February 16, 2005
Continued from Parts I, II and III starting here...During that summer break, Melinda and I would explore the new High School's construction. There was a rear entrance way that was suspiciously never locked and thus we would enter at our leisure, cursing the idea of leaving our quaint little confines of the old school. Our disapprobation stemmed into the understanding that it was perfectly within reason to use the two or three phones that were already connected to make calls to our friends living in surrounding towns. Since the both of us lived in the country, virtually every call that we made from our home phones was long distance, and therefore we took great pleasure in being able to talk to our cohorts without running up our own bills.
The new High School gleamed with a cleanliness and a bright, spacious interior that I was not accustomed to. It was the size of a small college, equipped with two main floors, a great music hall, two large gymnasiums and eventually a swimming pool. The library was huge and incorporated a number of new computers. The windows were wide and allowed the sunshine to infiltrate nearly every corner of this great edifice and the shiny new floors squeaked under our sneakers wherever we walked. There were more bathrooms than I ever felt were necessary and they were bigger than anything I'd seen. We had a spacious shop for the auto mechanics and wood workers, a newly paved circle of a track for the athletes and a wide, expansive lawn for the Whitewater Whippet football team.
I detested the place.
No more could we doodle our names into decrepit science lab tables as they were all too new. No more could we leisurely smoke our cigarettes in the women's bathroom as the scent would no longer be covered by the musty smells of an old building. No longer were we able to sneak away in an inconspicuous manner, as the plethora of wide windows gave visage to our deviant plans, and the newly appointed parking lot attendant ensured less instances of escape. The lockers were located all over the damned place; around corners and on the other side of the building, on the second floor and on the first floor, near the east wing or on the far west wing just south of the men's bathroom, adjacent to the fire extinguisher, but before the bubbler. It was impossible to meet up with friends between classes due to the fact that one had to take provisions and make a distanced hike to the other side of the school. Lunch periods were broken up into two separate hours and it was very likely that all of your friends would be in the first lunch period while you were in the second. It was impossible to become familiar with the ins and outs of this place (i.e. best escape routes) considering that everyone was new to it. And no more could I rely upon the sanction of my brother's friends as they were now all graduated and had forgotten about little old me.
I fucking detested the place.
There was a bright side, though. I could now dominate over the incoming freshman and corrupt their minds to any degree I pleased... Or so I thought.
It just so happened that the incoming Frosh were much more capable of influencing me in their fraudulent ways. I found myself hanging out with people nicknamed 'Quarter' and 'The Big Green,' and, in fact, none of these handles referred to monetary values in any way other than to the current price of a relative 'dime bag.' I myself was dubbed 'Cocaine Elaine' despite the fact that I had/have never had a harsher substance than marijuana enter my system. This habit was virtually discontinued when I was fired from Shopko for 'excessive giggling and the misuse of the front check out phones (which I only used once or twice to call my friend three rows down during my extreme moments of paranoia - like when I was sure my last customer was an undercover cop).'
"Dude," I whispered between giggles, "was that a cop?!"
"Hee hee hee! I don't think so, man, 'cause he wasn't, like, even wearing a badge."
"No, dude! I mean an under cover cop," I clarified while holding my pointer finger up to the customer waiting for her receipt.
But back to High School...
I skipped more classes than ever in my Sophomore and Junior years after Melinda dropped out of school. I was overly distraught with my best friend's absence and therefore began a lasting relationship with another girl in my class named Melissa. She was a well organized, bright student with a deep obsession for the Green Bay Packers. I still remember the first time we got together...
We hopped off the bus on a snowy December day after school and ran merrily down to my parent's house which was unoccupied. I believe it was her idea, since I had no clue about the liquid form of drugs, but we made Screw Drivers. Not just any screw drivers, mind you, as I had procured my mother's large punch bowl and readily began to mix a bottle of Vodka with a can of frozen orange juice. Before long, we were merrily dipping our glasses into the virulent concoction, laughing all the way.
She managed to plunge from the 10 foot driveway wall in front of my house and into the two foot deep snow without injury, zap some wood chips in our microwave without burning the house down and get me to call the man of her dreams; Brian Koebernick (I cannot believe I can spell his name, much less remember it). Brian actually showed up, but by the time he did, Melissa was puking steadily and I was merely attempting to keep her hair from her face.
Soon she was passed out on the bathroom floor and I was not about to baby-sit. Brian and I simply chatted until, eventually, I woke Melissa from her obviously uncomfortable position of toilet seat head resting. She swiftly got up, staggered to the fridge and claimed that a can of beer would make her feel better and, somehow, it actually seemed to work. She was now able to semi firmly grasp the reality that the man of her dreams was sitting on my couch, in my living room, in the same house that she was located.
Before I knew it, it was very late and I was tucked away in bed, having lent my room to the two lovers and keeping post in my parent's room. Big mistake. Number one, Melissa claimed to have lost her virginity that night. Number two, I lost my bed that night. And I don't merely mean for that one night - they broke the damned frame directly in half. In the morning, I remember a big fuss being made over the location of Brian's socks, a meticulous cleansing of the microwave and a hangover inimitable to that I have ever experienced since.
But, back to High School...