Chapter 2

Four months of the year from April through July, Charlie worked for Augusto Montero at the nursery for three hours in the afternoon after school and on Saturdays. The old Panamanian immigrant was about the nicest guy Charlie had ever met and the man never once looked at his face like he saw anything wrong with it. It was enjoyable work if unchallenging and earned him a hundred bucks a week to spend on his electronic toys. Two weeks before the end of the school year, he told the old man that he'd have to miss work the next day because they were having rehearsal for the graduation exercises after school.

Charlie's academic achievements put him in the top spot to be chosen as valedictorian but for obvious reasons, he wouldn't accept. He was so shy of the limelight that he went to the principal and specifically asked that he not be singled out in any way during the ceremonies. She'd gathered a full page of his academic accomplishments to read out at the graduation and flatly refused his request until he made it clear that he wouldn't even show up unless she agreed. Reluctantly she yielded but pointed out that there was no one more qualified for the honors and that Charlie couldn't spend the rest of his life living in the shadows.

As he was jogging home from the rehearsal, Tracy drove up along side and asked if he'd like a ride home. He thanked her for the offer but said he'd prefer to run.

"Please," she pleaded through the window, "I want to ask you about something."

He looked at her for a moment and then shrugged, climbing into the passenger seat. "About what?" he asked.

"Um, how come you didn't come to my birthday party last Friday? And don't give me that crap about being sick. You never get sick."

"So who says I was sick?"

"Well, that's what your mom told my mom."

"Then my mom was lying."

"So why didn't you come?'

"Get real, Tracy! I know you wouldn't have asked me if your mom hadn't pressured you into it."

"That's not true, Charlie." But he could tell by the way she wouldn't look at him she'd been caught in a fib. "Well, I would have asked you anyhow."

"Not likely! Aren't you and 'Cool Dude Luke' supposed to be an item now days?"

"No! We've had a couple of dates but, as far as I'm concerned, he's just a stuck-up snob. His dad must own half the town and he never lets you forget it. And anyhow, what's that got to do with inviting you to a birthday party? Were you planning to ask me to marry you or something? You're two years younger than me for god's sake!"

Charlie had just been caught with his fantasies around his ankles. "Well then, thanks for the invitation to spend quality time with you and your friends but, why would I do that to myself? I can live without the stares and the snickers. You can let me out here. I'll run the rest of the way."

As Charlie got out of the car, she said, "You know what, Charlie Werther? You're just as much of a shit as Luke! Just a different kind!" As soon as the car door closed, she hit the gas and laid down a strip of rubber. Charlie shook his head and picked up his jog where he left off.

One of the things he really liked about running was that he did some of his best thinking as his brain was being flushed and cleaned with a constant supply of fresh blood. To him, it was like meditating on the move. Certainly he focused on lots of topics but one he came back to repeatedly was 'What is it, exactly, that makes a person attractive?'

He'd read books about it. In general, as far as physical attractiveness was concerned, it could be summed up in one word – symmetry. Especially with facial features, if one side didn't match up to the other, people wouldn't spend much time looking at it. That is, unless it was way out of whack, in which case they spent too much time looking at it; usually with some expression of revulsion they couldn't hide quite fast enough.

But Charlie knew from his obsessive reading that there were other things that attracted people. Probably chief among them were wealth, power and social status. He knew he'd never be physically attractive in women's eyes but if he became a big financial success, he'd probably have all the female companionship he wanted. The only thing that bothered him about that idea was that the attraction would likely be superficial, having no more depth of feeling than a prostitute has for a moneyed-up John. Still, it was probably better than a sexless life. After all, his face had nothing to do with his hormone levels and his libido was very much in tact, thank you.

That wasn't what he wanted, though. He wanted something real, a true love in his life where a girl wanted him for what he was inside. That, of course, meant he'd need to spend enough time with her that she could get past the outside. Not so easy when people go out of their way to avoid you.

His mom was in the kitchen when he walked through on the way to his room. "You shouldn't be lying to Tracy's mom to make excuses for me. I don't need that kind of help. I don't want it either."

When he sat down at his computer to check his e-mail, the newest one on the list was from Tracy. He was a little surprised at its contents when he clicked on it:

Hi Charlie. Sorry for calling you a shit. Anyhow, I didn't offer you a ride to ask you about the birthday party. What I was really going to ask you was for some help with my math. I'm not doing so hot and I'm afraid I'm about to fail. I'll understand if you don't want to do it. Tracy

His first inclination was to delete it and forget it but then he got to thinking: 'Why should I be as small-minded as them? You're better than that, Charlie!' He clicked 'Reply' and typed:

Come over about seven and I'll see what I can do.

He went to the rest of his e-mail and answered several notes from various pen pals around the world. He loved accumulating contacts everywhere because they usually had something interesting to say and nobody gave a damn what you looked like. As he was about to click on his web browser, a reply from Tracy popped onto the list:

Thanks, seven it is!

Now that he'd committed himself, he was starting to feel anxious about being that close to a girl for more than a momentary encounter. He couldn't deny he thought she was attractive and she'd never, as far as he knew, stooped to sleazy remarks about his looks. He shook it off. Anyhow, it was help with her math she was asking for, not a relationship. And she was 'an older woman', even if they were classmates. There was no reason he couldn't manage that.

He and his mom were cleaning up after dinner when Tracy rang the doorbell. Charlie answered the door and showed her into the kitchen where they could work at the dinette table.

"Hi, Mrs. Werther," Tracy smiled.

"Hi, Tracy. Charlie says you're here for a little math tutoring. I was the same way. Its nice to have a genius in the family."

Charlie shot her a look of frustration. "Mom! Do you mind?"

"Sorry, Charlie. You know what? I have to do some baking for the church fund-raiser tomorrow and I'm going to be banging things around in here for a while. Maybe you guys should go up to your room to work."

"OK by me," Tracy agreed. "That's if it's OK with Charlie."

"Sure. Let's go."

The first surprise as she followed Charlie into his room was that it was clean and neat. "Wow! Your mom must be quite the housekeeper to tackle a boy's room. My mom steers a wide path around my brother's for fear of uncovering alien life forms."

"Mom doesn't step foot in my room. I just prefer neatness over chaos."