Senior year started on a downer. The new school wasn’t finished, so we were two weeks late starting classes. Our new school replaced the 50 year old school downtown that had been home to most of our parents.
The new school quickly fell prey to vandalism. We didn’t want to be there, and some thought the best thing to do was destroy the new building. They very nearly did. All the lockers got kicked in and damaged. Most of the restrooms got flooded by apples being flushed down the toilets. Doors were scratched and damaged. The year had begun with almost no rules, and within a month it was a police state.
Five weeks in I got into it in class with the choir teacher. I didn’t respect her after I witnessed her making out with some boys in the class. I dropped choir. I loved choir. Now I had no social group at all. Choir had always been my social outlet, leaving school to sing at service clubs and women’s clubs and holiday evenings entertaining at the various parties at the country club. Now I had nothing but class and work before and after school.
I was 9th out of over 400 in the class. There were 8 girls and 1 boy ahead. The 10th, a boy I’d always gotten along with, stopped me one afternoon after the fall rankings had been announced. With no warning, he started, “You stole 9th place from me. I should be 9th. I need to be 9th. You are in my way. I should be just under my girlfriend.”
I remembered what had happened after 8th grade honors and awards. The captain of our football and basketball teams, varsity coach’s son, and all round most desirable, attractive, and best dressed boy in our class, approached me and angrily said, “You stole that medal from me. It was supposed to be mine. You took what was mine!” He was angry I’d won the jr. high history medal, along with two girls. I’d also been awarded ‘Outstanding Student’, ‘Outstanding Athlete,’ Outstanding Musician’, and several achievement awards. I’d gone down out of the gym stands 7 times during the program. It had been exhilarating, and now it was ruined by the angry attack, witnessed by all his cool friends.
As my senior year progressed, I earned honor after honor, award after award, but NO ONE would talk to me. I took art classes mostly because I’d taken all the academic classes. Since I wasn’t in art before, none of the regular art students knew me, nor would talk to me. I took the independent study option in economics, so spent that class in the library. I took a schedule overload, so I didn’t have lunch.
I went to one dance, at the Elks Club, fall semester. It was my first. Everyone sat around the edge of the room, or leaned against the walls. The music gave me a head ache (Inagodadevida) and the cigarette smoke made me nauseous. I left early.
Spring semester started with ‘Sadie Hawkins’ dance, where the girl asks the boy? I got asked out by the number 3 girl, whose parents had a huge house on the country club, and her dad owned a factory. I didn’t know I was supposed to ask her to the prom. I asked two girls who turned me down, and the girl I took was drunk and didn’t remember going.
Student Talent Show was a disaster. I was MC, and the only one sober, outside of the religious kids. My acquaintances all avoided me, and most of the acts, outside of the religious kids, were a disaster.
Honors and Awards night was a bust. All the rich kids got scholarships to their parents Alma maters, and the jocks got full rides to small colleges. I got the Eks Scholarship (because my father was an Elk), and a couple ‘honorary’ scholarships because I didn’t qualify for financial aid.
And then I discovered my mother had stolen all my hard earned and saved college money – to pay my older brother’s college bills. I was SO angry.
I got a call one evening in the Spring from the Scout Executive. He told me the OA Lodge Chief had been ordered to the Marine Corps. He’d gotten a 15 year old pregnant. Suddenly, I had to learn the rituals, make an Indian costume, including a war bonnet.
Graduation was a joke. 12 years of busting my butt and I sat in the middle of 400 others who hadn’t given a shit. The irony of it was depressing.
I went back to Scout Summer Camp for my final year. Randy was back. Now he was waterfront director.
The first week he went out of his way to be nice to everyone, even me. He was now 21, and had definitely buffed up. He strutted around the pool in tiny little Speedos and was constantly “grabassing” with other life guards.
Then the rumor came bubbling up that Randy was inviting certain counselors to private midnight swims.
One day after staff swim I was showering in the open shower block when Randy came in, stripped off and started showering. I was the only other one there. He started talking, and obviously looking, and finally asked, “Wanna go for a midnight swim?”
I was thrilled. That night I met him at the pool at midnight, with my towel and swim suit. He said, “You won’t need your suit. Midnight swims are skinny dipping.”
We stripped off in the changing area and carried our towels to the pool. He turned on no lights. There was only the moon. We both dove in and horsed around.
Randy came up behind me at the deep end ladder. He pressed his front against my back. It was SO erotic. I got out and ran to the high dive. I had a stiffy, but didn’t care. I dove off and it was the most exhilarating moment of my young life. Randy said, “You better be careful. You’ll damage something diving like that.”
After that night, I think I went a bit crazy. My whole life had been plotted by my parents, but suddenly the only thing that mattered was being with Randy.
(Next Randy 3 – going to college)