The Trials of Timothy Goldwyn
an excerpt

Meet Tim Goldwyn. He’s not just a normal, run-of-the-mill teenage guy.

No, he’s cooler.

Normal guys might take girls on dinner-and-a-movie dates. Tim meets girls on Dungeon and Dragons chat rooms and takes them on virtual dates.

Normal guys might practice kissing on their pillows, and Gandalf-knows-what else in the privacy of their own bedrooms. Tim practices his mad light saber skills, just in case the world faces another taking over by the Empire, and the Rebel alliance needs his Jedi Master help.

Semi-normal guys might attempt to write secret-admirer poetry to girls they’re crushing on. Tim writes Lord of the Rings-Harry Potter-Star Wars crossover fan fictions (if you don’t know what fan fiction is, go immediately to www.fanfiction.net and educate yourself). Tim also polishes his various action figures (Spiderman and Batman included), keeping them in pristine condition in preparation for the next Toy War.

Normal guys might get hooked on drugs, alcohol, or even sex. Tim’s addiction, however, is fantasy movies, books, and T.V. shows. Not only is he fluent in Klingon, he also dabbles in Elvish. He can recite every Sorting Hat song from Harry Potter, every piece of dialogue Gandalf ever uttered, and every inspirational speech given by Captains Kirk and Picard.

Normal guys might wear American Eagle, Abercrombie, or Old Navy. Tim wears Good Will, 90’s style clothes. His trademark outfit is a white undershirt, a plaid button-down over-shirt, and blue jeans. His style isn’t “typical” nerd, and instead of a protector filled with pens, he carries his hand-held Nintendo in his breast pocket. Glasses are, of course, a must for his overall look. His are thick-framed, thick-lensed, and not--surprisingly--taped at the nose. He has short, flyaway hair that he never remembers to comb, and two left feet (in other words, “Clumsy” is his middle name).

There’s a glimpse of our hero, our Jedi, our fighter in this Bildungsroman biography of a nerdy boy becoming a less-subdued man. Join me in watching Tim come of age, discover his powers and--perhaps more importantly--the opposite sex.

From time to time we shall reflect on the days of Tim’s blissful youth, when Pokémon was the fandom of choice, but mostly we will observe Tim’s quest for peace between Matrix and Star Trek fans alike. He might have to take out the old light saber, in a form of “aggressive negotiations”, but the physical violence ends there.

Now, let us journey on through time and space, to Tim’s present day...

From Chapter Four:

“And then, when Harry reaches into the Sorting Hat and pulls out the sword of Godric Gryffindor--”

“Harry Potter?” Arianna Treble asks.

“Um, yeah,” says Tim Goldwyn, annoyed at having been interrupted in mid-recount. “So Harry calls upon the loyalty of Fawkes the Phoenix--”

Arianna Treble goes on as if Tim Goldwyn has said nothing. “And who wrote that? J. R. R. Tolkien?”

Tim Goldwyn breaks off, gaping at her. Then he begins to hyperventilate.

Tracey Goldwyn comes back into Tim Goldwyn’s Room of Solitude holding two cans of soda pop. “Oh, what happened?” She is unconcerned.

“I said something about J.R.R. Tolkien and Harry Potter,” Arianna Treble explains.

“Oh,” Tracey Goldwyn says in a very understanding voice. “You’ve offended him. He’s totally freaking out on you, because he doesn’t think there’s any way possible someone wouldn’t know that the author of Harry Potter is actually J.K. Rowling, who is in fact a woman.”

“Huh,” Arianna Treble says. “I did not know Harry Potter was actually a woman.”

Tim Goldwyn’s eyes widen as he hears this and he collapses to the ground, clutching at the front of his shirt.

“Is he going to be okay?” Arianna Treble asks.

“In a minute.” Tracey Goldwyn picks up a stuffed animal Ewok from Star Wars from Tim Goldwyn’s bed, and a paper bag from Tim Goldwyn’s sock drawer. These she hands to her older brother, who is still in danger of having a seizure, by the looks of it.

“Ooh!” squeals Arianna Treble. “What a cuuuuuuute koala bear!”

Tim Goldwyn splutters, coughing into the carpet.

“You are just making it worse,” Tracey Goldwyn hisses at Arianna Treble. “Come on, we had better go.”

“I hope you feel better, Tim Goldwyn!” Arianna Treble calls over her shoulder.

Tim Goldwyn’s eyes remain wide and distant. Impertinent girl! Not deigning to know enough about Harry Potter (and Lord of the Rings) to hold a decent conversation with him! The nerve! He calms down in a few minutes, and decides to practice his Bat-Bogey Hex on this ‘Arianna Treble’ character the next time she stops by his room.

From Chapter Six:

Another, smaller step, and Arianna Treble petite frame was almost flush against his. Not that, of course, Tim Goldwyn’s frame was at all petite. It was a skinny frame, but still marginally more masculine than hers. “You know what I think would be a beyond perfect way to end the evening?”

“Um. What?” He sincerely had no exact idea of what she was getting at, though there was a nagging feeling at the back of his consciousness, waving its little arms and flashing a neon red sign saying ‘Look at me, look at me!’ and frantically jumping up and down in the off chance Tim Goldwyn would actually notice them. He did, but vaguely, and certainly not enough for it to really bother him.

Arianna Treble rested a perfectly manicured hand on Tim Goldwyn’s shoulder. “Are you seriously asking?”

“Affirmative.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed quietly into his ear. “I’ll put it in Nerd for you. What does Han Solo say to Leia near the beginning of Empire Strikes Back?”

“You could use a good kiss,” Tim Goldwyn recited automatically.

“And I sure could.” Arianna Treble leaned in the rest of the way and touched her glossed lips to Tim Goldwyn’s.

He froze, completely stunned by a combination of Arianna Treble’s vanilla bath soap, her strawberry lip gloss, and the intoxicating proximity of their warm bodies in the midst of the chilly evening. Nope, no fantasy or science fiction references came to mind. Just Tim Goldwyn, Arianna Treble, and the night time…as if, for a second, nothing else existed: not the house in front of them, not Tim Goldwyn’s Honda Civic in the driveway, not his family, not the little town of Mollis…not the better part of the universe, nor the worlds he had explored in his life time, nor…and this was the most shocking of all…the internet. The internet did not exist, for that one, horrible, yet beautiful and intimate moment.