“Hi.”
“Hi.”
-Silence-
“Your name’s Musoelo, right?”
“Masula.”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot.”
“Don’t worry, happens all the time.”
“Oh... That sucks...”
“No big deal.”
-Silence-
Damn, this is not going to be easy.
Yesterday, Gnat, Slug, and I decided to ask Shadow to join our No-club. Well, to be fair... I made them. I had to. A debt of honor so to speak as Shadow saved me the day before. To my surprise, Gnat had been totally against it. Somehow, he seems intimidated by this timid looking girl, but I persisted until he relented, sulking and muttering of cours.
Now standing opposite of her, I’m suddenly not so sure anymore. The more I talk, the more implausible it all seems—the Flintstones about to attack us, a No-club to protect us—it all sounds so childish when saying it out loud. Shadow doesn’t make it any easier. How can someone be so silent? I ask myself desperately. She only looks at me with those big brown eyes that don’t give anything away while I talk and talk until I finally fall silent halfway through a long, desperate sentence.
And then, the moment I think it’s all for nothing, she talks.
“Okay.”
“What?”
“Okay... sounds logical.”
“It does?”
“Of course.”
“So?”
“I’m in.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“Eh... good... eh... well, what next?”
“You have a plan, right?”
“Eh... kind of...”
During our exchange, Gnat has reluctantly moved closer, centimeter by centimeter, hands deep in the pockets of his gray pantaloons, shoulders hunched, looking his adversarial best.
“Hi,” says Shadow brightly. A sharp hiss is the only response. I hold my breath. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. But then, totally unexpected, a radiant smile breaks through on her face.
“You know, you always make me smile.” A series of quick-changing facial expressions distorts Gnat’s face in countless embarrassing ways.
“No... eh... you...” With little success, I try to keep a straight face. This complete loss of dignity alone would have made this endeavor worthwhile.
“Eh... I... am never really cheerful.”
Shadow’s laugh rolls over the black schoolyard. “I know, silly.” Gnat looks so totally lost by now that even I feel the need to rescue him. It would be cruel not to.
“Good,” I say quickly. “Now we know each other a bit better, we must talk about our plan. Slug, will you join us? Ah, there you are already.”
I’m well aware that explaining Shadow our No-club resembles a famous scene from one of Gran’s favorite World War II movies. A group of prisoners huddling together during their daily airing, preparing their spectacular and implausible escape.
When I’m finally ready, she simply says “okay,” smiles at Gnat, and starts to walk back to school. Gnat follows her without protest.
All this makes one thing abundantly clear: my worry that Shadow might not be able to stand her ground against me and Gnat seems totally unwarranted. Never underestimate an introvert.
Despite Gnat’s ominous predictions of violence and retribution, the days after our “founding meeting” are remarkably uneventful. Secretly, I hope the Flintstones have lost interest, but Gnat remains convinced that it’s the proverbial calm before the storm and that the longer that calm lasts, the more devastating the storm will be.
Deep in my heart, I know he’s right, but I decide not to give more oxygen to his already brightly burning fire of worst-case-scenario-conspiracy-theories. So our plan stays in place. We keep an eye out for each other, which not only turns out to be quite easy because of the strict school schedule, but also becomes second nature surprisingly quick.
Virtually always, there’s one of my No-club members within eyesight, most of the time all three of them, and because staying seperated becomes really weird really quick, we start to share lunch, hiding away at the fringes of the black schoolyard.
This doesn’t necessarily mean that the atmosphere is relaxed, or amicable. Far from it. We’re all socially challenged in our own way, and our ability to engage in small talk is virtually nonexistent. Most of the time, Gnat mutters and grumbles under his breath, and although Shadow seems to find that very amusing, she herself is extremely quiet. The only one who loves to talk is Slug, which is ironic, considering the speed with which he does it. Although his constant droning hardly reaches our consciousness anymore, it still has an exhausting effect. Especially Gnat has difficulties enduring another story about the track of the Monarch butterfly in South America or any other story with an almost extinct insect in the lead, but to our surprise, he hardly ever protests. Apart from some ominous crackling and a few poisonous remarks, he lets it pass, obviously aware of the fact that there’s no stopping or influencing Slug, who seems blissfully unaware of the effect he has on other people