The Prince of Neither Here Nor There Read Online Free PDF Page A

Thumbs, Trippy McFallstein—they were always dreaming up new names to mock him with. Yes, Brendan knew he was a danger to others and to himself. At home, his father had gently but firmly banished him from the basement art studio after the nine-hundredth time he had accidentally crushed some delicate sculpture or piece of art. His mother said he was just growing too fast and he would eventually grow out of his clumsiness, but Brendan had his doubts.
    Knowing all this, it was hard to believe that he was the last person in the game, backed into a corner, waiting for Chester to pulverize him. How? he asked himself. Why? But he knew the reason. The reason was Marina Kaprillian, a ninth-grader of surpassing beauty who was currently leaning coolly against the wall with a tittering group of her friends watching the action. The students who had been eliminated from the game early watched with relish as the humiliation continued, relieved to escape relatively unscathed. The audience grew as more were knocked out and so did the humiliation. The added opportunity for embarrassment was the fact that gym classes, due to the small number of students, were co-ed. Unlike most high schools, gym class and sports were a low priority compared to academic pursuits at Robertson Davies Academy. As a result, physical education suffered from funding shortfalls in favour of Chess Club and the Debating Team. Brendan was desperate to impress Marina or at least make her notice him. Staying in the Murderball game seemed like the way to catch her eye. So, despite all his physical shortcomings, he had made a superhuman effort and here he was on the verge of devastating personal injury.
    There’s an old saying: be careful what you wish for. Now he was standing in the middle of the gym, wishing she would look anywhere else. Chester was going to cream him and he would look like a total goof.
    Brendan looked to the sideline where his friends gathered, faces screwed into varying expressions of horror on his behalf. Harold’s chubby hands half-covered his round face as if he couldn’t bear to look but at the same time couldn’t pass up a chance to witness such exquisite carnage. Dmitri, small and blond, shook his head and motioned for Brendan to just play dead. Beside Dmitri, Kim gave Brendan a thumbs-up. The expression on her face suggested she wished she were in Brendan’s place. She was a true tomboy and loved physical contests. Of all his friends, she was the only one who was at home in the gymnasium: her shorts and T-shirt actually fit, and she stood with one hip cocked, looking quite sporty. She kept her hair cut in a trim little bob that framed her oval face neatly. One graceful eyebrow was arched as she slowly shook her head in disbelief. Apart from Kim, Brendan’s little gang of nerds lived mainly in their minds and found physical activity difficult at best and distasteful at worst.
    “CHES-TER! CHES-TER! CHES-TER!”
    The chant-ing of the crowd took on a feral edge. 22 They sounded less like high school students and more like a pack of hyenas baying for blood.
    Brendan looked away from the little knot of supporters and back to his inspiration. His eyes sought out that special face…her face. There she was! She was looking at him! In spite of his pimple, she was looking at him.
    “I am so gonna smear you all over this floor, Brendan Clair!” Chester’s heavy voice cut through Brendan’s daze. Brendan turned to see Chester sneering at him from across the floor.
    “No need for taunting, Chester.” Mr. Davenport, the gym teacher, his voice nasal and piercing, chided over the noise of the crowd. “That’s poor sportsmanship.” Mr. Davenport was thin and wiry with a horrible comb-over. He wore a red sweatsuit with “Robertson Davies Academy Philosophers” stencilled on the front. Mr. Davenport was a physics teacher but he doubled as a phys. ed. teacher because he had a secret desire to be an athlete, a desire that had no hope of ever being