It all started during lunch break. Arash and his best friend, Kian, were playing their usual game of "Soccer Without a Ball" in the school courtyard—essentially an overly dramatic simulation of a soccer match where the "ball" was entirely imaginary. Arash had just scored what he declared was a game-winning goal (though Kian insisted it was offside), when they heard a suspicious clunk coming from the old storage shed behind the gym.
The shed was officially "off-limits," which, to any boy worth his salt, meant it was the most interesting place on campus.
“Did you hear that?” Kian whispered, his eyes wide.
“Probably just a cat,” Arash said.
“A cat wearing boots?” Kian pointed toward the shed, where faint murmurs could now be heard. “That’s definitely people.”
The two exchanged a look, the kind of look that boys exchange when they’re about to do something undeniably stupid but utterly irresistible.
“Let’s check it out,” Arash said.
They crept toward the shed, ducking behind bushes and garbage bins with the stealth of spies in a low-budget action movie. As they approached the door, they could hear the voices more clearly.
“…and that’s why girls probably have secret codes they use to talk to each other without us understanding,” someone was saying.
“No way! I think they use telepathy,” another voice argued.
“Shhh! Do you want to get us caught?” a third voice hissed.
Kian raised an eyebrow at Arash. “What in the world…”
Arash shrugged, and together they nudged the door open just enough to peer inside.
The sight was both baffling and mesmerizing. Inside the dimly lit shed, a group of boys sat in a rough circle. The centerpiece of their gathering was a tattered floral curtain strung up like a theatrical backdrop. On one side of the curtain sat a boy wearing a scarf and an exaggerated pout, pretending to be a girl. On the other side, a second boy was awkwardly attempting to hold a conversation with him.
“Um… so… what’s your favorite color?” the boy asked.
“Pink,” the “girl” replied in a falsetto voice, flipping an imaginary ponytail. “Obviously.”
Kian clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, but Arash was too intrigued to stay hidden. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“What is this?” Arash asked, startling everyone.
The boys jumped to their feet like they’d been caught smuggling contraband. One of them, the self-appointed leader of the group, stepped forward. He was tall and lanky, with an air of theatrical authority.
“Who are you?” the boy demanded.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Arash shot back. “What are you guys doing in here?”
After a tense pause, the leader sighed and gestured for them to come in. “Close the door behind you. You’ve stumbled upon the Curtain Club.”
“The… Curtain Club?” Kian echoed, following Arash inside.
“Yes,” the leader said, straightening his shoulders. “We’re a secret society dedicated to understanding girls.”
Arash and Kian exchanged a glance.
“Why…?” Arash asked slowly.
“Because no one else will tell us anything!” one of the other boys blurted out. “Teachers won’t talk about them. Parents act like they’re mythical creatures. How are we supposed to know anything?”
“We’ve taken it upon ourselves to gather knowledge,” the leader added. “Through research, deduction, and… reenactments.”
He gestured dramatically toward the floral curtain.
“So… you just guess what girls are like?” Kian asked, struggling to suppress a grin.
“Not just guess,” the leader corrected. “We hypothesize.”
“And what have you… hypothesized?” Arash asked, genuinely curious.
“Well,” the leader began, “we know girls are obsessed with pink. And they cry. A lot. Probably three times a day.”
“Four, if it’s a weekend,” another boy chimed in.
“They also have secret diaries where they write mean things about boys,” added a third.
“Oh, and they can read minds,” the leader said confidently. “That’s how they always know when we’re lying.”
Kian couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, clutching his sides. “You guys are making this up!”
“Of course we are!” one boy said defensively. “What else can we do? It’s not like we can just ask them.”
Arash, meanwhile, felt a strange mix of amusement and pity. These boys were so earnest in their absurdity, so desperate to fill the gaps in their understanding of the “other side.”
“Do you… ever plan to talk to actual girls?” Arash asked.
The leader looked horrified. “And risk total humiliation? No way.”
“Besides,” another boy added, “what if they find out about the Curtain Club? They’d think we’re weird.”
“Newsflash,” Kian said, still laughing, “this is already weird.”
Arash, however, wasn’t laughing anymore. He couldn’t help but wonder if he and Kian were really so different from these boys. After all, they had questions too—questions no one seemed willing to answer.
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch break, and the boys began to scatter.
“Don’t tell anyone about this,” the leader warned Arash and Kian as they left. “We’re counting on you.”
As they walked back to class, Kian shook his head in disbelief. “That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah,” Arash said thoughtfully. “But… they kind of have a point.”
Kian stopped in his tracks. “Please tell me you’re not about to join their club.”
“No,” Arash said quickly. “But… maybe they’re right about one thing. Maybe it’s time we started asking some questions of our own.”
Kian groaned. “You’re going to get us in so much trouble.”
“Probably,” Arash said with a grin. “But it’ll be worth it.”