High School Flashback Theater (Part II)

Well, I’m afraid that recent events have me thinking back on my high-school days like some overly nostalgic sap who’s come up on his ten year reunion. Damn. Accordingly, I welcome you once again to high-school flashback theater.

Today’s tale: High-school über-crush Beth.

Jet-black hair is brushed back from welcomely mischievous eyes by fingers of red-tipped porcelain. Taught knee-socks slowly guide my eyes up to a metallic silver skirt, and my head turns to near snap. She was uncommonly beautiful and knew it. I never stood a chance—just stood by and admired true beauty in motion.

Although a full year my elder, Beth and I shared a handful of classes. Now I’m not suggesting that brains and beauty are mutually exclusive commodities, but there does appear to be a well-established trade off in effect in all but rarest of cases; Nonetheless, Beth remained my adolescent ideal of perfection.

Following a lazy Friday’s edition of driver’s training (one of our shared classes), I slowly made my way to my locker to pick up what homework I planned on neglecting that weekend. While at my locker, I decided that, in so far as my gym clothes were on the verge on spawning some new and terrible form of plague, I ought also to take them home with me. I closed my locker, made my way to the football lockers, and grabbed my gym bag.

On my way back through the hallway that connected the school to the gymnasium, I stumbled upon a group of girls ruthlessly rummaging though some poor schmo’s locker. Again and again, books flew through the air as papers slowly fluttered to the ground. I chuckled to myself, appreciating the petty vandalism, before slowly realizing that it was my locker that the girls were trashing.

I snapped, spouting every vulgarity ever conceived. The girls stood in quick response, and at their center stood she: High-school über-crush Beth. The anger in my eyes instantly flashed into fear. I must have appeared gut-shot. At a complete loss for words, I hummed and hawed my way through what amounted to an apology. I actually apologized to her. She rolled her eyes at my pathos and disappeared, scorned and forever out of reach, down the hallway.

****

Years later, I stumble across Beth at a local record shop, and am again struck dumb—she looks dreadful. She’s been hollowed out. Her hair is sickly thin. The light has gone out from her eyes. Her skin is jaundiced. It would appear that heroin has fully spoiled my heroine.

I feel sick, forget what I’m looking for, and walk to my car alone.

-mixtape

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Tags: Random, High, School, Flashback

~ by mixtape on August 11, 2007.