A Duel of Blokes

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The girl’s face burned, glowed as though illuminated by a shaft of late afternoon summer sunlight approaching the edge of the horizon. The girl was a madonna, animated, beatific. Her face was radiant with happiness.

I fought to reach for that searing brilliance, but I could neither move nor lift a hand. An old, strangling fear began to tighten my throat – the woman stared at me, lovingly. Her dark eyes shone nearly as bright as her highlights in her black hair where it crowned her forehead and cascaded on either side of her beautiful round face. Behind her was the school garden, scattered with flowers. She cast a shame on them with her beauty. Unlike most girls I knew, she radiated a serene sense of control, yet beautiful that she left me perplexed.

I struggled to talk, words were absent. Now she came to me. The fear quickened. I heard my own strident breathing. It grew louder, because I knew she would speak to me.
        “You know it’s rude to stare. How can I help you?” she said softly, looking at me with engaging eyes.
        Her beautiful face shone. Her bright dark eyes, her smile, everything around her caught her fire. Intense cold caught me, ran quickly down my spine. I shivered.
       Like coals on the hearth of a winter midnight, her eyes were warm, hypnotic. Suddenly, I was all sweat, crippled immobility –

“Ronny.” The voice seemed to come from far. “Wake up! It’s about six-thirty and your school bus will be here at seven. The holidays are over.”
        “Eh-h,” I said, stretching my arms, leg, still in bed. I felt very weary from the dream. Today was the first day of a new year at school, and I knew what it meant. But the dream made more of it than it usually was. “Thank you, mom.”
       I slowly got out of bed to get ready for school.
       “Quickly wash up. I’ll have your breakfast ready in five minutes.”
       “O-o-h-y-e-a-h.” I stretched myself again, out of bed. “Thanks, mom.”

There’s one thing in my life I did best. And I couldn’t be more proud. Every year in class, I was the first one to befriend the most beautiful new girl within the first seven days of school. It was some kind of competition and competitors were plenty, but I had lifted the crown for three consecutive years now, and most of the guys had surrendered the prize to me, even had a motto: ‘Give them girls seven days to ripen, and even better and easier’.
If my dream was any indication, this was a peculiar year. Varied facets of beauties bewildered me right from the school bus. So I said to my friend, John, “This year brings a perplexing promise of beauty.”

“You damn right, dude. This year I rock. Simply surrender the crown now.”
I laughed cynically. It isn’t that he wasn’t a potential competitor. In fact, he was a first-class rapper and a good guitarist at school. His prowess in entertainments awarded him popularity and success in girls more than I’d like to admit, but that was his exact folly – dreading rejection by some cranky new girl, let alone when such news go viral.

And here I come into class. Oh gosh! Creams and creams of new faces. But wow, over there is the finest splendour of them all, simply fiddling with her phone. A beauty of a lifetime – magnificent round face, hair tied in a ponytail. Suddenly she looked up. It lit her face. She turned and caught me staring – small round twinkling blue eyes, generous wide mouth, and a velvety skin. Panic took over, then nothing but the rumbling of my head, books falling loose and scattering. Oh! She smiled showing a clean jaw and blew me even wilder. Forsaking everything, I went straight to John, and whispered, “Hey buddy, saw her?”
      “Oh, damn, she’s a goddess.”
      “What do you think?”
      “I ain’t chickening out, dude, but pursuing a different dream.”
      I knew he had accepted defeat, and a similar sentiment was apparent in the faces of most guys.

Just when I had braised myself for her, and you know what that takes, a competitor materialized. Not just any competitor. This one was particular, a new guy. I don’t know if it was his unassuming appearance, his relaxed demeanour or his Skynet t-shirt that did it, but a chill ran down my spine.
He had sat strategically behind her. Just before I approached her, I turned and caught his eye. It exuded a terrorizing sense of determination that screamed: “I careless for your handsomeness, reputation or whatever. In fact, don’t bother, she’s already taken.”

The next day, he sat right next to her, and I didn’t bother to try. Third day, he offered her a snack, and I almost fainted. Forth day, much worse, they smiled at something on his phone. Yeah, Skynet was strategic, a man on a mission. Fifth day, she was loosening up.
I began to accept the reality of my predicament – I’m losing. Somehow, it was a relief. While I had always relished the competition and the inevitable victory – the duel challenges were wearing me. It was time to pass the sceptre to a new king.

Sixth day, I caught them amid a hilarious discussion. It was inevitable: Fair and fine, I surrender. Weary and forlorn as I walked through the school gate that afternoon, someone fell into steps with me. It was her. Warmly she said, “Tomorrow, if you’re not busy between classes, can you walk me to the Arts class. I want to ask you something.”
      Damn filled with panic, I stammered my reply. “O. . .OK. All right, sure.”
     So you know we’re walking and stuff, and then she’s like, “Yeah, I kinda like you.”
     I was like, “Oh!”
     And that was like the dagger for me. Yeah! I won again. I had a simple message for Skynet – to win takes character but to repeat takes attitude.

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