"You know," I said, "I've worked out what the problem was with that movie."
"Do tell," Nina commanded.
"It was
theoretically
a good film," I said, "that's why they make us watch it, after all. It was well-structured, and the design was mathematically perfect, and you could count all the references to Freud and the quotes from silent-era classics and stuff. But..."
"Yeah?"
"He forgot to make it worth watching. It's theory versus practise. It was two hours of people saying stuff they didn't believe in situations that made no sense."
Nina thought for a moment, then nodded. "I guess. Wanna put that in your essay?"
I sighed. "I'm going to, yes. I can't pretend that I liked it."
"Best of luck with that." She finished her herbal tea and gathered up her books, looking to head onto her next class. I took a quick breath and made my move.
"Would you like to go for a drink -- later?" I asked.
Nina looked at me hard through her very plain glasses. "Would this be a date?" she asked.
"I guess so."
"Well, okay. But there are conditions."
"Okay." I was getting used to this sort of thing from Nina. She wasn't always easy to deal with, but I liked her. Maybe I have a masochistic streak.
"We're not going anywhere that's full of your friends," she said, "I don't want you showing off that you've pulled some goth chick."
"Okay," I said, trying to remember a few pubs or bars that I could vouch for that wouldn't have anyone I knew hanging around.
"And second," she said, "we're not going anywhere that people are going to stare at me like I'm a freak."
"Sure," I said, though this might be harder. I didn't think of Nina as a freak, but I'd got to know her over the last couple of weeks, and I know that some people are stupid. Nina was indeed a goth -- and not one of the cute, perky, black-velvet-and-heels type, either. Well, she wore long black velvet skirts, but apart from them -- she shaved her hair on the sides of her head, while letting it grow long on the top so it fell down her back in a long bleached-white ponytail. Her glasses had small rectangular lenses and a thick black frame, and she wore a nose ring; today, she was also wearing a pale grey t-shirt and Doc Marten boots. She was skinny and pale, with black-painted fingernails.
To be honest, a week before, I wouldn't have said that she was my type. But we'd ended up sitting side by side in the Cinema Appreciation classes, and we'd discovered that we had something in common. We agreed that Hammer horror movies were classics, and when the lecturer insisted that we sit through
The Phantom Menace
, we survived by sharing whispered jokes at the expense of, well, everything in the film, until the rest of the class shut us up by sheer weight of dirty looks. We didn't agree about everything, but we could talk the same language.
Anyway, I didn't imagine that I was her type either. I like to think of myself as a jeans-and-indie-rock sort, but that's being hopeful. I don't do cool very well. But if she was prepared to go out with me, I was prepared to live with her conditions.
"And finally, third -- no, I'll leave that one for now. But you've got the first two, right? You won't embarrass me?"
"I've got it. Your rules."
"Good. Because there'll be a test at the end. See you outside the Union at seven."
And without any further explanation, she was gone.
But she showed up on time, and when I suggested a pub that was not too bad (I hoped) and not too distant, she agreed. We set off together, talking movies as usual, but she seemed quieter than usual, huddling within her long tatty black coat as if she had bigger things to worry about.
We found the pub and a free table, and I shed my coat and offered to buy her a drink.
"Guinness," she said.
"Half?" I asked.
"Pint!" she commanded.
I went to the bar and bought a pint of Guinness and a beer for myself, and carried them back to the table. Nina actually looked pleased to see me, with a quick grin that reminded me why I was going to all this trouble. I had enough trouble finding girls who I found interesting; finding one who actually seemed interested in me was a bonus.
I passed her the Guinness and sat down as she toyed with it, but after I'd drunk some of my own beer and said something about the French romantic movie we were down to watch next on the course, I looked and realised that she'd finished half of the glass. If I hadn't known her better, I could have sworn that she was nervous about something. But Nina was never nervous -- I'd learned that already.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah." She threw me another of her quick, twisted grins. "Hey," she said, "what do you think people actually think of you?"
"Me?" I shrugged. "I know that one. They don't hide it much. They call me a geek."
"Does that worry you?"
"I can deal with it. How 'bout you? I gather that you don't want people calling you a freak, but you obviously like the goth thing."
"Yeah, well, that's me. Do geeks hang out together?"
"Quite a bit. But that gets a bit inbred, you know? I may be a geek, but I like to get away from that sometimes."
"Yeah. Goths hang out together a lot. Come on."
"Pardon?" I saw that she'd finished her Guinness, although I still had a little of my own beer left.
"I said that there'd be a test."
"At the end of the evening, you said."
"Yeah, well, it's kinder to everyone if we get it over with."
I grabbed my coat and followed her out of the pub. "Where are we going?" I asked.
"My room," she said, but then she clammed up, and I trailed back through most of the same streets as before behind the shapeless flapping of her coat. At her accommodation block, she let us in with a key card, and led me to the door of her room. That, she opened as little as possible, preventing me from seeing much that was inside until I'd followed her through. Then she closed the door and snapped the light on, and I drew a sudden breath.
The room was
pink
. There was a pink bedspread thrown over the standard-issue bed, and pink satin cushions strewn all over the place. A teacup and saucer with a pink floral design sat on the desk, next to a stack of textbooks and -- oh my god -- a pink My Little Pony. The walls were decorated with pictures of real ponies and kittens.
I took another, careful breath. This situation was going to require a little thought.
Nina stared hard at me with a surly expression. "Like it?" she said.
"It's not what I expected, I admit," I said.
"Okay, I'll let you off with that. I brought all this stuff from home, of course. My room's been like this all my life."
"You're homesick?" I asked.
"Nah," she said with another scowl. "Glad to get away, really. But this is
me
, right? So what do you think?"
I sat down on one of the armchairs, moving a pink cushion aside as I did so. "I like
you
," I said, "and it's not like there's some kind of rules."
"Yes there are," said Nina, "
my
rules, remember?" She sat down abruptly on the bed, sending a teddy bear and a rag doll flying. "People have to take me like I am. But that means
that
--" she pointed at a cute kitten picture "-- as well as
this.
" Her finger stabbed fiercely at her weird hairstyle.
I shrugged. "Makes sense."
"So you don't think that this is freaky or screwed up?"
"It's just a room. You want it like when you were a kid, fine. Some time, you can come see my collection of SF movie posters."
