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In the spring of 2000, I had just moved from Houston to Austin. I already hated my new high school, but I couldn't do anything about it. I reflected that at least nobody at my new school knew that I was secretly a dork, which would make befriending the people I wanted to know easier. I was right, but as usual, the execution of my fantasies proved anticlimactic. On my first day at my new school, I walked into my Algebra II class early and attracted the teacher's attention. I stood awkwardly aside as she fiddled with the paperwork involved with new students. I noticed that the desks were arranged in groups of four, which was unusual. My classmates began filing in, and I fidgeted as I felt all eyes on me, desperately wishing I had worn something more attractive. I glanced around the room for friendly faces and immediately spotted three boys sitting together at one of the groups of desks. I hoped the teacher would assign me to sit with them, but alas, I sat with three preppy kids who barely spoke to me. Damn. A few weeks later, I began dating the Stalker, and he introduced me to the three boys since it turned out they were all friends. One was his best friend, the other was another friend, and the third, to whom I shall refer as High School Pothead (HSP), became an instant favorite. Actually, I secretly had crushes on all three, though nothing even remotely interesting ever happened with the other two, whom I quit liking fairly quickly anyway. Indeed, I initially preferred HSP to the Stalker before getting to know either of them, but the Stalker was the one who asked me out. Anyway, I was quite pleased that HSP was a friend of the Stalker's since I never know what to say to new people and would never have talked to him otherwise. Highly quotable and hilarious, I thoroughly enjoyed talking to HSP at lunch and witnessing his antics during class. One day, he and the two other boys who were all in my Algebra II class were plotting how to disrupt class that afternoon. "I'm going to see if I can get myself sent to the office today," HSP said. "She's going to think we're conspiring against her!" laughed one of the other guys. "But we are conspiring against her," I observed to the tune of much laughter. Such were our daily lives. HSP lived not too far from the Stalker and me, so the Stalker would occasionally drive him home. The Stalker of course drove me home every day, so I was always present when he drove other people home. The Stalker and I rarely stopped to chat at HSP's house, but I learned where he lived, a key element in this story. HSP was a theatre student, so, as a tech theatre student, I got to see even more of him. I remember watching from front of house as he portrayed Oscar in a no-budget production of The Odd Couple. Only vaguely familiar with the story, I nevertheless thought it was a case of perfect casting. HSP was charming and funny, bright in his way, but exuded typical teenage sloppiness. I also discovered that he smoked a lot of marijuana, so I deduced that I was right in my choice of the Stalker as a boyfriend instead. If only. In retrospect, even a pothead would have been a better choice. The remainder of the school year and the following summer passed uneventfully. I spoke to HSP occasionally online; he was his usual entertaining self. My final year of high school began, and I only saw HSP around for a few months before he dropped out. I was disappointed, both in him and the fact that I would no longer get to see him on a daily basis. But we still talked online. At this point, this story segues into its continuation in the college section. |