Oh My God!
Characters
FELIX LARSEN, burnt-out basket case high school student
MARGO FENWAY, pompous and erratic over-achieving high school student
Setting
Classroom, more specifically, detention.
Time
Late afternoon, November 4th, 1995
(Margo Fenway is sat at a desk on the far right next to a window, chewing gum. There are three other students sitting a bit further, spread out from one another. The teacher, old and indifferent, is sitting in the front with his nose stuck in a book. Felix Larsen enters nonchalantly a good fifteen minutes late. He sits in the back row, diagonally behind Margo, then notices her.)
FELIX:
Hold on. There’s no way perfect little Margo Fenway is in detention right now.
MARGO:
Save it. I’m only here because of a one-time incident. (She turns to him) whereas your seat has your butt print memorized.
FELIX:
How do you know what my butt looks like?
MARGO:
It’s not too far off from your face. (She turns back)
(Silence.)
FELIX:
What’d you do to be here anyway?
(Margo spins her whole chair around.)
MARGO:
Ugh! I literally don’t wanna talk about it and it’s, like, totally not even my fault.
FELIX:
…Okay?
MARGO:
(Speaking fast) Anyway, here’s what happened. So, I’m at my debate final, right? And mind you, up until, like, the very last minute, I was doing literally all the work. Then— oh my god— it’s the last round, and Jessica Randall literally comes over to me and— you know Jessica, right? She got highlights in September, but it’s totally obvious she did them herself— Anyway, she comes over and she’s like “I wanna, like, go up for this next round” which is, like, totally crazy, right? ‘Cause I literally did, like, all the work, but anyway... In my head, I was like, “As if!” but, like, I couldn’t say that because we’re still, like, on weird terms since this summer just because I didn’t invite her to my sleepover. (She laughs) Anyway, I just said “whatever” and totally thought we would still win, right? But we lost! That skank made us lose! She totally did it on purpose. So, I got upset, because, like, duh! And I had stopped taking my Adderall because Kylie— you wouldn’t know her, she’s a senior— told me that she read somewhere that Adderall makes you fat, so like, ew. Anyway, I guess I got a little agitated or whatever and got in a fight with some girl on the other team with uneven bangs and now I’m here stuck with this ugly knee brace. The whole thing is literally not a big deal but whatever. I’m sure you’re here for something, like, way worse though, right? (She laughs again.)
FELIX:
Uh, yeah, I don’t know. I just skipped English class too much, I guess. It’s stupid. (He rolls his eyes.)
MARGO:
Weird. Do you, like, hate the teacher or something?
FELIX:
It’s not so much the teacher as it is a certain classmate...
MARGO:
Oh my god, that’s right! Is it that ugly little foreign kid that’s always following you? No offense. (She giggles.)
FELIX:
(Awkwardly) Yeah... He’s so like, totally annoying, right? Haha.
MARGO:
Ugh, totally! I heard he’s like, crazy rich, though. Like, Paris Hilton if she was European. So like, what’s his deal?
FELIX:
...His deal?
MARGO:
Yeah, what’s his deal? Don’t you, like, know what’s wrong with him or whatever? Do you think he’d be into American girls? (She smears on some lip balm from her pocket.)
FELIX:
(He suddenly takes a defensive tone) What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with him! A-and he’s too good for you anyway!
MARGO:
Woah, why are you, like, totally freaking out right now? Don’t you like, literally hate him or whatever? (She laughs once more.)
FELIX:
I’m allowed to hate him because I actually have to put up with his bullshit! Y-you're just... You’re just a bitch! You don’t earn the right to hate him!
MARGO:
Okay, rude! Are you, like, gay for him or something? (She laughs yet again, then leans in to whisper.) Don’t worry— your secret’s safe with me, Fifi! (She smiles diabolically.)
FELIX:
What the f—
(The teacher finally pokes his head out of his book and shushes the two chatterboxes in the back of the class.)
MARGO:
(Smiles and whispers) This was fun, Fifi! We should totally talk more!
(She laughs one last time before turning her chair back to her desk to face the front of the class. Felix sighs and drops his face into his palm.)
Losers
I start open-mouth chewing on a stick of peppermint gum. I hate peppermint. I smear some pina colada chapstick on in hopes of concealing the scent of smoke but there’s no use. Not even the smell of summer could hide what Oscar van Hoffman recognizes far too well. Back in Nyborg, my Papa would smoke five packs a day... Quite a chimney, he was! Those cartons of cancer nearly killed my old man, you know... Repeats Oscar at any given opportunity. That little cow milker might as well sit in a courtroom and make a living out of judging people so much.
In every respect, Oscar reminds me of wet socks; seemingly tolerable but deeply irritating. To put it bluntly, he’s just a skinny freckled squash-headed wide-smiled Bull Terrier deprived of sunlight and a collection of wrinkly designer polos. I heard some sophomores spreading rumors that he was born with a tail that the doctors mistook for his genitals and if I’m being completely honest, I find it difficult not to believe them. Look, Oscar’s great and all, but it’s hard to be seen with someone who churns his own butter and claps and cheers every time someone in class answers correctly. It makes school feel like a Baptist Church. If it wasn’t for roll call on the first day of school, I wouldn’t have to think twice about him. The teacher called out “Felix Larsen” and Oscar jolted backwards at me all excited at the thought of someone in class also being of Danish descent. It took him a while to accept the fact that I don’t speak the language, nor have I ever visited the ‘sacred motherland’, as he puts it. He’s definitely... different. He never lets the phone ring twice when I call. He lets me use his bathroom pass to go smoke out the window. He started taking his notes in English so I could use them too. He can tell when I haven’t had a full night’s rest. It’s weird for a dude to care that much.
“Felix!” Squirrels rustle into bushes and birds are reminded to migrate. “I see your silly girlish hair, Felix!” Someone needs to put a lid on this højlydt*1 for my sanity’s sake. “Felix! Come now, boy! I have urgent news to share!” I release a nice long grunt before dashing over his way, hands in pockets.
“What is it, van Hoffman?” I shoot.
“I am happy to announce that I, Oscar van Hoffman, son to Frederik and Karla van Hoffman, have found a worthy mate to pursue!” He stands erect as he said that ridiculous sentence with his arms pinching his hips like lobster claws.
“Look, uh, Oscar... ‘mates’ aren’t really meant to be ‘pursued’. They’re meant to be, well, mated with.”
“Ah, Felix. You know how much I love your fresh and debonair wind of perspective from time to time. No really, I appreciate it greatly. You’re this Americanized Casanova, this western paramour, a colonized lothario, even.” How on earth is English only his second language? “But me? I’m an amorist, don’t you see? I don’t burn through bundles of girls at a time like a chain-smoker as easily as you might. I cherish a woman the same way a blind man clings to his sense of hearing. The way I love a woman, well, I just pray it is something a womanizer like you can experience one day.”
Maybe it’s the language barrier, maybe it’s my incredible wit, or maybe it’s just Oscar’s general incompetence, but not too long ago, I realized I could make him believe anything I wanted. I’m as much of a virgin as he is, maybe slightly more. Who knows what that little kartoffel was up to in those hills of Nyborg. Having him think that I’m cooler than I actually am has been working pretty well in my favor so far, so I don’t really see why I should bother stopping.
“Wow, you really got me all figured out then. So, tell me— who’s the lucky lady? And why’d I have to come all the way out here to hear about it? This couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow?”
“I will explain all in good time, but first, please accept this gift of jewelry I wish to give you,” he says.
He digs through his pockets for a moment. What I assumed would be a nice, sleek chain results in—
“— matching friendship bracelets! I colored them with highlighters in class. Here, let me put yours on!” He grabs my wrist.
“This is not jewelry! Th-those are shoelaces!” I look down and see his two awkwardly long feet, pointing outwards, missing shoelaces.
“Granted, this is not jewelry. More precisely, this is a symbol of trust, a beacon of our friendship, an artifact yet-to-be in our history of manhood. With this, Felix Larson, I now have confidence in you as my male companion, my partner in camaraderie. Briefly put, you, my friend, are now my wingman.” He stares at me with his dumb cheddar smile. I repeat that last word back at him, confused.
“You see, you are not the only person I have invited here today. The woman who has stolen my heart, Margo Fenway, is also expected to come, and when she does, I need you to help me woo her with your lady-charming sorcery. I would be far too nervous to speak to her, of course, what with her almond eyes piercing me down. What will I become when I catch a whiff of the hints of cranberry and pistachio in her chestnut hair. Oh, the things I would do to better acquaint myself with that caramel skin glazing her...” What is she, a bag of Trail Mix?
“Maggot Fenway?! You called me all the way here just to help you bang four-eyed knee brace captain of debate club Maggot Fenway?!” Heat escapes from my voice.
“You should be careful when disrespecting my woman like that, and yes, I seek your experienced wisdom. I don’t see any reason for you to be taken aback; after everything I’ve done for you, I didn’t think such a simple favor would trouble you at all.”
“Well, it does. Jesus, Oscar, that accent isn’t the only thing of yours that’s thick. I’m out of here. You can keep your stupid shoelace.” I throw the bracelet at his chest and turn away from him.
“It’s a bracelet, goddammit! I spent time on that! You ought to know what it feels like to do something for someone other than yourself! I always pack an extra lunch in case you forget yours! I started carrying only green highlighters because you said the yellow bothered your eyes! I tried teaching you your long-lost mother tongue of Danish until you were hostile with me!”
He has his finger wagging in my face and everything. Hearing him yell is like nails on a chalkboard.
“You only stopped after I finally called you a røvhul**2! Don’t you get it? You never help me; you smother and suffocate me with your strange Scandinavian hospitality! It’s honestly weird, dude. Learn to relax!” I’m shouting.
“Oh, well I’m sorry if my kindness and generosity have caused you all this anguish! How incredibly selfish of me to be so stubborn and conceited! I guess I still have a lot to learn from big, cool, American bigshots like you!”
It’s the first time I hear him use a sarcastic tone with me. It’s hurtful.
“What’s so wrong about Margo Fenway? Why is it so impossible for you to help me just this once? After everything I’ve done for you, how is this so difficult for you to just do for me? I’m not asking for a lot!”
Beasts crawl out of his throat.
“I can’t help you, Oscar, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I’m as helpless as you, can’t you see?”
The ugly freckled Danish boy struggles to understand what I mean.
“Oscar... I’m a virgin.”
Wind blows over and dead leaves dance. Neither of us speak a word. I crushed his world and mine in his.
“What, like that’s supposed to be shocking or something?”
My heart drops. I painfully peak behind my shoulder. I can hear the clanky bangle bracelets moving closer and closer. My gaze grabs the pavement.
“Oh, you have arrived!” Oscar punctuates with five little claps.
“Duh! What’s Fifi doing here?” Her voice. It vibrates my skull.
Oscar swaddles my shoulders.
“Don’t worry, Margaret. He was just leaving!” He squeezes me like a cow udder.
“Ugh, I know you’re like, not from here and all, but FYI- I go by Margo. Like, what are you, my mother?!” Oh, sure. I definitely see what he sees in her.
At this rate, Oscar might actually break my shoulder blade. Trust me, I’ve wanted to leave since the second I got here, but it’s too late. He’ll undoubtedly make a fool of himself, and this microwaved barbie will try to take advantage of him regardless. Of all the rumours out there about Oscar, the one about his family fortune has got to be the laziest. Since when does a glass water bottle represent hidden generational wealth? One way or another, that turd biscuit is going to try her shot at Oscar’s pockets and I can’t let him think she’s aiming for his pants. I have to be the worst wingman imaginable, for his own sake. After everything he’s done for me, I owe it to Oscar to ruin his chances with the girl he likes.
“You know, I think I’ll stay for a bit.” I elbow Oscar’s ribs. “Woah, do you smell that? Did you really just fart? Gross, dude!” I pinch my nose.
“I literally can’t smell anything.” Margo crosses her arms.
“You’re just not near enough. You should probably leave. It smells like a disease.” I shoo at her.
“Felix, I smell fine. I bathed at sunrise. Now, if you’ll allow me, I have a few words to say to Margo if that’s alright.” His cheeks flush.
“Well, it’s not! B-because...” They both look at me, wide-eyed. All my thoughts climb out of me. Time is sprinting.
“Well, because I’ll get jealous!” Oh, dear God.
Margo scoffs with a dirty smile. “No way! I was right! You two are like, totally gay for each other! Oh my God, I literally have to go tell Heather. She’s going to freak!”
Oscar and I both yell “no!” and I grab her arm. We look at each other, then turn away as if we didn’t.
“Ew! Let go of me, you numbskull!” She smells like an Abercrombie sale section.
“I’m not gay for Oscar! I’m straight for you!” The agony keeps cutting deeper.
Both Oscar and Margo respond in the kind of “huh?!” that thrusts their neck forward.
“I-I’m in love with you, Margo Fenway. There’s just, uh, something about your split ends and undiagnosed overbite that just, uh, charm me. Come on, baby, let’s bounce.” Yeah. Real convincing stuff.
“Don’t listen to him! My heart has not known peace since it was graced by the image of your beauty. The Earth met Heaven as soon as you arrived. I care for you, Margo, much more deeply than Felix ever will.” His eyes, honest. His lips, chapped. His words, gargled.
“ Ugh, just gag me with a spoon already.” She rolls her eyes.
“I’d rather not. What I will do, however, is give you a gift of my endearment if you’ll allow me.” He dives into his pocket with both hands.
“Oscar, don’t!” I try to pull his arm, but the grip of Satan’s niece jumps at me.
“Fifi, please! I get it, you’re a freak and all, but if Oscar has a gift for me, it’s only fair for me to take it!” With the strength of a hundred skanks, she pushes me away. There’s no use; I’m too far to stop them.
“Earrings for you, snookums.” Oh, how vile.
“Is this a joke?! These are paper clips with soda caps poked through them, you dimwit. These are earrings!” She flaunts her cheap rubber studs. “I swear, just standing here is gonna give me brain damage. Ugh, thanks for making me come all the way out here—not!” She twists her heels and throws Oscar’s work on the ground.
She’s gone like a fart in the wind.
Coda
Characters
FELIX LARSEN, the loser
OSCAR VAN HOFFMAN, the foreign loser
Time
The next day.
Setting
English class.
(Felix wakes up from his nap right while the teacher begins talking about chapter eight of Catcher in the Rye. He looks around and notices Oscar sitting beside him, taking notes in Danish with his yellow highlighter beside him. He finds a scrap of paper to write on and passes it to Oscar.)
FELIX: “R we cool?”
(Oscar opens the message and crumbles it. Felix tears off another piece of paper and passes another note.)
FELIX: “your a good friend. Sorry I lied.”
(Oscar scribbles something and passes it back.)
OSCAR: “*You’re.”
(Felix reads it and sighs, then leans in to whisper.”
FELIX: Look, I’m sorry! I don’t actually have a thing for Margo. And I’m sorry I’m a virgin. I’ll try not to be-
OSCAR: (In a non-whisper whisper) You’ve been smoking.
FELIX: ...Huh?
OSCAR: I can smell it on your collar.
FELIX: That- It was only- Oscar, just listen-
OSCAR: Those cartons of cancer nearly killed my old man, you know.
(Felix is stunned for a moment.)
OSCAR: Here. You better catch up.
(He tears off a sheet from his notebook a few pages back and places it on Felix’ desk. It’s his notes, taken in English, highlighted in green.)