The Perplexing Guide: Unintentionally Becoming Popular in Highschool

There is connection and then there is connection and that other connection

I've unearthed three kinds of human connection in my life. 

1.Two people connect mutually. They both know they connected on some level.

2. A person connects with you by surprisingly handcuffing you to them.

3. And then that other kind of connection like I had with 'my boy' -deep, one sided and unbeknown to the other

Darren and I both realised we had connected that day he slated his blind homophobic bullies. 

I had also connected with 'Congo guy'.  He arrived mid semester. Tall, darkest skinned human I had ever seen, who spoke not one word of English. He would lean on walls and watch everyone. No one could pronounce his name. He only had one name, no middle name, no surname. Shrouded in tall dark African mystery no one bothered him.

Biology class and a study into cain sugar were the odd ingredients of connection one day.  'Congo guy's' eyes were alarmingly allight as he watched the class begin. 

Sugar-cain was the slimest, unbreakable, knife bending stick I had ever taken on. I was in battle with the sugar stick. Congo guy watched me struggle but then abruptly pushed himself from the wall and grabbed the stick from me with both hands. With a violent shove the stick came down on his lifted knee, and splintering the stick in two. Then I considered the validity of the absurd rumour of him being raised by wild animals in the jungle.

He bit into one half stick and held out the other half for me. Swishing the sugary fiber into his cheek, he said my name.

He knew my name?

I was in shock with wide eyes . Slowly taking the splintered half stick, I smiled a thanks. 

The entire class had turned with the sticks loud crack. Soon he was splintering sticks for everyone or showing a few guys how.  Not another word had been spoken between us but I had blinked and formed a human connection again. 

'Congo guy' made many connections that day and we all learnt that he actually spoke fluid French. His name was Tshibangu and the best we could pronounce it was Shee-bun-goo.

Another name and another connection was Nova. Wether you were teacher or student you were shot down if you said her full name, November.  I felt like I always had to have my hands in the air around her. She would bark out questions like she was suspicious of everyone.  She had attached herself to me.  

We were not giggling girlie buddies as the sports fields were always calling her name.  Down there on the pastures of athletic achievement with the boys,  she dressed like them and shared death grip shoulder man hugs like them.

Daily she would slump into a seat clamping me in a hefty vice around my shoulders. Her race times and dreams of joining the Navy were drilled through me.  She had a crush on some philosophical guy I rarely saw around school and she would quote what he had said in class that day. Then she would pelt me with direct questions about my life that I would curtly answer with ambiguity. 

She called out everyone's names in greeting as they passed. There was a need for a girly friend in her but no knowledge at how to befriend a girl.  I labeled her the aggressive extrovert and realised she had taken an introvert hostage, me.  

The talk was we were bosom buddies. The gossip was she had a definate gender crisis.  The voice in my mind was 'why me?'.  There was not a single time we had even shared a common interest. Roped, hand cuffed, whatever connection it was, it was a trap.  Scathing silent treatment would not wake November to reality. I had no clue how to reciprocate with her overbearing yet oblivious self.  

My solice was the quiet connection I had with 'my boy'. My ears were tuned to his name. Looking out over the sports field was me pinpointing his location for that lesson block. Ducking my head into a book when he passed close by was me savouring his voice. Listening to other girls gushing about him so I could know what was happening in his life.  

Most times I did not like what I heard. I hid from him the most. He was my biggest contradiction of all.