Blind Squirrels (11 page)

Second period was Chemistry and Mr.
Raymond was the teacher.  I thought he was sort of cute – shoulder length sandy
brown hair, big blue eyes, and a round handsome face.  He wore all the cool 70’s
styles such as bellbottoms, leisure suits, and silk shirts.  Most important of
all, I became one of his favorite students.

In the beginning, I was very much
alone in Mr. Raymond’s class.  The only two people I recognized were Jason
Fetters – my seventh grade crush – and Felicia Houston.  Mr. Raymond used a
seating chart, so at first I didn’t have to worry about Felicia – she was on
the other side of the classroom.  At some time during the first week, Felicia
asked if she could move.  Apparently, Felicia and Mr. Raymond attended the same
church, and he told Felicia that she could sit wherever she liked.  She liked
the seat right behind me, so there we were in the last two seats on the third
row.  There was plenty of ill will between us – Felicia had stolen Laura away,
and she feared I would steal Laura back.  Somewhere among all this animosity, Felicia
and I had to tolerate each other enough to pass Chemistry.  Hopefully, we’d
both come out of the tenth grade alive.

Third period was French 2.  Monsieur
Guest was back, and so was Karen.  I found that Karen was much more annoying as
a sophomore, and Monsieur Guest was much more nauseating in his absolute love
of her.  I wished that I could go back to World History and be bored to death.

Along with lunch, fourth period
also meant English and Mrs. Stokes.  A light skinned black woman with a thick
Southern accent, Mrs. Stokes surprised me with her knowledge of the English
language.  In my previous school years, English had been a bore and a bother,
but Mrs. Stokes opened up in me a new desire to excel in grammar and –
especially – in composition.  Her pretty freckled face, large brown eyes, and
friendly, open smile made me feel comfort in an otherwise lonely class.

Second lunch was anything but
lonely.  Olivia, Aurelia, Dominique, and Diane Griffin started out at our
favorite bench.  As time passed, Barbara and Becky Daniels, identical twins
that were in my English class, joined our lunch group.  Eventually, Jake
Hathaway began intruding on our lunch, but that would only last for a few
weeks.

Barbara and Becky looked almost
exactly alike, and we sometimes called them “Barky” and “Becra” to mock their
inability to individualize. Both girls wore their dark hair in boyish cuts, and
they both had blue eyes.  Their father was from Indiana and was in the Navy.  Their
mother was German, and they inherited her big bone structure and her fleshy
build.  The only notable difference in the twins was that Barbara had pierced
ears and Becky did not. 

Fun was a synonym for both Barbara
and Becky, but their personalities were somewhat different.  Becky was more
studious and more serious, and she sought to fit into cliques and befriend some
of the stuck-up snobs.  Barbara was goofy.  She wanted to be friends with
everyone, but especially the outsiders and the misfits because then she could
laugh and joke about herself without fear of being teased or taunted.  Both
girls were personable and outgoing, and everyone liked them.  It was an honor
when they wanted to hang out with me.

Jake Hathaway was Olivia’s first
boyfriend in high school.  I can’t recall how she met him – and she refuses to
talk about him – but one day, he was just there.  Curly brown hair on top of an
average-looking guy; Jake was neither cute nor ugly.  He had ordinary features
with little distinction – that is until he opened his mouth.  The words
“Southern” and “country” aptly fit, but years later I realized that “redneck”
was a much better description.  Jake was loud and boisterous, and he also loved
to touch whoever was near.  I found myself in that situation way too many
times.  On several occasions, Jake walked me back to English with his arm
around my shoulders or my waist.  It was impossible to shake him.  Olivia
didn’t seem to mind, although later I realized that she might not have known
about it.  Blessed was the day when Olivia called it quits with Jake.  He still
came around sometimes, but it was easier to get rid of him when I didn’t have
to consider Olivia’s feelings.

Max was around during lunch on
most days, and I noticed him watching me sometimes.  Or maybe he was just
watching my little group have a good time.  He was also developing a lunch
group of his own.  Mason was one member, but the other guys were strangers to
me.  Most of the time, they spent their lunch propping up the auditorium with
their backs and legs.  This put them right in front of our bench and gave me a
clear line of view.

After lunch, the second half of
English seemed to drag.  Even Mrs. Stokes and her writing assignments couldn’t
compare with the fun we had at lunch.  At least the day would soon be over.

PE was next.  Olivia wasn’t with
me this year, but one of my old friends from middle school, Samantha Pickern,
was.  Barbara and Becky were also in PE with me.  Mrs. Ray was my teacher.

Sam and I were best friends in
sixth grade, and she, Laura, and I were best friends in eighth grade.  This was
the first time I had seen her at WMHS, and it was a great reunion.  Sam was
unlike my other friends; most were either a bit on the chunky side or extremely
quiet and shy.  Sam fit into neither of these categories.  She was tall and
thin – although big boned – and she was always outspoken.  Soft blond
highlights dusted her long brown hair which was thick and wavy.  Emerald green
eyes, a slightly pointed nose, and an ample mouth filled her long thin face. 
Freckles dotted her cheeks and sprinkled down onto her shoulders and arms.  I
had adored Sam the first moment I met her in sixth grade, and it was a pleasure
to have her back in my life.  Before long, Sam and I had slipped back into our
old roles.  She was my leader, and I was her follower.  Boss and lackey.  Master
and slave.  She said, “Jump.”  I said, “How high?”

Mrs. Ray was a middle-aged black
woman.  She was tall – at least six feet tall – and in excellent shape.  I
would learn that she was also a compassionate and understanding person.  In
contrast to all the other PE teachers I had ever known, Mrs. Ray seemed to
realize that an overweight student might have problems in some activities.  She
always credited all who tried, not just the ones who succeeded.  Ones who ran
slowest were paired with ones who ran fastest, affording all teams a chance to
win.  She was truly a woman ahead of her times.

Geometry.  What a way to end the
day.  Algebra had been my favorite class; now geometry would be my least
favorite.  Proofs, angles, theorems...nothing could be more confusing.  To top
it off, most of the people I knew in that class were also people I detested. 
Please let the bell ring!

Mr. Parish sat at his desk and
greeted each of us as we entered the room.  He was tall and thin and reminded
me of Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy fame.  He liked to teach while sitting at
his desk and he rarely wrote on the chalkboard.  Periodically, he would send
someone else up to the board to write out a problem, and he would only choose
students he really liked.  That left me out.  Sometimes I would just sit and wonder
how he could teach a math class without writing on the board.  He wasn’t easy
to look at either.  He had a pencil thin brown mustache, and he slicked his
thinning reddish brown hair down flat on his head.  His face was long and his
features seemed stretched to fit.  It was impossible to distinguish where his
chest ended and his waist began – he was a veritable beanpole.  His arms were long
and bony, and his fingers looked like long thin peapods.  His legs were so long
that they bent awkwardly in his seat, making me wonder how he could bare to sit
there for any length of time.  But sit he did.

Eventually I would meet and
befriend several people in this class.  Vivian, a junior, liked me right away. 
She was shy and quiet, but she liked to talk with me before class began.  I
thought she was very pretty with her olive skin, vermillion lips, and mahogany
eyes.  She wore large oversized glasses, and straight jet black hair framed her
fragile face.  Toby was a freshman, and he was also a spoiled brat.  Being the
only freshman allowed to take geometry, he felt that he was smarter than the
rest of us.  He wore his long blond hair in a ponytail most of the time.  He was
attractive enough – bright blue eyes, small round nose, and a sweet smile – but
his curse was short tiny legs and a fat little body.  We became acquainted, but
I could never get passed his triple-X sized ego.  Jack Wahl was a sophomore,
and he hated geometry as much as I did.  He was born in Britain, but his accent
was purely Southern.  His hair was white-blond and cut to just above his
shoulders.  He wore aviator glasses over his pea-sized blue eyes and thick blond
eyebrows.  He had a long straight nose and high, prominent cheekbones while his
lips were full and mostly colorless.  His chin was square with a cleft, and he
had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled.  Jack and I would become very close
friends before the end of tenth grade.

One day in September, Sam asked
me if I’d like to get involved in a service club.  I said that I would – I had
already tried to get into one club that only chose elite and popular girls.

“Which club is it?” I asked.

“We don’t have a name, yet. 
There are only a few of us involved so far.  We need some more members.  I was
hoping you would be interested.”  It flattered me that Sam would ask.

“I’m interested.  Who else is
involved?  Anyone I know?”

“Let’s see.  There’s Rita Daltery
and Beverly Corley.  Do you know Lindsey Moore or Debbie Carson?  How about Kevin
Cone or Max Savage?”

“Wait a minute.  Did you say Max
Savage?”  Now she had my attention.

“Yeah.  Do you know him?”  Sam
was one of the only people in the world who didn’t know that I loved Max.

“He lives down the street...”

“You like him, don’t you?  Come
on.  I can see it all over your face.  Wait till I tell him!”

“You’re like thirteen months late
on that one.  Donna beat you to it.”  Sam knew Donna from middle school.

“Donna, huh?  I always thought
she was cool.  Way to go Donna!  I still wish it could have been me.”

“I’m sure you’ll still find a way
to take advantage of your knowledge.”

“Probably.  Well, I guess there’s
no more question then?  You’ll join the club?”

“Why not?”

The next meeting was on the
following Wednesday.  Sam escorted me to Mrs. Kalakos’ room, the teacher who
was sponsoring the club.  We were the first ones there, and we took seats in
the front left corner of the room – opposite the door.  Sam went up to Mrs. Kalakos’
desk to tell her that I wanted to join the club.

“Great!  Welcome, Katrina.  We
plan to make this the best club on campus.”  Mrs. Kalakos was peppy and
friendly.  She was younger than most of the other teachers at WMHS.  A headband
held her auburn hair back and exposed her bright, sunny face.  She had a habit
of holding her eyes wide open, and her long eyelashes gave them the appearance
of tiny sunflowers. 

“Call me ‘Kat,’ please,” I said.

Just then, the door opened and
several people rushed in.  One of them was Max.  I expected to see shock on his
face.  Instead, he just smiled at me and sat down in the seat next to Sam’s. 
Everyone finally arrived, and there were sixteen of us.  The fair-sized turn
out pleased Mrs. Kalakos.

“First of all, my new members
need to fill out a standard form so we will know who you are.”  Mrs. Kalakos
handed me and six others a sheet to fill out.  “As you’ll notice,” she
continued, “there is no name listed under ‘Name of Club.’  Our first order of
business should be to name the club and elect officials.”

Hands went up, and several names
emerged: Friends Club, Totally Cool Club, The Fun People’s Club, and The
Party-Hearty Club.  All losers.

Sam brought up an interesting
point, “Most of the popular clubs have French names. 
Mes Amies...Mais
Oui...
Of
course, I don’t know any French…
”

Fortunately, I did know a little
French.  “How about Bons Copains?  It means good friends.”

I was quite amazed when everyone
liked it.  And so Bons Copains was created.  The club became official when Mrs.
Kalakos turned in our information forms and submitted our club name and our
elected officials. Matt Bruin would be President.  Beverly Corley was
Vice-President, Debbie Carson was Secretary, Kevin Cone was Treasurer, and Pete
McDermott was Master-at-Arms.  Our stated purpose was to work towards the
betterment of William McRee High School.  Our true purpose was to get together
and have a good time.

Bons Copains met on Thursdays
after that.  We started meeting in Mrs. Kalakos’ room, but after-school
meetings weren’t working out for everyone.  Matt and Pete’s football practice
was the greatest problem.  We finally voted to meet on the first and third
Thursday of the month at a member’s house.  The first night, we would meet at
Debbie Carson’s.  Sam was the only person in Bons Copains that I knew very
well, and I was nervous about going to a stranger’s house.  I worried that Sam
might not be there when I arrived, and then what would I do? 

Debbie lived in Braxton Hills,
and my mom was taking me to her house.  After circling around several times, I
saw a girl walking in the street that looked familiar.  We pulled up to her and
I asked her if she knew where Debbie Carson lived.  She told me she was on her
way to Debbie’s, and she asked me to join her.  She was Lindsey Moore, and she
lived just a few houses away from Debbie Carson.  I asked if they were good
friends.  She told me that she didn’t really know Debbie at all because she had
only recently moved to Braxton Hills.