In Canada, specifically the province of Ontario, high school sucked worse than anywhere else did on the continent. There's a reason for this. We had to go to school for five years. They had this thing where in order to go to university you had to have six OAC's (Ontario Academic Credits). The OAC year was the fifth year. And EVERYONE was expected to try to go to university. Hence the sucking.
My name is Ethan. I'm not the classic porn story jock who's six foot two, two-hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle with a ten inch dick. Nor am I the classic porn story five foot five one hundred and eight pounds soaking wet, with a foot long dong, nerd-who-gets-laid guy. Instead I'm the not so classic long-haired five foot eleven inches tall, one hundred and sixty pound guitar player that got laid once when I was twelve years old but hasn't since. Now that's one sorry set of blue balls I had, let me tell you.
My high school days were not exactly a time of prosperity for me. I was part of the Goth crowd. In fact, you might say I ran the Goth clique at our school...though I wouldn't have called myself "Goth". I didn't wear the makeup or dress all in black or have any spiked collars or any of that stuff. My wardrobe consisted primarily of jeans and tee shirts. I did however wear a trench coat and that set the stage for my acceptance with that crowd (though man did I ever catch a lot of flak after the Columbine shootings). Funny thing is that I didn't seek them out. I just sat in a corner during spares or lunch hour (or during class when I wanted a break) and played guitar.
Going to a primarily jock filled school and hanging out with a goth crowd does not add for a lot of harmony. We were fine with people and people generally seemed fine with me, though it was rare that my crew could get through fifteen minutes without someone being called 'gay' or 'fag' and the girls stuff like 'dyke' or 'slut'. As I said though, people generally didn't have much of a problem with me because I was quiet, smart and, despite my average frame, looked intimidating. At the time however, I felt under attack just as much as anyone else in my little "posse" did.
Now in most of these stories there's a perfect girl (or guy, I suppose...though it's a girl here) that the protagonist (that's me) really wanted. Off hand, I can think of three people I really wanted. Two of them were friends though and I had no idea about how to approach them about starting a relationship. The third person, I had never even talked to. I knew her only by name. Tabitha was THE girl. Every guy wanted her and every girl wanted to be her. I was no different from the rest of the guys in this respect.
She was tall and had long dark hair and brown eyes that really captured you (as you'll see in a bit). She was slim and voluptuous and had a set of wonderfully pouty lips. Her skin was pale and my god was it smooth to the touch! I had a dream about god coming down from the heavens and taking on a female form and she was hot, but didn't really compare to Tabitha.
The morning things started, I wasn't having a good day. A friend of mine had been beaten up pretty badly and I was the person who had found him and called the ambulance. This of course made me late for school and we all know how forgiving office administration is. Yes, that's my teeth you can hear grinding.
Well, long story short here, I ended up with a week of detention . . . after talking my way out of a suspension (this wasn't my first late incident. And to my sympathisers, don't worry--I've never showed up to any of the detention days). So thinking that famous last thought "at least nothing else can go wrong" fate kicked me in the crotch. I went to my English class to find out that I had just missed a quiz.
"Mr. Guilder, you've just missed your quiz," said Mr. Fallson. He had a cocky smile on his face and his balding head was shining in just the right position that the glare was right in my eyes.
"Sorry sir, I was in the office," I replied. I would have gone into more details, but he wouldn't have cared. He was one of those teacher types that was in it to teach us young punks a lesson.
"Well, then I'll check with them and assuming you were, I'll develop a harder quiz for you to do during the detention you would have been given. I assume you finished your Othello essay?" he asked.
The thing about school, be it grade school, high school or university, is that I've rarely ever handed anything in on time. Mr. Fallson knew this. So, of course we had this discussion loud enough for everyone to hear in front of the class.
"No sir," I replied.
"Hmph. Surprise, surprise," he stated in that smug, irritating voice. "I'm afraid I can't give you an assessment until all your outstanding assignments are handed in."
I just nodded and sat down at my seat, but not before catching Tabitha's eye briefly. When a guy has a crush, he can read things into the smallest gestures. The only thing I saw in that glance was a bit of pity, and maybe some amusement. I sat through that period and the next just waiting for lunch. I needed a break.
The lunch bell rang and everyone got up at the same time, as always. The crowds thickening down the hallways into the stairwells all headed to their individual lockers. I was no different except that I was probably a lot more cranky than most people. I met every challenging stare with one of my own that probably would have gotten me killed in certain areas of the country. I didn't care.
I started walking toward the stairway that would take me to my locker and the crowd seemed to just melt. As I was going down the stairs, there was only one other person that seemed to be heading up that I hadn't rounded the bend and was thus out of my sight at the moment. I got ready to glare and lo and behold my shock when I found myself staring into Tabitha's eyes.
Now, proper stranger eye contact etiquette dictates that the correct thing would have been for me to look past her, as though something interesting has caught my eye. It would also dictate that she do the same. Neither of us did.
I looked into her eyes and she looked into mine. It felt like an eternity. In reality it was seven seconds. Not long, right? Bullshit. You try looking into a veritable stranger's eyes for seven seconds and tell me how long you think it is. The interesting thing about it though was the fact that I couldn't read anything from that look. I didn't see any pity, amusement, malice, scorn or any of those other things that I had trained myself to look for. The only thing I could identify was the smallest bit of anxiety.
Throughout lunch my mood brightened. I was informed that the friend that I had found was awake and despite numerous fractured ribs and a pretty nasty concussion he'd be ok. No one came looking for me for that detention (detentions were served at lunch in my school) and my lunch consisted of a twenty dollar bill...which I used to buy pizza. Tabitha was also in my next class, significantly doing its part to make me happier.
When I got to class the person who sat at my table was already there. He was a pretty cool guy and despite being a jock he had a friendly attitude towards me and my friends. In fact we probably would have been pretty good friends if I knew him outside of school at all.
"Hey Ethan, what's kickin'?" he asked me as I sat down.
"Not too much dude, you?" I replied. He was also one of the luckiest people I know because earlier that month he began working on his end of semester project with Tabitha. He was happy about that, as any guy in his position would be.
We basically just chatted for a few minutes till class started. Our real teacher wasn't there today so a sub came in and told us to work on our projects. Greg (the guy I sat with) sighed at this point.
