"Hah, they really went all out this year," I said out loud, though no one was around to listen.
I held a stiff velum envelope in my hand with my name and address stenciled with scrawling stylized characters. The return address listed the "Reunion Committee" and my high school's address. Flipping it over, it had a large colorful stamp that read "Class of 2008". I laughed again and casually tossed it into the waste bin near my writing desk. I didn't particularly enjoy my high school experience and the only people I cared about from that time were already in my life. Besides, I really hated formal events. I went through the rest of the mail. A bill, coupons, and a couple pieces of junk mail rounded out the daily haul. I threw the bill on my desk and the rest followed the velum envelope into the circular bin.
With the chore of checking the morning mail complete, I headed back outside for my morning run. Closing the large mahogany door to my Tudor-style home, I jogged carefully down the concrete steps stamped with numerous fleur de lis, a romantic gesture to my wife. No, she's not French. From there, I hopped down onto the cobble-stone walkway and finally to the street below. It was a brisk March day in California, and I enjoyed the cool air on my skin. I knew it would come in handy once I started to heat up from my daily run.
As I strolled down the path, I inserted my earbuds, synced them with my phone, and started my running mix. I had already warmed up by walking down to the mailbox and back up to the house. So, as soon as I made it down to the paved road, I took off with Shinedown blasting in my ears. I soon found my rhythm and jogged along, setting a quick pace. I followed the same route that I did every morning, passing the same mailboxes, driveways, and trees...maple, birch, oak, and various pines. I lived just on the outskirts of Thousand Oaks, so there wasn't much traffic. This allowed my mind to wander, which I typically used to help figure out plot points in whatever novel I was working on at the time. This time was different. The velum envelope had stirred up high school memories that fought each other to resurface into my thoughts.
My high school career wasn't some sort of nightmare, but it wasn't the best years of my life either. Much of that was partly my fault, I know. Now... middle school? Junior high really WAS 'some sort of nightmare'. The first year alone, my best friend and girlfriend hooked up behind my back. At that age, hooking up was nothing more than making out, but still... the sense of betrayal I felt when I finally caught them was real. After ditching them, I tried making new friends. Unfortunately, my old girlfriend and my former best friend poisoned the school against me. A new game had been created in which a girl would ask me out and attempt to humiliate me in some way on our date. I'm ashamed to admit that I fell for it the first three times, but after that I had learned my lesson.
As I struggled to survive junior high, I met Paul, a new transfer to our school from out of state. We became fast friends before anyone could sink their claws into him. We were both older, having missed the cutoff age for the prior year by under a month. He had my back on more than one occasion and was always brutally honest, which saved me from more heartache when certain girls would still attempt to seduce me for some humiliating reason or another. Finally, middle school came to an end and I had a couple of months off after that hellhole. Paul and I hung out almost every day. I knew, or at least hoped, that high school would be different. Many of the kids from my middle school went off to charter schools, and the high school had seven middle schools as feeders to it. That meant that most of my classmates would be new. I could reinvent myself, casting off the shadows of my prepubescent past.
I had to admit, high school was better. I was a good student when I cared to try, but I only socialized with a few kindred spirits. It turned out that the wounds of middle school were slow to heal. I didn't play sports, though I was always athletic. I preferred snow-boarding and martial arts. I was always a sucker for a Bruce Lee movie and had worked my way up to a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I put five years into the effort, starting in middle school just to learn how to defend myself and then through most of high school because I enjoyed it. As a bonus, it kept me in shape. Especially after I took a weightlifting class as a sophomore.
I spent a lot of my free time writing, which I used to bolster some of my grades in school. However, my main reason for writing was to distract my mind from the monotony of daily life. I didn't date much. I never bothered to chase the girl, and the only girls that chased me were kind of slutty, in my opinion. I guess you could say that I was a little old fashioned and was looking for "the one". I've since come to realize that there wasn't one person for everybody. I chuckled inwardly at the naivety of my younger self. Ce la Vie.
I did remember getting invited by one of my friends, Paul again, to a party being thrown by one of the members of the football team. I was hesitant to go, but it was near graduation, and I enjoyed hanging out with Paul. Plus, he insisted and said that I was invited too. That seemed odd to me. The popular kids basically ignored me, and I had no problem returning the favor. I asked him how we had gotten invited, and he said that one of the cheerleaders was crushing on him. I rolled my eyes and asked if he needed a wingman for this shindig. He nodded vigorously. Well, he was a good friend and kind of shy, so I figured I'd help him out and agreed to go.
We arrived 'fashionably late' as Paul called it and entered the party in mid-swing. The music was thumping, some techno mix. Most of the people there were grouped up, talking and drinking. A few, mostly the 'loose' girls, were dancing in the ridiculously large living room. They were either drunk or acting drunk, hoping someone would hit on them. I scanned the room as I walked behind my buddy, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. I sidestepped a girl doing shots and had to swing back to the right when an already drunk linebacker nearly stumbled into me after he finished shot-gunning a beer. I knew most of the people here. They went to my school. However, I was here for Paul and didn't want to start up an awkward conversation with any of them. They weren't my kind of people. I guess you could say that I found them boring. Then I saw her from across the massive living room. She was standing in the kitchen. It was one of those 'open concept' houses.
Fatefully, while I had only glanced at her, she met my eyes at the same time and smiled warmly at me. Nadia Takahashi. My eyes had stopped roaming. All I could see was her. A feeling of dread crept into my mind, a hold-over from junior high. I knew this girl could hurt me if she wanted to.
Her parents were a successful Japanese businessman and a Russian mail-order-bride. At least, that's what it seemed like whenever I saw them at my karate meets. Nadia had a little sister, Anna, who was also in martial arts. Her parents went to all her events, which happened to be the same events where I competed. Nadia was usually there as well, to cheer on her sister. She preferred volleyball. The successful mother and father were very proud of their overachieving daughters. Nadia was eighteen, almost graduated from high school and had offers from several colleges. He sister was sixteen and generally following in her sister's footsteps, excelling at both school and sports. They were each extremely good-looking and excelled at everything they set their minds to.
All of that flashed through my mind as her eyes had mine locked in place. She was exotically attractive and ridiculously hot. Her naturally dark skin, slender frame with amazing breasts, and coal-black hair gave her a universal beauty. However, her most striking feature were her slightly almond-shaped eyes with irises the color of caramel. It added an exotic flare to her already smoldering good looks. Stupidly, I smiled back, immediately regretting it. When it comes down to it, I'm a nice guy. I have to make an effort to be a jerk or act aloof to get people to leave me alone. Thankfully, my buddy Paul saved me.
"Hey Jace," he shouted over the loud music, drawing my attention. "You wanna grab a beer?"
Wrenching my eyes away from beauty personified, I looked over at Paul. I saw that he obviously hadn't noticed me gawking at the school hottie and just stood there questioningly. Inwardly, I thanked him.
"Sure, sounds good," I replied after gathering my thoughts. I quickly caught up with him. "Lead on," I said.
Paul turned and led me to the kitchen and a large keg, which was unfortunately right next to Nadia. "Damn", I thought, hoping to escape unnoticed. She got under my skin. I really hated that. As an outgoing kid when I was younger, I quickly discovered that really liking someone was almost the same as allowing them to hurt you. Junior high brought that into focus even more. Logically, I knew that Nadia was just being nice, but my stupid heart kept second-guessing the harsh truth. Still, I kept my guard up and managed to pour myself a beer without so much as looking in her direction. Paul and I stood off to the side, drinking our beer when Cindy, the cheerleader he was lusting after, came up to him out of the crowd.
"There you are," she purred as she sauntered up to him, smiling warmly. "I'm soooo glad you came tonight!"
