Young Writers Society

Richard Howse Memorial Boarding School was home to some of the best young minds from North America and around the world. Situated only a half hour outside of Vancouver, its major fields were athletics and the arts. It is also where our story begins this sunny afternoon. Specifically, it begins on a bench in the common area, under an overhang by the cafeteria door. The school’s top athlete, a tall, strong, handsome fellow by the name of Robert, with dark hair and darker eyes, was seated on the bench. Next to him was his best friend, the tall, lean Mark, a native of London. Mark had spent his entire time at Richard Howse in Robert’s shadow. He couldn’t complain, however. Popularity by association had gotten him far in his first year or two, and it was still popularity, after all. Besides, being second best had its perks. There was just as much attention paid to the guy with all the assists as the guy with a bunch of goals.

“I’m telling you, Mark, it’s just too easy around here lately. The girls are asking me out half the time. Honestly, the only difficult part is turning them down! Well, and sometimes choosing just one,” Robert laughed.

“So? Isn’t that a good thing?” asked Mark, taking a swig of his Pepsi.

“Nah,” said Robert, “I want some challenge, you know? Something different.”

A girl came out around the bleachers about fifty meters away. She came down along the remaining fifty meters of the path and entered the cafeteria. As she passed the boys, she kept her head facing the cafeteria door, but Mark saw her glance with just her eyes at Robert. “There goes another one, Rob,” he said when she was beyond them.

Robert looked up and identified her as she disappeared into the cafeteria. “Nikki Swanson. I’ve been thinking about her. Shy, hangs with the unpopular crowd, but she’s got potential.”

"Potential?”

“Yeah. With a little help from me, she could be popular.”

Mark laughed. “With a little help from you or me, MIKE could be popular.” The boys laughed. Mike was mean and annoying, and he stank. Nikki would certainly be easier to work with.

“But Nikki, she could not only be popular, she could be perfect. She’s not going to turn into a snob all of a sudden when people start liking her. I think I’m going to take it upon myself. A sort of… project, if you will. Project Perfect.”

“And how are you going to start?” Mark asked dubiously. He leaned back and laid his ankle on his knee.

“Oh, I know where I’m going to start.” Robert stood and smoothed his leather jacket. “I’m going to start with her name.” He headed into the cafeteria. Mark stayed where he was, drinking his Pepsi. One thing he knew about Rob was that he never needed a wingman.

Robert took a tray from the stack. A couple of the elusive orange ones among the many yellow signified that the trays had already been cleaned and restacked, and by extension that most students had already eaten. He slid the tray along the counter, taking a couple small portions of food. Louie, the rotund head cook, looked up from mopping the kitchen floor. “Eh, weren’t you just here a minute ago?”

“Yeah, but this is about a girl, Louie,” Robert grinned.

“Always is, ain’t it, Robert? Ah, go on with ya,” Louie laughed.

Laughing thanks, Robert took his tray and entered the seating area. He glanced around. Some minor acquaintances were sitting over in a corner. Somebody noticed him and beckoned him to join them. He smiled back but shook his head. Nikki was in the middle of the cafeteria, surrounded by nobody but a few old napkins and some crumbs on the table, so she had most likely been sitting with people but they finished and left her.

“Hi,” said Robert, sliding his tray up beside Nikki’s. He held out his hand. “I’m –”

Nikki’s eyes never turned his way. “Robert Bryant. I know. I also know your birthday, your favourite foods, and just about any other piece of information anybody cares to know about you. It’s hard not to, living with these girls. They follow you guys like you follow NFL stars. Plus, my roommate, Lindsey, is your biggest fan.”

Robert knew who she meant. One single dance date had turned Lindsey, an Ethiopian girl he wasn’t particularly attracted to, into an almost-stalker. Everybody knew it, too. At every game she’d hold up her sign, a big yellow piece of Bristol Board saying, “Lindsey loves Robert!” She was always trying to get his attention. He shuddered.

“You’re Nikki Swanson, right?” Robert returned to his original plan. “Or would you prefer I called you Nicole?”

Nikki tried to hide a smile by letting her fair fall around her face as she looked down. People so rarely asked! “I’d prefer Nicole,” she said.

“Then you’re Nicole to me,” Robert said. Nicole was doing her best not to grin. Robert smiled slightly. This was going well! “So, Nicole, what do you think of the new uniforms?” Small talk is the key with this kind of girl, to get her out of her shell and make her feel at ease around you.

“They’re pretty good. The skirts are pretty short, though. But I’m sure you don’t mind that,” Nicole joked.

“Nope, don’t mind it at all,” Robert leaned back in his chair casually, and, noticing Nicole was still in her uniform, shot a glance at her bare knees, above her tall socks. The look was somewhat hidden, but that’s just what he wanted her to think.

Nikki blushed. Could Robert really just have checked her out? Stammering something that should have sounded like, “Excuse me, I have to go,” she picked up her tray and hurried away, leaving Robert smiling smugly.

Nikki entered her dorm room grinning. Jumoke, seated cross-legged on her bed, looked up from the history book in her lap. “What’s up buttercup?” she asked.

“Robert Bryant checked me out,” Nikki smiled.

“He WHAT?” Jumo screeched.

“I’m telling you, he checked me out. We were just talking about the new uniforms and I mentioned how short the skirts are, and he looked at me legs!” Nikki went to her dresser and took out her riding clothes.

“Whoa. Ok, Nikki, just breathe,” said Jumoke, although of the two of them Nikki was not the one hyperventilating. “First of all, why was Robert Bryant talking to you?”

“I dunno. He just came up and sat by me and made small talk,” Nikki said as she pulled on her jodhpurs.

But I mean… YOU! You’re so…” Jumo waved her hand up and down, indicating Nikki’s skinny self.

“Stop now, Jumoke,” Nikki said, but she knew she wouldn’t. She calmly continued buttoning her red riding shirt.

Jumo got up and started to pace the length of her bed and count on her fingers. “You’re scrawny, you’ve got no fashion sense, you’re not particularly rich, and your hair is a mess!”

Nikki pulled her slightly frizzy auburn hair into a ponytail, and the ends fell into positionat her shoulder blades with a swish. “You’ve got no room to talk, Jumoke,” she said, picking up her helmet and breezing out of the room. In her downtime, Nikki wore straight-cut jeans and graphic or logo tees. Jumo didn’t see anything wrong with being somewhat plump, or having a mini-afro, or needing a scholarship to even get into Richard Howse, or wearing a red sweater with a hot pink skirt.

Nikki walked to the stable with the others in her riding group, laughing and fooling around as girls will. She took her horse’s brushes and saddle from the tack room and went to the stall marked “Johnny Boy”. She groomed him lightly, then returned the brushes to the tack room. She set his saddle blanket on his back, and affixed the saddle on top of that. “I was talking to Robert Bryant earlier,” Nikki whispered in the horse’s ear. “I haven’t got time right now, but I’ll tell you about it later.” She clipped the reins onto Johnny Boy’s harness and unclipped the ties that held him still in the stall. She led him out and headed toward the arena.

“How’d it go with Nikki?” Mark asked on their way to hockey practice.

“Actually, she prefers Nicole,” Robert said.

“Ah, I see what you’re doing. Making her feel like she’s special to you because you’re the only one to call her by her full name,” Mark said, “Classic.”

“Almost. I’m going to get our friends to call her Nicole too. But that’s only phase one.” They were passing by the riding arena. Robert stopped and leaned on the fence. Nikki was about to take her horse over a jump.

“Looking good, Nicole!” Her eyes snapped in his direction and her mouth fell open. He smiled and waved. She kept staring at him, and in her distraction forgot to tell the horse to jump. He jumped on his own somewhat, but the bars clattered noisily to the ground as his front hooves came down across them. Nicole turned red and glared at her reins as she turned the horse around. The other girls giggled and tried to get Robert and Mark’s attention, but they were already walking away. Robert could be heard saying, “And that is how it’s done.”

Nicole went back to the group and dismounted among her laughing teammates. “Someone’s got a cru-ush,” ASpanish girl named Amina teased.

“It’s Robert, who doesn’t?” Rhys laughed. Nicole buried her face in Johnny Boy’s mane, embarrassed at all the attention.

“Oh, stop, girls, Nikki’s shy,” said Jasmine in her charming British accent.

“You mean Nicole!” said Amina. The others laughed as if calling her by her full name was absolutely absurd.

Ms. Joy, the riding instructor, whistled. “That’s a wrap for today, ladies! It looks like rain, and I have to fix this jump anyway.”

The girls, except for Nikki, still giggling, mounted their horses and trotted off in the direction of the stables. They put their horses in their stalls, and clamoured laughing and joking for the grooming kits in the tack room. Nikki followed at a walk, and after putting Johnny Boy in his stall, waited for the others to clear out of the tackroom before going in after Johnny Boy’s brushes.

She groomed him thoroughly, slowly, until the other girls had all gone their separate ways and it was just her and the horses. As she continued to brush Johnny Boy, she poured her heart out in whispers. She told the horse about Robert, among other things. She wondered why he had chosen her to talk to instead of the others in the corner, but then decided it must have something to do with the others. But he knew her name! More than that, he had called her “Nicole”, not “Nikki”! She recalled his deep voice saying her name, and giggled. Of course, he had then said, “Looking good, Nicole!” She replayed the scene in her mind two or three times as she cleaned Johnny Boy’s hooves. She sat back on her haunches a moment and turned it over again, puzzling over what Robert had meant by, “looking good.” Unable to decipher his meaning clearly, she stood up and flicked the bits of hay, sawdust, and horsehair off herself. She gathered the grooming kit, kissed Johnny Boy’s face, and whispered, “Thanks for listening, as always.” She left the stall and headed back to her room.

That night after lights out, Jumo insisted on hearing every detail of her suppertime conversation with Robert. They whispered and giggled over it until their neighbours knocked on the wall and told them to pipe down.

The next day was Tuesday. Nikki got up at quarter to seven, before the wake-up bell, and found her way down the hall to the bathroom, where the lights were already turned on by somebody who was occupying one of the two shower stalls. By the time Nikki was done showering, the 7 am wake-up call had sounded and the hallway and dorm lights were on, and most of the girls had gotten up. The girls on the second floor of Fides house were full steam into the usual morning scramble to get ready. Nikki went to her room barefoot, wearing her burgundy, plum, black, & white skirt, and her white blouse. She dried and fixed her hair, and added white knee socks, black flats, a plum tie, and a black blazer to her uniform. Finally, looking in the full-length mirror on the wall by Jumoke’s bed, she put on just a touch of makeup. “Ready, Jumo?” she asked.

“Yup.” Jumo put down the pick she was using on her hair and took up her book bag. They left their room, locking the door behind them, and headed for the cafeteria. The weather was overcast, but it wasn’t raining, so they took the stairs and walked through the courtyard.

The lineup in the cafeteria took up the entire opposite wall, which meant there were about a hundred people there already – a lot for breakfast. “They must be serving something good, Nikki noted, licking her lips. They took their place at the end of the line.

Lindsay glanced at her watch. “Seven-thirty. They should start serving any minute now,” she said in her choppy accent, with the t’s sticking out clearly. Sure enough, just as she said it the kitchen doors opened, inducing an eager murmur from the assembled teens. The first few people went into the kitchen and the line began inching forward. When Nikki and Jumo got close enough to read the sign, they saw that breakfast sandwiches with sausage and egg were on the menu: a favourite of the students. There’d be no leftovers of this if you didn’t want what was for lunch.

But that wasn’t a problem. After a routine morning of Math, Physics, and watching Robert from across the classroom in Latin, Nikki rejoined Jumo, as well as Rhys from her riding group and a couple other not-so-popular girls for macaroni and cheese.

Some of the girls in this group were unpopular for good reason – one who never shut up, another who wasn’t particularly bright and looked it, another one somewhat lacking in social skills. Then there were a couple who were part of the group partly because of loyalty, and partly because they lacked confidence to approach anyone else. Nikki fell completely within the latter category.

After lunch, Nikki went to Psychology and Drama, then after school to choir practice. She had an hour to herself then, before supper, and she changed from her uniform into yoga pants and a comfy t-shirt and hoodie. After supper she had dance lessons in the gym.

While she was in the cafeteria it started to rain, so instead of crossing the courtyard, she took the stairs to the second floor of the cafeteria building, walked the long hallway among the staff apartments, and went into the rec room. From there, she crossed the short skywalk, and went through Superbia house and the adjoining Fides house. Finally, another short skywalk brought her to the school. One of her favourite parts about RHM was that, barring sports, you never had to go out in the rain.

In the rec room later that evening, Nikki curled up on the couch and put on a movie with Rhys and Jasmine. Mark and a Grade 10 guy named Lucas came in just as it started. “Whatcha watching?” Lucas asked. Rhys shushed him fiercely. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Whatcha watching?”

“The Notebook,” smiled Jasmine.

“Whoah, not my thing,” said Lucas.

“Come on, Lucas,” said Mark, “Let’s go see if there’s a foosball table free yet.” They turned tail and went right back down the hall to the games room.

“Pity,” said Jasmine, “I kind of like Mark. Not like THAT, Nikki!” She rolled her eyes in response to Nikki’s sly look. Rhys shushed them angrily.

Nikki laughed. “He HAS got a nice accent.”

“I’ve got the same one,” protested Jasmine.

“Yours is nice too, but with his voice… I mean, wow.”

“Who?” Dixie, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Southern belle, and her French friend Ebony, entered from the direction of the girls’ dorms. “I’ve got all the gossip.”

“Mark Lawrence,” said Jasmine.

“Ooh, The Notebook,” said Dixie, glancing at the TV, “Scoot over, hun.” Rhys moved from the corner of the sectional up to the arm by the TV, straight across from Nikki, who was on the loveseat. Ebony sat where Rhys had been, and Jasmine remained at the other arm, directly facing the screen. Dixie plopped down right between them. “So, what’s all this about Mark Lawrence? Spill,” said Dixie. Rhys threw up her hands.

“Nikki was saying how much she liked his voice,” said Jasmine.

“Hey, I’m not the only one, missy!”

“Mmm. He IS pretty fine. Oh, excuse me.” Dixie took her vibrating phone out of her bra, read the text, and put it back. “Forget them, I’d rather stay here and chat with you all.” Rhys shook her head and groaned into her hands.

Down the hall in the games room, Mark beat Lucas horribly at foosball a few times, and moved on to air hockey with Robert. The rhythmic clink-clunk of the puck as it bounced around the table and the steady hum of the machine merged with the sounds of others playing arcade games, ping-pong, foosball, and x-box. “So, how’s Project Perfect going?” Mark asked.

“I didn’t talk to her today,” Robert responded.

“She’s out in the rec room now, watching a movie with some other girls, if you care.”

“Nah. I’m holding off a little bit at first, to ease her into it. It’s all part of the plan.”

The little plastic puck clink-rattled down mark’s goal and he raised his hands in admitted defeat. The boys reset the score counters and dropped the puck back in the middle, and the clink-clunking resumed.

“Well, first I’ll stop by and watch her riding again on my way to hockey tomorrow. I’ll head over a little early so I can stay a bit longer. Then, I’ll ‘happen’ to sit by her at the assembly on Friday, and if that goes well, ‘happen’ to sit by her on the bus to Helping the Homeless, too.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know. Life’s too unpredictable to plan any farther ahead than that.”

“So you have absolutely no idea where you’re going with this.”

“No, that much I know. It’s going to be friendship, popularity, perfection, relationship. I just don’t know how it’s going to get there, yet.”

“Hey, guys, it’s just about check-in,” said Mr. French, the math teacher from the fourth floor of Probita, who happened to be hanging around the games room at the moment. He and his wife had been Robert and Mark’s dorm parents back in grade 9. Robert looked at Mark and shrugged. Mark shrugged back. They finished their air hockey game and went to their room in Probita.

If you guys thinkthis isa good idea I can post the rest as I write it :D