Malcolm and Juliet (13 page)

‘You’ll be fine,’ Juliet assured him. ‘Have you two planned your celebrations yet?’

‘Um, not really.’ Juliet noticed Malcolm’s ears turn red.

‘Something appropriate I hope,’ she teased. Charlotte and Malcolm looked at one another but neither spoke. Kevin arrived just in time.

‘Kevin, how’s it going?’

‘I’ve heard seven different people refer to me as “The Naked Guy” already,’ he told them, looking none too happy with the score.

‘Tell me about it,’ Charlotte said. ‘A guy invited me to look at his yacht.’

‘There’s one guy who keeps following me around,’ Kevin told them. ‘See, over there.’

He pointed to a boy about their age, with long, red tousled hair and the beginnings of a beard. The hairy one turned away as soon as they looked.

‘Hey, he’s that guy from the restaurant. Our waiter,’ Juliet told him. ‘He will have just recognised you from that. Oh no, he’s looking again. Yes, there’s definitely something going on there. Might be your lucky night.’

‘What? Malcolm, you promised you wouldn’t tell!’

‘Tell what?’ Juliet faked, but her grin gave her away.

‘I’d already told her, before I promised,’ Malcolm explained.

‘And I haven’t told a soul. Hey, it’s almost creepy. Look at him. We could call security.’ He was staring quite openly this time. ‘Or we could go over and reintroduce ourselves.’

‘No,’ Kevin assured them. ‘I’m a one man guy. It’s just the way I am.’

Before Juliet could take it further Malcolm’s parents hurried over, looking even more excited than usual.

‘Hello Juliet dear,’ Malcolm’s mother said. ‘Isn’t this all just wonderful? Have people been recognising you from the film?’

‘A few.’

‘They’ve recognised me,’ Kevin told her.

‘Well I hope you’re making the very most of it then.’

‘I’m spoken for.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t let that worry you,’ she answered, producing a much scribbled upon page from a notebook. ‘Look at this. I’ve already collected eleven phone numbers.’

‘And how do you feel about this, Frank?’ Juliet asked Malcolm’s father.

‘Oh you know,’ he smiled.

And Charlotte, who hadn’t met Malcolm’s parents before, blushed.

‘Um, I think it’s time to eat,’ Kevin said. Juliet looked over to where people had begun circling the long tables, looking for their place names.

The dinner was a mistake on a number of fronts. To begin with the exhibit hall was the wrong place for food, with the sounds of their eating echoing in the high rafters and the many smells of scientific endeavour filling the air. Then there was the food itself, chosen as it was by the Royal Society of Scientists’ organising committee. Careful, balanced, tasteless fare. All around her Juliet watched people chewing with joyless purpose.

The biggest problem though was the timing of the thing. Nobody present was particularly interested in eating right then. They just wanted to hear who had won what. They wanted to witness the glory being apportioned, and the money. In Juliet’s case, there was definitely the money.

So the meal slowed time to a painful crawl, but in deference to the principles of Science, it could not stop completely. Eventually the moment arrived. The convener of the judging panel, an expert on molluscs, walked to the stage, followed by the city’s mayor, who would be called upon to shake the winners’ hands. The judge stood before the microphone, cleared her throat and, sensing a captive audience, proceeded to speak for a full ten minutes, with much conviction but little fluency, on the joys of Science.

The longer she spoke the more nervous Malcolm became. Charlotte watched him twitching with the pressure and loved him all the more. Juliet worked one more time through the exact words she would use to confess her academic deception to her father. And Kevin tried to avoid the gaze of his hirsute admirer, who was by some twist of fate sitting exactly opposite him.

‘And now it is my happy privilege to announce the winners of this year’s National Science Fair.’

Malcolm stiffened, then shook with tiny spasms of anticipation and fear.

‘Sit still dear,’ his mother whispered. ‘It makes you look simple.’

‘…and in third place, from Wanganui, Melissa Stocking and her entry
Moons, tides and the Maori fishing calendar.’
Culturally safe applause rippled through the room while Melissa stood, trying to clear her face of the harsh truth. Third place wasn’t even first among losers. She stepped forward and received her handshake, certificate and cheque for $100.

‘Marvellous, Melissa,’ the convener oozed. ‘You’ve taught us all a great deal about a fascinating subject. And speaking of fascinating subjects, this year’s second placed entry certainly captured your attention, if the crowds around the exhibit this afternoon were anything to go by. Second place, for the second year in a row, and on the second day of the month I might add…’

She stretched the joke even further but Malcolm didn’t hear it, any more than he heard his name being called, or felt the pats of congratulation and condolence from friends and family. All he could hear was the sound of his world slipping off its foundations. All he could feel was the cold touch of failure, penetrating his bones, settling in for another year. And when he looked up all he could see was the devastation on Juliet’s face.

The walk to the stage was the walk to a place of execution. The mayor shook his hand and estimated his weight. The noose was tightened around his neck as a photographer asked him to smile. He staggered back down to his seat, his eyes glazed over, and he awaited the final insult: the announcement of the undeserving minnow who had forced him into second.

‘And now,’ the shellfish specialist continued, ‘the moment you have all been waiting for. This year’s winner.’

Malcolm could feel the feeble energy of forty-eight undeserving minds focus on the stage.

‘But first the judging panel feels we owe you a small explanation. For, in what is a first for this competition, this year’s winning entry has not been exhibited. The entrant felt the project needed to be revealed rather than displayed and in the circumstances we agreed with him. So, without further ado, I call upon this year’s winner, Simon Cash, to come forward and explain.’

There was an uncertain round of applause and the hairy waiter across from Kevin stood. His smile told a tale every Scientist would understand. He had his audience exactly where he wanted them. Maybe he didn’t have their respect, or indeed their approval, but he had something much much better. He had their curiosity. Even as he despised him, Malcolm had to give him that much. This moment, which Simon Cash had somehow manufactured, was supremely scientific.

Simon walked slowly to the stage, shook the hand, received the prize and then turned to face the audience, his audience. He spoke slowly, the smile still there, his voice thick with satisfaction.

‘I decided,’ he told them, ‘to conduct a sociological experiment. It was not entirely original, some of you will already be familiar with the premise. I began by choosing thirty teenagers from up and down the country. A selection of my peers, if you will. My only criteria for selection was that I had access to their name, age, gender and postal address, and that I did not know them or have any knowledge of their private lives. And, as some of you will be just realising, many of them are currently in this room. Next, I cleared my proposal with the police, set up a post office box and then I sent each of my subjects the following letter…’

He read straight from the paper in front of him but Juliet didn’t need to listen. She knew every word by heart. It was him. Simon was her blackmailer.

‘…Of course, as far as I knew, none of these people had anything to hide, which is what makes my results so staggering. Of the thirty people, twenty-four filled in an intention-to-pay form, and ten went so far as to send cheques straight away, which I am happy to tell you will be returned to you unbanked. So, as you sit there now, amongst your families and friends, the people you think you know so well, consider this: most of them have secrets that you will never know, that they would pay good money to keep from you. Interesting, isn’t it?’

Simon bowed low to the deserved applause. All around the room Juliet could see her fellow victims responding. Some sighed with relief, others boiled with anger, most tried to hide their reactions altogether.

She could see no reason for such reticence. She was free, and if freedom wasn’t worth celebrating, what was? Relief swelled beneath her and carried her to her feet. Without a thought she rushed towards the stage, arms outstretched.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Juliet shouted at the startled prize-winner, ‘and I’m going to kiss you.’

‘Well actually,’ Simon replied, leaning into the microphone to drown out the very unscientific shouts of encouragement, ‘nothing personal, but I’d rather kiss someone else.’

Silence fell as all eyes followed Simon down from the stage, around the officials’ table and halfway along the next row until he reached Kevin. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.’

‘Kevin.’

‘I’m Simon. To hell with secrets.’ And he leaned down to plant a long, cool kiss on the confused lips of a bewildered Kevin. Again, sounds of approval filled the room.

‘Sorry,’ Simon apologised when he had finally finished. ‘I got carried away.’

‘That’s okay,’ Kevin replied, standing and kissing him again. The applause grew louder.

‘Oh Malcolm, stop looking so sad. You’re a hero too, you know.’ Juliet bounded down to his side, pulled him from his seat and planted a slobbery kiss on his sulking mouth. She then turned him so he was facing Charlotte. ‘Go on, you know you want to.’

So Malcolm kissed Charlotte and Charlotte kissed Malcolm back.

Picking up on the mood of it all Malcolm’s mother grabbed Malcolm’s father and proceeded to publicly maul him, while cheering joined the clapping and laughter punctured the cheers.

Soon, all around the hall, passions old and new were igniting as people took quick advantage of one of those rare moments when all the world’s rules slip away, when constraint turns a discreet back on opportunity.

Even the waiting staff were tangled up in the web of expression. Brian, who had been skulking around the back, hoping for one more try with Juliet, was surprised to hear the clang of a platter of celery sticks falling at his feet as a rather pretty waitress he had barely noticed decided to make his acquaintance.

And in the middle of all of this, at the very heart of a moment which could not last but would stay with them forever, Malcolm held Charlotte tight, and as he did so he thought the strangest thought. Maybe there was more to life than Science after all.

The End