A Nerd's Eye Point of View

The painted backdrop had a slightly yellow setting. This was where the Wicked Witch of the West lived, so Scott was hoping to add a little bookish authenticity to this production of The Wizard of Oz. Yes, this musical was patterned more after the movie, but Scott remembered the books, the entire series by L. Frank Baum and a few by Ruth Plumly Thompson fondly. He wanted the Winkee Country of Western Oz with its yellow hues to have a little stage time.

Not that he’d shared with anyone his childhood fondness for the Oz books. It was nice to remember them. Especially when he was being haunted by less pleasant things. Less pleasant people.

Every corner he turned, every time he sat down, he saw Pete and Debbie looking at him. Sometimes they didn’t say anything. They just stared at him. At other times they’d come up to him, whisper something mocking in his ear. Pete especially.

Scott wasn’t getting much sleep. Holden Webster was starting to give him sideways looks in class, frowning. As if he should care. He was the one who’d started it all.

A more mature part of Scott’s mind whispered that he really couldn’t blame Holden. It was he, Scott, who’d had an outburst in the hall, resulting in rumours flying right and left over Buffy Summers. After that he’d started seeing his dead friends all the time. Nor was he the only one.

“People are having muttered conversations with empty spaces all over the school,” Holden said one afternoon, cornering him in the offhand fashion Holden Webster always did. “I could swear I just saw a girl whose obituary I read in the paper.”

“So?” Scott asked in a tired voice. He really didn’t want to play games. He didn’t even want to accidentally blurt something out which could start…something. Something more. A guilty ache in his stomach insisted that he had started something when he yelled in the hallway about Buffy, not that he had any idea what that something was.

“So I wondered if you’d seen anyone.” Holden fixed his eyes upon Scott, seeming to burrow through his skull. “Maybe Pete and Debbie?”

Scott jumped. “Now why would you say that?”

“No reason.” Holden shrugged. “I thought you might be feeling guilty since you didn’t notice what was going on with them until it was too late. A lot of the people being haunted by the dead have guilty feelings.”

“What do you want?” Scott leaned against a locker and closed his eyes.

“Aren’t you curious?” He could feel Holden’s breath, even though his eyes were closed. “Why this is happening? What’s causing it? At the very least I thought you might want to put your dead friends to rest.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a psychic or a superhero,” Scott growled. “Neither are you. If you want supernatural help, why don’t you go talk to Amy Madison? Or maybe Willow Rosenberg? It would give you an excuse to talk to Buffy.”

“I thought you might want an excuse to talk to Buffy.” Holden gazed at him with surprising seriousness. “I know you feel bad about that outburst in the hall.”

“Fine. I feel bad about the outburst. I feel bad about Debbie and Pete. Just what do you expect me to do about it?” Scott opened his eyes and threw up his hands. “There are some things you just can’t apologize for and Buffy seems to be doing fine with Cordelia. It seems I had the right idea, but the wrong girl, yet everyone is happy.”

“Everyone is not happy.” Holden leaned a little closer. “You’re not happy.”

Scott let out a bitter chuckle and looked straight back at him. “Right again. I’m not happy. Maybe I don’t feel like being happy.”

He pushed away and marched down the hall.

“Way to act toward someone who’s concerned about you, buddy,” Pete said, stepping in time with him.

Debbie flanked him on the other side. “Wow, Scott, I thought you were more sensitive than that.”

“Leave me alone.” Scott walked a little faster, tried to get to his next class.

Right now he was throwing himself into stage productions for the new play. Trying to avoid talking to anyone, alive or dead.

Only someone was talking to him.

“Wow, the way you painted the witch’s castle is sooo cool!” What was his name? Andrew. “Some people think The Wizard of Oz is too childish for a high school play but I think it’s a classic. One click of your ruby slippers or your silver shoes and you’re in a magic land. I think a lot of us would like to go over the rainbow, but most aren’t manly enough to admit it. And I love how you made the Winkee country a little yellow, just like in the books. It makes it all more authentic.”

“Thanks.” Scott glanced down at Andrew, warming to him just a little after all the Oz-knowledge, even though something about the way the other boy looked at him gave him the creeps. “I thought so, too.”

“You know, I’ve painted a lot of Star Wars murals, it’s like my passion.” Andrew bit his lip, shuffling, watching him under lowered eyelids. “You should see my Death Stars, they’re totally authentic. I’ve got this giant Imperial Star Destroyer floating outside; it’s long, longer than the other three Imperial Star Destroyers I’ve replicated, all floating in space right outside a half-finished Death Star, even though it’s fully operational because it’s the Death Star from Return of the Jedi, not the Death Star from the original Star Wars movie…”

“Aww, isn’t that cute?” Pete appeared, eyeing Andrew as he continued to go on about the details of his Star Wars mural. “I think he likes you. Maybe you should ask him out if you’re no longer interested in Sandy. Or maybe she’s no longer interested in you?”

“Shut up,” Scott muttered. Yes, he had a weakness for the depressed or distracted chicks as Pete had once accused. Sandy had developed the same habit of eyes wandering, never being there which Buffy had.

“Sorry,” Andrew muttered, hanging his head.

Scott looked at him, realized he couldn’t see Pete, realized he thought Scott was talking to him.

“No, Andrew, I’m sorry,” he began, unsure of what to say next.

Debbie came behind Andrew, so very close and looked over his shoulder at Scott, smiling all the while.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, and hurried towards the nearest stage exit, trying not to look at Debbie or Pete.

****

Andrew watched Scott depart along with any promise of having a conversation with him about art, Star Wars, The Wizard of Oz, or whatever. He seemed to have this effect on a lot of people.

“Well, that was rude, wasn’t it?” A girl was talking to him. A pretty blonde girl dressed in pink. Pretty blonde girls dressed in pink never talked to him.

Andrew turned around slowly to see the pretty girl was Harmony Kendall of all people.

And she was smiling at him. She reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, only to grimace and withdraw it as if she’d just touched something icky. “Tucker, isn’t it?”

“Andrew,” he said, trying not to pout. Everyone confused him with his cousin, Tucker, even though they were nothing alike. “What you are you doing here, Harmony Kendall?” He crossed his arms and gazed at her with severe suspicion. “I thought you didn’t go anywhere without your feral Barbie pack, the Harms.”

“You remembered our name?” Harmony beamed at him, absolutely glowed at him. He felt drenched in warmth, although it was probably the heat from a lightsaber before it cut you in half. “I’ve been trying to get people to call us the Harms. The Cordettes are so last year.”

“Yeah, they sound like a really lame car, something that wanted to be a corvette but didn’t have quite all the right parts.” Andrew dared to smile back.

“Exactly!” Harmony actually laughed at his joke, a first with any girl. “That’s exactly what I thought!” She reached out to punch him in the arm, only to grimace, withdrawing her fist before it could touch him.

“Yeah, the Harms is a much better name. It’s much more wicked, like you do harm to others, right?” Andrew dared to grin a little more, shuffling in place.

“Yeah, exactly!” Harmony started to beam before she stopped, frowned, and full-on pouted at him. “Hey! We’re not wicked! We’re the popular crowd. We’re who people want to be.” She wagged a finger at him. “Did people think Cordelia Chase was evil when she ruled the school?”

“Um, yeah,” Andrew blurted out with surprised honesty. “I mean they didn’t say it to her face because she was Cordelia Chase but yeah.”

“Whatever!” Harmony shook her head vigorously, blond hair bouncing while she did. “Anyway my girls and I are nowhere near the public menace Buffy Summers is.”

“Buffy Summers?” Andrew felt himself turn red, remembering the scantily-clad vision walking the school halls arm in arm with another scantily-clad vision. “She’s really hot, isn’t she? Especially with Cordelia.” He dared to say a little more, “Say, you think Cordelia gave up being evil so she could be with Buffy? Kind of like how Lex Luthor sometimes gives up being evil so he can be friends with Clark Kent or pretends to?”

“No!” Harmony stamped her heeled foot in fury, glared at Andrew. “Buffy is not hot, Cordelia is less hot when she’s with Buffy, and the two of them are nothing like anyone in the comic books, get that out of your head at once!”

“OK,” Andrew said, abashed.

“Buffy Summers is a freak, a bully with super strength who pushes everyone else around, steals your best friend, and acts like she’s better than you.” Harmony put her hands on her hips for emphasis.

“Wow,” Andrew said inanely. “That’s totally soap opera.”

“Look at the effect she’s had on Scott Hope.” Harmony lifted a hand to wave in the direction where Scott had left. “Look how stuck up he’s gotten since he dated her.” She grimaced. “Was he that full of himself before he went out with Buffy? Would he have yelled at you like that?”

“Um, I thought he was just a little nuts because of what happened to Debbie and Pete,” Andrew ventured. “Although it could be because Buffy left him for Cordelia. Or for Faith. Or for Willow.” He frowned. “I’m not sure which.”

“You see what Buffy is like?” Harmony cocked her head, moved a little closer. “She’s not only a dyke, she’s a player.”

“Like James Bond.” Visions of Buffy in skin-tight leather, working all the gadgets of a number of classic cars, beating up various villains, and kissing in rapid succession an elegantly dressed Cordelia, Faith, and Willow danced in Andrew’s head. “Only stacked.”

“No, not like James Bond!” This time Harmony did hit him, thrusting him backwards. “Does she look good in a tux? I don’t think so! Andrew, don’t you get tired of all this?”

“Tired of what?” Andrew blinked at her in confusion. “James Bond?”

“The lack of appreciation.” A line of stress, of perfect earnestness puckered the middle of Harmony’s forehead. “Of being ignored. Wouldn’t you like to be noticed? To do something that eclipses Buffy and Cordelia’s little show in the hallway?”

Andrew frowned. He visualized himself in the same dress Buffy and Cordelia wore, doing a model’s strut, Harmony blowing kisses at him, Scott mouthing that he loved him, he worshipped him. “Somehow I don’t think I have the curves.”

“Not that!” Harmony shook her head in exasperation. “Just something spectacular. Something only you can do, Andrew.” She gazed up at him from under her eyelashes, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I’m sure you’ve got something up your sleeve as good as anything Buffy or her friends have got.”

“Yeah, I do have something that could be awesome.” Andrew started to smile, nodding. “I’ve got this new spell that’s really cool-“

“Great!” Harmony cut him off with a bright smile. “You do that!” She gave him an almost pat, hands shying of touching him again. “Go get them!”

She minced off, hurrying as fast as she could in her heels.

Andrew missed the view of her backside in a tight skirt. He was too busy thinking out loud. “The school play could use a few special effects. I’m guessing even Scott wouldn’t be unimpressed by flying monkeys…”