Jón Gnarr - The Indian

I went over to Gummi’s to learn the Grease dance. Gummi is really good at dancing. He’s nicknamed Gummi the Stud because once he went out to the convenience store and there was a man there from the paper who asked him what was the most fun thing to do at school.

— Play Kiss Chase with girls, Gummi said.

Sometimes we play Kiss Chase at recess. We try to get some girls and hold onto them and Gummi kisses them on the mouth. Sometimes the girls also chase us and try to kiss us. Most girls only want to kiss Gummi. Though Ásta once tried to kiss me.

The dance lesson went badly. I couldn’t learn the steps. I could just about do a little something with my hands. In the end, we gave up. I think I’ll dance as little as possible. Maybe just the last song, which is always a quiet song.

The main thing is the earrings. I went last week to The Thousand and One Nights variety store on Laugavegur and bought some earrings. I’ve not told anyone except Kristján Þór. There are several boys at school with earrings. Gummi has a piercing and a few different studs that he can put in on different days. I was going to get some Coke earrings. I think they’re very cool. These tiny little Coke cans hang from a hook you fix in your ear. But they didn’t have Coke ones so I got Pepsi earrings instead. I’m going to wear them in both ears. You’re meant to go to a parlor and get them to make holes for you, but I can’t afford it. I’m tired of talking about it with Dad so I’m just going to make the holes myself. I’ve managed to steal the big needle Mom uses to sew together haggis. I’m fairly certain that I can make a hole for earrings with it. I’ll be the only kid with two earrings.

A girl at school has a crush on me. That’s Ásta. She sends me notes in class and once even came to my house and banged on the windows. I haven’t ever answered her. I’m too shy. I’m also afraid she might be teasing me. Perhaps she’s just pretending to have a crush. I find it incredible that some girl could have a crush on me. I think I’m pretty ugly. I’m stupid, too. And if she really does have a crush on me, then she better stop now because I’d end up irritating her. Also, I’m afraid of girls. I don’t understand them. They’re like extraterrestrials. I never know what they think or what they’re interested in. I don’t talk to them. Some of them are unbelievably beautiful and when you look them in the eye you could go ahead and die. They smell good and when they speak, they have such lovely voices that you don’t hear what they say because you’re hardly able to stop yourself passing out. Then there are other girls who are pushy or just plain stupid and annoying.

Girls can often be annoying. They’re also always saying annoying things. Perhaps that’s because they’re weak. They can’t defend themselves and so they fight with their mouths.

I only know two girls. They both live on my street. I don’t really know anything about the girls in my class.

Ásta is a typical girl. She’s cute. She has long black hair and is quite small. I don’t think she’s exactly fun but at least she’s not annoying. Though I find her girlfriends stupid and boring.

We meet up and get ready. I dress in my T-shirt and tuck it into my pants. We go into the bathroom to put on brilliantine.

I’m nothing like John Travolta. I’ve got red hair and freckles and glasses. I look more like one of the bad guys. In the movies, the bad guys are always uglier than the good guys. That’s not true in real life. But I’m going to look a million times better when I’ve got my earrings in.

I smear brilliantine through my hair and comb it back. It rises forward again, as big as ever. Kristján Þór’s hair always lies flat but mine has a lot of volume. I try to keep it down but it always springs up. In the end, I have to ask Mom. She puts hair spray in it and it finally settles down.

Outside, there’s some frost. I get pretty cold as we head to school because I’m only wearing a T-shirt. I’ve got the earrings in my pocket along with the haggis needle. Kristján Þór is wearing his ski coat. It’s cool. I usually wear a coat with a fur-lined hood. Some kids call those sort of coats Mong coats. You can’t go to a Grease Ball in a Mong coat.

It’s really important to dress right. If you’re wearing the wrong thing, you’re a dork. People judge you by how you’re dressed. It doesn’t matter when you’re little but as you grow up, it’s more important. No teenager wants to be a dork. So everyone wears Moon Boots and vests. I don’t have Moon Boots but I do have vests and a splendid ski hat. I’m not a dork. I used to be, but not anymore.

I wasn’t aware of fashion until we went on a school ski trip. I’d never been skiing before. It had suddenly become fashionable. Mom and Dad rented some skis from Sport Market for me. They were Rossignol skis. That’s a cool brand. The coolest brands, though, are K2 and Salomon. The coolest shoes are made by Nordica.

I put on my skis. I tried to slide on them a few times outside the house and I could just about stand on them. But I needed ski clothes. My mom had some old ski pants. They didn’t have any padding but they fit and were quite cosy. I only had a lamb’s-wool hat so I borrowed a ski hat from Dad. It wasn’t a real ski cap; it was all one color, fiery red, whereas ski caps are usually multicolored or have patterns. On the front it says, in large letters: NORWAY.

I met the bus up in the mountains at Bláfjöll. I hid the hat in my pocket because I wasn’t sure if it was in fashion. But it was so cold up on Bláfjöll that I had to put it on. That’s when I found out that it definitely wasn’t in fashion. Everyone started to laugh and whisper to each other as soon as they saw me. They also made fun of my pants. All the kids had cool ski pants with padding. The girls immediately began to tease me.

— Are those jodhpurs?

— No, ski pants.

— Why are they so stupid?

— They’re my Mom’s.

— You’re wearing your Mom’s pants?

— Yeah, so?

— Isn’t your Mom like a hundred years old or something?

— No.

— You wearing her bra, too?

Everyone started laughing. I was a dork. But I couldn’t escape. The bus wouldn’t return until the evening. I was forced to stay out all day in the pants and hat. I knew nothing about skiing. I went up in the chair lift but when I got to the top I got so scared I walked all the way down the slope on my skis and everyone looked at me as they passed, skiing.

I stayed inside the lodge the rest of the day and drank cocoa with Rubber Tarzan. He didn’t even have ski stuff. He was just wearing the same clothes as always. And it was almost as bad to have his company as to be rejected by the others.

What a lousy day.

On the bus on the way home someone started calling me Jónsi Norway.

— Jónsi Norway?

— Shuttup.

— Are you wearing your Mom’s panties?

I cursed Mom and Dad all day in my head. When I got home, I threw myself at Mom. I began to cry. I demanded cool clothes like everyone else. I’m no longer a dork. I want to be like everyone else. I want to be cool.

Everyone is dressed very cool. The boys are all in black T-shirts and jeans with turn-ups — even the complete dorks. Some are in black shirts and black jeans, like John Travolta. Some even have black leather jackets.