Time will tell

Wednesday 24 February 2010

I walked through the corridor at school this morning feeling really refreshed. My cold is not gone, of course, but staying home yesterday helped (even if all I did was type on the computer all day) and my voice is still raspy and sore but least I can talk today. I had on my black sweater and black tights and a really cute bronze-coloured wool skirt and my black booties and I felt really good about myself, like nothing was going to let me down. This is what an imbecile I am.

At homeroom is when the notes get passed round. You get passes to the nurse, to guidance, for early dismissal... and from your friendly neighbourhood school administrators. Mine was in an envelope--

'Sorry about your illness-- hope you are feeling better today. We have considered the girls' letter and are eager to meet with your panel this afternoon in the main office conference room. Please check in with the office this morning if you are able to make it.'

This cordial little note was signed with the principal's initials.

I sat and stared at it till the bell rang. Jessy met me in the corridor and saw me with the note in my hand. 'You got yours?'

I nodded. 'How many are there?'

'Just the exec board got them,' she said-- meaning the four of us who act as officers of the girls' club. The school administration are apparently mistaking the girls' social club for the GAGA movement. The GAGA movement doesn't exactly have officers, so maybe that's why.

I suggested we invite two of the other girls who are not in the club but who have been vocal about the bigger (GAGA) issues. Jessy agreed. We reconvened the nucleus of this meeting over lunch and agreed on the six people who would make up the board. From then on I began to feel nervous. Before eighth period I went into the lavatories and rang Mother. 'They're calling us in this afternoon,' I said.

She knew what that was about. She asked who was on the panel and I told her and then she said, 'Do you need me for anything?'

I thought about it. I really did feel like I needed guidance, you know. But I would be brave. 'No, Mother. It'll be all right. We have a legitimate cause, you know. We'll just say that we expect something good out of it.'

'Something good will come out of it, Janine. Because you are right.'

'Thanks, Mother.'

'God bless you, good girl. Call if you need me.'

That made me feel better. And I was not late to history class.

Rather than to all wander in to the meeting at different times, we all met in the front hall, just lingering as though we were waiting for a bus, and then at 2.20 we turned and marched en masse in to the conference room. The APs were already there, the child-study team guy was there, and my guidance counsellor, as on the other day. The principal came in a moment later. We had not even sat down yet. 'Ah,' he said, 'so this is it, then? The delegation?'

None of us responded to that. It sounded insincere. We were waved to sit down and there were not enough chairs, so someone got two more and we were able to sit in a semicircle at the end of the table. The AP (not Mr H--, but the female one) began by reading over the letter, of which we all had copies. I just nodded a lot.

Mr H-- said, 'We know that you girls have some issues with what you perceive the administration does regarding sexual-harassment cases in this school.'

The girls all looked at me, but I just nodded. Becky sat next to me, taking notes-- she was writing down their exact words (from which I have got most of this). The principal, who was sort of near her, leaned his head over to read what she wrote. It didn't matter-- truth is truth.

Mr H-- said, 'We want to assure you that none of this is personal, that no-one on this administration has anything against any of you personally, no matter what might have happened in the past.'

We all just nodded again.

'And we want to assure you-- to reassure you-- that we will continue to do all we can to ensure that you girls-- that all students in this school-- have the safest, healthiest learning environment that we can possibly provide.'

And we all just nodded again. Say nothing, that was what we had decided. Let them make the first move.

'Your letter addresses some specific concerns,' the other AP said. 'Such as... rude comments-- what you called "sexual innuendo" coming from teachers as well as students. Can you give some specific examples?'

I looked round and they were all looking at me. I pointed at Sherry first. Sherry nodded and gave an account of how she an administrator called her a 'player' because some boy she did not like was able to corner her in the cafeteria and kiss her against her will. Becky mentioned that her PE teacher (the male one) had told her to move her 'fat butt' during class. I mentioned Mr H--'s comments to me in the office about Sherry's detention. Jessy spoke up and contributed her experience about one of her teachers laughing when one of the boys in her class called her a 'foxy piece of ***'. (She actually said the word too. Sometimes Jessy can shock you.)

The administrators before us all stared with their eyes wide open or else looked down at the table. That guy from the child-study team was writing everything down at full speed.

So was Becky.

'The letter,' I said, 'requests you as the administration only to enforce what is already your job to enforce. We know the code-- we've seen it. We are wondering why the teachers and administrators don't seem to care about it.'

The (female) AP said, 'This thing about your teacher--' she wagged her finger-- 'Jessy, is it? When did that happen?'

'About a month ago,' said Jessy.

'And you didn't report it? Why not?'

'I said something to the teacher about it,' Jessy said. 'I don't think anything got done.' She looked at me then. Deliberately I would not look at her.

'Well, we can't do anything if we don't hear about it,' the (female) AP said.

'Are we supposed to be put in the position of having to report teachers to their superiors?' I asked.

They all looked at me. The principal-- not looking at me then-- said, 'If that's what it takes, yes.'

The other administrators all agreed with that. Then the AP said, 'You say that students have harassed you too.'

'They have,' I said. The principal asked us to give details. We had (written down in our presentation notes) four cases which were enough for examples. None of the cases was minor-- like, in this blog I mentioned my sister being gawked at. That's going to happen, but really it's just rude and stupid. The cases we mentioned were more like guys making rude comments on a girl's appearance when teachers did nothing about it, guys asking girls for sexual favours (not just dates) during school time, and administrators not taking seriously any girls' complaints about anything like this.

The female AP fixed her eyes on me and asked, 'Why do you wear a skirt to school every day, or nearly every day?'

I fixed my eyes on her. 'Why do you?'

'I don't, not always,' she said. She hadn't today.

'Neither do I,' I said.

'I have noticed you've been wearing skirts nearly every day since the winter break.' ('Winter break' is what American public schools call 'Christmas'. It's okay to declare it a public holiday, but not okay to say the name of the occasion for it.)

I said, 'I don't think it matters what I wear. I'm a lady, and I wear skirts. I'm still entitled to respect, which I am not getting.'

'Do you ever think that your choice of wardrobe invites a certain kind of attention?' she asked me.

'That's a sexist comment,' Becky said immediately.

'Yes it is,' Jessy said immediately after that.

'It's not a girl's fault that she has the body she has,' Sherry said. 'Or even that she's a girl to begin with. The whole point of discrimination is that you can't hold us to a different standard because we're girls.'

'And happen to dress like girls,' Jessy said. She had worn a nice skirt today too.

'I never thought I dressed inappropriately,' I said to the other girls, as though I were sincerely disappointed, you know. Then I turned round and looked at the AP. 'I thought I was dressing to look serious, and to show respect for the school, the teachers and what I have to do here.'

'That hardly matters to a bunch of teenaged boys,' Mr H-- said then.

'"Boys will be boys",' I said cynically then. 'Is that really what you want to say at this point?'

'Now, then--'

'So,' Jessy said, 'we should change how we dress and act because some idiot teenaged boys don't know how to act properly?'

'Maybe you need to,' the (female) AP said then.

'It's our school too,' said Bonnie, one of our other girls.

Mr H-- scoffed at us. 'Do you really expect to change that much of how all teenaged boys act? Unfair or not, wouldn't it be more sensible to play it a little safe?'

We all sat there with our mouths open for a moment. Then I pushed back the chair. 'Are we done, then? Is that what you're saying?'

'Tomorrow I'm wearing a swimsuit,' Jessy smirked then.

'No you're not,' the AP said. --and we all started to push back the chairs.

'Hold on,' the principal said.

We all stopped, pushed back from the table. 'Sir,' I said to him, 'if this is an educational institution, and it's supposed to be preparing people for the real world, is it too much to ask that you as an educator actually try to educate these miscreants?' He smiled when I said that. 'I mean-- I have been to places in the world most of these students haven't. And I know for sure that the way they behave, at times, would never pass anywhere but here-- maybe here. And, Sir, you know it too.'

He was nodding.

'And I was raised that if I have something good to offer people, I should try to share it with them. If what I have to offer is a good example, I'm going to try to set that good example. And I'm not wrong, Sir-- I'm not incorrect, and I think you know I'm not doing it out of ego.'

He was nodding.

'Because, Sir, you know as well as I do that if these... miscreants go out into the real world and see a young woman in a skirt, if they're standing there with tongues hanging out tossing sexist comments at her it's not going to fly. What if it's an employer or a bank lender-- or a police officer?'

'Police officers don't wear short skirts,' the AP said then.

I looked at her. 'Is it that you don't see my point, or do you just like mocking me?'

'I'm not mocking you--'

'I see your point,' said the principal, and then he looked round at the others then. 'I'm only uncomfortable because a student has to teach it to me.' Then he looked at me and smiled. 'But that's not something I mind, if it's a point well taken. So, Janine. What do you propose that we do? Be specific.'

I smiled a little back at him. 'Thank you, Sir,' I said. I couldn't resist glaring at the (female) AP then. Oh, and I glared at Mr H-- too. 'Well-- we're not asking to be treated like goddesses. Some girls at this school are completely inappropriate, and some boys are very gentlemanlike. But I do think that you, Sir, could speak to some teachers, maybe at a faculty meeting, let them know students have complained, let them know you take it seriously, and most importantly let them know that you believe it's a point well taken. That it's part of the... mission of a school to teach proper behaviour, for the real world.'

He nodded. 'I can do that,' he said.

'And please take it seriously when a girl comes in sincerely concerned about being treated impolitely. Some people won't say anything, some people will make a little thing into a big thing, but some of us will actually have a point to be well taken, Sir. And it only hurts when you're a girl and you realise no-one really takes you seriously, or like as long as you show enough leg it's not important. And it might be hard for some people-- I was taught not to use foul language and it's difficult if you ask me to repeat what someone might have said... but if that's what it takes maybe I could-- I don't know-- write it down or something.'

They all smiled then. Becky's hand was flying over the paper-- she was getting most of my words exactly. (The rest I have tried to remember.)

'But if it's serious, Sir-- and forgive me for saying this-- then you have to take it seriously. Look, we try to take you seriously, when you say we are under all these expectations. We do our work, we attend dances and club meetings, we are not inappropriate or disrespectful-- if I may say so, we're the students who hold up this school. We help make it look good. We're not your enemies.'

He was nodding. He tends to be quiet and to listen more than he talks, which is good. Jessy said, 'All we ask is that you respect us, Sir. And show us you do, by how you act, by how the school acts.'

He looked at her. 'I can do that,' he said. Then-- the moment of truth-- he looked round the rest of the administration at the table. 'Can we all do that?'

They all nodded. --the [female] AP last of all.

He asked if anyone had anything else, and no-one did. Then he said, 'What I would like to do, Janine, is to ask this group to meet back with us next week, so we can iron out some details. I think that if we're codifying a finer point about behaviour and expectations, we should have your input. Can we say... Wednesday next week? Can we all be here?'

This was agreed. The principal thanked us all, we girls thanked the administrators, and everyone got up to go. Then he asked me to wait a moment behind. The other girls lingered in the corridor-- Jessy leaned in the open doorway. Likewise the [female] AP stayed behind with the principal in the conference room. I got the feeling it was always going to be like this now, no one-on-one meetings without seconds present-- not because of the fear of inappropriate conduct (no, not at all!) but because of jurisprudence-- it's become all like a courtroom now, somewhat cold and formal even though there is grudging respect. We don't trust the school and the school doesn't trust us. Then the principal put out his hand.

'I'd like to thank you, Janine, for giving us a lesson we probably do deserve to hear, especially from a student.'

I took his hand and we shook on it. 'Thank you, Sir.'

'I'm not going to be blind, or proud, and say we haven't made mistakes. I only hope that working through these issues we can work as a team. Your eyes and ears in the hallways are as good as anyone's-- you, and your club, and all the girls you few here are representing. And you're right-- in some ways you very much uphold the good name of the school. I won't want to see that get tarnished.'

'I hope we can work through it too,' I said. 'All we want is to help.'

He nodded, and then followed me out to the corridor with Jessy. 'Majoring in English, hm?' he said, and then stopped and smiled at Jessy. 'See if you can convince your sister to take up law.'

Jessy laughed. 'Oh, she won't hear of it!' And we all laughed.

...

After all the snow...

Monday 15 February 2010

The sum total is that since Christmas we have had something like 36 inches of snow and that most of it is still here. Daddy has been 'trimming up' the walks and driveway round the house with the snowblower (as though it actually needs it) but without caring for where we have to walk and drive we would have too much snow to just walk or drive through it. We have been out of school for the last four school days, counting today, and I can admit that none of us is much in the mood to go back. Rita finally went home on Friday after having spent the prior three nights here on what was supposed to have been a one-night sleepover. And I actually went outside, on Friday, just for a little, before more snow came Saturday. Other than that it has been very cosy just staying in, playing games, eating snacks and watching what little TV we have all actually watched.

Our Valentines' Day party was very pleasant and well-attended, mainly by people who did not go to the dance. In our basement party room we were nine girls and four guys, all of us dressed nicely as for a proper party, and everyone was very mannerly and talkative and eager to eat whatever there was. We exchanged Valentine cards and told funny stories and the boys played billiards in the other room, and no one went on FaceBook and there was very little text-messaging going on with people who were not physically present here. Mother did her usual best with hors d'oeuvres and snacks and we made a big bowl of punch with ginger-ale and ice cream in it. We had wanted to have it as much like an old-fashioned party as we would, since most of us there had not got dates for the dance or preferred a party where the focus was not on dancing somewhat obscenely or on showing off whom you had come with or whom you could pick up whilst there. We allowed little Lisa to invite one of her friends over and there was really nothing about the party that two 6-year-olds could not witness or overhear (although they did get bored with us and ended up in Lisa's room playing Barbies-- which is what I sometimes wish I could do when I find myself bored, or disgusted, at some other people's parties).

We had scheduled the party to be over round 7.00 and so it was. Daddy put on the Olympics in the TV room and a few of our friends stayed to watch some of it whilst others left to catch it at home or to do something else. Everyone thanked Jessy and I for hosting it. We in turned thanked Mother. Mother in turned thanked God for having such sweet stepdaughters. I figure God thanked Mommy, and then Mother too in turn.

So it is back to school in the morning for all of us, however we regret it. It's just as well because after the other week when I was late every day (out of necessity) I am already dangerously close to the maximum amount of time one is allowed to miss and still be considered a viable graduate for the year. And Daddy has more dates scheduled for me in the studio. Fortunately the next one is on Saturday and I won't miss school.

...

The crime of a kiss

Tuesday 12 January 2010

I first learned about it when I was summoned to the assistant principal's office. Here in the US the assistant principals (we have two at this school) are responsible for maintaining attendance and discipline. As you might figure the worst-behaved people are most familiar with them. I had never been called to see them before today. A student arrived in my 4th-period maths class bearing a pass and I got up amidst the teasing and jeering feeling like I was about to be guillotined in the square.

I stepped into the office and Mr H-- gestured for me to sit down. I sat, crossed my ankles, arranged the skirt in my lap, and exhaled to calm my breathing. If I felt awkward at least Mr H-- felt more so. He looked about himself for a long moment and then stared straight at me. 'Janine,' he said to me.

'Yes, Sir.'

'Do you have any idea what this is about?'

I shook my head. 'None at all, Sir.'

He looked oddly at me then, as though he had expected a simple No. I suppose I was long enough at HOH (in England) that know how to answer a proper question from a senior school administrator. So he went on to tell me that Sherry, one of my friends (who is in our girls' club) was 'caught' (his word) kissing a boy in the school cafeteria, which is against about three or four school rules (including, if you can believe, the health code) and is facing disciplinary action as soon as Mr H-- can figure out exactly what happened and, as he admitted, who the boy is.

I stared straight at him the whole time he told me this, not out of respect nor anything else but in total disbelief. I know that kissing in the school is against policy. We've discussed what's known as 'PDA' (public displays of affection) in our club meetings. I am very strongly against it, as anyone who knows me can verify. For one thing, it makes other people feel awkward. Just because you can get a date doesn't mean you should ever flaunt in front of other people. Then of course it's form of possession, as though the guy is saying, 'Look what I get to have, and kiss, in front of you, and you don't.' And of course a girl will feel the same thing about a guy. And for another thing it's never really a good kiss-- it's a polite kiss, or more importantly a gesture, being shown to other people, not intended to be particularly pleasant. If you want really good kissing, go somewhere where you're both more comfortable (like a Halloween party in an angel costume-- okay, that's somewhere else in this blog). And, for another, it's disruptive-- it makes people pay attention, not much better than a car wreck on the highway. Also, I guess, from the school's point of view, they don't want to be put in the VERY awkward position of having to determine where a simple 'see you later' kiss ends and where 'making out' begins, so they have to ban all of it-- which I am totally in support of. So I guess the next issue is, if Sherry is in our club-- and had participated in that discussion-- why one of 'us' (if I may say 'us') was 'caught' kissing a boy in the cafeteria.

'And so,' Mr H-- was saying, 'I asked you down here because I have a little problem with getting a straight answer out of her.' He looked straight at me then. 'Who is Sherry dating right now?'

I looked straight back at him. 'Sir--?'

'It's a simple question. You're friends with Sherry-- you must know whom she's dating. What's his name?'

'Sir, I really don't think--'

'Just an answer. Do you know who her current boyfriend is?'

I went red. I did know. I have met him often. He came to our Christmas party. He's been helping to organise our Valentines' Day dance. He hangs out with the other two boyfriends who date girls in our club at the moment. 'Sir,' I said, 'if you will forgive me-- I think that's a question for Sherry, and not--'

'I'm asking you, right now.' There was no awkwardness left in him now. 'Do you think you'd like to answer, or--?'

I waited. He did not finish. I swallowed and said bravely, 'Or--?'

He let out a long sigh. 'Oh, so I get it,' he said. By now the respect was gone too. 'It's not just a girls' club, then. It's a little gang you've got here. One for all and all for one-- is that it? All go down together? --something like that.'

'Sir, I don't think that--'

'You'll START thinking, young lady, and you'll start now. I've got your little lady-friend in the next room' (he meant the detainment room where they put people for the period, or the day, or after-school detention) 'for insubordination at the moment, for refusing to co-operate with administration, but it can very easily go to more than that. So start using your pretty little head right now. Do I have to bring every member of your little skirt-wearing gang in here to find out one little piece of information? How many is that? --a dozen girls? And will I be able to get a straight answer out of any one of them?'

I stared straight at him. I mean-- I was not going to back down, not now, not at all. 'Sir, I haven't said I won't co-operate.'

'I'll be the one to define co-operation here, Janine.'

'Yes, Sir,' I said, ignoring that. 'You should know, Sir, that we girls-- in our club, I mean-- don't condone "PDA". We've talked about it. We all agree it's pretty crass and tasteless-- not to mention against school policy.'

He made a smirk then. 'If what you say is true, if "PDA" is against your... principles, then why was Sherry caught doing this?'

I shrugged. 'I am as surprised by it as you are,' I said. He didn't seem to believe that-- he definitely didn't care. 'Sir, if I may ask something-- If Sherry was kissing this guy in the cafeteria... do you know which of them started it?'

'Started it? It's a public display of affection. It takes two. What difference does it make who started it?'

'Well, Sir, if you were to ask a girl, I would say it makes a lot of difference.' That seemed to stump him and it gave me a chance for another breath. 'I mean, Sir, not to be too tedious about it, but it's entirely possible that this guy just came up and kissed her.'

'From what I hear she didn't seem to repel him very much.'

I made a smile. 'If it were a good kiss, I don't think it would repel me either, Sir. And even so, you could hardly accuse me of initiating it. After all, Sir, some of the best kisses are by surprise-- and any guy knows that.'

Mr H-- sat back in his chair, made a cathedral of his hands and pressed his fingertips together over and over, staring at me as though his stare could make me feel intimidated. I was far from feeling intimidated. He had got my ire up and I wasn't going to back down. What does Lizzy Bennet say in 'Pride and Prejudice'? --'I always rise to any attempt to intimidate me.' So we sat there staring at each other for a long moment. Fortunately Mr H-- is not a bad-looking man of his age-- he has the ex-Marine build and close-cut hair and a pleasant, if serious-looking face. Unfortunately (probably because of being an ex-Marine) he is virtually impossible to out-confidence. 'You're very clever, aren't you?' he asked me.

I cocked my head a little at that-- maybe I should not have looked like I would flinch. 'Sir--?'

'You bring up these philosophies of yours-- very confidently, very smoothly. You, and your holier-than-thou clique, with your slogans and carwashes and charities, and it's really just all for one and one for all, isn't it? Not much better than a gang-- maybe a better-looking gang, but a gang-- as I suspected. Not much difference at all.'

'Lots of difference,' I said.

'You have gang colours,' he said, 'and initiations and creeds and even a form of territory. Gangs are illegal in this school, Janine.'

'We are not a gang, Sir. For one, we are not self-serving. We are not violent. We don't rebel against authority. And you allow other non-school clubs to wear "colours" here. You have non-school clubs here who wear team colours-- that's not considered a gang. You have clubs here that wear "Jesus" t-shirts, clubs that wear "Darwin" t-shirts, paintballers, Boy Scouts, the black-t-shirt groups and cliques-- Sir, you have a club at this school who wear colours and get together only to smoke pot and play Warcraft.'

'Do we?' he wondered.

'And you cannot compare that to a bunch of decent girls who practise good manners and chastity and honesty and raise money to feed poor people-- and, I might add, Sir, help hold up the reputation of this school, especially in behaviour and even in grades.'

'"Especially in behaviour",' he said back at me. 'And by that, you mean co-operating with school administrators in upholding school policy?'

I drew a breath and nodded. 'In everything good, Sir.'

He smiled smugly at me. '"In everything good",' he repeated. 'Who is your friend Sherry kissing these days?'

I sighed. Had he not heard anything I'd just said? 'Sir,' I said, speaking quickly and firmly now, 'I think what I've been trying to say is that it's very possible the guy who kissed her in the cafeteria and the guy she's currently dating are not the same guy.'

This completely threw him. His eyes went suddenly wide as if he had just been caught by an ambush. Then he smiled smugly at me. 'So, your little friend is a bit of a player, then?'

'A player, Sir?' I had never heard a school administrator say something so disrespectful about someone I knew.

'Two boys at once? Is that one of your club's core values?'

'Sir, I hardly think--'

'I'm still wondering if you think at all. Any of you.' He leaned forward to his desk. 'I'll write you up for insubordination right now, and we'll see about resolving the issue with your little player friend in the other room--'

'Sir?' I asked, suddenly getting an idea, 'will you allow me the benefit of the doubt? May I go in and ask her myself? Confidentially, of course. If it's any news that will... absolve her, I will tell you everything I know. If not....'

He nodded. 'If not, you'll plead the fifth... and take this.'

I nodded seriously, seeing the discipline referral form on his desk. 'Yes, Sir.'

He rose at once. So did I. 'You have two minutes. This isn't legal strategy. You can tell her I'll call every last member of your little gang in here if I don't get an answer out of her. I'll start with your little sister.'

I met him in the eye. 'Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.'

There was another student in the detention room, a boy in a black hoodie with his head down on the desk who, apparently, had been sent down for the day for failing to dress for PE. I stepped right past him and went to Sherry in the corner. She leaned down on her arm, with her long reddish hair spilled out all over the desk, her knees together, her ankles crossed, in a cute black-and-grey speckled wool skirt and black tights and an off-white sweater. She didn't see me at first. I crouched down beside her-- in a skirt and tights-- so that our heads were less than a foot apart. She was surprised to see me but I told her what was going on at once.

'He says,' I said quietly, 'that he'll pull us all in here, one-by-one, and interrogate us till he finds out. Whoever doesn't tell will get the same thing you get.'

She made a face. 'That's unfair,' she said sadly.

I nodded. 'I know, but what would be worse is not showing you the respect you deserve. I mean, it's your life-- he shouldn't interrogate us about it, like it's a matter of public record.'

'If we're talking about respect,' Sherry said then, 'then I shouldn't let any of you go down for anything I've done.'

I shrugged. 'That doesn't matter, if it's important to you.'

'Are you going to make that decision for the rest of us? --all the others?'

'We do love you,' I said quietly. 'All for one.'

Sherry shook her head. 'Then I guess I'd better tell you,' she said. In a near-whisper she explained that her boyfriend's best friend ('Mike') had often been teasing her by saying that he has a crush on her, that she looks hot (she does), that he would go out with her if she were not dating his best friend, and so on. And yesterday in the cafeteria 'Mike' came up to her and got her aside for some kind of 'private conversation'-- the topic of which I will NOT go into here, but it was very disrespectful towards a guy he has been claiming is so much his best friend that he wouldn't disrespect him by following his heart, or whatever such bile boys like to spew out as though some dumb chick will believe it. And Sherry had told 'Mike' she would not change her mind and said she thought it was better they did not have any such 'private conversations' any more. And so, I am sure mainly because 'Mike' felt it was appropriate (though we will all agree here that it wasn't), he needed to give her a 'goodbye and good luck kiss', right in the corner of the cafeteria, behind the big square column, where no one (except the teacher on cafeteria duty) would see.

'And I can't say anything, because [boyfriend] will get upset,' she told me, 'and there's nothing going on, there never was anything going on, and there never was anything going to be going on, but you know how guys are-- I mean sometimes they just don't accept that.'

'So it's a simple case of a guy unable to resist his best friend's girlfriend,' I said.

'Please don't tell [boyfriend],' she said. 'I swear I will, Janine, when the time is right, when I should. I just don't think--'

'"What's right to be done can never be done too soon",' I quoted. (Too much Jane Austen in one day, I know.) 'The right time is the very next time you see him.'

She blotted her eye. 'I know. You're right. I will.'

I stood up. 'Well, let me go tell Mr H-- that, so we can get you out of here.'

Mr H-- probably hearing his name in my regular voice then-- appeared in the doorway. 'No,' Sherry said, catching my hand. 'I wouldn't say a word-- It would get back to him and I couldn't bear that.'

I nodded. 'It means you're going to have this lunch detention,' I said. 'For like three days this week.'

She nodded. 'I'll take the lunch detention.' She looked past me at Mr H-- then. 'Mr H--, it's not her fault. It's mine. I'll take the lunch detentions.'

'Is that your plea, counsellor?' he asked me.

I stood up straight before him. The boy in the black hoodie looked up. The other assistant principal appeared in the door behind Mr H--. And another boy was just signing in from having been sent out of his class, and he looked up too. In front of this audience I said, 'Yes, Sir.'

He beckoned me with his finger and I followed him out. Behind me, Sherry put her head down on the desk again. The detention room is like jail. For someone like Sherry-- for anyone of our club, for anyone at all, really, it must be humiliating. I do not know how I would ever choose to be here. But somehow I just did.

I explained to Mr H-- that the boy had kissed Sherry without her permission, and that because of the circumstances she felt guiltier than she should, and she was choosing the punishment rather than giving up his name to keep the whole thing quiet and just put it behind her somehow. 'She's not a "player",' I said, 'as you called her, Sir. She's actually being very noble about it.'

'Noble? And now you know the guy, and you're not giving him up either?'

I stood my ground. 'No, Sir.'

He nodded, looked down at the discipline-referral form on his desk, and picked it up to read it over. 'All right,' he said past me to our other AP. 'She gets the three LDs, and the counsellor here-- I'll decide on her later.'

The other AP nodded and went out. My heart pounded. I did not want lunch detention nor anything else. 'Thank you, Sir,' I said, because I did not know what else to say.

'Thank me for what? I haven't decided on you yet.'

I nodded. 'Yes, Sir. But-- thank you for considering it.'

He made that disrespectful smirk again. 'Get out of here,' he said, and called over me towards his assistant who would write a pass for me to return to class.

I have thought a lot about it all afternoon and still don't know what the sin is in 'all for one and one for all.' If Sherry is wrong, it's because as a lady she allowed herself to be kissed by her boyfriend's best friend in school. And she really is being noble by taking the punishment to protect someone she loves and someone he cares for as a best friend in turn. I have to respect that. But she is being mistrusted and mistreated-- I probably am too-- and Mr H--, who should be a role model of fairness and noble behaviour, is being obstinate and arbitrary.

I texted everyone in our group this afternoon and not one of us, if we are asked, will be giving over 'Mike''s name, even if it means we are all sitting in lunch detention-- and not being allowed to talk or even communicate with each other-- for the rest of the week.

I have not told my parents, but I know what they will say. 'Do what you believe is right, Janine.' -- and I have done, and will do. Thanks be to God.

...

Four degrees of separation

Tuesday, 5 January 2010

I have to admit I get a lot of friend requests on FaceBook. And I turn most of them down. For those who don't know what this means, it's that all FaceBook accounts are private by default. No one can see more than the first page and your most basic information (name and where you are from) without your approval. If a FaceBook member wants to chat with you, share pics with you, learn who your other friends are, and get other benefits of knowing you in the online world, he or she sends you a confidential request and you are able to approve the contact with the person or not. (AOL's Bebo tries to be like this, but that's another issue-- don't get me started on that).

I just think that I don't need to enter into a whole bunch of online friendships with people I scarcely know, or, in some cases, don't know at all. For example, one of my friend's boyfriend became my friend on FaceBook-- I know the guy at school, I do talk with him in the real world, you know. But since I approved him on FaceBook somehow his cousin in Ohio became my FaceBook friend and then some guy him my friend's boyfriend's cousin's band became my friend on FaceBook too. I mean-- he doesn't even play the kind of music I like (sounds like barf in a bowl to me). Why do I have to correspond with this person?

Two years ago when I was in England I first got a FaceBook account, and I made a rule for myself that if I did not know the person myself, personally, I would deny the FaceBook friendship request. Then someone came up to me at school and told me her boyfriend said I was a snob for turning down a friend request from his roommie and so he (the boyfriend) thought maybe they (he and my friend) shouldn't hang out with me any more. This threatened to blow up into a full-scale social war till I said, 'Can I just approve him so we can move on?' And it did sort of calm things, although that's not really how I really wanted it to go, you know. And then of course the roommie (who was 18) sent me (who was 16 then) some inappropriate photos of himself and passed my then email address on to some friends of his (also at least 18) who did the same thing, till I had to change my email address and block him, and his friend, and anyone else that I had accepted on FaceBook whom I didn't really know... and, of course, shortly after this began my friend broke up with her boyfriend for an unrelated reason anyway. So I had my friend's ex-boyfriend, his roommie, and their friends, all sending sweet little Janine the peacemaker all these messages and emails and photos and friend requests for other sites-- and all incidentally very interested in finding out my current dating status as well (I was dating Henry then, but I digress). All this... and I had never met the guy (the boyfriend's roommie) face-to-face, and he shows me his private parts in photos and then hates my guts for being such a priss because I reject him. What a piece of work is a man!

So... I do not share my FaceBook site with people on AOL. AOL is my chance to chat online with no strings attached. I am 'me' on AOL, same as anywhere, only I do not connect AOL to my FaceBook page which has my photos and family photos and family news and favourite music and current updates in my life, and it names names and places and dates, and so on and so on. My FaceBook page is appropriate-- there's nothing naughty on it at all-- it just represents more of my real-world life than my AOL/Bebo page does, and it's for my friends, not the strangers (by comparison) I meet on AOL. If you are one of my AOL friends I'll apologise if that offends our disappoints you, but I won't change my policy on it... and please don't expect to be made the exception.

The other day I received a very disturbing IM from someone on AOL who referred to my FaceBook page. It seems he has been trolling FaceBook recently for any pics that look like me to see if he can identify me, and he finally found me on someone else's FaceBook page and was soon able to identify all my friends on the same page. And then-- you guessed it-- he sent friendship requests to everyone he could find who was somehow connected to mine. And so my friend's friend's classmate approved the friend request from this quasi-stalker, obviously without knowing he had sent friend requests to several other people too. And so, I got an IM on AOL from someone who knows my last name and where I live and what my dad does and what my stepmother looks like (from sites from other people who are friends with me). And he said in the IM, 'Hey Janine! Nice bikini!' --and referred to the photo on the friend's friend's site. The photo is of me at the beach in NJ with my friend, and her friend, and so ended up on my friend's friend's site, tagged with all our names as they are on my friend's site. (As far as I know it's the only one of me she has there. One is enough.)

A lot of people would think this is harmless. Of course I am not ashamed of being on this girl's site-- I am actually on a LOT of people's sites whom I do not know, because my friends have tagged me on their (my friends') photos and their friends get the same photos, and maybe THEIR friends get the same photos too. I am on a lot of bands' sites for being their legitimate FaceBook friend, and as I have said before I have been recognised at some band's shows from being seen on the band's FaceBook page. It is the price you pay on FaceBook for having your face out there. But it's clear that now some guy from Texas who's on AOL now knows how to find me on FaceBook-- because of of these simpleminded twits on FaceBook approved a 25-year-old online stalker, probably because he seemed like a cute older guy (and he's not really that cute, but...).

All right, I am naive and innocent, but I am not stupid. I deleted his friend requests on Bebo and FaceBook without a response, blocked his IMs on AOL and untagged myself (took my name off the photos) on some other people's sites. Already some people have said I am harsh and self-centred and conceited (mostly people on FaceBook, and in places where I can't delete the comments) because of it. So I'm saying this in an open letter to AOL/FaceBook users who like me enough to read my blog. If I don't know you, please don't keep my face and name on your site like we're friends. Not all FaceBook contacts are true 'friends', just acquaintances, and mostly not even true acquaintances since we've never actually met (nor even exchanged IMs or messages on FaceBook). I'm a face to which you know the name, and that's all. I could as well be Taylor Swift or Demi Lovato for all you know of me, really. Don't obligate me like a friend by saying the famous Janine is on your page.

And that goes for AOL Buddy Lists too!

...

An end, a beginning, and an event in between

Wednesday 5 August 2009

Jessy and I have been here on our own these last two days, 'chilling' (as she says. I never say that). I have resumed swimming 25 laps a day-- in fact I swam it twice yesterday. A lot of good it will do-- after Saturday I won't get a chance to swim, sunbathe or go to the beach till we get back from England. But I am really pretty well-tanned (and I mean all over) by now anyway.

Wait-- it gets worse.

Since we've got home (meaning here at Terncote, that's Virginia) people have been ringing us to get together. We haven't wanted to-- Josie was supposed to come over today (and didn't-- wait) and we have made some plans to go tomorrow night (Thursday) to see HP6 again, down at Lynnhaven, with a group of the girls. Otherwise we are content to do nothing, mostly outside, for as little time as we have left to do nothing.

It was hot yesterday-- there was a threat of rain which didn't happen. I was in my room for a while, escaping the worst of the heat, typing in my novel, and also compiling the stuff I will take on our trip. Jessy updated her FaceBook, which is what she does most of the time. I urged her to get her summer reading done. She's reading 'Their Eyes Were Watching God', which I have read (had to read it last year as before I started at school here in fact), and I have offered to help her do the paper, but she has not seemed interested in it. This is how she is-- she procrastinates till the pressure's on and then does a stellar job in half the time you'd expect anyone to do a so-so job. Well-- I am like that to.

This afternoon I was lying out on my chaise in the side yard. I didn't have anything with me, no book, no sun lotion (put it on in the house) no towel... and no clothes. Neither of us has been dressed since we went to bed on Monday night. Earlier my phone rang and it was Stephen, who left a voicemail message (he never texts) that he wanted to see me, 'to talk'. I knew what that meant. He is going off to UMES in about two weeks-- he will be gone before I get back from England and that will be it for us for the school term. I had expected to drive up and visit him a few times... but there really isn't going to be any kind of 'relationship' in any even slightly exclusive sense. We are friends, and I truly hope we always will be, but we are not really girlfriend-and-boyfriend and I think we're both aware of that. I was only touched that he wanted to see me in person to discuss it, which is only out of respect, which is how it should be. I sent a text-message to him that I would like to see him later, this evening maybe, but I wondered if he would get it. Then I turned off my phone and went outside.

I think Jessy was up stairs at the time. I really don't think anything would have happened the way it did if she had been out in the pool... which is where I thought she was. Neither of us recalled a car pulling up. Normally the gate in the front wall is closed and you need a passcode to get in. The wood beyond where I lie out in the chaise has a chain-link fence the other side of it, with barbed-wire (it was there when we got this property) and there is a perimeter security system here that James Bond couldn't get through. On the other side is the softball field, which is semi-developed as a kind of park or preserve-- that is, mostly tall grass, some shrubs, whatever trees were there, you know. There is also a tall fence round the softball field-- it's not open to the public though the security system is really only on the building there. The house system goes through the fence between the softball field and us.

On the Bay side is our dock, a rocky and swampy beach, ooky beach grass and a lower version of our wall with another gate. That gate, like the one in front, is on the same axis as the front and back doors, so that if you opened them all you could see straight through the house from the road to the water. This is the Baroque style and something Daddy intended, you know. It's really pretty elegant.

I was lying on my back with one hand over my eyes, half-asleep in the early-afternoon sun. I was so divinely comfortable that I might have stayed there all day. I can get like this, when I don't even know that I don't have any clothes on. And so when I heard the voice I wasn't immediately concerned.

'Janine.'

I turned my head a little and finally had to move my hand up to see. It was Stephen.... walking slowly down from the garden steps. I got an elbow under myself-- and then realised. Oops! Well! --this was an all-new experience for both of us!

I was embarrassed-- I certainly blushed! --but I was not afraid. Why should I have been afraid of Stephen? This is a guy I have dated, on and off, as it's been, because I already respected him as a gentleman, because I knew he respected me, because the whole relationship between us has always been based on trust and admiration and genuine friendship. Though I have had many pleasant moments in his arms (and many pleasant kisses) he has always been mainly a friend, and I really do trust him.

'Sorry,' he said, just about stopping about twelve yards away. 'Are you all right?'

I leaned back on my elbows-- oh, yes, I did cross my legs! --and made a red-faced smile at him. 'Um, yes,' I said.

'I'm sorry... the side gate was open. I was over there-- I'm sorry.'

He was trying very hard not to look at me, but the thing is, no guy could have ignored what he was seeing. To me it just depends on WHY the guy wouldn't ignore it. Stephen does have older and younger sisters, and he's seen as much of them as he was seeing of me, even if only by accident. It was just that he'd never seen ME like this, and I'd never let any guy see me like this (or even close).

'It's all right,' I finally said. 'You, um-- wanted to talk?'

He looked right at me-- at my eyes-- and smiled. 'Well, yes, but-- it can wait.'

I shrugged, gaining my courage back. 'I'm too comfortable to get up... if you don't mind.'

He smiled more. Now he came closer. 'Well... maybe we shouldn't talk about it now.'

'Why not?' Yes-- I really asked that.

'Well, just because.... Well, I wanted to talk about the next couple of weeks, that's all.'

I nodded. 'Okay....'

So he went on, telling me basically what I already know, about his going away to college and me going to England and we really weren't going to have much time between now and after then, so it was probably best that we don't expect too much of each other. 'Although, Janine, I have to say, you kind of make it hard to think about it, well, now.'

I laughed. 'Stephen,' I said, 'it's just me. We're friends. That doesn't change, does it?'

He was sitting in the grass now, about six feet from the chaise, beside me, not quite facing me, so that he had to half turn round to look at me. This is how he shows respect. If he'd wanted to ogle me he wouldn't have had to say a word. He wouldn't have had to pretend he was here for anything else. But Stephen is a gentleman. And that doesn't change. 'No,' he said. 'It doesn't. I just feel like I'm letting you down-- as a friend, even.'

'You're not,' I said. 'You're moving on. You're going to a really terrific new part of your life. In some ways so am I. Believe me... I would respect it a lot less if you tried to make something happen that wasn't going to be able to, and then just attempted to string me along for the odd date every month or so. I mean--' I smiled right at him then-- 'if we want to see each other, or go out to something, we can still have that, right?'

He looked right at me (at my eyes). 'Yes,' he said. 'I would like to think we can.'

'Then we can.'

Now he stared. I didn't mind by now. 'Janine,' he said, 'you do make it hard to think about it all now.'

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'It's just that I'm going to England and staying in someone else's house, and so I won't have a chance to get any sun for the next two weeks. You've got to know how it is there.'

He laughed. 'I guess so.'

We looked each other in the eye. 'I was expecting maybe Josie,' I admitted. 'She's been coming over here recently.'

'And she does as you do? Like this?'

'Oh, sure. Well, you know that Jessy invited her.'

He smiled. He does know about Jessy from what I've told him. 'I might have guessed.'

I thought of something and then said, 'Do you want lunch? We might have something here.'

He nodded. 'Sure... if that's okay.'

I shrugged, looking down at him. 'It's only lunch.'

'Okay.' Then he got up. 'Um... I'll go round to the door. I can wait for you there. If you'd like to....'

I smiled right at him. 'That would be very good of you.'

He smiled back. 'All right.' And he turned and walked away from me, not looking back, till he had gone round the front corner of the house.

I didn't wait a second and ran full-tilt for the garden, ducked in the back door and galloped up the stairs. 'JESSY!' I yelled.

'Whaaaaaat?' she called in a babyish voice. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed with the computer (on FaceBook), naked of course.

I stopped and leaned in her doorway, catching my breath. 'You didn't know my erstwhile boyfriend was in the yard?'

She looked up. 'Stephen? He's here?'

I made a wry face at her. 'Walked right up to me whilst I was lying in the chaise.'

Her mouth dropped open. 'You're kidding!'

I shrugged smugly. 'Not much I could have done, right?'

She giggled. 'Oh my God! Well--' she giggled more-- 'at least it's Stephen!'

And that is the great thing to be grateful for then.

In some shorts and a t-shirt I went down front to let him in. Jessy came down, dressed too, and we fixed sandwiches in the kitchen and sat round the table talking, about England, the ice-cream place, the animal shelter, people we know. Stephen never brought up the awkward situation again-- and he will never hold it against me. Someday when he's away at college he will tell someone that on the day he was amicably breaking up with his high-school girlfriend he happened to see her sunning naked in the yard. A perverted guy will say, 'Did you tap that?' --or whatever guys say, you know. And Stephen will say, 'No. That's not how I am. And it's not how she is either.'

Right, Stephen. It's not. You are a gentleman and I am a lady. And that doesn't change.

...

An odd observation

Whitsunday evening, 31 May

I thought of something funny but as I am about to go down stairs and watch 'Rebecca' with Mother and Jessy this will be brief (I hope). Yesterday afternoon Jessy found a box of cake mix in the cupboard and made a chocolate cake, on which she sprinkled powdered sugar and of which she then ate about three pieces. I just cut for myself a piece leaving about two pieces' worth left in the pan and thought how nice it was that we had a chocolate cake lying round here for no special reason. But, you see, this is Jessy-- during her period she becomes almost uncontrollably industrious. She rearranges her room, categorises books, paints a picture, throws two or three pots in one afternoon, shovels snow, rakes the yard... and then for the next 21 days she does little or nothing in the way of being constructive. She is a princess-- and I guess the only time she doesn't feel like one is when she doesn't feel like much of anything, you know.

I am the opposite (I think). I do nearly nothing during my time except pop Advil and read a book (or type in this). At most of the other times I tend to be eager to do things. I like this place looking nice and always help Mother. Mother has an attitude about doing chores that makes everything she does an act of love. She sings and hums and makes up silly little rhymes about the most mundane things and always says she actually has fun scrubbing a floor or folding and ironing. So I try to take advantage of that mentality.

The odd thing I thought of is that for the first time in my life I had a first date (and a second) during the most inconvenient of weeks and it never felt like an issue. We went out, we talked, we had fun, we shared the experience of being together and at no time during any of it did I feel uncomfortable at all. I have to hope that Jessy finds someone to date soon-- or, I should say, that Jessy finds someone has found her. There is great value in not having to worry about how uncomfortable you feel-- or, maybe it is that it's being able to not worry about how you feel. Aside from not being able to sun all bare-bottomed outside, I have no regrets at all about the past week. I am sure Jessy would feel the same way were she going on dates too.

Then again, if she were, we all might just miss out on having a nice chocolate cake for no special reason.

...

Janine rocks

Tuesday, May 26th

Prom photos were distributed today during homeroom. Apparently the photographers made short work of that-- though they did have four days, even if it was over a holiday. Of course Jessy and I didn't have any coming. Michelle, the Ladybugs' coach, said she had already framed and hung up the best of the photos taken on home plate the other day, and that's good enough for me.

'Hey,' Becky said to me, 'so how was the prom?'

I looked at her. 'It was all right.'

'Janine rocked,' Vivian said beside us, and I turned and glared at her.

Becky giggled. 'You rocked? How did you rock?'

I shrugged. 'Oh, it was nothing.' The bell went off and the Pledge began.

In the PE cabana a girl called April leaned over and said, 'Oh! Janine! My God-- I couldn't believe it! Poor Stephen! And lucky you!'

Her friend said, 'Awww, Stephen was pretty lucky too.' I blushed at that.

In the corridors people who never even seemed to notice me said hello. Two girls I don't even know came down the gallery once, one after the other, with their hands raised to slap my palm as they passed. It was embarrassing. Did any of this matter this much?

And so all morning a certain tentative engagement nagged at the back of my mind. I really was not sure I wanted to keep it, especially under the circumstances-- But it could not be helped. At lunch I wandered in a little nervously, my eyes flitting all over the place to see if I had been noticed. I had not, other than by the usual crowd, which is now two-thirds of our girls' club. As I sat down with my salad the others all looked oddly at me. 'What?' I wondered.

Then a voice came directly behind me. 'Is this a closed party, or may a stranger join you?'

I whirled round and gazed up at Stephen. Someone else waved him towards the seat beside me and he set down his tray and sat. 'Hi,' I finally said.

'Hi,' he said, and unfolded his napkin. 'How was your weekend?'

'All right....' I was blushing. All five of the others were staring at me in silence. I realised that none of them, save Jessy, had ever seen me with a boy before. And this, of course, was the prom king-- three of the others had not even been there but the story was already widely circulated directly and indirectly, and-- from what I have heard-- thanks to FaceBook, AIM, text messages and even old-fashioned telephones. Rumour even has it someone scrawled 'Janine rocks' in one of the boys' toilets. (And no, it does NOT really say 'Janine sucks'. For one thing, it would be inaccurate.)

Stephen and I did not talk about The Dance. We discussed our other impressions of the prom, the food, the place, the table arrangements... and the Cadillac. He asked and Jessy and I both told him about the weekend spent working Mommy's ice-cream parlour, and he seemed impressed with that, the costumes, the location, staying on our own for two nights, and all. All he had to report from his own weekend was having worked in the distressed-animal shelter over Saturday and Sunday and assisting a 'pretty cool' veterinarian who showed him how to bandage a racoon's leg and then meeting a little girl and her family who were unexpectedly and tearfully reunited with a recovering cocker spaniel they had lost weeks ago. From his telling of it the whole table of girls were sappy with damp eyes and pathetic sighs of 'Awww....' I do not think any of us had expected to find Stephen the talented comedic actor-- and our prom king-- was such a gentle, noble-minded philanthropist when it came to helping unfortunate creatures.

As we cleared off at the bell he and I stood up together. 'You know, Janine,' he said, 'I really wish there was another dance coming up.'

I felt something let go in my tummy-- okay, maybe not my tummy. 'You do?' (Why did I say that?)

'If I had known you needed a date-- if I had thought, I guess--'

'But I had Jessy,' I said.

'Ah, yes, a sister, the perfect backup date,' he smiled. 'Girls are so lucky. You don't know how lucky you are to have each other. You have this nice club, all these good friends, you have each other for company-- Sometimes it's hard being a guy.'

I stood there in the centre of the cafeteria whilst people went round us with their books and food trays, just gazing into his eyes.

'What I mean is-- I think I should have asked you to go with me. If you would have--'

'I would have,' I said bluntly.

He smiled. 'Really?'

I just nodded like there was something rattling loose in my head.

'Well, maybe you would this time, if I asked you to go with me... maybe tonight, like for supper? It doesn't have to be anything special, just--'

'Yes,' I said.

He smiled at me again. I love that smile. 'Really?'

I nodded. 'Yes really. It sounds nice.'

'Well,' he said, looking round himself like he was not sure what to say next, 'that's cool then.' So I told him where I live and he said he would collect me round six. He has a car, an older Chevy, kind of an apple red-- Daddy would like it. In fact Daddy would like Stephen. He's polite and intelligent and articulate enough to hold an actual conversation... and he's going to Eastern Shore for biology before going pre-med.... My head felt light as I turned round to go, but all the girls had gone. That's Jessy-- she has never eavesdropped on me, mainly out of respect, but also because she knows she will get the best of it from me personally anyway. I took one step and felt my knees go weak. Then the bell rang-- I was late for Chemistry.

I suppose some people might say Janine's been late for chemistry for too long.

...

On polite dancing

Monday evening, May 25th

It's about 11.30. The Memorial Day weekend is come and gone and I type this in the back of the dark-green Cadillac at about 65 miles per hour on Route One in Delaware. Jessy is asleep in the other side of the seat. We closed the ice-cream parlour at about 9.00 and were able to leave right from there with our bags and prom gowns and everything. We're both still in the Colonial gear-- Jessy has loosened her stays (she scarcely needs them anyway) and we're both barefoot, which is common for us anyway.

Daddy and Mother and the little ones are staying at the beach house tonight-- Lisa will miss a day of kindergarten and return home tomorrow. Jessy and I will have school at 7.45 as usual-- Roger will drive us. And Dottie will manage the ice-cream parlour as it goes into that weird schedule between Memorial Day and the end of school, when hours are shorter and the staff are less available till they know what their summer will bring.

I face the next few weeks with some degree of anxiety. I recognise that Stephen respects me, even likes me, for what I did at the prom, which I believed at the time and still believe was only simple human courtesy. Vanessa's moronic date doesn't have that concept. He is like what I assume too many people are nowadays, especially in America-- crass, selfish, without any understanding of the larger issues in life. In fact Vanessa is probably only just like him, though I don't know her very well and maybe that's unfair. But Stephen is different. We all understood why he was elected prom king-- he deserves it for being an all-round nice guy who is smart, entertaining, and mannerly. He is what we should all want to admire about people our age. And it broke my heart when Vanessa's date, a guy whose name we don't even know, stepped on his feelings like that. It's the king-and-queen dance! No one ever said they are a couple! And what is it about dancing in this country that makes people believe it's always about romance? Don't people realise there are many, many, other reasons to have a dance with a guy? Since I have been tall enough to look like a woman I have danced at formal affairs, with guys my age, even younger boys, and also older men, other people's fathers, my own father-- is that about romance? Dancing is just a social activity, it's what you do when you're at a party, especially a formal one. Sometimes-- as it's been with me-- it's been political. Sometimes there are men you simply cannot decline-- to be seen with them makes me look good, makes my family look good, makes my father look good, and may get something accomplished. I have said this to people before and someone actually said it makes me a kind of prostitute-- but when my dad has told me I have to dance with this man or that man I have just got up and done it, because I knew there was a reason. And yes, even since I was about 14, about half of them have propositioned me-- may I say here that most of those were Americans. The British men I have danced with would never have presumed to ask. They recognised it was a dance. And the French men-- I shall not say here, but by no means did I feel awkward round them either. The Frenchman places his hand a little too low on your hip, more like on the top of your bottom. Exactly once did I reposition a guy's hand, but I was a little too immature then, and I came to accept that it's just how they are. The Englishman places his hand on your side, at the bottom of your ribs. It's very proper. The Japanese man does too. The American doesn't know where to put his hand-- he tends to take your lead. If you put your hand on his shoulder, he puts his on your back and pulls you closer. If you put yours on his arm, he puts his on your side and keeps a distance. He seems afraid to look like he's trying something, because inside he really wants to be be trying something, but living in denial about his true motives he has to go to all this effort to make it look like he's not trying what he's really trying to come up with a way to try. He is a teakettle nearly boiling over, and stupidly he holds down that little cap as though that can even work, and the whistle comes out in some other way, usually in the look in his eyes. He looks at you like he wants to possess you, to consume you. When I see that look I just want to get out of there.

And I have danced with many men of my father's generation who were fathers themselves, and they will ask me about school, or about my college plans, or about whom I'm dating-- like the way any father would. When I don't care to talk too much about that I will ask the man about what he does, how he likes his profession, what his goals are, you know. Men like to tell us about that. They think we are impressed. I am usually not impressed by careers and accomplishments and goals and such-- it's only a courtesy to start a conversation that makes him feel comfortable. What impresses me is when a gentleman can have a dance with a girl who is not his daughter or his date and be able to look her in the eye and converse about something of substance. We don't want you to look down at our chest, we don't want you to hold our bottom, we don't want to hear any sleasy pickup lines, and we don't want to look like you possess us. What makes us respect you most is when you respect us. And you've a far better chance of having us want to go off to somewhere private with you if we respect you-- because what girl would go off with a man she doesn't respect?-- and would you really want that girl?

I am resolved-- the very next time Stephen asks me to dance, I will accept.

...

The prom

Thursday, May 21st

Of course I had decided that I would just go. It got tedious explaining to people that I was not going because no one asked me. I felt like I was complaining, trying to pick up sympathy-- 'Poor me, no one loves me!' Actually that has never motivated me at all. I come from an entire family that doesn't know what it means to want to be like other people. My mother was even like that, marrying early and marrying someone in the entertainment business! --what was she thinking? --and my stepmother broke all new ground, settling in a foreign country and marrying someone over twice her age at the time! --was she throwing the rest of her life away? Some decisions get made for reasons that other people don't have to agree with and might never understand. I'm not going to prom to look popular, or conventional, or just pretty. I'm going to prom because it's a party, and if it's one thing this family does well, it's show up and have fun at a party.

Daddy has been at me about holding up the family reputation, which is kind of funny considering that the family reputation is about not caring what other people think. But he is sensible and conservative now and he knows the value of society, especially for Jessy and me. So I took out the deep-blue gown I had for the dinner we attended at UEA last spring. The colour is majestic, really-- it's what's known as heraldic blue, the colour on flags, and it appears on the coat-of-arms on Daddy's side. And it's very staid and traditional, more like something from the 1950s-- it's pared away at the shoulders and closed at the neck, with a high waist peaked in front and draped straight to the ankles. The back is open but not enough to keep from wearing a bra with it, which helps, you know. And I felt very pleased with myself for being able to open my wardrobe, put on a dress, and say I am ready for the prom.

Jessy's is a little more typical, in a light shade of sapphire with a straight neck and spaghetti straps. She wore her silver strap shoes with it. I wore my navy-blue pumps which have 3" heels. I usually do not go for anything quite so high but with these at least I know I can dance in them! I did her hair and she did mine. For her I just pulled it all back-- her hair has got so much body and such a natural curliness to it that there's almost nothing you can do with it. I envy her for it-- she's always got this almost-wild look, billowy hair all over the place-- it will fall past her shoulders if you brush it all the way down, and fifteen minutes later it's up about her ears and dropping down in her face. I clipped it up with a not-so-little silver hair clip and folded the rest over on top with pins. She looked like a just-tamed jungle girl trying to fit back in with society! --but with the silver clip and studded pins and her good silver cross round her neck she looked stunning-- if I have to say so myself!

She did mine too, just putting it all upon top in kind of a swirl-- my hair's got plenty of body too, and is generally wavy, but I have got nowhere near the thickness she's got and I really have to rely on the hair spray to hold it in place. Jessy dug out a little tiara-- not too gaudy, honest-- that held it down and with a couple of pins it worked pretty well. With the closed neck I wasn't going to wear any jewelry-- and I should say that neither of us has our ears pierced, and aside from a few (usually whimsical) clip-on earrings we never wear anything but a necklace. Daddy pointed out once that in the original TV version of Rogers-and-Hammerstein's 'Cinderella' she appears at the ball in nothing but her shoes and the dress-- and there is something beautifully pure and elegant about that. If the girl makes the dress, the accessories start taking away from that. I never accessorise beyond good sense as a rule.

Of course we had Roger to drive us, and he appeared at the foot of the steps in a lovely black tuxedo with the dark-green classic Cadillac. Mother insisted on taking photos, but our first stop was only round the corner at Castle Field, where the Ladybugs had a game scheduled. The plan was that they should all arrive early-- 5.30-- for a photo with me on my way to the prom. Roger drove the car right up to the back of the tower and let us out, and all the girls ran over to fawn over the dress-- and Jessy's too of course (they know her, but she coaches the younger group). The photo was set up with me standing on home plate surrounded by the team in all their red-and-white livery, a few bats and gloves in place for good measure. We took about six or seven, with Jessy directing us in a few varying poses, as well as a few with her in them too. People had started coming in to watch the game and so we were something of a spectacle for parents and siblings, at least one local news reporter, and a troop of Brownies from down the coast somewhere. Then it was 6.00 by then and time we should be off. I exchanged hugs and kisses with all the girls and wished them luck in the game without me-- 'We'll win this one just for you!' they promised. And Roger handed us into the car again and we were off.

'I think my shoes got dusty,' Jessy observed in the car.

Mine had too. We got out some Handi-wipes and took care of that.

At the hall Roger pulled up at the kerb and let down the window. 'All set, ladies?'

'Yes, of course, Roger,' I said. 'Really it's only a party.'

He nodded, as though knowing better, and got out.

Sitting in the right rear seat means I get in last and out first-- one must never cross over someone else in the car. (The exception is when one gentleman rides with two ladies-- but none about that now.) I stood up and stepped aside for Jessy and just then a garishly long limousine arrived and began disgorging about eight people, most of whom were in one way or another ill-dressed. I thought I recognised a few of them and then turned my back as Jessy stood up beside me. 'Thank you, Roger,' I said quietly. 'We'll ring when we're ready.'

He smiled at me and nodded reverently. 'As you wish, Miss. And may I say-- you two look lovely tonight.'

'Thanks, Roger!' Jessy smiled.

'Thanks,' I told him, touching his sleeve, and then we turned to greet our public.

Even in this short time the people from the huge long limousine were already skipping immaturely in to the building. I counted three boys and at least five girls-- how many people did that thing hold? By contrast we had our conservative older car made for five in a pinch. As we strode in I thought how that seemed to represent the difference between us and most people round here. We live a quiet life, our own way-- though we are essentially friendly and pleasant people (I think) we don't intermingle so much with others. Though I have often disparaged that phrase from Frost that is so often misinterpreted-- 'good fences make good neighbours'-- we do live with a fence, a wall, really, and there are fences round most of the other parts of our lives too. We stay separate. That's deliberate. And I know that seems snobby-- it really isn't meant to be-- but it is more a result of how we have had to live than anything we chose to begin with. What is it that St James says? --'good religion that is pure and undefiled before God is this: to visit widows and orphans in their affliction, and to keep one's self unstained by the world.' And we do live in that way, just like that. And there is nothing in that about mingling in society so much that the society's standards become your own. 'To keep one's self unstained by the world' sometimes requires a wall round your house. It is a wall behind which everyone who wants our company is welcome-- but it is still a wall to keep what is unwelcome out. If that makes me an inaccessible princess, then I am sorry-- but maybe what makes me inaccessible is your standards and not mine.

The prom was fine. I mean, it was a prom. There were tables with food and there was dancing and there were people we knew, and we said hello to everyone and mingled politely. Most of the people we know were happy to see us, and I was commended for coming with my sister anyway. She is always popular and did locate a few 10th-grade classmates who had come with older dates. And there was drama-- some long-standing couple had a tiff and someone walked out, and there were more than a few spills of food, possibly owing to preexisting inebriation, and there was too much bad language and much too much poor manners. But, we endure. The real drama occurred when it came time to announce the king and queen of the prom.

I imagine that, for people who have attended a school long enough, these decisions are never much of a surprise. I do not know the 12th-grade class so well and was only gratified that one of the nicest guys I knew of it was crowned prom king. Stephen stood up by himself with the hokey-looking crown on, waiting for the announcement of queen-- he had come with a girl who is really a good friend, which I think is the best way to share your last school dance anyway. Then they named Vanessa queen. Whoops and cheers-- and wolf whistles! --went up from the assembly. She was crowned and then they were invited to dance the king-and-queen number, respectfully slow and not too intimate, you know. So they did.

Then Vanessa's date, an exceptionally scruffy-looking guy in a bad suit who attended some other school, reached his low threshold for tolerance of someone else getting attention and-- I do not make this up! --rose out of his chair and cut in on the king-and-queen dance so that his girlfriend, never mind that she was our school's prom queen, should not dance with anyone else. I swear people sat there openmouthed in disbelief. Poor Stephen stood all by himself, five feet from his assigned prom queen, not knowing what to make of it. Later someone suggested he should have swung a punch at the guy, who held Vanessa in an exaggerated embrace with his head down on her shoulder.

Jessy nudged me-- but I already had made up my mind and pushed back my chair. Stephen looked up and saw me coming. I guess everyone else watched me too, but I really did not notice. I stopped one step away from him on the dance floor and offered my hand. In that one instant his face changed, as he went from feeling like the biggest stepped-on loser at the prom, in front of all his classmates, to being someone whose company was desired and valued.... oh, you know what I mean. And then we were dancing.

'You looked like you needed a partner,' I said quietly to him.

Other people were getting up to dance by then too. We were not so conspicuous now. 'I don't know what happened,' he said to me.

'There's no accounting for bad manners,' I told him.

He held me a little closer then-- not to be forward, but because he really wanted to. Then he said, 'Thank you.'

Later when Jessy told our parents about it, she called it 'noblesse oblige'. 'Janine was my hero!' she said.

And Daddy said, 'That is exactly the type of behaviour I expect from you girls.'

Stephen brought me back to his table-- which of course was not Vanessa's table-- and introduced me round. We know each other from the musical, and he was Sebastian in 'Twelfth Night'. I had never seriously thought of him as anyone I would have much to do with beyond the usual pleasantries, you know-- we have some things in common but my stature is just nowhere near what his is and I would never have presumed-- Never mind that. Back at our table Jessy sat with Rosie and a few others and chatted away, like she is capable of doing, and a chair was pulled out for me and I sat beside Candy, Stephen's date/friend and found myself visiting with 12th-graders. One of the other boys asked me to dance. When I returned from that Candy told Stephen she liked how we looked together-- she is a friend-- and made us stand up again. So we danced again.

By this time I was not feeling like a stranger from somewhere else. Sean, who is in choir with me, asked me to dance. Then Brett, whom I dated in November, asked me too. A few of the 11th-graders asked Jessy too-- and at least one 12th-grader did as well. Jessy really is the prettiest beauty in the whole school and in spite of being still only 15 she has a certain approachable grace that I don't have and tends to deserve more attention.

At the end of the night we were out stepping into the car and Stephen left his crowd and called to me. At the car door I turned and he handed me a corsage. 'I just wanted you to have something,' he said personally.

I tried to avoid Roger's eyes then and accepted it. 'Um, thanks,' I said.

'This is your car?' he asked, just now noticing it.

I shrugged. 'It's Daddy's car.'

'Nice,' he said, and then looked at me. 'Well, I wanted to thank you, for, you know--'

'Don't mention it.'

'Well, it meant a lot.' We sort of smiled at each other then. Then he asked, 'Do you have plans this weekend?'

I swallowed. Really? 'Um, yes, I do. We're working--' I sort of turned round to Jessy, sitting in the car, then-- 'up in New Jersey. Just for the weekend.'

'New Jersey! All the way up there? When do you have to leave?'

'Well... tonight, actually.' I smiled and then looked at Roger who was still holding the door. 'Are we all ready?'

'Whenever you like, Miss.'

'You're leaving now? I mean-- are you getting changed, or--?'

I smiled. 'We're pretty much leaving right now. I'm sorry.'

'Oh,' he said, and looked really disappointed. For a moment I was too.

'But we'll see each other in school, right? Tuesday.'

'Yes,' he said, then, as though that was a good idea. 'Tuesday. Sure.'

'I have fifth period lunch,' I said.

He nodded. 'I know. I've seen you.'

I smiled at him. 'See you at lunch, then.'

'Yes. All right. Have a safe trip, Janine.'

'Thanks. We will.'

We stood there, not wanting to leave, and then someone from his carload called to him. He looked, and then turned back to me and I was standing right in front of him. So he leaned in and kissed me, just a little, on the cheek. And he whispered to me, 'Thanks for the dance. You're a princess.'

'Oh,' I said, but I was blushing. He turned to leave. 'Good night....'

'Good night, Janine,' he said, and then turned and hurried over to his car.

Roger made a smug little smirk as I turned and and ducked into the car. I was beet-red.

'Well,' Jessy said in the car, 'that's a development.'

'It is hardly a "development",' I said.

'Hm, I don't know.... Prom king saved from certain humiliation by pretty little princess from nowhere, and then makes a lunch date sealed with a kiss.... I could develop that into a development.'

I batted my hand at her.

...

The truth comes out

May 20, 2009

I have been feeling a little down lately about the prom which is tomorrow night. Well, of course no one asked me. It was subtly mentioned to me a few times, mostly by other girls with whom I am not so friendly, people who need to know what the status of everyone else is. And Janine remains dateless. Well-- there are perfectly sensible reasons for that-- the first is that there are significantly more girls than boys at this school in every grade, and all the 9th- and 10th-grade girls are competing with the upper classes to get invited to the 11-12 prom. And the nice guys in the theatre programme all get taken pretty quickly. Next come the boys in the choir, outnumbered about four to one by eager girls who know how to bat eyes and get invited to prom early. Then there are the dynastic couples who have known each other since nursery school and even though it doesn't look like they're dating, whenever an important event comes up they're locked together at the elbows like Siamese twins. And then there is the guys' point of view, because the farmboys and gearheads and jocks know for certain that they can have their choice of girls for anything they want them for... which is usually unsavoury anyway, although the girls are so glad to be chosen that they'll do anything for it. So, why should any of these guys want to go for the preachy prissy chick from a different country who lives in an unassailable castle?

I really did not expect to be asked. It will be a long time before Jessy and I live down the 'new girl' stigma. But I really did expect a little too much from these local people.

The conversation I heard about was that two or three guys in a certain friend's class were talking about whom to ask to the prom and I got mentioned as a possible candidate. But someone said, 'You don't want to mess with her dad.' And someone else said, 'She would probably think you weren't good enough.' And then of course one of them said something about my legs being glued together. And they very promptly moved on to the next girl.

And although she is absolutely the prettiest girl in the entire school, my sister Jessy didn't get mentioned in that conversation at all-- possibly for being in only 10th grade... but who can be sure?

I discussed this with my friend Becky, who in spite of being somewhat shy and far too moral and modest for some people is actually pretty well aware of what goes on socially in this school. And she said what I expected someone to say-- 'You don't need them, Janine. You're better off without them.' That was not what I wanted to hear. Then she told me that a couple of boys with whom I have always been friendly here said, in other company, that they thought I was 'scary'.

'What do you mean, "scary"?' I wanted to know.

'They think you don't want to have anything to do with them,' she said.

'Since when did I ever say that?'

Becky made a face and looked down as we walked. 'I think they don't want to go out with someone who's, you know.... Well, I think they think you would judge them.'

'On what?'

'On being... you know. Poor.'

I stomped my foot. 'My God. Have I ever judged anyone? I can't help who my father is.'

'A guy's ego is a delicate thing,' she said. 'I mean-- if a guy showed up to take you to prom in a pickup truck--'

'My God,' I said. 'Do they really think I would judge that?'

'Maybe they're just afraid of feeling, you know... not good enough. Like they have to be something else, other than what they are.'

'What a man has to be is comfortable with what he really is,' I said. 'Modesty is always better than dishonesty.'

She looked at me. 'You really believe that?'

I made a face. 'Becky, this is me, remember.'

She laughed. 'I wish I were going with you to the prom now. I would love to see their reaction.'

I shrugged. 'It will be as expected. No one will applaud or anything, Becky.'

Becky's family are taking advantage of the extra day off this weekend and going away. I kind of envy her. But Jessy and I have lots planned this weekend too. 'You've got to let me know how it turns out,' she said.

'Oh... I'm sure you'll hear about it.'

I was able to draw on enough self-confidence and enough of being comfortable with who I am to actually look forward to tomorrow night. But I can't say I expect it to be a stunning night all round.

...

The old-school girls' club

Tuesday, May 19th

When Gran was here she left a few issues of this nostalgia magazine called 'Reminisce' here for my dad, because he gets a good laugh out of it sometimes. In one there was an article about the 40th reunion of a girls' club from southern California. It seems that in 1965 these 9th-grade girls started a club, just to hang around together and stay friends. And they had rules, like-- you must like to dance, or you must be popular but with a good reputation. It was adorably cute. And they found that everyone thought it was really corny and immature, till they started hosting dances in and around school and actual artistes showed up, the famous and soon-to-be famous, and by 11th and 12th grade they were rightfully the most influential and popular girls in the school. They raised money for charities and sponsored community activities (like babysitting-- it was 1965) and the club came to be so important to their lives that when they held a 40th reunion in 2005, all the former members showed up for it.

I mentioned it to Jessy, and she read the article too and declared, 'We should start one.'

I made a face. 'Who would join it?'

She looked at me like I had no clue at all. 'Everyone,' she said. 'I know at least four people who will join it right now.'

I think I knew the same four people. 'But six girls isn't exactly a club. It's just a clique.'

'Then we'll do something, like those girls did. Hold a dance. Do a car wash. Read to little kids.'

This was about three weeks ago. As of tonight, May 19th, 2009, there is an actual club.

We have nine members-- like the girls in 1965 had. It's Becky, Rita, Josie, Anna, Paulette, two other girls and Jessy and me. Three of us are in 11th, four of us are in 10th and one is in 9th. We figured we wouldn't even mention it to seniors, you know. We had our first meeting tonight and this is what we have resolved. When Jessy and I get situated at the beach house we're having a nine-girl sleepover for a weekend there as an initial social event. We can do a lot of planning then. Our first scheduled activity is a fund-raising car wash after Memorial Day. Anna's father has a hardware shop and we're holding it in the car park. We'll use the money to host a slightly bigger event, probably a party, near the end of the summer-- we can advertise it using a club FaceBook site and email. We are getting shirts made for summer and jackets for the autumn, and Jessy wants me to help her write a club song. I am the president-- there was no vote, they just all agreed. Jessy is the social secretary and Becky is the treasurer.

I know half the school--- no, about three-quarters of the school-- is going to think it's corny and immature. We will get accused of playing clubhouse or being a clique or being gay (people here love to throw that one round). But there is also a great opportunity to do some good things for other people, which is the only real point of a social club anyway. And once we have some idea of where we're going with it all we will invite new members. We will be very discerning--there will be initiation rites and a pledge taken. But we're not going to have dues. It's all about commitment, and money isn't the best way to define that.

Of course we're not advertising it to the whole school at this point. We have all summer to come up with a plan for that. But we intend that by September we will be able to stand tall and say we're a part of something that means something. Some of the girls suggested we host a Sadie Hawkins dance in the beginning of October. That will probably be the event that makes or breaks us... but we'll see.

Wish us luck!

...

A change of seasons

Monday, 4 May 2009

I got to homeroom almost late and the teacher wasn't even in the room yet. Becky sits in front of me. She watched me step over her cumbersome backpack and sit down and then turned round to lean on the front of my desk. 'My God,' she said, 'how can you look gorgeous on a Monday?'

I laughed. 'What?'

'That skirt.... I swear you have a bottomless well of clothes.'

'I do not! I've had this a long time.'

I like the charcoal-on-white toile skirt. But I try not to do the monochromatic thing too far-- today I had on a navy top with the white shirt tied over it like a shrug and the black pumps... and NO hose. Well-- in spite of the rain it's still spring. I crossed my legs below the knee like Mother always reminds us to do and Becky sighed. 'So you got it in England?'

'The skirt?' I nodded.

'God....'

Beside me, Vivian looked me over and then said, 'I like the skirt too, Janine. I wish I could get something like that round here.'

I shrugged. The teacher came in, the bell went off, and then we had to stand for the Pledge. As we all sat down Becky leaned over the front of my desk again. 'That reminds me-- if I can go out shopping this week, will you come with me?'

I nodded at once. 'Of course. It would have to be Wednesday, though. Where do you want to go?'

'Oh, like, whatever's around--'

I patted her hand on my desk. 'We'll go down to Lynnhaven. They have everything there.'

'Oo, that long way?'

I smiled at her again. 'I'll have the car. Think nothing of it.'

The teacher came in then. Beside me Vivian was still looking at the skirt.

At lunch I sat with Jessy's usual posse. It must be remembered by now that this was once Rita's posse... and Jessy has emerged as the indisputable princess of the tenth-grade girls, with not only the concession of but the full support of Rita, gorgeous Rita, herself. Half of them were there when I arrived with a dish of salad and an iced tea. Becky hurried up just as I sat down and drew out the chair next to me. 'Hi,' she said breathlessly.

'Hi yourself,' I said.

'Janine-- did you get asked to prom?'

I looked at her. 'No... why? Did you?'

'No....'

Jessy looked up at once. 'You should go together,' she said.

I wrinkled my nose. 'Oh-- that is so trite. Girls going with each other because they don't have dates--'

Rita slapped the table-- not loudly, but we all looked at her. 'Janine! No one's asked you?'

I shrugged. 'So what?'

Josie said, 'They probably all think someone else has asked you. You should--'

'What? Advertise?' They laughed. 'Come on-- it's only a dance.'

Jessy pouted at me. 'But you should go.'

'So? You're not going.'

'It's a junior-senior prom,' she said.

I shrugged. 'Well, you could go with one of the junior guys who is not asking me,' I said. 'Besides there are enough people in this school who think I'm queer as it is; I'm not going to--'

They all laughed. 'Janine,' Becky said, 'NO one thinks you are queer.'

I looked at her. 'Well, I thought that--'

'Totally not,' she said definitely.

'Triple threat, love,' Jessy said to me, and I looked at her then. 'You're the princess. And we all know why none of them has asked you yet.'

Becky smiled. 'There are no princes at this school!' And they all giggled at that.

But there aren't. I've already noticed that. None of them seem willing to step out of what they are and aspire to be something better. They all actually believe that this little peninsula is the alpha and omega of their existence. But of course-- they've never been to other countries, seen other people, done other things. If you don't count eastern Maryland (20 minutes north) then I would say that most of them have never even been out of this state (and that includes Delaware, 90 minutes away). Oh, I know that travel alone does not make someone one thing or another. But my point is that I shouldn't expect them to welcome and warm to someone who is so obviously different from the way they are. The guys have got to have some idea of what to expect if they went out with me, and you've got to admit that a lot of guys would rather go to prom with at least a chance of getting something out of it to make the tuxedo rental worth it. There are plenty of easier girls at this school besides me. Why should they bother?

And wouldn't it just be the perfect piece of humiliation for the superior little bitch from somewhere else anyway?

Rita-- beautiful, uberpopular Rita, the one going with a junior guy to the prom, said then, 'We're having a pool party at our house the day after. All of you are invited.'

Becky looked at me, caught my arm excitedly, then let go. She never gets invited anywhere. 'Rita,' I said, 'you don't have to--'

'But it's already planned,' she said simply, and I wondered if it really was. 'I'm sorry I didn't say so sooner, that's all.'

People started talking about their expectations of the pool party. I started my salad. Becky let five minutes go and then leaned in and said, 'Steve doesn't have a date. His stupid girlfriend dumped him.'

I nodded. 'Probably already going with someone else,' I said.

'No. He isn't-- Oh, her. Yes, probably. But he likes you, and--'

'He scarcely even knows me.'

'Well, he would like you, if--'

I patted her arm. 'Thanks, Becky. Now what are we shopping for this week?'

She brightened. 'Oh! Anything that makes me look... better.'

I laughed. 'Well-- we'll see.'

Really I am not disappointed. I have not even thought much about it. I can come up with a hundred things to do that weekend that don't include going to prom, or even that would get in the way of going to prom. I've never been big on these formal dances. I don't dance freestyle that well and I don't like pretending I have to be loyal to some guy who's only asked me because all the other girls were taken. At HOH we had formals twice a year-- it was an all-girls' school and so most girls didn't have dates. We just looked at it like an event that we should attend, maturely and politely, not just as an excuse to be seen with some boy. Sometimes girls showed up with dates-- about four times as many didn't. It wasn't an issue.

Oh, and it's not that I don't have a dress-- I have several. I've been to enough formal things in my life that I have a collection, none of which the people at this school have ever seen. I could show up in anything and look like a princess. Well-- if Jessy will, I will. I would rather go with Jessy than with anyone. She's only in 10th but a 10th-grader is allowed to come as my 'date'. We'll have the car and Roger to drive us. We'll show up and look like princesses, like two girls who don't quite belong here... which is what we are. Well-- maybe that then. I haven't decided.

I got home from school and got out of everything (except panties) and curled up under the comforters on my bed. It was cloudy and there are no lights on. It's gone very chilly. I don't like feeling alone.

...