Carl Joliet had been an avid film buff. It might have been one of the reasons he'd courted and married Jenny James: though she was a simple girl from a simple family she'd reminded him of Jayne Mansfield, and that, some people thought, was reason enough for him. They had been quite happy together, and in the fifth year of their marriage Jenny had given birth to a daughter. Carl had insisted she be called Jayne. Jenny never knew why, but she thought it sounded nice, so Jayne it was.
When she was born she was completely bald, thin and a little tall for a newborn child. She had big eyes and a pronounced squint. But she was a friendly baby who hardly ever cried and Carl and Jenny were very happy with her.
Jayne turned out to be quite a precocious child. She walked when she was ten months old and she started to talk before she was one. She grew a shock of tawny hair; unlike in most children her squint didn't disappear. When she was almost four she taught herself to read, and at primary school she went through the curriculum much faster than her classmates.
They thought Jayne was a freak. She didn't enjoy PE, her hobbies were too difficult by far, she liked books and had a lively imagination her classmates couldn't follow. The Joliets had an unfortunate taste in glasses, Jayne had freckles and it wasn't long before she was generally known as Plain Jayne. And you didn't play with Plain Jayne, you just called her names.
Jayne noticed, and it hurt. There wasn't anything she could do about it, and she retired within herself, and so developed an imagination that was often somewhat quirky, especially in the field of contacts with others.
Secondary school wasn't any better. She grew into an awkward, gangly girl with a tendency to drop or upset things, and her teeth were irregular. The fact that she excelled at school didn't make things any better. Although her classmates would have categorically denied the accusation, they were jealous of her achievements, and took it out on her appearance. The "Plain Jayne, Plain Jayne has goofed again" chorus that had plagued her primary school time was taken up again by her secondary school peers. Billy James, a complete dullard, was the worst. He found a satisfying compensation for his intellectual inabilities in making others suffer, and Jayne was an easy victim.
One of the teachers, who'd heard the choruses, tried to help her by letting her give the right answers whenever her classmates failed; this was only adding insult to injury for the others. Jayne understood he tried to help her, but she knew it would never do.
PE was torture, especially whenever there was a game in which they had to choose sides. Jayne invariably ended up being chosen last. The PE teacher thought it was her own fault - she wasn't competitive and she didn't show enough enthusiasm for his subject. He actually took over the Plain Jayne moniker; Jayne despised him for it, and it showed. Consequently she never managed to get a sufficient mark for sports.
Her arts master was the only one who made her feel at home a little. He was a competent teacher who loved his subject and Jayne was quick on the uptake. He sensed it wouldn't do to make her stand more apart, so he never acknowledged her talents publicly, but he stapled special assignments to the work he returned to her, with written instructions and carefully worded assessments. He taught her a lot and really helped her develop her talents.
It was with great relief that she left school with an impressive set of A-levels. She knew she could easily have tried for Oxbridge, but she just went to one of the less prestigious universities and completed her studies in record time at high academic excellence. Then she found herself a job.
Life was lonely. Her parents died with a few years between them, and as she had always kept away from her peers she hardly had any social contacts at all, bar those that went with her job. Sometimes someone invited her to a birthday party out of pity for that awkward woman, and she always went, but she generally stayed on the periphery, exchanging a few words with whoever cared to talk to her for a moment; and whenever she found that the party was also visited by any of her former classmates she'd leave early.
She had found herself a nice apartment in a quiet road near the station; it was roomy and there was quite enough space for her books and records, and a drawing table in a spare room. She loved cooking, and she wrote stories to fill the long hours free from work. She loved reading and often wondered what it would be like to make friends, but she'd learnt to mistrust people and contacts came hard.
Then some day there was a new woman at the office, who was a little reserved, and who sensed a kindred spirit in Jayne. May was one of those people who simply didn't care for appearances, and she started talking to Jayne in a way she'd not known till then, naturally and unprejudiced, and it wasn't long before the two women had struck up a real friendship.
When May got to know other people she noticed some of them felt some antagonism toward Jayne. One or two people actually asked her what she saw in Plain Jayne -- but she flatly told them off and after the first few no one tried again.
Jayne loved her company, and May opened her eyes to all sorts of things she'd not experienced before. Carl and Jenny had raised her to enjoy classical music; May introduced her to punk and rock, and Jayne went on from there to develop an eclectic taste in popular music, ranging from scratchy torch singers to John Coltrane, and from Joni Mitchell to African pop.
May also took her out to the pub, and they went dancing once or twice. That, though, wasn't really a great success. It did two things for Jayne: it showed her dancing and touching someone were nice and it also showed her she wasn't too enthusiastically accepted as a dancing partner. She'd grown morbidly sensitive to other people's reactions, and she felt each rejection keenly.
May noticed this only too well. She tried to have other people around sometimes when Jayne came to visit her, and to coax Jayne into interacting with others, but progress, if any, was very slow.
Then one afternoon while they were at May's place she got a visit from an old classmate of hers who'd had a crush on her in the past. They had dated a couple of times and found out they liked each other as friends but as nothing more. Since then George came to see her at irregular times. He had been one of her class's handsome boys, and he'd developed into a quiet, handsome man, who wrote articles for a magazine and designed websites for a couple of small companies. At school he had kept his own counsel, and he'd never participated in the pranks some of the less mature boys went in for. May really liked him.
She introduced him to Jayne, and he sat down with them. May asked him about his work He told them something about the magazine he wrote for. Jayne listened with great interest. She hoped she could some time show a couple of her stories to him - perhaps she could even get one of them published. But she'd never ask him; there was the rub. Then May butted in and told George about Jayne's stories, and he asked her a couple of things about them. She found it quite easy to respond to his questions, and they eventually decided she'd bring a couple when she visited May next. He'd collect them there and let her know if he thought they were good enough.
George quietly watched Jayne while they were talking. He liked her mouth, and he sensed her mind worked along lines similar to his own. Through the thick glasses he could see a couple of very nice, green eyes. He thought she seemed a little uncertain of herself; she moved a little awkwardly, but he liked her figure -- reasonably tall, medium-sized breasts, and no signs of anorexia or enthusiasm for catwalk models. Best of all, he thought, she has a nice voice. Hmm.
Two days later George popped in again. May was always happy to have him around, and she made them some coffee before settling down on the couch. She drew her legs up under her and smiled at George, who sat across the room from her.
"Jayne hasn't yet been in, so I don't have her stuff for you yet," she said. "I've read a few of her stories, and I think they're good."
"She's very nice, isn't she? I never heard you about her. How do you know her?"
"Oh, I know her from work. She is nice. She's very shy, though, much more than I, and I think she has no trust in people, really. They seem to call her Plain Jayne."
"Plain Jayne? Oh, people are horrible! I think she looks nice. Did you notice her eyes? And she seems very intelligent."
"Oh, she is. She's very quick in understanding things; she just doesn't seem to understand the way people interact. But she really is a good friend, and I do like being with her."
May was silent for a moment. George was the first person she knew to say something positive about Jayne. "Lots of people seem to have to make snide remarks about her," she said. "What made you think she's clever?"
"I don't know. Hmm. For one thing, she didn't simply drool when she heard about my work, and she didn't immediately tell me she writes, too, and could I please tell her what I think about it? And she enunciates well, and her questions are intelligent. And so is her face, whatever those nasties say. Does she have a boyfriend?"
"You mean do you stand a chance?"
George blushed. "No, of course not," he said.
May didn't believe him for a moment. She'd known him too long, and his blush spoke volumes to her.
"I don't think she has any friend at all," she said, "except me. She was bullied no end, I'm afraid, and it takes no genius to dream up plain Jayne. She's been told she is so often she really thinks she is, and no one would want her in a fashion magazine."
