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Steph woke up, still annoyed from last night. She had waited for Pete for over two hours, sure, studying in the meantime, but still, it was a dick move to just leave her waiting with nothing to do.
She had gone to school annoyed, hoping to talk to him about it, even if just to yell at him to make herself feel better. He was nowhere, a ghost. Not just that, she couldn’t find any of his friends either. For the whole day, Hatchetfield High was nerd-free. It was like she was living in Jägerman’s wet dream. Gross.
Her classes passed in their usual agony of boredom, the lunch bell was her salvation. She walked out of her fourth period class with Stacy and Brenda in tow, chatting about what had happened yesterday.
“He said he’d be there in 20 minutes and he never showed. I was there waiting all night, I ended up studying out of sheer boredom.”
“Ew.”
“Well, maybe you scared him off, Steph. Pasquali’s? You save that place for like the fifth date.”
“That’s where you go before the first blowie! Everyone knows that.”
“And he still stood you up, girl! That must be so embarrassing for you.”
“It wasn’t a date, Brenda.”
“Sure Steph, keep telling yourself that. Who is this guy, anyway? Standing up the mayor’s daughter like he’s got no fucks to give. Not gonna lie, that’s really sexy.” She could’ve laughed. If Pete was anything, sexy was sure not it. Cute, maybe, but sexy?
“He’s not sexy, it’s Peter,” they clearly didn’t recognise his name, “Spankoffski.”
“Oh my god, the fucking bow tie kid?” At least Brenda knew who he was.
“Steph, I know he’s rich but money isn’t everything, looks are.”
“And like, if you’re on the football team.”
“Oh my god, I can wait for the big game!” They squealed in unison.
“You have to see our new cheer, it’s so fab.” They started doing some choreographed movement, but she quickly stopped them.
“Uh, not right now, Stace. Hey uh, have you seen… any of the nerds around?” They thought for a moment and then, together, responded no. Stacy seemed confused, so she explained, “I was looking for Pete earlier, but I couldn’t find him.”
“Maybe ask Max?” Brenda suggested, “He’s usually tormenting them enough to know what they’re doing.”
Steph walked off to go find him, leaving the two to their own conversation. He was sitting with Kyle and Jason and a few other members of the football team.
“Max, have you Pete around?” He snickered, she was not amused.
“He didn’t show up for your date last night?”
“It wasn’t a date.” She was already getting sick of having to say it.
His smirk dropped to something more neutral, “nah, I haven’t seen him.”
“Have you seen any of the nerds today?” She opened the question to the rest of them. Anyone that was listening, shook their heads, except for Jason, who eventually spoke.
“I saw Richie just after 1st period. Haven’t seen the others.” Max turned to glare at him. “I let him off with a warning.”
“You did what?”
“Yeah, alright, thanks Jace!” She was more than happy to turn around and walk right off, she felt kind of bad for indirectly causing whatever would happen to him but that’s what you get for being friends with Max in the first place.
She knew the nerds often hung out in chill teachers’ classrooms at lunch when they didn’t want to be bothered, so she went to go look. Most of the science rooms were empty, save for one maybe half full of year 11 kids who had stayed behind to ask questions and do extra credit work. The math rooms were empty, which did not surprise her at all, most of the teachers were hard asses. But unfortunately for her, she was out of ideas.
Sure, she could go check the English rooms but that was on the other side of the school and she really didn’t care enough to walk all the way there just to talk. She’d find him tomorrow anyways, maybe camp outside his first period class, or something.
On her way back to go back and find her friends again, she passed by the art rooms. The room at the end of the row, the one with all the photography stuff, had all its blinds drawn and, as she got closer, she saw that the door had been blocked by something so that truly no light could get in. It looked about right, and didn’t Richie carry around his camera all the time? She vaguely recalled that he did art, so it was probably worth a shot.
The door was unlocked, as she opened it, the black fabric poorly attached to the top to block out light fell to the ground. She didn’t bother fixing it, instead stepping over it and closing the door behind herself, with it just lying there sadly.
“Pete?” She couldn’t see anyone in the room, but there had to be at least a reason it was so dark inside. The art rooms already had shitty lighting, she had no idea why someone would choose to actively make it worse. No one responded to her, but there was the sound of something sliding along the floor, then a door gently creaking and shutting closed, so there was someone here.
After an almost embarrassing amount of time blindly groping at the wall, she eventually found the light switch and flicked it on. She hadn’t actually been in the art rooms in years. But it was nice to see all the artworks that had been displayed on shelves or hung up and pinned on the walls.
“Richie?” She stepped further into the room, looking around lost until she spotted a windowless internal door to the darkroom, which had probably just closed. As her hand reached towards it, resting on the handle, the person inside finally spoke.
“Leave me alone.” Richie’s tone was kind of snarky and rude, like it always fucking was when he'd talk to her. There was something tense underlying his voice, a deeper grievance beyond plain annoyance at being bothered. She pushed anyways.
She opened the door and froze. Most of the room was bathed in soft red coming from the safelights, though the open doorway let in the room’s cool white light as well. He was lent over the counter top, upper body stripped to just an undershirt which had ridden up in the back. Poking out from underneath it were dark greenish tentacles, thick at the base and slowly thinning with clubbed ends covered in stalked suckers, clumped together on the underside of the manus. On the topside, they were covered in what looked like eyes with lighter sclera and deep irises.
His head turned to look at her, surprised, and then his face fell to something more like fear.
“Close the door! You’re ruining my prints.” Slowly, too slowly for his liking, she closed the door, with her on the inside. The safelights suddenly went out, and the room was left in total darkness. She couldn’t see much of anything anymore, but the image was burned into her mind. She was lost for words, standing, staring, her mind surprisingly absent of thought. It was like she was paused in time, stuck in the moment for what could be forever.
“What do you want?” He seemed weirdly less bothered than he probably should be. Someone knows his big secret. But then again, he could very easily threaten her into silence. Hell, he could tell her that he was secretly an inter-dimensional god and she'd have no choice but to believe him, it’s not like she knew any better.
She didn’t respond to his question, she was lost within her own head. She stepped back, unsure, only coming back to reality as she felt something against the side of her calf. Out of instinct, she shifted away, inadvertently moving closer as the tentacle curled around behind her legs.
“What the fuck?!” When her thoughts finally did return, they were a mess, a flurry of confusion and uncertainty and disbelief. She looked down towards the tentacle, then vaguely at Richie, then back and forth again.
He was just as surprised as her. He was glad the lights were out with how hot his face was, he was sure his whole face was flushed red. He stepped forwards, reaching and grabbing his own appendage back, he really wasn’t sure what else he could do. This had never happened before. Whenever they were out around Pete and Ruth, they were just curious, sometimes affectionate, never like this.
“I… can’t control them.” It was a weak explanation, but it was true, he had no proper cognitive control over what they do. They acted on his subconscious instinct, much to his near constant dismay.
“Richie, what the fuck!?” She repeated, having no clue what she could possibly say. She barely heard him, too in her own mind fuck to register anything. Sure, she believed in ghosts and aliens and maybe other realities, but if anyone she knew was going to be any form of non-human, Richie wouldn’t have even made top 100.
“This is why I told you to leave me alone!” He grabbed another tentacle that got too close to her, struggling to keep them contained. Of course, he had no real way of knowing this was going to happen, but she didn’t need to know that.
“How was I supposed to know you’re some kind of,” she reached for an applicable word, “alien thing!“
“Not what I am,” he said it with more snark than usual, like she was stupid for not instantly knowing. As if she were the weird one here, and he wasn’t.
She paused, “what are you?”
“Not important.”
“I’d argue it’s very important.”
“It isn’t.” There was a strange yellowish glow from his eyes, each patterned sclera faintly glowing and then, with an uncomfortable groan from Richie, shutting. His hands were stuck over the eyes on his head, forcing them shut. In a wave, the light dimmed to blackness. He puts his hands down. “Sorry.”
“Can you turn those red lights back on? I can’t see shit.” She could feel the movement in the room around her, it was unsettling her. Another tentacle grazed against her inner thigh, then was roughly forced away.
“That’s the point. I like the dark.” He liked the concealment, being looked at was awful and he hated being perceived. He hated being looked at like this, all the questions that came with it, all the questions he could barely answer because he didn’t really know the truth either.
“Just do it, would you.” Against his will, one of his tentacles flicked on the nearest safelight, illuminating his form. He covered his face with his right hand, not wanting to see her look at him. He could feel her eyes on him, boring holes along his body. His left arm was holding back 4 or 5 tentacles now, the hand going for the one that just turned the light on. The rest were spread out across the floor, either staying close to him or exploring the room away from her.
It was kind of nice seeing that, in his own weird as hell way, he cared even a little bit about her comfort. Richie was by far her least favourite of the nerds, he was always so snide and pretentious, if she had asked to cheat off of him, he would have laughed in her face and left her to fail. But maybe he wasn’t a total dick all of the time, he was probably better than Max, at least.
She realised that she was staring at him, not even at the obviously more interesting part of him or anything, just his face. The way it was half turned away, leaving only splayed fingertips and the side of his cheek really visible. The way his hair stuck up, unruly at parts and fell over more neatly at others. It looked so dark under the red light, contrasting against his much lighter skin. His ear was pierced. She had never noticed before. He turned his head slightly towards her, allowing her to see the slope of his nose, the edge of his mouth, his teeth as he spoke.
“Are you just going to keep staring at me?” Actually, scratch that, he’s awful and she would never like him. He wasn’t even looking at her, he was just blindly guessing that she was! She so wished she could return an ounce of his snark and pompously deny it, but he was, as infuriating as it was, right.
“No,” she averted her gaze quickly, “just keep your tentacles off me.” Richie huffed and dropped the armful he was holding, letting them wander back towards her in open defiance of her wishes. Yeah, it was far from the nicest thing he could have done, but it’s not like he wanted her to stay.
“You are such a dick." He was quiet for a moment, before he put his hands down by his sides and spoke.
“Look, can you go?” His bluntness was not met well. Steph dropped her hands to her hips, cocking her head at him out of incredulity. Her eyebrows were raised and her mouth was half open.
“No.” She stepped closer to him, brazenly, in contempt of him. She tried to pay no mind to the tentacles writhing across the floor towards her, but the intensive way she was looking at the ground gave her away.
“Just wait outside for like two seconds, will you?” He was being condescending again. She scoffed, threw up her hands in mock defeat and opened the door, stepping out and closing it quickly as she heard him recoil, the thud of his hands hitting the counter top and a muffled pained sound.
Her eyes had to adjust to how bright the art room was, and how colourful it was. For a bit, it was very green, until she blinked enough for the colour receptors in her eyes to go back to normal. She was left to look vaguely around the room while she waited for him. She sat on one of the nearby tables, her side to the darkroom’s door. The front of the room was covered in posters of basic art theory concepts and various artworks of different skill levels. The side shelves held sculptures and various art making supplies she couldn’t name off the top of her head. The back of the room was covered in past and current photography work, some hidden by another shelf holding stacks of similar looking A3 spiral bound books and a large drying rack off towards the corner.
Then the door opened and her attention was brought back to him. His hand was over his eyes, letting them slowly readjust to the bright light. He was back in his absurd number of layers, an overshirt, an over-overshirt, and a vest on top of that because 3 shirts wasn’t enough clearly. He looked mostly normal, almost human and completely tentacle-less. He looked uncomfortable and weird, but to be fair to him, he always did. He raised his eyebrows at her, she stared blankly back and he rolled his eyes.
“You better not tell anyone.” He wasn’t looking at her, he was staring somewhere meaningless.
“I don’t think anyone would believe me if I did.” Who knows, maybe people would, superstition was a weird thing in Hatchetfield. She didn’t care enough to find out. It was a moment before he spoke again, leaving awkwardness in the meantime.
“I’m surprised you didn’t freak out more.”
“Thank you?” If the way he huffed and muttered something she couldn’t understand was anything to go by, it wasn’t supposed to be a compliment.
“It took Ruth and Pete like two weeks to talk to me normally after I showed them.” It had been the first time someone had ever intentionally seen what he was. Ruth had thought it was actually kind of cool, she came around quickly. Pete took a little longer, it was rough for a bit, but everything was normal now.
“So, they know what you are?”
“No. They know as much as you do.” She was surprised, as though she expected him to be far more open than he ever would be.
“You haven’t told them? Why?”
“Because it doesn’t matter. What does it change if I’m an Architeuthid or a Loliginid?”
“Fair enough.” He was a little shocked at how easily she dropped it. Usually people weren’t so easy, they’d fight and argue and do anything to prove themselves right, no matter what. Her agreeableness was strange, his shock quickly turned to suspicion.
“...Are you human?” Steph laughed and all of a sudden, he felt silly. Something twisted in his stomach. He didn’t like the feeling.
“You’re weird.” She leaned closer to him, his eyes narrowed.
“Forgive me for not perfectly conforming to your social conventions. You can’t even cut me a little slack?” There was not a hint of remorse in his voice.
“Fine. You’re,” she genuinely couldn’t think of anything to say, "cute, at least." She didn’t mean to say it, but oh well, she was sure she could play it off as a joke he misinterpreted. She didn’t even know why she said it, it was just the first thing that popped into her mind.
Richie was silent, standing horrifyingly still, looking at her with a mix of flustered confusion and genuine shock. She waited for him to say something, waited for almost a full minute in dreadful silence, just waiting. He refused to budge.
“Hello?” She waved her hand in front of his face, watching, now somewhat annoyed, as his eyes tracked it, and yet he still wasn’t moving or saying anything. It was starting to get creepy.
“I gave you one compliment and you break?” She laughed, but her demeanour quickly cracked to nervousness as he still refused to react. “Uh, earth to Richie??” Finally, he blinked back to reality, his face resetting to its usual vaguely discontented expression. He narrowed his gaze, she shifted, uncomfortable.
“I was just joking,” she tried, though for some reason she couldn’t quite shake an uncharacteristic nervousness.
“No.”
“…And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You weren’t joking. You were being genuine.” He seemed so eerily certain, it was off-putting.
“I think I know what I meant better than you do.”
“You just lied. Your pulse suddenly increased and you averted your gaze.” For a moment she was perturbed. He wasn’t even looking at her eyes, nor anywhere her face. She regained her composure quickly, crossing her arms.
“So, what if I meant it?” Richie paused for a moment, collating his thoughts.
“I’d say you’re the weird one.” He finally turned his head and looked at her, she aptly met his gaze.
“Hey, I’m not the one hiding a bunch of tentacles.” She held her palms up in a careless gesture.
“You think I’m cute.” He said, like it was the strangest thing in the world. Like he had never seen himself. Like he thought himself special because of it.
“Oh, get over yourself! I find micro-peter cute too, you’re not exactly special.” His face fell. Maybe she shouldn’t have used his best friends humiliating nickname. She knew Pete hated it, Richie probably did too.
“You can go now.” She seemed almost surprised at how seriously he took it. Regardless, she scoffed, stepped back and turned away, not bothering to fight with him.
“Bitch.” He muttered it under his breath, though clearly her hearing was better than he expected.
“What did you say?” She suddenly turned towards him, walking until he was pressed against the wall. His confident demeanour turned scared.
“Nothing.” She furrowed her brows, taking another step closer to him. Their noses were hardly a few centimetres apart. She let out a breathy laugh, Richie was not impressed, though there was a noticeable flush in his cheeks.
“And what's funny?” Her soft smile dropped, she looked angry again. She rolled her eyes.
“Never mind.” She stepped away, sighing, as if disappointed, though he couldn't fathom why. “See you around, shit lips.”
“It’s Lipschitz.”
“I know,” she called out as she left the room, not closing the door behind her or turning the lights off, leaving him to do it himself. As soon as he returned to the darkroom, he was back with his elbows against the counter, his head in his hands.
Steph left the art room, very suddenly realising that she never asked the one question she was supposed to and she was still none the wiser on where Pete was. In her defence, there were more pressing questions to ask in the moment, more still that she hadn’t received proper answers for.
As she was walking back to go find her friends, there were footsteps behind her that sped up and grew louder. She looked back, seeing Jason. She stopped and let him catch up to her, waiting for him to speak.
“Did you find Richie?” She wanted to say yes, to tell him everything she now knew about him, but he would never forgive her if she said anything.
“…No,” she shrugged, feigning being unbothered, “I’ll see if I can find him tomorrow.”
“Alright,” Jason began talking about something she was only kind of paying attention to, walking with her until he eventually split off. Somewhere along the way, she had begun thinking about Richie again. She tried to shake him from her head, but like a suckerfish to a shark, he was firmly attached. Damn nerds.