Fabulous Creature Read Online Free Page A

the idea had first arisen, in May not too long after James and Max had gotten acquainted. They’d been lying around the swimming pool at the university on one of the afternoons it was reserved for faculty families and their guests, and James had been telling Max, in an amusing and satirical way, about his history of identifying with famous characters from the past. While they were talking, Trudi Hepplewhite, whose father was in chemistry and who was one of the sexiest girls in James’ class, came in with three of her friends. It wasn’t very long before Max, who didn’t know any of the girls, was being suave and cool and just crass enough to be funny and the girls were all cracking up—while James, who had known them for years, was as usual, either saying nothing at all for so long everybody forgot he existed, or else coming up with a boring monologue or some joke that nobody got.
    It had been that way with James ever since he’d started taking an interest in girls as such. And that had been a long time ago. Although he seemed to be retarded socially where females were concerned, there was every indication he was normal physically, or even precocious. He’d started thinking seriously about girls fairly early, and the more he thought about them, the more he tied up when they were around. Earlier, much earlier, before sex entered the picture, girls he’d known had been simply people and no particular problem. But the more interested he got, the more he worried about what they were thinking of him and the result was usually—fiasco. Like Heather Rubenstein, for instance. Heather was a neighbor with whom he built tree houses, published a neighborhood paper, started a dog walking business, discussed politics and co-authored several indignant letters to the editor of the Oakland Tribune. But then one day he’d noticed some interesting developments where Heather was concerned, and shortly afterwards he’d blown the whole relationship by trying to kiss her. It wasn’t that she refused him, either. She’d simply asked him why he wanted to, and he hadn’t been able to think of anything to say. And he hadn’t been able to think of anything to say to her ever since.
    He’d discussed the problem with Max before that day at the pool, but he’d never really leveled with him. It just wasn’t easy to admit to someone with Max’s experience that you hadn’t even kissed a girl—at least not very successfully.
    But Max must have guessed. That day at the pool, after the girls had gone, he did something typically Maxian. In the same circumstances anyone else would either have kidded James, or if they were abnormally kindhearted, pretended not to have noticed that he’d made an ass of himself. But Max didn’t do either one. What he did do was bring up the subject in a very unemotional way, analyze it, discuss it, and proceed to figure out what could be done about it.
    According to Max there wasn’t really any reason why James was such a dud where girls were concerned. He was certainly smart, he could be very amusing in the right circumstances, and he wasn’t even bad looking.
    “Oh sure,” James said, flexing his almost nonexistent biceps. “I’m a regular Mr. America.”
    Max, who not only had a charismatic personality and an attractively homely face, but also a very adequate build, shrugged. “You’ll fill out,” he said. “I’ve filled out a lot since I was your age.” Max was eleven months older than James. “Besides, there are a lot of women who really go for that unhealthy, soulful look. Look at Peter Frampton and Rod Stewart.”
    “And Byron and Chopin,” James agreed eagerly.
    Max regarded him thoughtfully for a minute before he said, “You do have a few problems—but it’s nothing that can’t be remedied. It’s mostly a matter of changing your style and building your confidence.” After he’d thought for a while longer he said, “Building your confidence is probably the crucial thing, and I know