Three: Sailboats and Scions

 

      "Suck my knob police woman."  My friends were hysterical.  I was in the middle of a very long joke about Robert Evans that I had memorized.  

It was the last period before Christmas vacation.  My English teacher, Mr. Kayser, who was probably the smartest teacher I've ever had, realized that he wasn't going to be able to control sixteen rowdy juniors.  

Everyone, who had Mr. Kayser, liked him.  He was a young guy, who understood every reference that my friends and I made during the class. This automatically made him cool. 

He told us that he was an alumnus of our school, so if we ever complained about how boring the town was he understood it immediately.  If kids complained about the town teachers were usually said, "But you have this," and "You have that."  But not Kayser, he would say, "I thought the same thing when I lived here."  This automatically made him cool.

      I lived in the suburbs in New York.  And, aside for being the biggest magnet for Irish immigrants in the world, it was also the center of boredom in the universe.  When I was a little kid the town used to be okay. 

There used to be a diner.  There used to be two movie theaters.  There used to be an arcade. 

But then I turned about ten it all changed all the movie theaters went out of business, then the diners and the arcade went.  

Now on every block there was a pizza shop, a bank, an occasional Chinese take out place, and at least three bars.  There were more bars per block than fire hydrants.  It really showed the town’s commitment,

With nothing to do in the town, I quickly became a mallrat.  We're not there to work, we're not there to shop, we’re just there.  

We knew that mall like the backs of our hands. Back entrances, best paths, the secret elevator we took constantly just to screw with the maintenance people, we knew it all.  

Our love of the mall put us on the line between "mallrats" and "pathetic losers with no lives".  You’d be surprised how long you can stay on that line.

      "Loretta Swit had a-" I continued the joke.

      "Alright that's enough," he said quickly.  "I really have to stop you there, because I know that joke and I let it go on for too long already.”  This automatically made him cool. 

      "But there's like ten words left," I retorted.

      "I know, but it's probably the most disturbing one out of all of them," he said.

      "It's not as bad the Tom Wopat one," I said.  My friends howled as soon as I said Tom Wopat.  The joke about him was very disturbing, but hilarious.  Kayser just looked at me dead seriously and said:

      "It's a VCR from the 1970's." 

I thought for a second.

      "You're right," I said.  "I'll finish it after school."  My friends didn’t hear me, they were still laughing too hard.

      My friend Brian tried to say through his laugh, “Quit your bellyaching Buck Rodgers,” a line from the joke, but it came out almost gibberish. 

After someone says something really funny there's always that moment where people are getting over their laughter and calming down: catching their breath, getting up from the floor, wiping the tears from their eyes, etc.  Then it's quiet for a second. And everyone starts laughing again. 

I love that moment. 

      It was getting hot in the room so I got up to open the window.  There were three girls sitting next to it.  The one I knew well enough to call a friend waved as I walked toward. 

There was something different about my English class than all of my other classes.  It was smaller than a normal class, so there weren't really cliques.  

A regular class has twenty to twenty five people, everyone has a few friends and they form a clique within the class.  Not this class.  This class broke the "social barrier" and I talked to people in that class that I normally didn't talk to.  

It wasn’t always a clique-free zone, though.  

If the class did contain a clique these three girls would be it.  Two of them were very good friends, and the other one was what I liked to call the "odd man out".

The "odd man out" is the one person in the clique who doesn't normally hang out with the others, but is friendly enough with them that they become part of that clique in the class.       

      "Hello, Maddy," I said.  Maddy was a “scene-chick”. 

I'll explain:

 

A “scene-chick” where's heavy eyeliner, and/or eye shadow.  Her hair is parted at the side with her bangs cut short and the bangs slant in the direction opposite the part.  They are usually seen in jeans and a t-shirts: black or very vivid colors, with either the logo of a band/brand associated with punk/post-hardcore music.  Many have piercing to the nose, lip, and/or eyebrow.

 

      Maddy was no different.

Heavy eyeliner, no eye shadow; hair parted on the right, bangs going left; black hoodie with a band name on it; complete with lip ring. 

If my tone referring to "scene-chicks" sounds condescending it's not.  It is probably the main group of girls I, myself, am attracted to.  Again, Maddy was no different, she was a girl you refer to as cute: a girl of small stature, light brown hair, and big green eyes. 

The girl sitting to her right was her friend Melissa.

      "Hi Melissa," I said.  

She had her head perched on her hand while she sat in obvious boredom.  Melissa didn't have a very long attention span and got bored very easily.  It was very interesting sitting next to her. One minute she would be talking about one thing, stop mid-sentence and talk about something completely different.  

      "Hello," she had a high-pitched, mildly nasaled  voice.

Melissa was very attractive as well.  Her thick hair that was a dark red, brunette color.  For the little bit of eyeliner she wore, she had very defined eyes.

That's one thing I thought made Melissa more attractive, her lack of makeup. 

There were definitely some girls that never heard "less is more".  They have that “I just dipped my face in a vat if cover-up” look, and were much uglier with it on than with it off. 

      "Are you girls coming tonight?" I asked.

      "I am," Maddy said, in her squeaky, yet smooth voice.  Melissa nodded.  I looked at the other girl sitting there, Catie, who was, in my opinion, the hottest girl in our class. 

      "How about you Catie?" I asked. 

      "I don't know, maybe," she said. Catie had one of those sweet-and-sour voices.  Just enough imperfection to make it sexy, and not annoying.  She was a tiny girl. A little north of 5 feet, and probably didn't go over 105 pounds.  Her blonde hair fell to a little past her shoulder in a precisely, jagged cut.  She had blue eyes that became yellow near where her iris ended and her pupil began.  

A pretty face, which I heard, was even prettier mid-coitus.  I'm not saying Catie was a s**t, I'm just saying that's what I've heard.  Not saying she's a s**t, that's just what I've heard. 

"Where is it again?" she asked.

      "The Community Center, off of 79," Maddy blurted out.

      "Wow.  Impressive," I said, surprised Maddy got it out.

      "Well, I'm a huge fan," she said smiling her tone had sincerity to it, but just the tiniest hint of sarcasm.

      "What is something going to happen tonight?  An elaborate prank involving blueprints and schematics?"

      "No, I really am a big fan of you guys."

      "Alright, but if anyone gets pig's blood dumped on their heads I'm looking for you." 

I stared into blank faces.  No one got the reference.

      "Okay," Maddy said in a tone that told me she didn't understand.

      "Never mind...I just came over here to open the window.  It's ten degrees hotter than hell in this classroom." 

      "No, it's freezing in here," said Melissa. 

Every girl I have ever known has always been colder than I am.

      "How about if I open it this much?" I asked opening the window half-way.  Melissa looked slightly angry, but nonetheless she nodded her head in approval. 

Maddy started to rub her nose in a strange way.  Almost as if she was trying to push her nose into her face more.  She felt I was looking at her because her head slowly turned towards me. 

      "What?" she asked, snickering a bit.

      "What the hell was that?" I said, mimicking her move.  I could tell she got a little embarrassed and her eyes were directed to her, now, intertwining shoes.

      "My nose is too big," she said.  Still looking at the floor.

      "So you're trying to push it into your face to make it smaller.  Good luck with that," I said, obviously sarcastic.

Sarcasm is an art form.  And like an art should not be wasted on the ignorant.  Why waste the skill of wit on someone who isn't going to get it?  That’s why I'm only sarcastic to the people I like.  If I don't like you I just don’t talk to you. 

Maddy, I knew, would get it and not be offended.

      "Shut up," she said.  Her face got a little bit redder, and she smiled.  Now I could pretty much say anything and there would be no problem offending her.

      "Your nose isn't too big.  I mean it's big," I joked. "But you’re not an eagle."  

Maddy and Melissa laughed, but for some reason Catie didn't. 

"But who cares look at my nose.  Mine’s big, has a bump in the middle of it, and it's crooked," I said.

      "It is?" Melissa asked. 

It does.  It’s subtle, but you can see it if you look for it.

      "Yep, to the left."  I stuck my head a little bit more so she could see, and ran my finger along it to make the curve more obvious.

      "I've noticed that before," said Maddy.

      "Really?  I never have," Melissa responded. 

She got really close to my face and began inpecting my nose from a number of different angles. 

"Oh, I see it now."

      "Well, you only have your nose; I have a whole bunch of things.  My lips and eyes are too big, also."

      Maddy had started a silent competition for imperfection.  And I am the wrong person to have that competition with.

      -Ding-Ding. Round Two.  

      "My lips are big, too."  I said. 

Melissa and Catie didn't get into the conversation.

Melissa, because she just wanted to watch. 

Catie, because she knew she wouldn't have been able to make a good argument about herself being ugly.

Not that Maddy really could have either.

"And I have one eye higher than the other," I said, continuing our little competition. 

      "No, you don't," Maddy said skeptically.

      "Yes, he does.  Look," Melissa was still very close to my face.  "It's very slight but you can tell.  See, his eyelids are different."  She pointed to right below my eyebrows where you could tell me eyes were at different heights.  

      "One of my eyes is higher than the other, too" said Maddy immediately after seeing that one of my eyes was indeed higher than the other.  As were hers, now that I really looked at them.  "And they're huge." 

She did have big eyes.  Almost like an owl’s, very alert, like she never blinked.

Regardless of their size, Maddy had nice eyes.

      "You have really nice eyes though, so it doesn't matter," I said. 

      F**k. 

That was another example of how I would say some things, without realizing I was saying them. 

Usually I would never tell a girl I think she's attractive, because I've found out that it makes things weird.

When I tell my friend Chris:

“Maddy’s really cute.” I have no problem.  

But if I told Maddy that she was cute I would just feel strange. 

      There was a moment of awkward silence and she just looked at me.  It wasn't an endearing look, like in her head she was saying, "Aww, you think I'm pretty?” 

It was more like "You think I'm pretty?  Get the f**k away, perv." 

F**k.

At least that’s what I saw in her face.  And then Catie broke it the silence by saying:

      "He thinks your eyes are pretty Maddy."  They laughed.  So did I, but the tone in her voice was very ambiguous.  

Underneath what she said, she could have really been saying that "It doesn't matter if he thinks your eyes pretty."  Or she could have been joking around saying that it was funny how I thought that Maddy has nice eyes.

-Ding-Ding. New Combatant.

      "Why did you say it like that?" I asked laughing, sounding more curious than angry.  Which I wasn't.  Yet.

      "Say what like what?" she asked.

      "You just said it weird, that's all," I said.  

      "Well how did I say it?" she asked.  She was still laughing a bit.  But Melissa and Maddy had stopped.

      "I don't know, you said it.  Are you suggesting that me thinking Maddy has nice eyes is cute, or funny?  Or are you suggesting that me thinking that Maddy's eyes are nice really doesn’t matter, because I'm...well...me."  

I was still laughing a little bit, like Catie was.  But she stopped.  And looked at me with the straightest face and said:

      "Well of coarse you don't."

      -Ding-Ding-Ding.

Penalty: hitting below the belt. 

Did she seriously just say that?  

Then Catie just started laughing and said, "I'm just kidding."  I looked at Maddy and Melissa, they weren't laughing. 

Have you ever felt embarrassed for someone?  Just by seeing the look on their faces I could tell Maddy and Melissa were feeling embarrassed for Catie.  They knew what she said hadn't been right because her and I weren't close enough to joke around like that. 

They knew that if one of them said it, I would have laughed about it, and just retaliated with a sarcastic comment.  

Catie was still laughing while we just looked at each other.  

      "Oh c'mon guys that was funny," she said, seeing that none of us were laughing.

      -She appears to be arguing with the Referee that it was an accident, but he’s not having any of it.

      "Hysterical," I said, sarcastically.  "I'll laugh about it later. Don't worry." 

      "Oh c'mon, I was just kidding," she said. 

That's just how the double standard is.  Someone you like says something and you take as a joke and just insult them back, and you're still friends.  On the other hand someone you barely know says the same thing you take offense.

      On the other side of the class, which wasn't big, my friends had no clue what just happened.  They were still giddy from the Robert Evans joke I told them.  That made me feel a little bit better, knowing that I told them something so funny that I could walk away, come back a few minutes later, and they're still laughing about it.  

      “Say the one about the Rubik’s cube again," said my friend Chris, chuckling at the mere thought of the joke. 

My vocal chords and tongue immediately switched to “Robert Evans” mode:

      “The human rectum is almost nightmarishly elastic.  I had four ru-“

RIIIIIING!

The bell cut me off. 

Mr. Kayser shouted above the rustling of book bags, the scraping of moving chairs, and screaming kids in the hallway:

      "Okay everyone, have a merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, a wonderful Kwanza.  Just....just have a good whatever-the-hell-it-is-you-celebrate.  And I'll see you in all a week."  He looked at me.  "And I expect you to learn a new joke for when we get back." 

      "Please,” I said arrogantly. “Don't forget who you're talking to."

"See you in a week."