The Suicidal Peanut

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

“Because,” Tab fumbled, staring at the loops and whorls of the statuette, “it’s not just one being, is it? It’s, um, it’s two beings. Only they’re joined as one because, um…um, the idea is that people together are more powerful than people apart. That love is more powerful than…um, I don’t know, than like magnetism for joining stuff up. For good.”

The God of Totally Winging It eyed the sculpture sceptically…then nodded. One of Tab’s few benefactors. “Very good,” the lecturer smiled. “Does anyone have a rebuttal for that approach?”

Tab couldn’t care less, and dropped his gaze back to his pad. He’d offer up a sacrifice to the God of Totally Winging It when he got home. For now, he had ideas to get on the paper.

He’d been sketching round things all through her wittering on (he couldn’t care less about postmodernist sculpture!) practising for the gloves on his portrait. For when he could eventually get some actual luck and get a picture of Nick boxing. And not get his face boxed, or the attention of the God of Being Beaten Up By Crushes on a bad day. (He had been beaten up by a crush once, and it had bloody hurt. But it had made the crush go away, so…)

“Weasel,” Maxi whispered, and peered at his paper. “Got ideas, then?”

“Mm.”

“Who’re you drawing?”

“None of yours.”

“Might be.”

“Miss Jones, am I interrupting?”

“Sorry,” Maxi said. Liar. “Just so you know,” she added in a lower whisper. “My offer stands. I could totally hook you up with Demi.”

“With your loser brother? No thanks.”

“He’s cuuuuute,” Maxi said encouragingly.

So was Nick. Beyond cute. And Tab could dream, right? Who needed boyfriends when you had dream boyfriends? Dream boyfriends didn’t forget anniversaries or birthdays, and they always brought presents and flowers, and paid for the date, and didn’t get jealous or grumpy or bored, and…okay, maybe they didn’t actually talk to you, you know, in real life, but who needed real life? Tab’s fantasy life was doing so much better than that. Tab’s fantasy life was awesome.

“Male you, and he was meh.”

“His boyfriend doesn’t think he’s meh,” Maxi said in a snotty tone. “I’ll give you his number.”

She tried to take his phone; Tab snatched it back. “No. And why would I want to be set up with a guy who has a boyfriend?”

“Because his boyfriend is a complete d**k,” Maxi said seriously, and huffed. The college bell rang, and she gathered her papers into her ample chest. They crumpled feebly. “Seriously, he’s such a jerk, and Demi just lets him be a jerk, I’ve told him to dump him on his gay arse, but…”

Tab tuned her out, staunchly protecting his phone by putting it into the zipped pocket of his bag as they headed towards their favourite café. It was sunny, but really cold, and he huddled into his jacket and wondered if it would be okay if he bailed on Maxi and went to the gym early. He could turn the little space heater on under the desk and warm his feet, and draw comics for a bit. The Inspiration Acolytes had been buzzing since that morning, and he flipped open his sketchbook again as they found a table.

“Cappuccino?”

“Please. Extra shot of espresso?”

“Got it.”

It was January. The assignment was due only three days before Tab’s eighteenth, and Maxi was already making noises about doing something. Tab didn’t want to—he was awkward with people, and he didn’t relish the idea of a big party like the ones Maxi threw—but then maybe he should let her organise something little. Pub drinks or something. Maybe…Tab toyed with the edges of his page of doodles. Maybe he should let her plan something, and drag her gay brother to it. Maybe he wouldn’t have a boyfriend anymore, and that Tab had reached almost-eighteen without ever having a boyfriend was criminal. It was abnormal and wrong and weird and it wasn’t like Nick was going to spontaneously go gay just in time for Tab’s birthday. Or, you know, ever.

“There,” Maxi plonked the cups down. “But like I was saying, Demi seriously needs to dump his boyfriend. The guy cheated on him last summer, and Demi just let him get away with it!”

“What a jerk,” Tab said obediently. He was half-listening. He wasn’t blessed much, but the Demons of Procrastination were his friends, and one of them was named…well, whatever the ancient Aramaic word for ‘listening with half an ear’ was.

“Even Mum doesn’t like him,” Maxi continued, stirring her coffee noisily. “I mean, Mum likes everybody, she even likes you and she’s never met you, so…”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, he claims he really likes this one—and I want to say give love a chance and everything, right…”

“Sounds nice.”

“But he cheated, Tab, that’s just s**t!”

“What a cunt.”

“You’re not even listening.”

“Huh?”

“Exactly,” Maxi said loftily, sipping at her coffee. “You never are once you get scribbling. What are you scribbling?”

“Mm,” Tab hummed, fishing for a different, thicker pencil and finding a stub. It would do; he started to sketch the road and traffic lights outside. It was the main road running into town, but the lights changed every thirty seconds because of all the college students wandering off into the housing estate on the other side.

“So did you ask your boxer if you could take a picture?”

“Haven’t seen him since,” Tab lied.

“Taaaaab,” Maxi whined, and prodded him in the arm with a fingernail like a claw. “You need to get that sorted, you know. You do so many build-up sketches; it takes you ages to…”

“I know,” he mumbled, drawing a thick circle for the green light. He didn’t like it, and used tiny, flicking lines for the amber one. “I can start practising portraiture without him, though.”

“So, what’s his name?”

“No, Maxi.”

“No? That’s a weird name.”

He rolled his eyes at her; she simply beamed back and eyed his traffic lights. “You’re not finding out,” he said.

“Why not?” she pouted.

“Because you’ll cause trouble and try to come to the gym and tell him.”

“Of course I will!” she said, and Tab sighed. Really, did she have to be so honest? She really would make an amazing villainess. Maybe he could write her into his first big comic series, once he was a really famous artist. Or into his cartoon strip, when he was a famous cartoonist. Maybe launch a whole new strip with her. He could imagine the revealing costume now. And her name would have to be a pun on Maxi. Or tampon. “You totally fancy him.”

“Which is totally irrelevant, because he’s straight,” Tab insisted.

“Why can’t you find a guy here? There’s loads of gay guys here. Half the dance group are gay.”

“Yeah, the male half,” Tab smirked, and turned the tables. “Not your sexy redhead.”

“Oh shut your face,” she blew on her coffee, but pinked delicately. “You seriously need a boyfriend.”

“And you don’t?”

“I’m a strong, independent woman and I do not need a man to complete me,” she recited faithfully. “You are a sad lonely dweeb who draws comics all day and has a crush on a straight guy.”

“Who could break my face.”

“Who could break your face,” she agreed.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to date your brother.”

“Or even just talk to him?”

“Or even that,” Tab insisted ruthlessly. “I’m not hitting on a guy I’ve never met, who looks about average, and who has a boyfriend. Which, ironically, would make him a cheater, too, and not just his d**k of a boyfriend. See? I was listening.”

Maxi pouted, but Tab was resolute. There was no point. And anyway, even if Maxi’s brother was drop-dead gorgeous, he wasn’t Nick.

“It’s not happening,” he said, and started shading the red traffic light with dots. He liked that method. Maybe he’d draw Nick in dots.

“You suck,” Maxi informed him.

Outside, the skies belched, and it began to rain.