The Fallout

At first Gonga’s plan had worked like a charm. He found the boring librarian person. Vivacious, unfortunately. Very interested in all he said. Decidedly on the “I don’t care” side of fashion. But, most of all, a librarian. That was the best part. Derrick would never in a million years consider going out with a librarian.

Which is why Gonga didn’t tell him she was a librarian. He simply set his friend up on the blind date, telling him to carry his bright blue camel-back with him to The Upper Crust and lay it on the table. That’s how he had told her to find him. Yeah, the camel-back would stand out like a sore thumb in a fancy restaurant on Valentine’s day. But that was the point. And Gonga was past caring about Derrick’s comfort.

He had expected to see Derrick again in about two hours, fuming about what a jerk Gonga was to set him up with such a horrible person. Maybe three hours, if the waiter took his time. But Derrick hadn’t come back.

Gonga stayed up till two in the morning, waiting for a desperate call for rescue. But none ever came.

The next day he ran into a very giddy Derrick standing in the coffee line at Starbucks.

“Oh man, do I ever owe you!” Derrick crowed, slapping Gonga on the back and giving him a bear hug.

Gonga frowned.

“That was the best thing you’ve ever done for me. Oh man, oh man. What a friend! Buddy, you’re fantastic.”

“I try,” Gonga grunted, shrugging his shoulders. He wondered what kind of drugs the girl had introduced Derrick to.

“She’s amazing!”

Gonga looked up sharply. That tone of voice had only before been associated with worship of the most daring of feats. But this was even something more.

When Derrick proceeded to gush about Lilia for the next hour, Gonga knew he has made a mistake. Apparently his boring librarian pick was none other than the resident expert in the history of outdoor adventuring and exploration. Not only a historian, she had made it a goal to spend at least a month each summer somewhere abroad, climbing a mountain or trekking through some jungle or swamp. And she’d done it without fail since the year she turned fourteen.

Gonga finally excused himself, saying that he had to hand out flyers for The Textbook Game, and kindly reminding Derrick that he had already missed one class that morning, and it would probably be wise to try to attend the rest, if only for attendance points. Gonga doubted he would hear a word of the lecture that day.

Then Gonga went off to sulk. Part of him hoped that Derrick would snap out of it in a week or so, and resume his normal routine of ridiculous exploits and insane pranks. But something told him that this would be different. Somehow, he knew. He had just lost his best friend.