I was walking the shoreline, wading through shallows, skirting a tumble of boulders below a limestone cliff when I noticed a shape that didn’t fit. At first, I thought it might be a couple from the party, hiding back in a rock cleft, necking or making out. Curious, I slowed, trying to see who was hiding there.

In jean cutoffs, A T and bare feet, I’d been wandering the beach, alone and seeking quiet. The second grad party at Darryl Graham’s family lakefront cottage was winding down, not to mention disappointing. The actual grad celebration had been a couple weeks earlier, after commencement back in June. I was eighteen, my graduation delayed, partly due to the pandemic, mostly because I skipped for a year to work, earning money for college. Along with three teachers, several students had lost a year thanks to COVID. The pandemic never reached the remote bush camp where I’d gotten a job logging with my older brother.

Not surprisingly, I didn’t have a date. From grade eight on, I was the ‘Mad Scientist’, the school geek, or nerd, or the ‘weirdo’ who loved to make noisy explosions. Sure. Just get me started and I could wax eloquent about explosives, chemical reactions and rocketry, or radioactive decay and nuclear weapons, or the devastation and chaos an Electro-Magnetic Pulse would cause; but, put me with an attractive, single female and I got tongue-tied, and I don’t mean while Frenching! So, this first week of July held out little hope of summer companionship before I started college. Besides that, the only single teens at the party were two skanky girls from grade nine. I didn’t want to become a daddy, or taking antibiotics for an STD, or end up in jail.

Almost everybody in the high school crowd drank beer to excess, and this night was no exception. Half the kids were sloppy drunk, several passed out before midnight, or paired off and making out with girlfriends. I avoided taking part in chugging contests, hating the taste of beer. One night in grade ten, I’d gotten drunk on three bottles, with subsequent results, puking that night and the next morning. That turned me off beer forever! Mind you, I still enjoyed red wine. One glass was enough to give me a pleasant buzz; and, enough to remind me of consequences if I indulged in a second. No thanks. There hadn’t been any wine at Darryl’s family cottage, only cases of beer and a cabinet of his dad’s vile hard liquor. So, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for partying.

Drunk, buzzed or sober, everybody seemed to have gotten paired off, judging by locked bedroom doors and couples wrapped in blankets off in shrubbery or between the sun deck and lake.

Alone, sober, single and disgusted by the teenage circus, I needed space and quiet, getting away from the circus. I was ankle deep in chilly water when I noticed the shadowy form.

Almost full, the moon appeared, scudding clouds moving off to the east. Shadows vanished for a moment. Right away, I sensed it wasn’t a couple back in a cleft between rocks, just a solitary figure huddled below the limestone cliff. Clouds blocked the moon again; but I’d clued to the shape being a girl. Knees drawn up, arms wrapped about legs, her face was hidden by a tumble of dark hair. That’s when I heard a snuffling whimper, then a quiet, choked sob.

Brandon to the rescue! A damsel in distress. I stood there, all but paralyzed. Thoughts racing, I guessed she had to be one of the party crowd. But, who?

‘Was she drunk?’ I wondered, staring at the indistinct form, uncertainty clouding reason. “Was she hiding? Had some guy tried something? Was she hurt?’

The Clouds broke apart and shadows vanished. Perhaps my feet sloshed in the water, though I don’t recall making a sound, but the head lifted, shaking back hair, features resolving in moonlight. Janet Fuller looked right at me and scowled.

“Go away!” she blurted, then choked down a sob. “Fuck off!”

I blinked, startled by her reaction. “Is something wrong?” I asked stupidly.

Well, duh? The girl’s crying. She’s hiding between boulders a fair distance from the cottage, and not with her latest jock boyfriend.

“For somebody so smart, You sure can be stupid!” she answered, snuffling, wiping wet cheeks with the back of one hand, pushing hair out of glaring eyes with the other.

“That’s me,” I replied jokingly, having heard that accusation on numerous occasions. “The brilliant idiot.” I forced a deprecating laugh. “Give me a physics problem, and I’m fine. Confronted by a gorgeous, weepy girl and I turn into a stupid clod.”

Not quite certain how that bit of insight surfaced, or how it managed to gain voice, I stared right back at her, my heart suddenly racing. To me, Janet Fuller was a vision of feminine loveliness, with wide, hazel eyes, heart-shaped features and lips that were too large for her face. Sure, she had mousey brown hair that was often in a snarled ponytail. Over the years, I’d heard some guys commenting that she was too skinny, flat, plain, even homely, which totally baffled me.

Voice becoming a little strangled, I asked, “so, what happened?”

Janet stopped glaring. She stopped moving ... even seemed to stop breathing. She just stared at me with those amazing eyes. “What?” she asked quietly, head tilting to one side as she regarded me, a puzzled look crossing her face. “What did you say?”

“Ah ... ummm ... what happened?” I replied, suddenly feeling an urge to bolt further up the lake.

“Before you said that,” she demanded.

Rattled, I tried to think, my mind somehow going blank... “Um ... what?”

“Gorgeous? Weepy girl?” Janet stated, emphasizing each word. “I’m not gorgeous! Andrew just finished telling me that I was plain, flat as a board and not even a good fuck! Then, I ran!” With that, she broke down, folding into her knees, shoulders heaving with each sob.

“Shit!” I muttered, leaving the water, stepping onto the wedge of creamy sand between rocks, cautiously approaching her. “That’s cruel!” I said, a snarl edging my voice. “I hope you kicked him in the nuts!”

Janet’s head jerked up. She sniffled, almost managing a laugh. “What?”

“I hope you kicked him in the nuts!” I repeated. “Crushed them flat!”

With a sniffle and sigh, Janet shook her head. “I just ran away, found this spot, feeling sorry for myself.”

“Want me to castrate him for you?” I ventured.

That time, she actually laughed. “That would be nice, but he’s a lot bigger than you Brandon. Thanks for the offer though.”

That comment about him being a lot bigger hurt, but on impulse, I squeezed in between her and a wall of rock. Janet shifted to the side a little, allowing me to sit close. Legs and hips touching, we fell silent.

Janet didn’t realize I’d been serious. After getting beaten up once in grade nine, I’d gotten into the habit of carrying a locking-blade Buck knife in a pocket. Of course, that could have gotten me expelled from school if discovered. It wasn’t. Getting a concussion and broken nose once was enough. I’d also determined I wasn’t going to continue being a victim. That year, I joined an adult Go Ju Ryu karate club in a neighbouring town, wanting to keep that aspect of my life a secret. Until I was sixteen and got my driver’s license, mom or dad provided transportation three nights a week. Now, after turning eighteen, I had my adult black belt. I’d earned my junior belt at fifteen, but, I still carried the Buck knife.

“Why are you out here?” Janet asked quietly, breaking our prolonged silence.

I forced a dry chuckle. “I don’t drink, and I don’t have a girlfriend,” I replied, giving a shrug that brushed her narrow shoulder. “I didn’t even want to come tonight. Darryl insisted I come. He wanted me keeping an eye out in case there was trouble.”

“You?” she asked with a hint of disbelief. “If there was trouble? What could you do? Half those guys are bigger than you. Some, like Andrew Andersen are bullies!”

Once again, her perception of my abilities hurt. I scowled, not happy that she thought I was still the nerd victim. “He knows I don’t drink,” I answered tightly. “So I’d be sober and know when to call 911 if there was a fight. He didn’t want his folks cottage getting trashed.”

“But, you’re out here, not babysitting Darryl ... or his party,” she observed.

I shrugged again, all too aware of her shoulder, along with the brush of her bare arm against mine, then of her legs, and where our hips were touching.

“Except for the music, it’s quieted down. Only a couple of spilled beers and one busted tumbler. Everybody is either passed out drunk or paired off and screwing.” I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice. “I needed to get away.”

“Everybody ... except you,” she murmured thoughtfully. “no girlfriend and you don’t drink ... wish I hadn’t.”

“You don’t sound drunk,” I commented.

“I sobered up fast when that asshole said those things,” she all but growled. “‘Sides, I only had three shots of tequila.”

I winced. “Christ, that stuff tastes like kerosene!”

She giggled. “You’ve tasted kerosene?”

“Only once, and that by accident,” I replied lightly, then temporized. “I like some red wines, like port, but only one glass. Don’t ever want another hangover.”

“From wine?”

“Naw, from three beers when I was in grade ten. That’s why I hate the stuff.” I hesitated, turning to look at her. Janet’s head turned at the same time and our noses almost collided. She jerked back and giggled. I stared, her features glowing. Even though moonlight didn’t show colours, I recalled her eyes, and the curious hazel that mingled green and gold and brown with a few streaks of blue. After six years of mooning over her, those colours and her features were well fixed in my eidetic memory. We were only twelve, but Janet Fuller was my first and only serious crush.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I mean, ... sorry that prick hurt your feelings.”

“Why should you be sorry?” she asked, looking puzzled. “Not your fault I’ve been stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid,” I protested. “He’s the stupid one! Your way too smart for a dumb ass like Andrew!”

Giggle. “Dumb ass is apt,” she muttered, then shook her head, staring right into my eyes, our faces only centimetres apart. “I’m not smart. Not like you. Evidenced by letting myself fall for another jock who only wanted an easy lay.”

“Christ, Janet, your way more intelligent than me!” I replied, then winced, realizing I’d said too much.

I stared right back, wishing I could see into her mind, wishing I knew what else I could say to make her feel better. Janet Fuller was more than smart. I knew, but couldn’t tell how I’d gleaned that bit of knowledge. If somebody discovered that I’d hacked into school computer records, there would have been more than expulsion. Even though I’d only been twelve at the time, I could have been arrested, possibly charged. Even if I got off with a slap on the wrist, my life would likely have been in ruins.

“More intelligent than you?” she replied, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Brandon, you graduated with a GPA of 4.0 and I’m only a 3.5! I’m intelligent, but not that smart.”

I grinned, suddenly realizing something. “We’re both intelligent but stupid,” I quipped. “Besides, it’s easy getting high marks when not distracted by a girlfriend.”

Giggle. “Is that why I scored lower?” she said teasingly, giving me a bright, melting smile. “Because I was constantly distracted by good-looking assholes?”

“Probably,” I agreed, absorbing a smile that reached into her eyes. “With your IQ, you should have been finished high school a few years ago, already in college or university!”

She blinked rapidly. In that instant, I knew that any tequila lingering in her system wasn’t interfering with the girl’s higher faculties.?An edge of suspicion bordering on sharpness, she asked, “how could you know that? College? University?”

“Ah ... ummm ... I just do,” I temporized, not daring admit the truth.

I’d only been twelve and in grade seven, but somewhat precocious when it came to computers. Early on, I’d been challenged, learning how to create sequential layers of VPN’s and hack systems. After sifting through a pile of downloaded school records, I’d learned that Janet had an IQ twenty points higher than mine. I’d been envious, and totally besotted, crushing on her since before grade eight, which was the main reason I’d gotten thoroughly punched out. In grade nine, Rob Evers had been saying some nasty things about her and I’d called him a lying asshole. Bad move on my part, since he was also a bully, twenty pounds heavier, a quarter metre taller, with raw, swift muscle. I never saw the punch that busted my nose. The concussion resulted from my head bouncing off concrete. Of course, Rob got expelled, not that it made me feel any better. On those times when nightmares woke me, I repeatedly tossed and turned, dwelling on thoughts of taking vengeance on Rob.

“You’re hiding something,” Janet said quietly. “I saw your eyes flicker, then you were looking distant. give.”

I shook my head slowly. “It’s ... just that I’ve always had a crush on you, so I noticed how bright you were in class, and ... and stuff like that.”

“A crush? On me?”

I nodded, blushing, deciding it was the perfect opportunity to confess. “Since grade seven. I knew you were smarter than me.”

“You had a crush because you thought I was smarter?” she asked with a note of disbelief. “What guy has a crush on a girl because she’s smarter? You’re weird, Brandon.”

“Yeh, that’s me,” I replied.

She squinted, studying me for a few seconds. “I remember that Rob Evers beat you up in grade nine. I heard it was because he was saying ... saying things about me and you called him a ‘lying asshole’. Is that true?”

Shoulders hunching, I nodded. “True,” I admitted.

“What did he say?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter,” I protested. “He was an asshole, and a bully.”

“I know,” Janet sighed. “He said I was desperate and an easy lay,” she recited, sounding defeated and sad. “He wasn’t lying, Brandon. I let him pop my cherry. He fucked me and bragged about it to everybody.”

“But why?” I blurted. “God, Janet, you’re so bright, and so damn pretty! Why?”

She snuffled, hiccupped and took a few deep breaths. “Thanks, Brandon, but the truth is, I’m plain and don’t have big boobs. My mom has been divorced three times and always has a new boyfriend. I guess, I was lonely and desperate, just like the guys say. Just wanted somebody to care.”

“God, Jan, I’ve always cared!” I confessed in a moment of clarity. “I don’t care if you have small boobs, and I never thought you were plain. I fell for you because of your brains ... well ... that, and your eyes...”

“My eyes?” she asked, perking up, sniffing and wiping away more tears, smiling again.