Malcolm felt sure Juliet would be proud too, but her reaction was disappointing. She wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to drop the television angle and put all their energy back into the Science Fair. Malcolm pointed out to her that the first prize was worth $1000 and he’d be happy to let her have it, because all he wanted was the ego-feed of victory, but she brightened only slightly at the offer. Malcolm understood her unease. So much would still be left to chance. There was always the risk of the unknown competitor, or the unbalanced judge.
But Malcolm was confident nevertheless. He knew things Juliet couldn’t know, and felt things Juliet couldn’t possibly feel. He had caught one of life’s great waves, he could feel the surge of it beneath him, and he wasn’t going to get off until he felt the grind of sand beneath his board. So many things were coming together, and the excitement of it was making sleep difficult.
Things like the unexpected victory over Mr Ramsay, which had been handed to him. And the film itself, now that he was deep into the editing stage. It was better than he’d dared hope. The clarity, the composition, the content and the continuity, combined to form a record of endeavour he would always be proud of. Finally, and if he was honest with himself, most importantly, there was Charlotte.
It was awkward of course, ringing her after his hurried departure from the caravan, but ring her he did, because he knew he might never catch another wave like this again. He rang, she answered. He apologised, she listened quietly. Then he listened while she apologised back, although he couldn’t quite work out what for. Then he asked her to help with the editing of the film, because it was easier than asking her to go back to the caravan, and she said yes. She asked how long it would take and he told her quite a while, because it seemed silly not to make the most of the opportunity. Every evening this week, he told her, just the two of them, in the dark confines of the converted library storeroom which the school prospectus called its Editing Suite.
And she didn’t seem to mind at all. She didn’t mention the caravan, and how she’d said she loved him, and Malcolm didn’t explain how he was beginning to think he might love her too, because a wave is still only a wave, and there’s nothing worse than getting too fancy and falling off halfway through the ride.
They spent the next four evenings together, pressed close about the mac’s wide screen, and those four evenings were undoubtedly the happiest times of Malcolm’s short life. The smell of her deodorant, the sound of her voice, softening with familiarity, the curve of her finger on the mouse, these things swamped his imagination. And the thought of the coming day of triumph, standing there on the Civic Centre stage, accepting first prize, with Charlotte looking on, well that was almost more than his poor body could take.
From the first night it was clear there was more to Charlotte than Malcolm could ever have hoped for. Her mind was sharp, her concentration unbreakable and she possessed a knowledge of the film-making process which bordered upon the unnatural. Each evening Malcolm looked for a moment where he could divert the focus from cut and paste to matters hormonal, but each evening he found excuses not to. So the emotion was transferred to the screen, the shaping of their little baby, and some nights the unspoken passion was so palpable the painted walls of the makeshift studio turned red with embarrassment.
Malcolm took to walking the long way home each night, trying to find relief in the cool evening air, but he would still arrive back in his bedroom with a headful of unseasonable heat. Sleep was impossible. It was in those small disturbed hours that he made himself a promise. After the competition, he said to himself, once the prize is mine, then I will tell her how I feel.
According to competition rules Malcolm was allowed to invite five people to the official dinner and prize-giving ceremony. He asked Charlotte, of course, his parents, Juliet, and lastly, Kevin, who seemed in need of cheering up these days. It turned out that Juliet had already received an invitation in the mail, something to do with her father probably; so Malcolm invited Mr Ramsay. Predictably, the good principal declined the opportunity to view first hand the work of a fellow pervert.
Although the prizes would not be announced until after dinner, the reception opened at 4 p.m., giving the guests a chance to wander through the exhibits of the fifty national Finalists. As a place-getter last year, Malcolm had his entry accepted straight into the Finals, so it would also be the film’s first screening. Malcolm spent all morning getting ready: washing, combing, shaving and practising his acceptance speech. He even filmed it, so he could view and refine his performance. He wore a tuxedo his mother had rented especially for the big occasion. It was a bit over-the-top, but if you couldn’t get down and geeky at a National Science Fair Final, well there was something quite wrong with the world.