Philosopher Lionel Antharcy once wrote quite the pessimistic verse about friendship:
“Friends are like the pungent odor between a man’s pits
They can be offensive, but you tolerate them because they are your own”
Watching Percy howl his life away after hearing what he had to say, Henry felt he finally understood Lionel’s view.
“I’m sorry–Really, truly! I just—was not ready to hear you sa-a-a-ay that!” Percy wiped the tears pouring from his eyes. “Oh, my sole confidant on this voyage of mayhem~ That Aggron Theodore was right about us: we are one comedic duo!”
Henry swiped hair from his eye, trying his best to ignore the fire rising to his cheeks. “Come on, how do you expect me to keep up with your ‘optimal plan’ if you’re gonna laugh at me about stuff like this?”
“Henry, I’m sorry, but come on. You? A so-called ‘Gladiator’? Have you seen those guys? They’re–” Percy stretched his arm as high into the sky as he could. “And you’re just–you know–” He proceeded to do the exaggerated opposite, lowering his palm to the earth. “It’s simply not a good fit, my friend–that’s all I’m saying. Why not come to Art Club with me? Art Club is for noodly-armed nerds like you and I~”
Henry looked to the General Store from the Bookstore he and Percy loitered beside. The beefy dudes were back again, each hauling a satchel filled to the brim with supplies recently purchased. They could only be Gladiators. Why else would the shop choose to advertise the club? The Bookstore was covered in flyers for the more ‘academic’ clubs: Art Club, Book Club, Chess Club. The café posted ads for afterschool jobs around the Campus and in the adjoining city of Platinheim. But the store housing Vitamins and Balls? That was for a different breed; a league Henry now felt himself compelled to join–if nothing but to prove Percy wrong.
So, what else is a determined man to do but walk right on over and inquire at the source?
Henry tapped one of the guys on the shoulder.
The guy sneered down at him like a raincloud to a thirsty peasant.
“Hi, umm, sorry to intrude.”
“Hey, I know you,” said the blonde kid beside the Cloud.
“Oh! You do?”
“Yeah, man! I’m Elliot, I was with Theo yesterday when we gave you guys our room!” Elliot extended a fat hand. “Nice to meet you, bro!”
Henry felt his fingers disappear within Elliot’s vice. “The pleasure’s all mine!”
Elliot adjusted his bag, balancing the overflowing haul within. “What can we do ya for? Lookin’ to sign up?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted to ask!”
Elliot snorted. “I knew it, man! I can see it in your eyes–you’ve got the heart of a warrior!” He stepped between Henry and the Cloud. “Yeah, don’t bother asking this caboose about anything! He’d just slow ya down trying to process what you’re saying to him! Just look at him!”
Henry glanced past Elliot. The Cloud’s face was tight and scrunched. Something told him the guy didn’t like being teased, so he reeled his head back and prayed he wasn’t caught peeping.
Elliot pointed back to the Bookstore, where Percy watched with an amused smirk contorting his face.
“You’re gonna wanna head right on back to the Bookstore! Forge should be inside–he’s our Captain. Just tell him you wanna sign up and he’ll take care of the rest!” A monolithic hand slammed Henry on the back, knocking the wind from his lungs. “Look forward to having you in the Club, Little Bro!”
Henry returned to Percy with nothing short of triumph lifting his shoulders.
“I’ll admit, Henry Galilieo~ Very impressive show of charisma and courage~ Having you as a roommate might prove more useful than I initially thought.”
“Tha-anks~ Let’s head inside. There’s someone I have to meet.”
The Bookstore was–in a word: cozy. In two: absolute deprivation. There were a dozen other students crammed into the chairs. Some browsed the textbooks and magazines on display by the checkout counter. And yet, not a peep could be heard. It was as if, by some miraculous property, the location exerted a pressure which nullified all sound-based moves. It was Soundproof.
Henry looked around, hoping he could determine one “Forge” by intuition alone.
“I’d hate to interrupt anyone, but I need to know who Forge is.”
“So, just strut up and ask them, champ! What’s a cold approach to a bold man such as yourself~”
He wasn’t so bold, not in a place like this. Bookstores. Libraries. To Henry, they were sacred ground–to be tread with respect. Nevertheless, destiny called. He already had one foot in the door. It was time to finish strong.
He set his sights on the first table by the door, off to the left. A pair of students sat there, each with the same book in hand. Closer to the window, a girl–inky black hair that melted down to her shoulders. She wore a purple-blue dress resembling the cosmic backdrop of a galactic arm in the night sky. Closer to the bookshelves, a guy–dirty blonde hair sweeping his face in obstructive bangs. He wore a coat much too similar to Henry’s, who always thought his style a Tinton-original.
“Hi, umm, hell–”
“Shhhhh…” hushed the girl. “This is a very juicy part…”
The guy blew a quiet scoff–if it could even be called that. “Hardly…I saw this twist coming from page one…”
“Stop being such a downer…Let me enjoy this…So beautiful…I’m crying…” Despite the void of emotion in her cadence, the girl actually did have falling tears to wipe.
“I’m crying too…” The guy, on the other hand, wiped not salt nor solution. “What do you want…?” He looked past his bangs at Henry. His eyes were a bright sapphire, sparkling like the rippling sea.
Henry shuffled his satchel strap. The damn thing was beginning to ride down his collar. Or maybe that was timidity making him so uncomfortable?
“I, uh, I don’t mean to interrupt…this. I just had a question; I was wondering if one of you could answer?”
The guy continued to stare; the girl? She kept reading.
“Umm…I was wondering if, by chance, either of you knew a ‘Forge’ fello? I, uh, need to speak with him.”
“You may speak…” The guy returned, not breaking his bored stare.
“Umm…? That was it–that was, my, uh, question.”
“No it isn’t,” the guy insisted, “You said you wanted to speak with me…”
The girl let out a long, exasperated sigh. “You have to introduce yourself…You can’t just assume everybody knows who you are…”
The guy clicked his teeth–if the barely audible spit of sound could even be called a “click.”
“It should be obvious…”
“But it’s not…Stop being rude…Say ‘Hi. My name is Forge.’ Go on…”
The assumed “Forge” let his body go limp in the chair. “First you make me waste my time on this cliché wanna-be romance novel…Now you’re making me cut my teeth with pointless formalities…You’re not worth the trouble, Lila…”
“You’re not worth the friendship, Forge…” The assumed “Lila” licked her finger and turned a page. “But I tolerate you anyways…Go on…Practice making friends with guys outside of your immediate circle…”
“Hi…I’m Forge–”
“No. You’re doing it wrong. ‘Hi. My name is Forge’…”
“Hi. My name is Forge…”
“Good boy…”
Forge folded his hands atop the table, his impatience apparent in the forward lean of his body. “What do you want…?”
Henry choked on his words. Only a few sentences had gone by, but he felt like the sun had long since set. “Umm, Elliot told me to speak with you in regards to joining the club.”
Forge shook his eyes free from his bangs. “You want to be a Gladiator…?”
Henry nodded.
Forge looked him up and down as if breaking apart his every element, his every stat, with nothing more than a vanilla glance. “Alright…”
“R-really?”
Forge grunted. Guess that was a yes. “Meet me by the river in front of the school in half an hour–not a second later…We’ll go for a walk…”
“Oh, ummm, ok.”
Forge slugged up from his seat.
“You’re leaving…?” asked Lila.
“I need to stretch for my walk…”
“Stretch that attitude while you’re at it…”
“That doesn’t even make sense…I’ll see you whenever you get done shoving trash into your temple…”
“Mmm…”
Forge stopped beside Henry on his way out. He was no taller than him, but he definitely had more meat on his frame. “Remember–half an hour…I don’t tolerate tardiness…”
