For character development and continuity, I highly recommend you read these four stories in order.
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Summer before 9
th
grade I was 14, and my family moved from Southern California to Eastern Massachusetts.
Suburban Massachusetts was a big change from where we had lived in the hills above the San Fernando Valley. It didn't rain much in LA and our "rivers" were rectangular concrete channels with a little lawn watering runoff in them. There lots of eucalyptus, oaks, and black walnut trees. I was fortunate that there were lots of places in the hills to run and jump and throw things.
In Medfield, there were vast tracks of what the kids called "woods", undeveloped areas between the various housing tracts. There were lots of pine trees, lakes, ponds streams, and the forest floor was largely carpeted in blueberry bushes and ferns. There were a lot more mosquitos than we ever had in LA and black widow spiders hiding under just about anything.
The Charles River wended its way slowly toward Boston Harbor just outside of town. Canoeing and fishing were very popular during summer and fall. Shoveling snow and ice skating took up most of the winter and the fall foliage was hard to believe.
I spent the rest of that first summer meeting our neighborhood kids and I signed up for Jr. Varsity football, which began two weeks before school started. I figured I'd meet a lot of the guys and make some friends. Football practice was really hard, I mean really hard. I'd been a swimmer and run track, but football ate my lunch at first. Wind sprints anyone?
My previous school in CA was scholastically a bit ahead of Medfield High so they put me into AP math and science when classes started. Thus, I met most of the smart kids right away as well.
I was assigned a locker and I introduced myself to some of those who had lockers near mine. The locker directly to the left of mine belonged to a painfully shy, skinny blond girl with braces. When I introduced myself, she darted her eyes toward mine for a second and said "Lisa." I already knew that because she also sat in front of me in homeroom. Apparently, they assigned lockers and homeroom seats alphabetically because my last name began with BA and her's with AR.
I don't think we spoke more than half a dozen words to each other that whole first year, but I always smiled and said "hi."
When we started 10
th
grade, we moved to the Sr. High building and Lisa's locker was, once again, next to mine. She had grown up over the summer and her body was still skinny but showing promise. She was still very shy, but we exchanged pleasantries and she laughed whenever I made a joke. She was able to hold eye contact for a few seconds. I found out how her older brother was doing at Amherst, and she told me when she got her learners permit to drive.
I was also on the track team, and she ran cross country, so I saw her from a distance quite often. I remember watching her out on the track. She moved nicely, fast and smooth.
In time, I managed to make friends in every one of the recognized "cliques" in the school and was welcome to hang out with any of them. Jocks, Brainiacs, Stoners, Gearheads, etc. I think I had an advantage in that I had no history with these kids and could be who I wanted to be without all that "you were a real geek in 2
nd
grade" stuff.
Our lockers continued to be next to each other in Junior year. She'd had her braces off and did a lot of smiling. I only specifically remember one thing Lisa said to me that year. "I like those pants", she said about a new pair of tie-dyed bell bottoms I had on. (Really. Low-rise, tie-dyed bell bottoms were cool back then, or as the kids in Massachusetts had taken to saying, "Pissah.")
At the time, I was completely oblivious to how hard that must have been for her to say. Years later, I'm pretty sure she was really saying, "Those pants look good on you." It took me years to learn to pick up on subtle, or even not so subtle hints like that.
I liked those pants too, so I think I said something deep like, "Me too". Her comment did prompt me to look closer at what she was wearing. It was plain, but I specifically remember noticing how her body was filling out nicely. She was still on the skinny side, but she was much more womanly than when we first met. The old Hip to Waist to Breast ratio was pleasant to my eye. I'm not sure why I didn't ask her on a date, but I was, despite my many friends, still awkward around pretty girls.
We continued to chat at our lockers and during home room, but that was the extent of it.
In the spring of our Senior year, a guy I knew named Bert pulled me aside one day. He and I had never been close, but he was insistent that we talk. He told me that Carla, Lisa's best friend, had asked him if we, Bert and I, wanted to go to the movies with them, Carla and Lisa. They wanted to go to the drive-in two towns west. Apparently, Carla liked him, and Lisa liked me. Bert made it sound imperative that I accept because he wanted to, and the girls wanted to do the double-date thing.
He said they wanted to go the following Saturday night. Bert said he could borrow his sister's car- which would put he and Carla in the front seat and Lisa and I in the back. "Wow, uh, yeah, I'm pretty sure I...", was all I could mutter.
Back then, all 18-year-olds knew what drive-ins are for. Today, 18-year-olds don't even know what a drive in is. Everyone knew they're for making out and if things go well, more. Unsubstantiated stories of various big-time jock seniors going to the drive-in with their cheerleader girlfriends circulated through the rumor mill at school.
My only experience was with a girlfriend named Robin with whom I had done some fooling around, but never at a drive-in. Our limited intimacies had been furtive and rushed and in the dark. Thinking back, it couldn't have been very fun for her. Beside the heart-palpitating levels of testosterone flooding my bloodstream, it hadn't been very fun for me either. Extreme awkwardness about these intimacies were a major reason we broke up. Deep down I just knew I could do better.
My mom had always told me that girls aren't all that different than guys. They just want you to talk to them and they want to know what you're thinking. As a guy, I usually wasn't thinking about much of anything, but as excited as I was about the upcoming weekend, I decided to give it a try. I figured I didn't have anything to lose and potentially quite a lot to gain.
When I saw Lisa at our lockers the next day, I said I was looking forward to the movie. She smiled, blushed a little, and said "Me too, I hear the movie is really good." We were going out of our way to ignore the 'drive-in' part. I'm sure I knew what it was at the time, but I just cannot recollect the name of the movie today.
I told my folks that I was going to the movies with Bert. I was a good kid and so was he, so they had no reason to doubt me. It wasn't even a lie- I was going to the movies with him and his parents knew it. He and I had never been close buddies, so our folks probably thought we both had a new friend- how nice.
I walked the half mile or so to his house, and after saying hi to his folks, we got into his sister's car and headed off to Carla's house. Apparently, her parents were away for the evening which avoided the need for parental explanations. We were all 18, but we all still lived at home, and the parents of 18-year-old girls DEFINITELY knew what drive-ins were for.
The evening was the warmest we'd had since winter. As the last sunlight filtered through the trees, we both walked up to Carla's front door and knocked once. I was very nervous. We heard a shout, some giggling and shuffling around inside before Lisa answered the door. Both girls were wearing skirts and sweatshirts. Lisa was wearing short black boots, leaving bare skin from there to just her pleated plaid skirt which ended just above her knees. Her sweatshirt proudly proclaimed Boston University.
"You guys are early," Carla said, "you want a beer?"
"Sure," Bert answered.
