorts with flowers on the back pockets. Robert, as always, has on a crisp, button-down shirt, and slacks with his hair neatly trimmed and brushed back.  He never looks fifteen.  More like thirty and on the way to a business meeting.  I think I like him because he is always serious and dignified, like me.  Next to us, Sven and Kendra are poking each other and giggling.  I turn away in disgust.  In the dark, Robert looks like he might be disgusted too.  The fact that we agree on this give me a faint hope that I might have a chance with him.

After the movie, we wander towards the doors of the mall to go outside and sit on the grass.  As we walk, Robert takes his fedora and sets it on his head at an angle.  Sven just can't resist.  He reaches behind Robert and knocks his hat forward.  Robert gives him a death glare, then readjusts his hat with an expression of pained superiority.  Kendra and I exchange glances and her desire to laugh is a little too infectious.  In less than thirty seconds, Sven repeats this maneuver. 

"If you touch my hat again, I will kill you,” says Robert grimly.  Right on cue, Sven makes an exaggerated gesture and places one finger on the edge of Robert's hat.  He's grinning like a madman and the immaturity of it is making me nauseous like cottage cheese that's been left out in the sun too long.   Again, Robert seems to agree with me and punches Sven hard, aiming at his head but hitting his shoulder instead as he dodges.  I hear Kendra suck in her breath, and I can tell she is concerned about her "sweetheart" getting injured.  Mentally, I’m impressed by Robert.  We two understand that we need to fight to maintain our dignity.  It is so important that we not be dragged down to the adolescent level of other people.  And if it takes violence to ensure that…so be it.  But Sven won't quit.  A brawl is exactly what he's been itching for and he hits back at Robert, grinning more than ever.  Now, they're at it, punching, dodging, and blocking.  But Robert still retains his aloofness, like he's above it all.  I imagine that he would have the same detached expression, even if he were kissing a girl and I like that picture.  But, before they've traded more than twenty blows, Kendra points out that a mall security guard is eyeing us.  Knowing someone has observed Sven's juvenile behavior when it might be associated with me turns my stomach still farther as the three of us hurry to the door and Sven follows because, otherwise, there would be no one for him to annoy. 

We all sit down outside the doors and, immediately, Robert and Kendra get into a discussion about Keanu Reeves.  I have only the vaguest idea who the guy is anyway.  Having no desire to join the conversation, I watch as a girl with highlighted hair and heels staggers past us lugging an oversize Victoria's Secret bag.  I sourly reflect that Robert almost certainly thinks she's more attractive than me and hope she trips on the curb in her ridiculous shoes.  Sadly, no luck.  Sven is also uninterested in the actor discussion, so he pulls a crumpled paper out of his pocket, unfolds it, and starts reading.

"What's that?" I ask, trying to pretend that I'm interested in something other than a guy who doesn't like me.

"Just an old character record sheet."

"You play Dungeons and Dragons?" I cry excitedly, his earlier idiocy almost forgotten in my desire to talk about one of my guilty pleasures.

"Yea.  Well, I used to and so did he."  He points at Robert.  Now, I already know that Robert has played D&D.  In fact, I've known it ever since I started liking him several months ago, because one of Julia's brothers used to be friends with Robert.  But I would never dare to approach him about it directly.  Talking to Sven is a fairly decent substitute.

"This sheet," he goes on, "is for my old wizard.  He had twenty-five intelligence and could cast a wish every day.”

"Don't you play anymore?" I ask with disappointment.

"Not for several years.  No one wants to anymore."

"I know."  I'm starting to lose my awkwardness because I'm so involved in the topic.  "I've been trying to get a group together for ages but I just can't."  I'm even starting to become slightly whiny now, which sort of embarrasses me and I hope Robert doesn't notice.

"How hard can it be? We only need four or five people?"  We?  My heart jumps a little at the hope that I've finally found even one person to join me.  The next moment it stops completely dead as Sven leans over and casually punches Robert in the shoulder.  "Rob," he says loudly, startling him out of the discussion of the dumb actor.  "You want to play D&D?" 

Kendra frowns.  "That stupid game?" she says mockingly.  "Who wants to play that?"  She's looking at me (Kendra knows about my secret guilty pleasure) in a not very nice way and I desperately want to point out that the guy she's just spent the last couple hours hanging all over is suggesting it, not me.  But I don't because that would be violating the girl code of honor.  Besides, I can't afford to have her pissed at me because she knows too much sensitive information.

"Do we have enough people?" asks Robert, ignoring Kendra.

"Well, there's three of us here.  Four, if Kendra wants to come along."  Sven grins, knowing this will piss her off. She smiles sweetly while giving him the finger.  "Also, I can ask Jeff and Mike.

  At least one of them will probably agree."

"There's this kid in my science class named Linus," I add, my excitement getting the better of my shyness.  "I'm pretty sure he plays."

Robert considers for a moment.  "Sounds good," he finally says.  "But do we have a place?"

"We can use my house," I offer without thinking.  Kendra covers her face with her hands in despair.  Oh, I'll be getting an earful from her latter.

"You can be Dungeon Master then too," says Sven and I nod with tight lips, not wanting to jeopardize my chances of having Robert come to my house by admitting I have no idea how to be a Dungeon Master.  In fact, since I've never played the game, just obsessively read the rule books hundreds of times, I'm probably the least qualified person involved.  Now I'm in a big hurry to get home to my shelf of said rule books.  It may be the last week of school but, suddenly, I've got a lot of homework to do.

Copyright.  Amanda R. Hamlin

Not to be used by A.I. without permission of author.

All rights reserved.

Cover art by Eric Hamlin

Go to: Instagram https://www.instagram.com/hamlin.eric/

Not to be used by A.I. without permission of the artist.

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Also read “Deliverance from the Eye” a short story by Amanda Hamlin, free at amandahamlin.stick.me.

“Ravenlord,” a short story from the point of view of a woman should be read by all me, is also available at amandahamlin.stck.me.

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10/23/23