Disclaimer -- Miles and I, as well as the other students involved in this story, were all 18 years old and seniors in high school at the time the event described below took place.
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Miles and I grew up together. We lived within about 5 blocks of each other; went to the same elementary school, and our moms took turns carpooling us to/from school. We also hung out after school at the library or in Miles's basement playing videogames.
When we were young and innocent, we were all socially "equals". However, as we transitioned into junior high and then high school, the natural order sorted Miles clearly into the A-list due to his inherent good looks, athletic ability, and his parents' vocations. I, although intellectually gifted, lacked athletic ability and did not come from an affluent family, and thus was relegated to either B-list or C-list.
Both of us wound up going to a college prep school in the city. Miles quickly fit in among the 'cool kids'. Admittedly, I probably would not have been able to hang with the cool kids on my own merits, but I rode Miles's coattails. We were best friends, and he did his best to include me, although I was aware at times of rumblings, "why does James have to be here?"
Our high school's dress code was sport coat and tie for the males, and dress shirt and plaid skirt for the females. There were only occasional exceptions, such as during Spirit Week, when 'casual clothes' were allowed, depending on the theme of the day. Also, on Fridays, members of the football team were allowed to wear their football jerseys, given how Friday night football was essentially "life" in Pennsylvania.
Miles had been our football team's quarterback since sophomore year. In our junior year, he led us to our first PIAA championship. From that point on, Miles was essentially "king" in our high school.
In addition to his athletic talent (Miles was a captain on our football, basketball, and baseball teams), Miles had inherent good looks. His parents were of Italian and Portuguese background, lending his skin a flawless golden caramel hue year-around. I, like most of the rest of my class, more resembled the pasty white Irish Catholics that comprise most of Scranton's demographic.
I never really perceived Miles as cocky, but I may have been blinded by my lifelong friendship with him. Granted, I was aware that Miles could get away with things that other students could not. For example, every once in a while, a 'rebel' in our class would come to school with no socks on. This was against the dress code, and Mr. Angeli (the football coach and hall monitor) seemed to have an uncanny ability to notice such violations, which the resulted in the offending boy having to spend the afternoon in detention writing "I will follow the school dress code under god" 100 times on the whiteboard.
But, Miles seemed to never get in trouble. For example, on football Fridays, the team was permitted to wear their football jerseys over their shirt/tie, rather than wear a sport coat. In the fall of our senior year, I was over at Miles's house on Thursday, the night before our team's season opener versus rival Abington Heights. I was sitting on the floor in his room and Miles said to me, "Look at this."
I turned around and Miles was shirtless. But, at his neck was the collar of a dress shirt and what appeared to be the top of a tie. Now 18 year's old, Miles had really begun to grow into a man's physique. With his tan complexion, well-formed pecs, and a flat stomach with a few hints of ripples from emerging abs, Miles could easily have passed as a Chippendale. "What is that?" I said, laughing.
Miles said, "I'm going to wear it to school tomorrow under my football jersey."
"What? You're crazy!" I replied. "You'll never get away with that".
"No one will even notice," Miles responded.
I don't know if he was being serious or being delusional. Our team's football jerseys had solid fabric over the shoulders and down the sleeves, but like most football jerseys, they consisted of an open mesh from the mid-chest level down.
"Try the football jersey on," I suggested to him.
Miles went to his closet and pulled out his football jersey. As he lifted his arms up to pull on the jersey, I couldn't help but stare at his armpits. I don't know what it is about his armpits, but they had the softest, silkiest wisps of hair. Being jet black, they contrasted nicely with his caramel skin. Once the jersey was on, Miles stood there in front of me. "What do you think?" he asked.
"Yeah, no one will know you don't have a shirt on under it," I said sarcastically. The shirt collar that Miles had cut from one of his shirts was white. Our away jerseys were white. But, through the various holes in the mesh jersey, the 'background' color was clearly beige. If there was any doubt why beige color was popping out through the holes, it would be erased when one looked towards his chest and noticed two darker brown circles also showing through the jersey. "Maybe you should put band-aids over your nipples," I suggested.
"Nah, I'm not going to do that," Miles responded.
The next day at school, I was sure Miles was going to get in trouble. Surely, Mr. Angeli would notice Miles's dress code violation. Surely some teacher would notice Miles's nipples popping through the jersey. But no one said anything. Maybe I was the only one who had a bit of a fascination with Miles?
I couldn't believe it. Miles got away with it. Yeah, I know he's the quarterback of the football team, so it wasn't likely that he would get detention on the day of our game with Abington Heights, but still I thought he would at least be confronted and told to put a shirt on under his jersey. But...nope. And that night we demolished AH 35-0.
The following week, I asked Miles if he was going to push his luck again. "Sure, nobody will say anything," Miles responded.
When Miles did it the second time, prior to our game before North Pocono, various of my classmates noticed. But, oddly, no teacher nor the principal said anything. With all the other males in shirts, ties, and sport coats, Miles was sitting in class and walking through the halls in a mesh shirt, with his tan skin clearly foiling any ruse of conformity that his fake collar was supposed to imply.
The next week was our home opener versus Dunmore. Again, I was at Miles's house on Thursday night as he 'modeled' his jersey for the next day. Our home jerseys were purple. Given the dark color, the mesh jersey did not make it so apparent that Miles was shirtless underneath. However, our home jerseys were also cut shorter...more like half shirts or crop tops. I guess the thought was that the dark purple jerseys could absorb heat in the hot August summers, so it was best to 'ventilate' them by making them open at the bottom. Miles stood before me. While the fake collar and chopped off clip-on tie knot might make one think he was wearing a shirt and tie...but only if they were only looking at him from the chest up. The jersey stopped just above his navel. There were a good 4 inches of caramel skin showing beneath the bottom of his jersey, accentuated by a silky black treasure trail that flowed from his belly button and disappeared into his pants. "You'll never get away with it," I said.
"Sure I will," he responded.
And he was right. By this time, it wasn't possible that anyone in the senior class didn't know that Miles was walking around school shirtless under his football jersey. His white Calvins waistband jutted out an inch above his dress pants, providing a jarring contrast to his bronze skin. Even when standing, his jersey could not close the gap, leaving 3 to 4 inches of bare skin exposed to the air. Yet again, not a single teacher, nor the principal, said anything the entire day.
The following week was another home game, and again Miles came to school wearing just his purple jersey and his fake collar. Our school ran on a six day "mod" schedule, and this Friday equated to "Day 6". As such, Miles and I had gym second period. Technically, any of our student athletes were exempted from gym if it fell on the day of a scheduled sports event, but Miles never sat out. He was an athletic kid who enjoyed sport, and 30 minutes of dodgeball in the morning wasn't going to tire him out and compromise his ability to dominate on the football field that evening.
Gym class was uneventful. As usual, gym ended 10-15 minutes before 'the bell' in order to allow us to shower and get changed. Miles and I had our gym lockers next to each other, one of the perks of my being his best friend since age 5. On the other side was Steve, one of the wide receivers on our team. Steve was a decent athlete, a tall guy. He was actually much better at basketball, but was a member of his football team simply because of his height. When Miles had gone into the shower, Steve grabbed Miles's gym shorts and underwear from the bench. Steve smiled at me and asked, "Do you think we should hide these?"
I looked at Steve. I must confess I liked the idea. But, I also liked Miles. I was conflicted between my loyalty to my best friend and the rush of what seemed like an awesome prank. I debated internally for a few seconds, and then gave Steve a nod of my head, "Go for it!"
