Super Con-Nerd

by Oliver Phommavanh

  I move on to drawing Irene and Galway. My palms are so clammy with excitement that my pencil keeps slipping out of my hands. Irene has screens on the inside of her palms. Galway is built like a tank, with heavy armour all over him. Maybe they can be aliens who help the Fireproof Knights, but I don’t know if that will work. This could be a brand-new world. A brand-new adventure. A brand-new . . .

  Mama thumps on the door. ‘Connor, what are you doing?’

  I fumble for my Maths book and dump it on top of my drawings. ‘Nothing. I mean, homework.’

  Mama practically tumbles into the room. She stands behind me, with her arms folded, just like the bad old days. All that’s missing is her stopwatch and whistle. ‘So, is algebra hard?’

  As hard as the rice that gets stuck to the bottom of the cooker. ‘Um, I can still do it,’ I say.

  ‘Have you been tested yet?’

  ‘We haven’t had any big tests . . .’ I’m hoping last week’s surprise test doesn’t jump out of my schoolbag like a panther. I don’t think it’s a big test. Plus it’s not a big mark that’s worth showing to Mama.

  She spins my chair around to face her. ‘We used to talk about it so much when you were in primary school. Now I just want to know what it’s like to be in a selective school.’

  There’s concern on her face and I suddenly feel guilty.

  ‘You talked, I did all the work.’ I laugh. ‘You were so obsessed about it.’

  Mama lets her shoulders relax. ‘So what are the teachers like?’

  I stare at her pleading eyes. I’ll tell Mama a few things, and then maybe she’ll get off my back. ‘They work us hard, giving us so many assignments,’ I say. ‘My Visual Arts teacher, Mr Gardner is boring. All we do is look at old landscape drawings. It’s like a student chef visiting restaurants and not being allowed to cook. It’s torture.’

  Mama smiles. ‘I’m sure he’ll let you loose and you can show him how talented you are.’

  I’m glowing inside like I’ve swallowed a lightbulb. I love it when Mama praises my drawing skills.

  ‘And have you made some friends?’

  ‘Um, yeah. They’re a little strange, like me.’ I don’t have to hide that from her.

  Mama picks up my Maths textbook. ‘Wow, I only started doing these algorithms when I was in senior high school.’ She gasps at my drawings lurking underneath. ‘What are these?’

  ‘They’re just some scribbles . . .’ I try to grab them but Mama snatches them first.

  Mama stares at Irene, sticking a lizard tongue out at her. ‘Is this what you call homework?’

  ‘I wish,’ I say. ‘Then school would be much more fun.’

  Mama’s cheeks sag. ‘Connor, remember what I said about having a back-up job . . .’

  ‘I told you, Mama, I don’t need one.’

  ‘I’m serious, Connor. You can’t be drawing cartoons all the time like you were in primary school.’

  ‘I just had this new idea for a comic and my brain was buzzing,’ I say. ‘I had to let it out.’

  ‘Keep it in until the school holidays.’ Mama takes a look at my textbook. ‘You need to study hard first.’

  I cough like there are pencil shavings in my throat. ‘I know, but I’m going to try out for Cosmic Smash.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a comic book convention,’ I say. ‘Where comic book artists from all over the world come together.’

  ‘You need to focus on your studies first.’ Mama grinds her teeth. ‘You can do that other stuff when you leave school.’

  I stand up. ‘No way. I have to go, Mama!’

  ‘I’ve been too lenient on you,’ Mama says. ‘Mrs Choi and Ryan’s mum keep telling me that. I don’t make you go to tutoring and now you’re an unfit student.’

  ‘I’m not fat, Mama.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she snaps. ‘You’ll be left behind if you keep slacking off.’

  I swallow hard. Andrew tells me that every day. But he’s not the only one. It feels like every teacher is pushing me out of Kentsworth. I wish I was smarter. I wish I could be a super nerd.

  Mama gathers up my drawings.

  ‘Awww come on, Mama, I’d almost finished them.’

  She growls at me, unleashing the tiger mother within. ‘You need to focus!’ She leaves my door open. ‘You can’t hide from me any more.’

  I slump down to the floor. When I was younger, I thought about making a hole through to Mandy’s place so we could talk to each other. I wish I could reach out to her now.

  I wake up the next morning from a crazy dream about aliens. I only remember bits and pieces, so on the train to school I cut them out of my head and paste them in the back of my English book. I draw each of my characters and think about the plot. By the time I reach the nerdy rejects bench, I’ve figured out the first issue of my brand-new comic.

  Vinh hops off the bench. ‘Did you bring your Fireproof Knights comics?’

  ‘I’ve got something better.’ I show them my drawings. ‘My new Con-nerd creation, Hyper Hybrids. You’re all alien kids who have made it into the best fighting academy in the universe.’

  ‘So it’s your version of Kentsworth High?’ Irene asks.

  Vinh waves his finger like a wand. ‘No, Hogwarts.’

  ‘Or more like the Xavier Institute from X-Men,’ Galway says.

  ‘It’s all three,’ I say. ‘And it’s the size of a whole planet called Kentopia.’

  Irene looks at herself on my page. ‘Why are we aliens?’

  ‘Wow, I’m a shapeshifter.’ Vinh howls and high fives me.

  ‘Brilliant! Can I change into a dwarf like Riot?’ Irene asks.

  ‘I want to be a tank,’ Galway adds.

  I shake my head. ‘Only Vinh can change his shape. But you’re all Hyper Hybrids, aliens with superpowers mixed from elements of your home planets.’

  Vinh flies around the bench like he’s some fighter plane. ‘I always wanted to have superpowers. It’s kind of why I cosplay.’

  ‘Really?’ I say.

  Vinh spins his arms. ‘Yeah, like who wouldn’t want to fly or teleport?’

  ‘You already have a power – it’s called being super annoying,’ Irene says.

  Vinh bows to her. ‘Then I must have learnt that from you, Super Annoying Grand Master.’

  Irene pushes him away. ‘So where are you, Connor?’

  ‘I’m still a Fireproof Knight, Condor.’

  ‘Come on, that doesn’t make sense,’ Vinh says.

  ‘Yeah, be one of us,’ Galway says. He starts a chant and the others join in.

  ‘One of us, one of us . . .’

  ‘Okay, okay. I’ll be . . . Conzork.’

  ‘And what are your powers?’ Vinh asks.

  I run my fingers through my hair. ‘I don’t . . . He doesn’t know yet. But he’s in the training academy to find out.’ It sounds just like real life.

  ‘You only thought of this last night?’ Galway asks.

  ‘I’ve always had this idea of my Fireproof Knights in space, with rockets strapped on.’ I fly around with my backpack. ‘This is even better.’

  ‘We have Visual Arts coming up,’ Irene says. ‘You can show Mr Gardner.’

  ‘Pfft, he only likes stuff that’s five hundred years old,’ I say.

  In class, Mr Gardner is laying out some pieces of paper. ‘Today, we’ll be working on a landscape, which will be an in-class assignment.’

  I twirl around in my chair like a mini tornado. We’re finally drawing something. I can hear my pencils chirping like hungry chicks. Mama’s right, this is my time to shine. Even if she can’t see that right now. Mr Gardner shows us a painting of the Australian outback by Thomas Baines. ‘I want you to sketch your idea of a new unexplored space, like a desert,’ he says. ‘We’re just sketching today and drawing later.’

  I rub my hands. It’s time to finally kick Squire’s butt. I have the Hyper Hybrids in my head. The training academy, Kentopia, is a metal planet, cold an
d dark. I sketch thick dark lines, stretching across the horizon. I want this desert to look like flattened steel bars.

  Mr Gardner stalks around my table. ‘Impressive,’ he says.

  ‘Thanks, Sir.’

  ‘So you say you draw in your spare time?’

  ‘No.’ I smile up at him. ‘All the time.’

  Mr Gardner nods and walks off. I finish my drawing first, with ten minutes to spare. I glance up at Andrew’s shoulders bopping up and down, giving his eraser a workout. Have I finally discovered his kryptonite? I’m dying to know what he’s drawing.

  I roll my pencil down the aisle, near his table. Irene gives me a sideways glance. I creep up to get my pencil and look over Andrew’s shoulders, trying to see past his rubbed out lines. I can make out a dried-up lake, with skeletons and fossils down the bottom. It actually looks pretty good. I suddenly feel as brittle as his skeletons. What did I expect? Andrew is a super nerd. He has no weaknesses. He’s unbeatable. He could go on one of those game shows and walk away with a kazillion bucks.

  ‘Coming here to laugh at me?’ he says.

  I forget that he has eyes all over, one of his many powers. ‘Um, no. It’s all right.’

  ‘Give me a break.’ Andrew looks different when he doesn’t smirk. He looks almost normal. He erases some lines, rumbling his whole desk. ‘I stuffed up, okay?’

  ‘A real stuff-up would be if you drew nothing.’ I squeeze the tip of my pencil. ‘At least you tried. Seriously, it’s not half bad.’

  ‘Don’t go all kindergarten teacher on me, Con-nerd.’ He covers his drawing with his arms.

  I wander back to my table. I’m finally better than Andrew at something but I don’t feel like a super nerd. Not even a little bit. I said something good about him and he thinks it’s an insult. Maybe he only likes praise from teachers.

  ‘Okay, time’s up.’ Mr Gardner walks around. ‘I’ll ask a few students to come up and explain their drawing. Connor, you can start.’

  For the first time, everybody turns to me. The spotlight is so bright that I’m blinded, bumping into a couple of tables on the way to the front. I tell the class about Hyper Hybrids. A few kids lean forward and say wow to themselves. It feels like the inside of my head has been projected up onto the screen.

  Mr Gardner chooses other kids, but he doesn’t pick Andrew. His head slowly deflates like a hot air balloon being packed away.

  After class, Vinh and Irene are patting my back in the corridor. ‘Way to go, Con-nerd. Hyper Hybrids is gonna be a smash hit,’ Vinh says.

  ‘You’ll be cosplaying as your own character soon,’ I say. ‘That’s when I’ll know I’m famous.’

  We all crack up until we bump into Andrew. ‘Laughing about my picture, Con-nerd?’

  I shrug. ‘I told you before, I thought it was good.’

  ‘You got lucky, Con-nerd. That was just a practice test.’

  ‘Not everything is a test,’ I say.

  Joseph and Naveed join him. Andrew snorts. ‘Art’s not that important.’

  ‘Well, it matters to me.’

  ‘Of course it does, it’s a baby subject.’ Andrew’s face looks like a pimple ready to burst. ‘My dad says Visual Arts is useless if you want a real job.’ Andrew presses a finger into my chest. ‘I feel sorry for your parents.’

  I clench my fists. Nobody insults my family, super nerd or not. ‘Wanna bet? I’ll beat you in whatever art assignment comes up.’

  Andrew pretends to yawn.

  I roar like a raging dragon and blast him with my fiery breath. ‘And I’ll get a higher mark than you in Mrs Cheney’s English assignment.’

  Andrew coughs like he’s swallowed some smoke. ‘Make it a three-part challenge. Go on, what else do you think you’re better at?’

  I click my tongue. ‘How about basketball?’

  One of Andrew’s curls straightens up. ‘Seriously, Con-nerd?’

  ‘I’ll wipe you off the court, one on one,’ I say. ‘Next Thursday lunchtime.’

  Andrew smirks. ‘Fine. Whoever gets two out of three, wins.’

  I nod. ‘If I win, then you leave my friends and me alone.’

  ‘And if – I mean – when I win, you’ll leave the school.’

  I step back. ‘Whoa, what?’

  ‘You can’t kick him out, Andrew,’ Irene says.

  ‘She’s right, man,’ Naveed says. ‘That’s a bit too much.’

  Andrew whines. ‘Okay, okay. Just be my personal slave for a month.’

  I imagine Mama and Dad standing here beside me. My family’s honour is on the line. I pin my stare straight between his eyes. ‘You’re on.’ I hold out my hand.

  Andrew crushes my hand like it’s an empty can. ‘Believe me, after a month of being my slave, you’ll want to leave.’

  He walks off and Irene slaps me on the back of the head. She’s becoming more like Mandy every day.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ she says.

  I catch my breath. ‘I just wanted to shut him up for once.’

  ‘You should have asked him for a year’s worth of free tutoring,’ Vinh says. ‘Who knows what he’ll make you do if you’re his slave.’

  I punch my palm. ‘Then I’ll just have to beat him.’

  On the train back home, I’m in a texting frenzy to Dazza and Stephen about my challenge with Squire. Can we play basketball after school sometime?

  Stephen buzzes back. I’m down at the ramp after school.

  I grip my phone tight and text him. Come on, Stephen, do you live there or something? Can you help me just this once?

  Yeah, okay. Meet at Dazza’s place 2moro?

  Dazza replies right after him. Cool bananas, catch ya then.

  I pump my fist in the air and get back to sketching some more drawings for Hyper Hybrids. I only have two weeks to finish my issue for the Cosmic Smash tryouts, as well as my English assignment.

  I check my letterbox and take out the shopping catalogues, looking up at Mandy’s window. I wonder what she’s doing now. I go and knock on her door. There’s no music coming from her room. She’s probably not home.

  I march back up to my place. I’m going to make Andrew a character in my story too. A real pushy alien called Squinox who thinks he owns the place.

  Mama’s ironing clothes in the living room.

  ‘You’re not taking a nap after your early morning shift?’ I ask.

  Mama shakes her head and points to the dining table. ‘You can start your homework.’

  I haven’t studied at the dining table since last year’s entrance exams. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You’re doing homework where I can supervise you now.’ She takes out a soggy Master Class College business card. ‘I found this in your shorts.’

  ‘Just forget about that. He was just joking around.’

  I dump my schoolbag at the dining table. Andrew’s business cards are like sand, they get into everything.

  ‘I found some in your shirt pockets too. I spoke to Mr Van,’ Mama says. ‘He’s happy to take you back.’

  He’s happy to have another victim. ‘No, Mama, please.’ I don’t want to spend my afternoons and weekends doing work and daydreaming out the window again.

  Mama runs the iron up and down, like she’s carving a hole in the ironing board. ‘You have too much time to play around after school.’

  ‘Look, I’ll work harder, Mama, I promise.’

  I grab some mandarins, itching to chat to Dad at his shrine. He’s the only one who would understand my challenge with Squire. I’m sure he had to face opponents bigger than him in badminton.

  ‘I hope so, because if you don’t, then you’ll be off to Mr Van’s class.’ Mama holds up Andrew’s card. ‘Or even Master Class College if it’s cheaper.’

  I almost squash the mandarin in my fist. I can’t imagine spending more time with Andrew after school. It’d be like doing homework on his dining table.

  ‘Mama, aren’t you happy with all the money we’ve saved from tutoring fees? We wasted s
o much money.’

  ‘It would be a waste if we didn’t use it wisely,’ Mama says. ‘Your Aunt Rosie back in China was happy to support your tutoring. She cares for our family. She wants the best for you.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ I let the mandarin’s juice trickle down my fingers.

  ‘So make all of us proud, Connor.’ Mama releases some steam from the iron. She needs to do the same. I lay out my English book and start work on my assignment. I don’t want to be thrown back into tutoring and locked away. I can be a super nerd without anybody’s help.

  The next day, my challenge with Squire begins in Visual Arts.

  ‘We’ll be using oil pastels for your landscapes,’ Mr Gardner says as he lays a packet on each table. ‘Try to experiment with some colours before you use it on your drawing.’

  I look down at my picture of Kentopia, clutching a grey oil pastel. Why didn’t I draw something more colourful than a metallic planet? I mean, how many different shades of grey can I do? I press hard on my paper, producing dark grey lines. It’s just going to look like another moon. I stare at the packet of oil pastels and grab the yellow and orange, mixing them up on some scrap paper. What if the sun was rising from the east, over the grey planet?

  The period flies by before Mr Gardner tells us to drop our oil pastels. ‘Just leave your artwork on the table.’

  I show my stained fingers to Irene and Vinh. I wish every assignment was this cool.

  The bell rings and Andrew and I trade places, checking out each other’s artwork. It looks like he changed his mind again. His river landscape is now washed with the lush greens of a rainforest, a blue river gushing through it.

  We meet in the middle of the class.

  ‘May the best picture win,’ I say.

  Andrew snorts loudly, then strides confidently out of the classroom. I hope my drawing’s enough to give me a 1–nil lead in the challenge. I gave it my best shot.

  At lunchtime, the nerdy rejects decide to go into the library to work on our English assignments. It looks like we’re not the only ones. Half of Year Seven has invaded the first and second floors, with their novels glued to their hands. Galway finds an empty table for us. It’s not a fancy study room like where Andrew and his buddies hang out, but at least we’re all sitting together.