Chapter 4: Private Party

Marc and Jeff are peeved at me for not being around very much lately. Between all my time working at Pizza Depot, and fucking – I mean working with – Renee at the apartments, I can see their point. Today I have the day off and I’m making sure to spend it with them.

We want to go swimming, but not at the community-center pool so we’re riding our bikes on a five-mile trek out to Tucker’s Pond. The pond is a hidden-away swimming hole just past the outskirts of town, affectionately known to us locals as Fucker’s Pond. It’s pretty easy to figure out why considering the history of activities that take place. Because of this reputation as a rowdy party spot, my parents don’t like us going there; I just don’t tell them when we do.

“Glad you could hang out with us,” Jeff tells me, riding alongside to my right.

“Yeah, what the hell, dude? How many hours have you been working?” Marc asks.

“About four days a week. Plus, the guy who owns Pizza D also has an apartment complex and I’ve been doing side work painting empty units.”

“You gotta be saving up some serious dough by now,” Jeff says.

“Yeah, a little bit.”

It feels good to be out riding with the guys, it’s one of those summer things the three of us have done for years now.

If you’re not looking for it you’ll miss it; the entrance to Fucker’s Pond is a small non-descript two-track dirt road that winds into the woods. It bends to the right and then the left until you come to a grassy clearing. There’s already about a half-dozen cars parked in the small field, beyond this area is the large swimming pond.

Whoever the Tuckers are, they sure don’t seem to care about everyone using their pond as our town’s secret make-out and party spot. My friends and I have only come here to swim, we’ve never taken part in any of the legendary bonfire and beer bashes we hear about.

The far side is definitely the nicer side of the pond. It has a small sandy beach and a big rock that’s perfect for diving, but it’s already occupied by a group of jocks and popular girls from Maplewood that we don’t care to associate with. The grassier side we’re on is okay, not much of a beach, but it works well enough for swimming.

“Do you think they’ll give us a hard time?” Jeff asks, nodding over at the group across the water.

“Nah ... I don’t think so,” I answer with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’d sure hate like hell to think we rode all the way out here for nothing,” Marc adds.

We jump in for a swim and the water is the perfect temperature. Being that the pond is deep, the farther down you go the colder the water gets. It must be fed by an underground spring because it’s always nice and clear with very little weedy plant growth.

It feels great to cool off on this hot summer day and we’re having fun. The group on the other side doesn’t even seem to notice us, which is good, we don’t need any of their stupid bullshit today.

The jocks at our school can be real assholes, they take the whole alpha-male mentality thing way too far. In a nutshell, it’s like this: if you’re a pumped-up brainless muscle-head - then you’re one of them. If you’re just an average nobody - then they feel entitled to shove you around and treat you like shit.

Yes, I know I’m painting with a broad brush and not all of them are that bad; the worst of the lot is Dirk Larch and Justin Blaine. The others may not resort to physical pushing around, but don’t get me wrong, they all look down on us. Even the girls that chase after these jocks can be just as bad, usually it’s the cheerleaders and popular cliques, and sometimes they can be even worse than the guys.

This is where my friend Tiffany Hammond fits into the story. When we started high school in the ninth grade it didn’t take long for her to gravitate to this group and do everything she could to become accepted and fit in with them. I don’t understand her attraction to this in-crowd, and since she’s been hanging around with them she barely even notices me anymore. I can’t tell her who to choose for friends, but I miss the old Tiffany; she used to be such a sweet and easy person to get along with. She’ll still (occasionally) talks to me and some of her original girlfriends, but being honest, I feel a little slighted how she devotes such time and energy to those self-centered idiots.

She’s always having issues when it comes to dating those guys. I know this because whenever she does talk to me, she’s usually looking for advice when one of them pisses her off and breaks her heart. Renee was certainly right when she told me Tiffany hasn’t figured out what a real man is yet. As I said, what she gains from that group is a complete mystery.

Today Tiffany is here with the group across the pond, and from what I’m seeing she’ll be texting me soon for advice. It looks like she and her quarterback boyfriend Blake aren’t getting along very well - big shocker there.

They’re too far away for us to hear what’s being said, but body language speaks volumes. It looks like Blake is trying to explain his way out of something, but Tiffany isn’t buying it.

“What’s going on over there?” Jeff asks with a nod in their direction.

“Oh, Kyle is just dreaming of his Tiffany again.” Marc rolls his eyes.

“Knock it off, Marc,” I reply.

“Dude, she just ain’t into normal guys like you ... or us.” Marc shakes his head. “Can’t you see that?”

“Looks like she’s having a fight with Blake,” I say.

“Well, studly, now’s your big chance. Go on over and save your damsel in distress,” Marc says jokingly.

The argument between Tiffany and Blake is escalating, I can hear their voices getting louder even from over here. The rest of the jocks are watching the show but aren’t reacting very much, spats like this must be common occurrences in their group. I feel like an observer of exotic wildlife, deep in the jungles of Africa, documenting the social and behavioral habits of some new species of apes or something.

Blake abruptly stands up, whips his beer bottle into the bushes, and stomps off. At the same time, Tiffany turns to stomp away from Blake and the group. She’s coming around the pond towards us and where all the cars are parked.

I get up and hurry over to her. “Are you okay? What happened over there? Is there any-”

“Not now, Kyle! Can you give me a ride home?”

“We rode our ... bikes here.”

“Well, isn’t that just fuckin’ great!” she says, throwing her hands in the air with an exaggerated eyeroll.

Not far behind, here comes our picture-perfect golden boy Dirk, with his wavy blond hair, jogging towards us. He’s not one-bit shy about showing off how he’s perfectly built, perfectly toned, perfectly tanned, and every girl’s dream guy. “Hey, Tiff, I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks, Dirk.” She kisses his cheek just before they both hop into Dirk’s dark blue late-model Camaro. I know the reason he came over here, heaven forbid that Tiffany (one of their own) should be talking to a dork like me.

On their way out, Dirk makes sure to flash me a nice wide shit-eating grin, not forgetting to flip me off for good measure. Just to be an asshole, he hits the gas so his tires spin and fling dirt and grass all over me. Today is a day I really wish I had my own car. My mind screams, I can’t wait for the day to come when someone puts that stupid fucker in his place, as I jump in the pond to wash off.

Ten minutes later we hear several cars approaching, entering from the dirt path and parking in the field. The newcomers are a group of college-age guys and I recognize one of them as Eric from work. They unload two large coolers, no doubt filled with ice-cold beer, and several folding chairs. Leaving the car windows open to blast loud heavy-metal music from the vehicle’s sound system, there’s no mistaking they’re here to party.

Eric sees me and waves. “Hey, Kyle! How’s it goin’, man?”

“Alright, I guess,” I answer with a shrug.

He immediately senses that I’m not in the best of moods. “I could be wrong here, but something tells me you could use a cold one.” He tosses me a beer. “Come on over, your buddies too.”

“Who’s that?” Marc asks.

“Eric. He’s okay, I work with him.”

“Should we?” Jeff asks. I don’t bother to answer and walk over to join the newly arrived group; a cold beer is exactly what I need right now.

Marc and Jeff reluctantly follow. “When did you start drinking?” Marc asks, looking at me suspiciously.

“Help yourselves, guys, plenty to go around!” Eric offers.

First exchanging looks, they each hesitantly reach for a beer. Jeff is having a hard time trying to twist the cap off. “You gotta pop it off.” Eric tosses him a bottle opener.

“Oh, yeah ... yeah ... I knew that.” Jeff tries to hide the fact that this is probably his first beer - ever.

“So, Kyle.” Eric puts his arm around my shoulders to lead me away slightly from the group. “I gotta ask, what’s up with you and Renee at work?”

Okay, now he has my attention. “Uhhh ... nothing, w-why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, man ... she seems to have taken a real liking to you.”

“Really? I never noticed,” I nonchalantly lie through my teeth.

“Aww, come on, you haven’t noticed she how schedules your shifts every time she’s working?”

“Nope ... never noticed anything like that.” I take a good long sip, avoiding eye contact.

“You can tell me, is there anything going on?”

“Dude, she’s Bill’s daughter, we just get along well, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Eric is skeptical, but finally drops the subject. I’d better watch how I act around Renee when we’re at work, the last thing she wants is any knowledge of all the sex we’ve been having at the apartments getting around.

Rejoining the group, Eric takes a seat and motions for me to sit as well. Pointing to the group across the pond, he asks, “You know them?”

“Just a bunch of asshole jocks from school.” I shrug.

“I remember their type ... nothing ever changes with them.”

Jeff lets loose with a huge chest-rumbling beer belch. Satisfied, he states, “Damn! That beer went down great! Can I...” He motions to the cooler.

“Help yourself,” Eric obliges.

The three of us stick around with Eric and his friends; it’s pretty cool hanging out with these older guys in their early twenties downing a beer. Their topics of conversation are great, they talk about wild keg parties, loud rock concerts they’ve been to, banging girls, and getting busted doing dumb, but fun-sounding shit. Exactly the kind of bad influences my parents forbid.

It doesn’t take long to feel like we’ve always been a part of their group, it even has the odd effect of making those popular high school people across the pond seem like such insignificant kids - even though they’re my age.

A few beers later and feeling the beginnings of a good buzz, Marc, Jeff, and I figure we better start heading for home, it’s a five-mile trip on our bikes.

Things are going well at Pizza Depot and I’m helping with the making of pizzas more often. I think they would like to move me full-time to work the kitchen because I’ve heard about the possible hiring of another person for general clean-up duties.

The employees are planning a going-away party for when Renee returns to school. I’m rather depressed knowing she’ll be leaving soon, and not just because of all the sex, it’s because I really do like spending time with her. Even though there’s a few years’ age difference between us, we really do get along great.

A week into August on a Tuesday evening we have the party for Renee after the restaurant closes at 10:00 pm. Bill lets us have as much pizza and pop as we want, along with setting up tons of free credits in the arcade games. We crank up the music and all have a great time.