I, Penelope

By

Amanda Hamlin

Chapter Two

The Touch

My nerves are all on edge as I set out dishes of tortilla chips and cans of soda on my living-room table, poking the cans until they form a perfect line.  There's a neat stack of plates next to them along with a pad of paper and a cup of pencils.  At a right angle to the couch is a big armchair which is going to be my Dungeon Master's "throne."  On the end table next to it, I have all my special secret books and notes and my set of dice.  Sven and Robert both agreed to bring their own dice so, hopefully, I won't have to share.

Everything is going insanely well.  All three of the other people agreed to come, although Mike can't be here today because he has a dentist appointment.  Jeff is the first to get here and starts creating an elven ranger.  Soon, Robert arrives and decides to be a human warrior.  This pleases me because warriors are my favorite character class.  I hope that I can persuade Sven to be a priest, so the group will have healing abilities.  But, when he arrives, he says he wants to be a wizard. 

"Please, not that," I groan.  I hate wizards.  There are hundreds of spells in the back of the rule book, and I don't know what a quarter of them are supposed to do.  How can I possibly pretend I know how to be a Dungeon Master while dealing with that.  But Sven refuses to back down.  Then, to make matters worse, Robert takes a copy of the supplemental spell encyclopedia, which I've never even seen, out of his backpack and passes it to Sven. 

"Oh, I also have two trained rats," Sven announces.  "Their names are Bobby and Tommy, and I will keep them in my belt pouch." 

"Fine," I snap.  I don't want to argue, and trained rats seem pretty harmless.

Soon, we get tired of waiting for Linus and begin.  The adventure starts in Robert's hometown.  Sven is traveling through, and Jeff is hiding out in the forest nearby.

"You see a band of scruffy men coming along the road as you are working in your fields," I tell Robert.  "There are about four of them.  They are wearing armor and carrying packs and they seems to be heading straight for your farm."

"I put down my hoe and strap on my sword before I go out to meet them," he replies.

Sven giggles.  "What were you doing with your ho before you put her down?"

Robert glares at him.  "It’s a piece of farm equipment," he snaps.

"Yea, Sven."  Jeff smirks, elbowing him in the ribs.  "Don't you know anything?"  Jeff looks like he didn't really know what a hoe was either.  I feel my face grow hot.  I hate this kind of sexual joke because, to me, sex, or the nebulous concept that passes for sex in my sixteen-year-old mind, is not a joking matter.  I do know how the physical mechanics of sex work, but I choose to ignore them.  Who cares?  In terms of physical mechanics, sex isn’t really that different from sticking a pencil into a pencil sharpener and what’s so interesting about that?  It’s what goes on in the head that makes it important, and they don’t teach you about that part. Thank god, Robert is pissed, not amused.  I decide that I don't really think much of Kendra's lover and make a mental note to remember the incident so I can make fun of her about it later. 

Predictably, the men antagonize Robert, and he attacks them.  Sven "just happens" to be walking by and joins in.  Jeff was already following the men because they killed his favorite bear.  In the middle of the battle, Linus finally arrives. It takes less than five minutes for the others to brow beat him into playing a priest and then for him to create the character and join the battle.  They win the fight, but two of the men escape into the woods.  As he is dying, the leader tells them that Master Garenmoth will make them suffer when he finds out what they've done.  So, now they are trying to track down the escaped men before they can reach Master Garenmoth, whoever he is.  I'll be honest, I don't really know myself.  The name sounded sufficiently threatening, so I used it, but I never bothered to decide what Garenmoth actually does that makes him so scary.  I'll make sure they don't actually meet him for a few weeks.  I should have thought of something by then. 

By the time the game breaks up--right after Jeff gets everyone lost in the forest-- I'm exhausted, but I feel so good.  Yes, Sven was annoying, and Jeff and I got in a fight about the rules for his tracking skills (actually I forgot what they were).  But, on the whole, everything went well.  Yes.  I can do this.

***********

Kendra and I are eating from a large bowl of nachos.  "I think we should have put more cheese on them this time," I say, nibbling the end of one critically.  "More cheese and less beans."

"I don't know, this cheese is salty," she says as she puts her feet up on the couch.

"So, we should have used better cheese, not less."  For once, we've agreed on a movie to watch.  It has ancient prophecies and sword fighting, which I like, and lots of shirtless guys, which Kendra likes.  Right now, the hero is in a bath getting waited on by a couple of harem girls.  Kendra is rambling on about the scene, so I assume she's enjoying it.  But, gradually, I become aware that she's relating it to Sven and I politely suppress my gag reflex and am careful to stop listening.

            Sometime later, after the hero's put his clothes back on, she pokes me.  "Penelope, how was your week?"

"You don't want to know," I say, not quite sure whether I feel teasing or resentful.

"I take it that means you were playing Dungeons and Dragons.  I don't need a detailed summary but I hope you had a good time."

"Pretty much.  But your lover was a massive pain, as usual."

"I'm not responsible for him," she says, like she's offended but, at the same time, she gets that look again.  "No one can control him," she murmurs, and I quickly register the location of the bathroom so I can get there fast if I'm about to lose my lunch.

"Robert was very clever at solving the complicated puzzle I made up," I say, attempting to save the conversation. Kendra doesn't take the bait and I become vengeful.  "Sven was no help at all.  Less than no help, actually."  Kendra pays no attention and starts launching into one of her moony remembrances about Sven.  I tune out.  I've heard them all so many times before.  It might be the story about the time she wrote romantic/suggestive lyrics from a popular song on piece of paper, folded it up, and told him it was about him.  So, he stole the paper from her during break and they spent a long time fighting over it.  I think she got it back before he read it.  Or, maybe, it’s the one about how they had a phone conversation while she was in the bath.  Or was he in the bath?  Or both of them?  Who cares? 

And then, perhaps, she's remembering the Event itself, the time she just reached out and planted a kiss on him.  I think they were behind the shelves in the back of the library.  And then, the next day, they hid under the stairs and kissed again…for a…long…time.  If I paid better attention, I could tell you exactly how long each kiss lasted and exactly where their hands were at each moment.  I know Kendra's given me the information on multiple occasions, but I can never really listen.  The story upsets me too much.

First of all, I'm jealous.  I know I'm not attractive and if I tried that stunt on anybody, they would push me away.  Second of all, it upsets me because of why I would want to pull a stunt like that in the first place.  I have only one reason, which is to prove someone wouldn't push me away.  I have no desire to kiss for its own sake.  Even Robert doesn't make me want that.  I admire his cleverness and his dignity but the idea of being physical with him is only good as evidence that he likes me.  Hormonally it does nothing.  And I'm already sixteen but I've never felt that kind of desire for anyone.  At the end of eighth grade Kendra was what?  Fourteen?  Thirteen?  God, I'm such a freak.

Kendra finishes her story, I think it was the phone-call-in-the-bath story, and asks me, "What were you saying about Robert?"

"Nothing," I say sadly.  "There's nothing to tell."

*********

     D and D is still going well.  I have decided that Garenmoth is an evil wizard who made a pact with an evil god so he can't be killed unless they perform a special ceremony using certain magical items.  Having them try to figure out what those items are and then run around trying to find should keep them busy for months.  Robert extracts a very watered-down version of the above from some frightened peasants.  But, in the meantime, the man they were following escapes. 

            “You idiot,” Jeff yells, swatting Robert on the arm.  “Look where your time wasting has gotten us now.”

            “What's the big deal?” Robert fastidiously smooths his shirt sleeve.  “That guy was a nobody.  I'd much rather go after the wizard himself.”  The others quickly realize that he's right and agree that the wizard is more likely to have good treasure.  As they journey on, they proceed to divide up the things they're sure to find in his lair.  This makes me sulky, and I make a note to include lots of cursed items.  In the next town, Robert goes to the local church to continue his investigation.  With his exceptionally high charisma score he's able to persuade the monks to grant him an audience with the head abbot.  Said abbot is rather self-important and not particularly pleased about being disturbed. 

            But Robert knows how to handle this type—perhaps because they're so similar to himself.  So, he takes several minutes to sooth the high priest's tempter by complimenting him on the town and the rare pieces of art in his temple.  The other players begin to fidget but Robert sees no reason to hurry for their benefit.  He insists on continuing his monologue until I've rolled the most favorable reaction possible for the abbot.  It only takes five tries.  But the tactic pays off because he's now willing to tell them whatever they want.  So, Robert begins explaining about the situation with Garenmoth.  This also takes a long time.

            “I want to cast a spell,” says Sven, unable to contain his impatience any longer. 

            “There's no need for that,” Mike objects.  “The guy is already helping us.”

            “How about a 'know alignment' or 'detect truth' spell?” asks Linus.

            “But we don't have any reason to distrust him.  That might just cause trouble.”

            “Besides, Sven's character doesn't know how to cast any of those spells,” I point out sternly. 

            “I just want to cast...”

            “Can we please get back to the important information I was about to uncover?” asks Robert, and I'm only too happy to focus my attention on him again.

            “The abbot tells you that he has searched the library many times but can find no mention of Garenmoth's weaknesses.  However, he has found many references to an item of great power in a nearby swamp and that...”

            “I cast 'cantrip' to make...”

            “No, you don't.” Robert glares at Sven.

            “I have it written down that I have it memorized and have all the components so you can't stop me.”

            “Just hold on,” I say, starting to feel the onset of a headache.  “One at a time.  Let me resolve Robert's action first.”

            “I encourage the priest to continue his story.”

            “He nods and tells you that there is...”

            “But I want to cast the spell during the conversation.”

            “Fine then.”  I'm really starting to lose patience.  “Where are you aiming your spell?”

            “I want to make the priest's robe smell.”

            “You moron,” Robert snarls.  “I'm in the midst of getting valuable information here.”

            “It's okay,” I try to reassure him.  “He hasn't noticed yet, so he goes on telling you that the swamp is rumored to be guarded by a giant...”

            “Roll to see if he's noticed it now,” Sven cuts in. “By the way, I make it smell like rotten meat.” 

            I throw the dice on the table.  “Yes, he does, in fact, notice that he now smells like a sausage that's been left out in the sun too long,” I say with over exaggerated drama.  “Are you happy now?”

            “Yes.  I laugh at him.”

            “I punch Sven,” says Robert.

            “Excellent.  Since he's not expecting it, you automatically win initiative. Go ahead and make your attack roll.”  I hand him the dice.

            “In response I prepare to cast...”

            “No fighting on holy ground,” Jeff shrieks at the top of his lungs.  Though everyone's ears (including mine) are ringing from his outburst, the other players see the wisdom of his point and bring themselves under control.  Then, Robert tries to apologize to the abbot.

            “It's too late,” I say sullenly, holding my aching head with one hand.  “He was so embarrassed that he ran back into the inner sanctuary and refuses to come out.  The rest of the townspeople are highly offended by your profane actions and are now highly unfriendly.”

            “Or what kind of actions?” ask Jeff and Mike in almost the same instant. 

            Robert nods understandingly. “I can't really blame them,” he says.  “Come on.  Let's get out of here.  We've majorly screwed up for sure.”

            “But wait,” cries Mike, suddenly panicked.  “A giant what?”

            “Good luck finding that out now,” I mutter.  Never mind.  Things aren't going very well after all.

**********

I'm riding my bike downtown.  It's the brutally hot middle of the summer and I don't even want to be breathing, much less ridding across a slab of burning asphalt.  The sweat is trickling down my back in a little stream.  I hate sweat. It's smelly and makes my clothes stick to me.  Of course, my jeans are making it worse, but I don't own a pair of shorts.  I've forsworn them since seventh grade, when I noticed some of the guys would whistle at the girls in their gym clothes. But something is at stake here, far more important than my personal comfort.  Kendra called me about ten minutes ago in great distress.  A true friend, I have no choice but to rush to her, even inside my personal sauna of jeans, t-shirt, and bike helmet.

I come skidding to a stop outside the Café Café, and make a dash for the life-saving air-conditioning within. Inside, I scan the room for Kendra's dark hair, spot her on the couch in the corner, and come up behind her.  I have to peel my bike helmet off my head and the hair underneath feels and probably looks like it hasn't been washed in weeks.  God, how I hate sweat.  Kendra is bent over, scribbling some moony song lyrics on a piece of paper.

I feel myself bristle with resentment.  I love Kendra dearly but, right now, her behavior is pissing me off.  I want to point out to her that, whatever her problem is, she's still had more success with guys than all her friends put together.  But, that would be a rude thing to say.  So, I settle for "what's wrong?" instead.

"Sven's not being nice to me," she says, like she can't decide if she's hurt or angry. 

"Well, in my experience, he doesn't seem like a very nice person," I say tartly.  "He certainly isn't very smart."  Kendra gives me a "how could you?" look.  "So, what did he do?"

"Sometimes he just ignores me or acts like I'm not worth his time.  Today, I called him, and he said he didn't feel like doing anything.  Not couldn't.  Didn't feel like."

"Guys are assholes."  I shrug.

"Not, now, Penelope," she sighs.

"I'm hardly the person to give you advice on guys, with my zero-success record."

"Well, you have been hanging out with Sven a lot recently."

"Are you jealous."  I feel bad about my spitefulness but I can't help it.

She gives me a hard look.  "I'm not your competition."  She knows I'm jealous of the close friendship she has with Robert.

"No, not you, just Oochie, Smoochie, Poochie, and Hoochie.  In other words, the entire cheer-leading team.  And they're winning by saying no and I'm losing by being nice.  What the hell?" 

"You should wear shorts," Kendra suddenly exclaims.

"Are you implying that would make Robert like me?"  I won't do it even so.  I'll stay alone rather than have someone like me for shallow reasons.

"No.  Don't get so defensive.  You just look like you're about to die in the heat."

"No thank you.  I think I'll stay the way I am."

"Well, I'm not ashamed of what I've got."  Obviously not, since your shorts are so short. I can see your butt hanging out.  And, obviously, the only reason I wouldn't want to do the same is because I think I'm not hot.  I do think that but that's not the point here. 

"The only thing I'm ashamed of is the way it makes other people act," I say shortly.  She looks like she wants to say something else.  "Aren't we supposed to be talking about your problem with Sven?" I ask quickly, turning the conversation away from Penelope's supposed flaws.

"And what am I supposed to do about him?" cries Kendra in exasperation.

"Slap him," I suggest.  "That's what I want to do most of the time I’m around him."

She gets a sort of dreamy, sensual, smile on her face.  "He'd like that," she says softly.  Then, quickly, "and I forbid you to do it."

"Oh, don't worry.  I know you've piss-marked your territory.  I wouldn't dream of stepping into it.  Besides, I don't want to.  In fact, I wouldn't take him if you begged me.  But, like I said, this is out of my league.  Have you talked to Julia about it?"

"No," snaps Kendra.  "You know she hates Sven and would just tell me I'm well rid of him."  Correction, she hates Sven and Robert and pretty much every other member of the male species I associate with.  On the other hand, she and Kendra usually have similar taste in guys so she has taken care to be extra cruel to her about this one exception. 

"Well, just remember that I'm none too fond of him myself," I mutter sourly.  "What do you see in him anyway?"

"Energy.  Enthusiasm.  I don't know.  He's just so much fun to hang around with."

"When he's nice to you," I point out.  I don't really want to be having this conversation.  It makes me think about scary things.  Because, in some ways, I know the answer to my question better than Kendra does.  That plain truth is that Kendra is a hard-core flirt.  And if you had to pick a trait that described me that would be the one furthest from. Therefore, I have a bit of a sick fascination with the pastime, like the way you can't help picking at a scab.  Kendra likes Sven because he flirts back at her with total abandon.  I've seen them together, like at the movie.  Plus, I've heard all Kendra's stories about when they met in eighth grade, how they spent the entire year circling each other, striking and dodging like opponents in an elaborate fencing match (not that she describes it that way) gradually stepping closer and closer until The Event at the end of the year.  Watching them makes me sick.  Sick with disgust and sick with jealousy at the exact same moment.

I'm not sure how or why Sven does it.  It could just be him being an idiot.  After all, he acts pretty much the same to me, except much less because I refuse to respond.  On the other hand, the line between obnoxious juvenile behavior and flirting seems to be very thin to non-existent: Exhibit A of why I hate it.  Or, Sven could be doing it on purpose. From our limited association, I can already tell he likes to feel important and when Kendra gets that look in her eyes it would inflate anyone's ego.   But however well he plays the "fun" (in Kendra's opinion) side of flirting, he plays the dark side of it just as well.  Whether it's unconscious or deliberate, he always seems to manage to step away at exactly the right time and in exactly the right way so that he'll be followed, and Kendra always does.  Much as she loves the fun side, this dark side is what causes her terrible pain, like what she's feeling right now.  This kind of behavior is exhibit B of why I hate flirting.

While all this is going through my head, Kendra is babbling something about her moony song lyrics.  Then, she says something that makes me snap out of my private thoughts and pay attention.  "I think the best idea is to tell him the truth and then I'll know what he really feels about me."

"No, no, no," I say quickly.  "You would feel so horrible if he turned you down."

"I feel pretty horrible now.  Besides," she lifts her head proudly, "I'm in love."

"With a guy who has cotton candy for brains.  Kendra, listen to yourself for a second."

"Yea, and Robert is a pompous ass who will only buy clothes from Europe."

"But you're friends with him so it can't be that bad.  And don't say I'm friends with Sven too because I'm not.  He's just convenient for me."  In the end, nothing is solved, except that I feel I have even more reason to dislike Sven now.  I seriously hope Kendra won't say anything to him because he will either say no or yes and I don't like either of those options.  Yes, I don't want Kendra getting her heart broken but, much as I love her, I don't want her parading her boyfriend around while I have to watch Robert drool over Oochie, Smoochie, Poochie and Hoochie.

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

"I'm sorry," I tell Jeff as his elven ranger tries to chase a dire rat through the Swamps of Oolug.  "You just can't go that fast through the mud."

"I could have sworn the movement penalty for marsh was around thirty percent."

"Roll for initiative,' I say shortly, pointing to the dice.  Jeff looks displeased but is about to take the dice and drop the argument when Sven pulls out his copy of the rule book.

"Jeff's right," he says.  "It clearly says on page sixty-three, the penalty for walking in marsh is thirty four percent." 

I challenge him with a look that says, "I'm not a no-life like you who memorizes rules for fun."   Aloud, I say, "This is not 'marsh.'  This is deep swamp."  I'm in no mood to be trifled with.  I ran in to Oochie and Poochie having a vapid conversation at the mall earlier today.  And proud, dignified Robert, who is right now admiring one of his new Italian cuff links, prefers that kind of stupidity to someone who is in all advanced classes, like he is.  It is not fair and it makes me so mad.  But my feelings don't really matter.  Sven loves to trifle and the less you want to be trifled with, the more he loves it.  He actually grins as he says, "There's a rule about that too.  Page 108 says…"

"The DM says you need to shut up."  Linus, a gawky boy with glasses and almost white curls titters behind his hand and Robert looks superior.  Sven just grins even more, then launches into a long monologue of D&D jargon, supposedly the explanation of the rule on 108 but I suspect that he's making a lot of it up just to be annoying.  This is too much, and I do the thing Kendra told me not to do:  I slap him.  Well, okay, not exactly slap.  I pick up my copy of the rule book with both hands and whack him hard in the shoulder with it.  But this is Sven's element.  Too fast for me to react, he reaches out and grabs my right wrist with his right hand and twists it off the book.  His other arm is across my shoulder, holding me away, while he bends my right arm down across his body. 

No guy has ever made free with my body like this before.  Actually, I'm almost seventeen and no guy has ever actually touched me beyond accidental jostling in a crowd.  The effect is instantaneous and electric.  I'm not pissed anymore.  I'm fighting for my life.  He has dared to lay hands on me, and he will pay for it.  I will get free now, if I have to claw him to the bone to do it.  And once I am free…then I will punish him.  But Robert interferes before I can do anything.  Probably a good thing since his blood would have completely ruined the carpet. 

"Sven, cut it out," says Robert severely, as if he's disciplining a little boy.

Sven responds in kind.  "She hit me first," he whines, refusing to release his hold.

"Yea, well, you antagonized her."  Robert stands up and forcibly bends Sven's fingers off of my arms, and in the process, accidentally brushes against my skin.  His fingers are cool and hard, almost like stone.  He is magnificently calm.  Nothing phases him. 

The same cannot be said of myself.  As soon as my hands are free, I stagger back to my chair, my heart racing like mad.  I can feel my face burning, I’m so angry.  I'm in a killing mood.  I've never felt so violated in my life.  And Kendra would welcome this disrespect?  On top of everything else,  he's gotten me so upset that I didn't even get to enjoy the brief contact with Robert. 

"Now, sit down and keep quiet," Robert says to Sven.  "How do you expect to get anything done when you argue with her every few seconds?"  Sven subsides but still looks pleased with himself.  Jeff, Mike, and Linus say nothing, but they exchange looks and it's obvious that they side with Sven, not with me and Robert.

Eventually, despite the "deep swamp" movement penalty, they catch up to the giant rat and kill it.  Then, they go on in search of the mysterious golden idol in the legendary ruined and booby-trapped temple.  Yea, I was watching Indiana Jones last night.  How could you tell?  When they finally reach the temple, they can't figure out how to open the doors.

"Of course we don't have anyone who can climb walls," says Jeff sourly, glaring at Mike, as if this was his fault. Mike defends his decision to play a second fighter by pointing out that the wizard should be able to levitate.  "Yea, in three more levels," says Jeff sarcastically. 

"Why do we want to get up on the roof anyway?" asks Mike defensively. 

"Because maybe there's a hole, or some loose tiles we can pry up," says Robert, like it’s a brilliant idea that only he is clever enough to have thought up.  "Besides, we might pass some windows or holes on the way up."

“Well, whatever you do, don't forget about the giant 'what' that's waiting inside.”

This conversation does not interest Sven.  Probably because it greatly exceeds his mental ability, I reflect, fingering my sore wrist vengefully.  Suddenly, he puts his legs apart, looks down at his crotch and yells, "Bobby, Tommy, what are you doing?"  In shock, I take too large a swallow of my pop and start gagging.  Probably not because of the pop.

"No, what are you doing?" asks Mike suspiciously. 

"I'm talking to Bobby and Tommy.  You know, my trained rats which I keep in my belt pouch?"

While I'm fuming over this, Robert--he really is a genius--decides to send Sven's rats up to look for a way in.  I briefly consider making the rats have an "accident" up on the roof so Sven can't do anything else funny with them.  But I love animals, even imaginary ones, and don't have the heart to punish them just because their owner is a crude lump.

--end—

Copyright: Amanda Hamlin

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

Cover art by Eric Hamlin

To view his portfolio, go to: https://www.instagram.com/hamlin.eric/

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

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

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Keywords: Dungeons&Dragons, Highschool, Kiss, Flirt, Swamp, Rats, Jealousy, Slap

11/21/23