Super Con-Nerd Read online

  She smiles back at me. ‘I knew you’d say that.’

  Dazza jumps on Stephen. ‘Come on, dragon, let’s ride.’

  Mandy moans. ‘Grow up! We’re supposed to be in high school now.’

  Stephen shrugs. ‘Doesn’t mean we can’t still muck around.’

  Mandy shakes her head. ‘You guys should go back to preschool.’

  ‘Let’s go to the Phantom Zone to check out some more Dragon Wings stuff,’ I say.

  We all walk out of the shopping centre. The Phantom Zone is a comic shop between the library and a board games store – the geeky side of town.

  Chris, the Phantom Zone owner, waves at us from the counter as we walk in.

  ‘Yo, Con-nerd, what’s up?’ He high-fives me and Stephen. ‘I haven’t seen you here for ages, Stephen.’

  Stephen looks away. ‘Yeah, I don’t really read too many comics any more.’

  My fiery heart freezes. ‘Are you still going to read my Fireproof Knights comic?’

  ‘Of course. I’m still in it, right?’ Stephen says. ‘You haven’t killed me off or anything?’

  ‘No way, man,’ I say.

  ‘Am I still alive too?’ Dazza says.

  I nod. ‘Uh-huh. Everyone’s still alive. It’s not like that gory TV show where characters die for no reason.’

  ‘Whoa . . . so you’re Stefox?’ Chris pinches himself. ‘Are you all the real Fireproof Knights?’

  Dazza puffs up his chest. ‘Yeah, I’m Darrendore, and we were Connor’s inspiration for his comics.’

  Mandy points to herself. ‘I’m just Mandy in the comics, because if Con-nerd gave me a fancy, posh name, I’d puke.’

  Mandy heads to the independent comics section and picks up Issue Five of Fireproof Knights. Chris lets me sell the comic here. She thumbs through the pages and stops at a picture of her character. ‘Oh man, my hairstyle is soooo last year.’

  ‘That’s because I did this last year, just before our Year Six farewell.’ I glance at Mandy’s silver streaks through her fringe. ‘I’ll update your hairstyle for the next issue.’

  Mandy flicks her fringe at me. ‘By the time you draw this, it’ll be out of date.’

  ‘Do your new high school friends like comics?’ I ask. ‘You could show it to them.’

  Mandy puts the comic back. ‘Oh no, my friends aren’t into this kind of stuff. They’re . . .’

  ‘Cool? Popular? Trendy?’

  ‘All of the above,’ Mandy says. ‘You wouldn’t get it, Con-nerd.’

  I sigh. I thought I was cool last year. Well, maybe a little bit cool. Mandy even picked out some nice clothes for me when we went shopping. I wonder if they’re out of date now.

  Chris gives me a flyer. ‘Hey, Con-nerd, are you going to Cosmic Smash?’

  ‘What’s that?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s a comic convention in March,’ Chris says. ‘You could meet Jennifer Gale, one of the artists who drew the Dragon Wings graphic novels.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ I flap my arms about like a dragon in full flight and nearly knock over a pyramid of figurine boxes.

  ‘Plus we’re having our own stand,’ Chris says, ‘where local comic artists can show off their stuff.’

  Stephen slaps my back. ‘You should totally let Con-nerd go.’

  Chris laughs. ‘So many people have asked me, but I can only pick five.’ He picks up a Fireproof Knights comic. ‘So I’m giving everyone a chance to submit their best work to me, like it’s an audition.’

  There are fireballs in my eyes. I have to get into Cosmic Smash.

  Stephen leans over. ‘Don’t worry, Con-nerd, you got this.’

  We all leave Phantom Zone, squinting in the bright sunlight outside.

  ‘So, let’s catch up again soon,’ I say. ‘Maybe next month?’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Dazza says. ‘Just set it up, Con-nerd and I’ll be there.’

  ‘Me too.’ Stephen lines us up and does a sweeping high five. ‘You better get cracking on the next Fireproof Knights comic.’

  He drops his RipStik and rides down the ramp.

  ‘I should go too.’ Dazza waves goodbye to Mandy and me.

  I look at Mandy. ‘Want to catch the bus together?’

  She’s got her smartphone out again. ‘Uh, I’m meeting some other friends back at the shopping centre . . .’

  ‘I’ll see you later?’ I say.

  ‘Maybe.’ Mandy shuffles off, with her head down. It’s as if she’s taking her smartphone out for a walk. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

  I catch the bus back home, dreaming about Cosmic Smash. How cool would it be to show my work there and have the original C gang come along? I mean, I won’t be as cool as Mandy’s new friends. I hope she still wants to hang out with me. Or does she think I’m out of date too?

  I’m walking to Kentsworth from the station on Monday morning, past each kid with their earphones in. I don’t own any but I’m still bopping along to a tune inside my head. Last week was just like a practice test. I feel more prepared this time. Plus I have my first art lesson today. It won’t be the Andrew Show any more. Every teacher relies on him like a talking textbook, except you can’t close him up. He always sniffs out a way to show off, like in Geography when we had question time with Mr Lal, and Andrew kept making comments, with no actual questions.

  I always thought Kentsworth sounded like a posh castle, but it’s only Andrew who looks fancy, with his black leather briefcase full of folders. Just because his parents are both lawyers doesn’t mean he has to act like one. He writes with fountain pens that use expensive inks. And he tucks his shirt in so tightly that he might cut himself in half with his belt. At any other school he’d be a bully magnet. But not here. He’s like the king of all nerds.

  Well, now it’s my turn to show off my talents. I walk into the art studio at Kentsworth, stretching my hands out like they’re butterflies. I am going to paint this place red. Or blue. Or maybe all the colours of a dragon’s scales. No really, this place is like a blank canvas, like one of those art galleries with lots of white space, where kids aren’t allowed. It’s the opposite of Mr Gale’s art room at Green Hill High, where I did art workshop classes last year. That was a fun dungeon, a fungeon. And Mr Gale was crazy about art. Well, he was just plain crazy. If only they could clone him for Kentsworth.

  We all sit around shiny benches with not a paint splat in sight. Andrew, Naveed and Joseph are up the front. They must have all gone to the same primary school or something, because they look like best buddies already. Though Naveed and Joseph might just be Andrew’s henchmen.

  I find a spare spot at the back.

  A man walks into the room. He’s wearing long, dark pants, dress shoes and a white business shirt with the buttons straining to hold in his stomach. He looks like an accountant. Maybe he’s lost.

  ‘Morning, 7G,’ he says in a drone voice. ‘I’m Mr Gardner, your Visual Arts teacher.’

  Now I feel lost. I look around. Am I in the right class?

  Mr Gardner sits down, behind a stack of books. ‘Can someone hand these art books out, please?’

  Andrew and Naveed get up to hand out the books. Awesome! I take out my sketch pencils from my pencil case and stand them up like soldiers. I can’t wait to dazzle Mr Gardner with my mad skills.

  Andrew slides a book under my nose and knocks over all my pencils. ‘This isn’t kindergarten, Connor, you only need one pencil.’ He laughs out loud and walks off.

  One pencil rolls onto the floor and a girl with a bowl haircut picks it up for me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she whispers. She’s always sitting in the back, with her laptop nearby. I pick up my pencils and open the book. I raise up my hand. ‘Sir?’

  Mr Gardner walks over to me. ‘Yes?’

  ‘There are lines in this book.’

  ‘Great observation.’

  ‘Shouldn’t it be blank?’ I ask.

  ‘We’re doing art theory today,’ he says. �
�We’re not drawing anything.’

  ‘Huh?’ I thump my table and knock over my pencils again. ‘When do you we get to draw?’

  ‘Soon. But first we’ll be studying artists like Claude Lorrain and Nicolas Poussin.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘They’re famous European artists,’ Andrew says. ‘Don’t you know anything about art?’

  ‘Only if they were born in this century.’ I turn back to Mr Gardner. ‘Do you want to see my drawings?’ I flick through my pages, looking for a drawing to blow him away.

  Mr Gardner dismisses me with a wave. ‘Open your theory books.’

  He brings up a web page on the smartboard. So much for a first impression, it’s more like a first rejection.

  The same girl has picked up my pencils again and put them on my desk.

  ‘Sorry, it won’t happen again,’ I say.

  The girl giggles. ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Looks like we won’t be drawing anything.’ I twirl back around in my stool.

  If Stephen was here, he would call this a rip-off. This is another class where Andrew gets to flex his brainy muscles. The only theory Mr Gardner wants to share is how boring art can be. I flip to the back of my book and start doodling on the inside cover. The girl beside me gives me a sideways glance and smiles. She’s the first person at this school to get a glimpse of my true self. I hope she’s not the last.

  I head to the library at recess. Back at my old primary school, only nerds and kids with no friends would hang out in the library. But at Kentsworth, it’s the coolest place to be. I remember seeing it in the brochure.

  It’s the size of three football fields, stacked on top of each other. It’s also as noisy as three football games happening all at once.

  There are kids holed up in little cocoon chairs. I wonder if they’ll transform into some butternerds. There’s a row of tables with chessboards, and the pieces already set up. There’s even some crazy four-player chess boards that look like plus signs. Other kids are lounging around tables, chatting and playing with their smartphones. I wonder if they’re like Mandy’s friends, except they’d be outside, with blaring speakers.

  I check the noticeboard. There are posters for different fan clubs and groups. One poster is covered in anime characters. Kentsworth Anime Club. They’re meeting right now in the upstairs study room. My nerdy senses are tingling. My face feels warm all over. I hope I’m not getting a nosebleed. I rush up the stairs to the study rooms. I can’t wait to meet my own kind.

  I find the room with the lights off, where a bunch of students are watching an anime on the smartboard. I knock on the door and a bulky senior kid opens. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I want to join the anime club,’ I say.

  ‘What year are you in?’

  ‘I’m in Year 7.’

  He huffs at me. ‘Sorry, we’re watching a really violent anime this term. Maybe come back later in the year . . .’

  He closes the door before I can say anything else. I peek through the glass, trying to make out some of the anime. The senior kid opens the door and I quickly run off, before things really get violent. Why have an anime club if you can’t include everyone? Maybe if I was a super nerd like Andrew, I could have slipped in.

  I step outside for some fresh air. I thought a nerdy school wouldn’t have anybody playing sport, but there are a few basketball games going on. Should I join in? I check out each court and can’t see anyone in Year Seven among the towering senior kids. They’re like the giant trees in The Lord of the Rings. They could stick their heads up through the hoops without even jumping.

  I don’t want to get rejected again, so I walk along the edges of the Science block, near the recycling bins. I hear a loud thump and turn around. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Help!’ There’s somebody in the dumpster.

  I rush over and use both arms to push up the lid.

  A lanky kid with pointy elbows and knees pops up. He’s got bubble wrap wrapped around his arms. ‘My name’s Vinh.’ He holds out his hand.

  I go to shake it. ‘I’m Connor.’

  ‘No, no, can you help me out of here?’

  I drag him out of the dumpster. Vinh tumbles onto the ground.

  ‘Oh yeah, you’re in my class,’ he says. ‘Guy who made that desert poem joke.’

  ‘It wasn’t a joke, but thanks,’ I say.

  He bends over the edge of the bin. ‘I’ve hit the jackpot.’

  ‘Did you find some money?’

  ‘Even better, come on . . .’

  We carry out a large box the size of a smartboard. I look inside the box. It’s empty. ‘Huh?’

  Vinh pats the cardboard. ‘Yep. The force is strong in this one.’

  ‘You went inside the bin for that?’

  Vinh springs up. ‘You sound like my mum, and every other person who doesn’t understand cosplay, which is, like, ninety-nine percent.’ He puts his hands on hips and poses like a superhero. ‘I like to make costumes.’

  ‘So, you are going to dress up in a box?’

  ‘This cardboard can be anything!’ Vinh lifts the box’s flaps. ‘Armour, shields, spaceships . . .’

  I touch his arms, covered with bubble wrap. ‘And what can you make with this?’

  He holds them up. ‘This just looks cool.’

  I grin at him. ‘How are you going to take it home with you?’

  Vinh rubs the back of his neck, popping a few bubbles as he bends his arm. ‘Um, I didn’t think of that.’

  ‘You can be a robot and wear the box home,’ I say.

  ‘The bus driver will chuck another tantrum,’ he says. ‘I already got in trouble last week for bringing a fridge box on board. It’s not fair, I was going to pay for its ticket.’ He points to the box. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  I help Vinh drag the cardboard box across the school. We get a couple of weird looks from others.

  ‘Is there a cosplayers club here at Kentsworth?’ I ask.

  Vinh nods. ‘Yeah, but I got kicked out after a week.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They said I was too weird, because I suggested we come to school as mummies for Mother’s Day,’ he says. ‘Plus I insulted the leader, because I thought she was cosplaying as a vampire.’ He shakes his head. ‘Turns out she’s just a pale girl with blotchy make-up and pointy teeth.’

  He’s another reject. I don’t get it – shouldn’t nerds accept other nerds?

  We lift the cardboard over to a picnic table, where a girl is sitting in front of her laptop. It’s the same girl who picked up my pencils in Visual Arts. She’s rocking back and forth. She pinches her nose. ‘Can’t you see I’m studying here?’

  ‘Sorry, Irene.’ Vinh leans the cardboard against the table. ‘Didn’t see you there.’

  ‘Yeah okay, I’m short, get over it.’

  ‘You get over it, Reeeen.’ Vinh sits down next to her. ‘Or maybe under it, since you can’t reach.’

  Irene sighs. ‘Stop distracting me.’

  ‘Why don’t you study in the library?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s too noisy,’ Irene says. ‘Besides, you’re not allowed to play games in there.’

  I move behind the screen and check out Irene’s character named Riot in her game. It looks like a dwarf, mixed in with a pig and lawnmower. ‘What game is it?’

  ‘Journey of Legends.’

  ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘Huh?’ She bashes the keyboard and her screen flashes. ‘It’s, like, the most popular game in the world. Fifty million people play it.’

  ‘I thought that candy fruit game my mum plays was the most popular.’

  ‘Purrleeeze, I’m talking about a game that takes skill.’ Irene presses a few buttons and grins. ‘I only play because I want to be an e-sports commentator.’

  Cosplayer. E-sports commentator. And Mama thought being an artist was a weird job.

  ‘How can you play this on the school’s wifi?’ I ask. ‘Doesn’t it get blocked?’

  ‘I bring my own mobil
e modem,’ Irene says. ‘I just hide it in my pencil case in class. It’s not that hard.’

  ‘Obviously,’ Vinh says. ‘If you could do it.’

  ‘You were annoying back in primary school,’ Irene says. ‘But now you’ve levelled up to full-on idiot.’

  ‘You both went to the same school?’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, we’re the only ones who made it from Emerald Hill Primary,’ Vinh says.

  I sit down between them. ‘So, you two are, like, friends?’

  Irene bites the bottom of her plump lip. ‘No, Vinh’s just a loner who keeps coming to me with junk.’ She turns to me. ‘Not that you’re junk. No offence meant.’

  I shrug. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘I need someone to bring this home with me.’ Vinh taps a beat on the bench. ‘Please, Reen? This will be the last time.’

  ‘You’ve been saying that for the last two years, Vinh Bin.’ Irene closes her laptop. ‘How many times did you make me carry boxes from the fruit shop?’

  ‘But look what I can do with them.’ Vinh takes out his mobile and shows me some of his cosplay pictures.

  I see a picture of him riding a black cardboard dragon. I jump on the spot. ‘Are you meant to be Simone from Dragon Wings?’

  ‘Yeah. Wow! You’ve got be a die-hard fan to know him.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got all of the manga.’ We high five each other. ‘Nice to meet another fan.’

  Irene moans. ‘Don’t encourage him. Why don’t you beg the cosplayers club to take you back again, Vinh Bin?’

  ‘Why don’t you go bug the school’s JOL team again?’ Vinh snaps.

  ‘There’s a JOL team here too?’ I say.

  Irene opens up her laptop. ‘Yeah, I wanted to blog about them, but they were hopeless. So I gave them some pointers.’

  ‘You gave them a fifty-page report,’ Vinh says. ‘They told you to stop sticking your nose in where it wasn’t wanted.’

  ‘I’m a commentator, that’s what I do.’ Irene taps on the keyboard. ‘Well, it’s their loss.’

  ‘They kicked me out of the anime club because I was in Year Seven.’ I sit down opposite them. ‘Hey, let’s start our own group.’

  Irene shows off her crooked teeth. ‘What do we call ourselves, the nerdy rejects?’