When I walked through the doors of the school I was greeted by two bubbly girls, one a short-cut blonde, the other a curly haired brunet. I’d never seen them at school before, but that isn’t saying much; when you come right down to it, I’ve already missed more days of school then I’ve actually attended. The blonde took my coat, hat and gloves while the brunet gave me a piece of paper with a number on it.
“What’s this for?” I asked the brunet.
In typical teenage girl snobbery she answered with, “Uh, HELLO? So you can get your coat back when you leave.”
“Oh,” I said stuffing the paper into my pants pocket.
I was somewhat concerned that I had come overdressed. Mom had insisted that I wear a tie and you can’t wear a tie without wearing a nice crisply ironed shirt and slacks. And my shoes were so shiny I could almost see myself in them. However, those fears were put to rest when I saw that there were guys that had come more dressed up then I was, with suits and even a couple guys wearing tuxedos. There were also many guys, and I guess girls too, that were just wearing their regular street clothes. And get this, there was even some numbskull running around in Bermuda’s, a flowery Hawaiian shirt, and flip-flops. Back in Chula Vista that is how most guys dress all the time — well, maybe not that psychogenic flower shirt, but in this frozen hell? I don’t think you’ll ever see me in a pair of shorts again!
With all that said, what I was really on the lookout for was some guy dressed in a bright blue button up shirt with a red collar and wearing blue Converse shoes with no laces in them.
Right then some girl grabbed my arm. “Oh my gawd! You’re the guy aren’t you?” she said in nearly perfect California beach bunny fashion.
She had long brown hair and brown eyes partially hidden behind small frameless glasses. She was flanked on either side by two other girls, one a redhead with a nose that seemed to be made more of freckles than skin and the other had very short brown hair with overly long bangs; I dare say if she hadn’t been wearing a dress and makeup, I might have mistaken her for a dude.
“Well are you or aren’t you?” the redhead asked.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, not having a clue what they were talking about.
“Aren’t you the guy that slapped the teacher?” The short haired girl asked.
“Uh, I didn’t slap anyone.” I said which was the truth. I guess somewhere along the grapevine, the event that I believed them to be referring to had become slightly different than the actual facts.
“You see Becky! I told you he wasn’t the guy.” The long haired girl said to the redhead.
But before they could get away I decided to spice up the gossip myself and see how insanely wild it would get by first period on Monday morning.
“Oh, I’m the guy alright! But I didn’t slap that teacher. I gave her a little bit of the same thing I gave that other kid!”
“That was you too?!” the red-head asked in this high-pitched, fear filled tone that could have shattered glass, rendered an entire herd of cattle sterile and caused the Great Wall of China to crumble.
The lot of them looked both horrified and awestruck at the same time. With a giddy, girlish, three part harmony-squeal the three of them quickly vanished into the crowd leaving me standing there looking and feeling quite proud of myself.
The hallway leading from the front school doors to the gymnasium was packed with students standing around talking, laughing and enjoying themselves. It was when I finally stepped into the gym that I was really blown away. The school gymnasium had been converted into a fairytale winter wonderland. Except for the wooden floor, I hardly recognized the place and boy was the music loud. I looked across the gym and saw that there was a band playing, but I couldn’t see them well from where I was standing.
I wandered around a while until I found myself standing near the back of the room about as far away from the band as I could possibly be. It was there that I got a serious shock. As I was leaning against the cool cinderblock wall I realized that directly to my left, sitting on a metal folding chair was this guy who looked to be too old to be at our Junior High School dance. He looked like he was at least a Freshmen in High School but more likely a Sophomore. Maybe he’d been held back a couple grades… or more. He was sitting there, reclining a bit and had a suit jacket draped over his lap.
What had caught my attention was the fact that the jacket was moving… a lot! It took me less than a millisecond to realize just what was going on under that jacket. I’d seen enough of that sort of stuff on the beaches of Chula-Vista to know when a dude is getting a blowjob.
Standing directly in front of him with their backs to him were three girls who also looked too old to be at this dance. Then again about 80% of the girls at the dance were wearing dresses and makeup that made them look 10 years older than they really are. It was obvious from my vantage point that the girls were acting as a wall to block other party-goers from the performance beneath the jacket.
Don’t ask me why I stayed at that spot, coyly watching out of the corner of my eye; I simply do not know. However all of that wasn’t the shocking part at all. What shocked the hell out of me was when the dude pulled his jacket away from his lap just enough that I was able to see that he was getting a blow job from this boy who looked younger than me by a year or two.
I glanced up at the guy and he was looking right at me, smiling closed mouth, while that little guy had his face buried in what had to be one of the largest patches of pubic hair I have seen in my life. I cannot tell you the size of the dude’s wang simply because it was buried in that little guy’s throat!
He blew me a kiss and winked at me.
“Dude! That is just wrong!” I snarled and using my shoulder like a battering ram I shoved those three girls out of the way as I shouted at the top of my lungs, “HEY LOOK HERE!” and ducked away before anyone saw me.
I don’t know for sure what happened after that, however, I heard a rumor the following week that the dude getting blown ended up being arrested. I’ve no idea who the little dude was and never heard anything about him at all.
As I made my way over to the punch table I kept a watchful eye out for Bertha, BB, and Fish while also doing my best to block out the visions of that dude getting blown by that littler dude. I didn’t find my friends right away, however when I reached the punch bowl I did find someone else I knew. And thank God I saw him too because the sight of him had wiped that whole vial sex scene from my mind for the time being.
“Larry?!” I gasped when I saw him sitting beside the punch table in a wheelchair with his leg all done up in a huge cast that went way up his hip. A white tube sock had been stretched over the end of the cast to keep his little pink toes from getting cold.
“ALVIN!” he shouted loud enough for me to hear him over the blaring music.
“I-I didn’t think you would be here. I mean, I thought you would still be in the hospital or at least home in bed.” I said as I pushed past a lot of people to get closer to him.
“Nah,” he said with a wide, genuine smile, “they sent me home yesterday evening and there was no way I was missing this.”
You know, I don’t know why I recognized him because he didn’t look anything like himself. He looked really happy and was wearing a nice crisp white shirt with a smart looking black neck tie. Larry didn’t seem the type to own a tie let alone wear one. Come to think of it, the tie was probably his fathers. He was also wearing a pair of black sweat pants with the one leg cut off to accommodate his bulky cast. His normally slicked back hair had been parted on one side and neatly combed into the typical boy-next-door fashion. And if you overlooked the raccoon eyes and the swelling of the bridge of his nose, his face seemed sweet, almost innocent.
“Listen, I never got a chance to apologize.” I said trying to talk over the band.
He screwed up his face; I mean more so than it already was, “What the heck are you talking about?”
“Your leg! And…” I started to say, but he reached out and took hold of my shirt like he was about to pull me down so that he could punch me in the face.
“Listen! I am the one that was a jerk, not you!” he said sternly.
I was less than 6-inches from his face so I could see clearly that his eyes had become watery and his one good eye was twitching.
He stuck his fist right in my face as he continued, “You could have left me in the park and if things had been switched I probably would have left you.”
It seemed that Larry had more to say, but it was apparent that he was having a difficult time keeping his emotions under control. He released my shirt and patted at his still somewhat swollen eye with the back of his hand.
Have you ever heard of the saying, ‘Open mouth, engage brain’? It means you start talking before you think about what you are saying. That is exactly what I did. I opened my mouth and words began to fall out of it without any thought whatsoever.
“Listen, I think I have figured out something.” I paused long enough to swallow and drum up a little more courage to say what I felt needed to be said. “You like Bertha. Don’t you?”
Larry’s one good eye flew open while the other strained and twitched.
“And by ‘like’ I mean, like-like.” I said making my stitches dance by wiggling my eyebrows at him.
He violently shook his head from side to side. Amazingly, his neatly combed hair didn’t so-much-as budge. He must have used half-a-bottle of hair jell to achieve that kind of holding power.
“No way man, she’s yours now.” He said holding up both hands as though I were robbing him.
“No she’s not!” I shook my head too, but not as forcefully as he had. “She’s the one that asked me to this stupid dance! Don’t even for a second think that this was my idea!”
Larry puffed himself up and tried to sound tough as he said “Listen! I’m not going to stand in the way of you two!”, but I was able to see right through his tough guy act.
I then asked him point blank, “Do you or don’t you really like-like her?”, but he didn’t have to answer; I could see it in his eyes. Larry didn’t just like-like Bertha; he was and still is hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her, body and soul.
“You’re going to take her back and make her your girlfriend or,” it was my turn to try to act tough even though we both knew it was just that… an act, “I’m going to give you another black eye!”
Larry leaned back in his wheelchair and chuckled amusingly, “Uh, I think I’ll pass on the black eye,” he pointed at his eyes, “I already got two, but thanks for offering just the same.”
The mood seemed to get really weird for a few seconds as the band switched from a loud rock and roll song to a slower, quieter, and kind of sappy song.
Larry diverted his gaze downward and to save him from the embarrassment of being seen so vulnerable, I stuck my good hand right under his nose and said, “Tell you what; let’s forget the fight ever happened and be friends again,” and in the same breath I added, “and Bertha is all yours. I’ll even try to help you win her back.” And as soon as I said that I thought to myself, ‘Lord knows how I am going to accomplish that!’
Boy, Larry was almost glowing when he shook my hand. Well, he didn’t exactly shake it, he did some kind of weird gang style handshake where he grabbed, pulled and clutched my hand different ways before ended it with our fists knocking together.
“Deal!” he finally said.
“Good, now get up out of that chair and let’s go have some fun!” I said trying to look serious.
Larry’s face went blank, “Ha-Ha. That was so funny.” he said tritely, “Oh stop. Please don’t make me laugh. Ho-Ho-Ha-Ha.”
I laughed a little as I said, “Just kidding man; but at least let me push you around a while. We can go find the others. We can even go check out the band; they sound pretty good.”
“Nah, I’m good right here. Besides, I’ve already seen them like a million times. My twin brother is the drummer.” I looked toward the band, but we were too far away and the crowd was too thick to see any of the band members.
Larry continued, “They practice in our garage all the time.”
“Wow you have a twin?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from squeaking.
“We’re not identical.” He said.
I’d heard of twins before that didn’t look alike, like one being a boy and the other a girl, but to find out that there was a chance that there was another person like Larry in this world? That was kind of creepy to think about.
“Which of you is older?” I asked.
“I am.” He said like it was extremely important.
Then came the obvious question, “By how much?”
“Eleven minutes and twenty seven seconds.” Larry’s facial expression changed as he said, “You got any more questions Sherlock?”
“Take it easy!” I said, “It’s just that I have never had a friend that was a twin before.”
When he didn’t say anything else I said, “Well let’s roll around a while.”
“Nah man, really, I’m good right here. Honest!” his voice cracked when he said honest, but I acted like I hadn’t noticed. “My older sister is around here somewhere. She’s supposed to be staying close to make sure I don’t get hurt.” He said and for the first time that I can recall, Larry seemed… well, almost childlike.
“So have you seen her?” he asked me.
I shook my head, “I didn’t even know you had a sister.”
“Not my sister you jerk!” he said with a mixture of humor and irritation, “I meant Bertha!”
“No, not yet.” I answered while scanning the crowd for her.
“So what are their names?” I asked.
“What?” Larry shouted back as the music suddenly got louder.
I turned back around and got right into his face as I shouted, “I said, what are their names?”
“Who’s?” He asked.
I drilled my finger into my temple and said, “Your sister and brother!”
Larry got the meaning of the finger drill and thought it was somewhat funny. He smiled and said, “Sarah and Christian.”
“Sounds biblical. So how’d you end up with a name like Larry?”
Larry laughed a lot and said, “You don’t know the half of it. But I’ll tell you about it another time.”
“Okay” I said while smiling because I was glad to see Larry smiling and laughing as well. Who would have thought that he and I would be so buddy-buddy?
Now I can’t let you go on thinking that Larry’s broken leg had reformed him because it hadn’t. As I stood next to Larry, while the two of us watched the others dancing, he was also occasionally pulling a straw out of his pocket and firing spit wads into the crowd. I suppose I shouldn’t have been enjoying that, but I was because it was funny and relatively speaking, harmless.
“Have you seen Fish and BB?” I asked after a while.
Larry pointed out into the middle of the crowd of dancing students as he shouted, “They’re dancing over there.”
I followed the invisible beam from the tip of Larry’s finger through the crowd until my eyes beheld something that nearly made them fall right out of their sockets.
There, dancing together in the middle of the dance floor, was BB and Fish and when I say together I mean they were in a full embrace with each other’s head on the other’s shoulder. Actually, I could only see Fish from behind and part of BB’s face, but I was still sure it was them and I think that is the first time I truly realized that BB and Fish weren’t exactly ‘normal guys’.
I looked back to Larry and I guess he could see the big question mark hanging over my head because he said, “What?” as if he didn’t have a clue why I might be looking so utterly bewildered.
Dumbly, I pointed toward the crowd, “Are they… I mean they’re not really? I mean… holy shit, they really are, aren’t they?”
I practically murdered Larry with my reaction to that revelation. He was laughing so hard he practically fell out of his wheelchair.
“Oh Alvin you should see your face right now!” He howled and I could see that his laughter was also causing him pain.
And then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around so see a radiant black haired girl… no… I mean a young woman. She had dark eyes that were staring at me through black plastic framed eyeglasses.
“What the?” I gasped.
It was the glasses that had clued me in. With a single leap of my heart I realized that I was looking at Bertha, but it wasn’t Bertha; at least not the Bertha I knew. She was positively beautiful. Her once tangled and greasy jet-black hair had been washed and combed and hung about her shoulders like a gleaming black veil. And—and… those horrible brown teeth of hers, though not white were sparkling ’cause she’d finally brushed them. All of her dark, smelly clothes had been traded for a very tight yellow dress that seemed to make her eyes pop… not to mention the rest of her figure; if you get what I am saying here.
“B-b-b-bertha?” I stammered in disbelief, “W-w-what happened to you?”
Bertha shifted her weight to one foot, rolled her eyes and asked, “Why? What’s wrong? My sister did it!”
“N-nothing!” I said, unable to stop grinning, “I-I-I mean you’re beautiful!” for the life of me I couldn’t stop stumbling through my words.
But I guess I said the right thing because she smiled again and I think my heart leapt in my chest for the second time.
“Oh my,” She gasped when she finally realized that it was Larry in the wheelchair, “Shit Larry! What the hell happened to you?!”
“Oh shit, Larry!” I thought, or did I say it? I’m not sure.
I spun around to see that Larry had the same kind of expression on his face at seeing Bertha cleaned up and looking HOT! I guess it was the first time he’d ever seen her like that too.
Bertha pushed me aside, almost knocking me into the punch table and despite her tight fitting dress she squatted beside him.
“What happened to you?” she asked again, but before Larry could say anything she bounced right back up again.
She spun around and jabbed a hard, accusing finger into my chest. “You did this, didn’t you?!”
“Bertha, wait!” Larry shouted.
Thank God she heard him or I probably wouldn’t be alive right now to tell you about all this.
“It was my fault!” Larry said, “I…” he faltered momentarily, but quickly recovered, “I was the one that jumped him in the park the other day.”
He went on to tell her exactly what happened. Boy he sure did a good job of making me sound like a real hero too. When he finished telling it all she turned back toward me and those normally cold, doll-like eyes seemed soft and warm.
I jumped when she threw herself at me. I swear I thought she was going to attack me. I even threw up my hands to block my face, but instead of hitting me, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. Actually, she almost missed my cheek, another inch or so and she would have been kissing my ear.
Bertha didn’t say anything; I guess it would have been better if she had. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so confused when she let me go, turned back to Larry and kissed him. I am talking about a soul sucking, full on the lips kiss and when she didn’t stop I started to really feel very uncomfortable.
Thankfully, that slow song ended and someone in the band started talking so I turned my attention toward the band. I still couldn’t see through the crowd to who was talking, but whoever it was, even though he shouted and talked like a seasoned rock and roll star, he sounded quite young.
“GOOD EVENING BOYD JUNIOR HIGH!” the guy in the band shouted, but it wasn’t like normal shouting. Actually it took me a second to figure out that it was more like he was singing the words rather than just shouting them. It made for a really cool effect on the crowd.
The combined cheers of the crowd were deafening. I glanced back to Bertha and Larry; they were still lip-locked.
“Geez, get a room already would ya!” I thought to myself.
“COME ON! YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT! LET’S HERE IT BOYD JUNIOR HIGH!”
The crowd screamed even louder and I was forced to cover my ears in a feeble attempt to shield them from the roar. And then my eye caught sight of something, I wasn’t sure, but for a second somewhere in the crowd of students I thought I saw a boy from behind, wearing a blue shirt with a red collar. But the crowd was moving and jumping around so much that I couldn’t be sure. I wasn’t really thinking about it when I started pushing my way through the throngs of people.
As the guy from the Band continued to rev up the crowd I pushed forward until someone grabbed me by the back of the neck. I turned to see Stacks standing there. She looked even more beautiful and stunning than Bertha had. I even found myself gawking at her with my mouth hanging open.
“Wow you look so much better.” She commented.
“Stacks you look a-a-amazing!” I said still staring at her.
“So I hear you’re supposed to be here with Bertha?” Stacks asked.
I grimaced and finally broke my dumbfounded gaze as I pointed toward the punch table.
“Oh, they’re back together again.” She said drolly.
“Yeah, well he really loves her.” I said not really realizing that I had said it.
“Then you’re free?” She asked.
“Huh?” I grunted.
“To dance?” She said motioning toward the band.
“Uh, yeah I guess so, but don’t you have a date?” I asked.
“He doesn’t seem to be here yet.” She said.
“Hey did you get into any trouble?” I asked her.
“You don’t really want to hear about that?” she said almost as though she was hoping I would drop the subject, but the way she had put it only served to peek my curiosity.
Fearing the worst I nearly pounced on her as I asked, “Why? What happened?”
“Oh alright, I’ll tell you about it, but only if we can dance too.” She said grasping my good hand and dragging me into the crowd of dancing students.
The gist was that she could have been expelled for attacking a teacher. However, because of the circumstances and all, she was given 2 weeks of after school detention and she has to sit out five hockey games. The way she made it sound, I think she would have rather been dragged before a firing squad then miss out on hockey.
“I really am sorry that it got so messy!” I said.
“Well she’s an old witch and she’ll get what’s coming to her now!” Stacks said with utter contempt.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
I didn’t even realize that Stacks and I were dancing as close as we were while we spoke. I suppose to those around us we must have looked like we were an oddly matched couple or something, but we had to be that close so that we could hear each other.
I looked up into Stacks face as she said with an evil grin, “Well, she attacked a student now didn’t she?”
“You mean me? She didn’t attack me.” I argued.
“Sure she did. What do you call what she did to you? You were nearly in tears because she was hurting you so badly.” Stacks answered back.
In my own defense I quickly answered back, “I wasn’t crying!”
Stacks grinned ruefully, “That’s why I said nearly.”