Chapter 3- Michael P.O.V

The computer room was empty fourth period. They had the place to themselves. Using the stolen codes, Bubba called up the files containing the transcripts of every kid in the school district. Michael wondered at his motivation. Although as intelligent as himself, Bubba never worried much about his grades. He had no intention of attending college. He wanted to go straight into business. In fact, he had already invested in commodities and stock options. He also bet the horses through his uncle, who was a bookie with mob connections. Financially speaking, Bubba’s family occupied the same as position as Michael’s, lower middle class. And yet Bubba drove an old but well-kept Jaguar and wore only the finest clothes. And he didn’t even have a job. Since Michael had to slave six days a week at a local 7-Eleven to help his divorced mother make ends meet, he knew if he were to criticise Bubba’s businesses, he would only be doing so out of jealousy.

“Here you are,” Bubba said pointing to the screen. Michael leaned closer. Semester after semester- rows of As, except for one C his junior year. He’d got it last year in calculus. A pal of his had desperately whispered for help in the middle of a test. Being such a swell guy, Michael had slipped him a piece of paper with a few answers that, through bad timing and bad luck, had ended up in the hands of the teacher. Regrettably, the test had been the final exam and the teacher had both given them automatic Fs. It had slashed his overall semester grade in half. His hopes of being valedictorian had went out the window right then and there.

“You can’t change it,” Michael said. “Everyone on the faculty knows I got that C.”

Bubba’s fingers danced over the keyboard. Then he frowned. “We can’t change it, anyway. The file’s protected. I should have known. Once transferred to the district’s office, the grades are carved in stone.” He thought for a moment, then jumped out of the file and into another that was the same except for the absence of recorded grades.

“What’s that?” Michael asked.                      

“This semester’s records.” Bubba moved the cursor beside Michael Olson’s MGM fourth period, put in an A. “This file hasn’t been transferred yet. We can manipulate it up until the day it is.” He erased the A. “You know Mike, I think this is going to be a pretty laid- back year for the two of us. Would you like me to pull Dale Jenson’s record?”

Dale Jenson had the only grade point average higher than Michael’s. It was a perfect 4.00. But Dale hadn’t taken a difficult class in all the time he had gone to Tabb. He specialised in subjects where he could get up and indulge in longwinded monologues about how screwed up all the screw-ups in the world were. He was really a despicable character. If anyone stopped to tell him something, he always interrupted with the sarcastic line, “I’m impressed.”

“No leave him alone.”

“Are you sure? Who wants to listen to him graduation day?”

“We’re not going to sneak a phoney grade on to his transcript for this year without him knowing it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Bubba replied without much conviction sitting back from the screen and stretching.

“I want to tell you about this girl I met,” Michael began.

“Ask her out.”

“NO, let me tell you about her first.”

“What for? I’m sure she’s the greatest discovery since sliced break. Just ask her out. What’s her name?”

“You probably haven’t seen her. She just got here this morning. Jessica Hart.”

Bubba nodded approvingly. “I know her, a quality chick. A friend of hers is having a party for the whole school.”

“Where did you hear that?”

Bubba shrugged. He seldom revealed the sources of his information. He was seldom wrong about anything. “I don’t think you should wait till the party to go after her. She won’t last, not around here. Someone will nab her. It may as well be you.”

Michael chuckled at the crude manner in which Bubba referred to Jessica. He knew Bubba had a strong admiration for the female species, or at least a powerful appreciation of them, which was almost the same thing. Girls who went out with Bubba once wanted to go out with Bubba twice. He knew how to satisfy them.

“Why don’t you ask her out on a date?” Michael asked.

“I can’t. I’ve got to save myself for Clair Hilrey.”

“I thought Clair was going with our esteemed quarterback, Bill Skater?”

“They’ve dated a few times. They went to the Baked Potato Restaurant last Saturday night. But it’s nothing serious.”

“Does Clair know this?”

“Give me a couple of weeks, and I’ll make it clear to her.”

Michael scratched his head. “Didn’t Clair tell you last spring that she thought you were the most disgusting human being in the whole school?’

“It makes no difference. Over the summer your average teenage girl forgets nine-tenths of what happened the previous school year. I’ll ask her out at tonight’s game, during half-time. She’ll say yes.”

Michael shook his head in amazement. “I’m going to enjoy watching this.”

Bubba sat up speaking seriously. “I’ll let you in on a profound secret. Only the very elect of males in our society know this. And once you know it and ponder its significance for any length of time, your whole perspective will change.”

“The earth is really flat?”

“No,” Bubba leaned closer. “Girls want to have sex exactly as much as boys want to.”

Michael laughed. “Bubba I just met Jessie. I don’t even know her. I don’t want to sleep with her. I’m afraid to talk to her.”

“It is much easier to have sex than to talk. When you talk, you have to think. You think too much, Mike. That’s your problem. And you’re lying to yourself. Of course you want to sleep with Jessie. You don’t have to be ashamed. Chances are she probably wouldn’t mind sleeping with you if she thought she could do it and not have to pay for it later in some way. That’s why girls love me so much. I let them know that with me everything is OK.”

“But you kiss and tell. With what you just said, that makes you a hypocrite. Take how you carried on about Cindy Fosmeyer.”

“Who do I tell except you? And I know you would never damage a girl’s reputation.” He smiled. “And since we’re talking about Cindy, did I ever tell you she has the hots for you.”

Cindy Fosmeyer has huge breasts. They were so huge they fairly blotted out any personality she had. “You never did because it’s not true.”

“Believe what you want buddy.” Bubba stood. “But I give you my word on this- if you don’t ask Jessica out by Monday, I will.”

Michael was not amused. He had known Bubba a long time. They’d had a lot of good times together. But there was a lot about him he didn’t know, that he didn’t want to know. “Is that a threat?”

“Think of it as an incentive.”

“What about saving yourself for Clair?”

Bubba patted his bulging gut. “There’s enough of me to go around.” He turned towards the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.

Bubba was gone much longer than a minute. While waiting, Michael entertained himself scanning Jessica Hart’s transcript. He felt mild guilt at prying, but couldn’t resist. He was mildly surprised to discover she was taking chemistry. She must have some smarts, but then, he had observed that talking to her.  Perhaps she would need a tutor. He knew the subject so well that a rumour had gone around last year that he had written the lab manual. It was incredible the things people would believe.