Chapter 13: Cha ... cha ... changes

August 25, 1980

I was ambushed at school. I’d just gotten my bike locked up when Candice was hugging me and giving me a barely-acceptable-for-school kiss. “Hello, boyfriend!”

I could feel all the eyes on me. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Morning, girlfriend.” I gave her a warm squeeze.

We walked hand in hand to our lockers, put our things away, and were hand-in-hand again when we walked into English. Again, I could feel the eyes. Lots of them. Hand-in-hand was just on the legal side of the school’s public display of affection policy. Kissing was against the rules, though often ignored. That was good, because she got me with one more kiss before separating to take her seat behind me. Then I felt her fingers on my back.

Mrs. Higgins tsk tsk’d at us, but didn’t seem truly upset, which was good. I didn’t need a blow-up with her, especially since she wasn’t even close to being my favorite teacher.

I got a surprise halfway through English. Two surprises, really. A student aide came into the room and handed Mrs. Higgins a note. “Angela Marshall? Report to the office, please. Here’s a pass.”

Angie? Office? What was going on? Angie got up, took the note, and left. She was back 10 minutes later with a paper. She shot me a quick smile, handed Mrs. Higgins a note, then took her seat.

“Steven Marshall? Report to the office, please.”

Me? The pieces fell together. Class changes. I’d asked to transfer out of Typing, Angie was trying to get into Geometry. This must be about that.

Upon arriving at the offices I showed my pass to the aide manning the desk. “Oh, you’re to see Miss Cuthbert. Down the hall to the left.” He gestured the way.

I remembered Miss Cuthbert from the first time around. She was a counselor, well-meaning, earnest — and also a sexist idiot. Sexist against girls at that. I remembered her trying to convince Sue, a friend of mine who was graduating top 5%, that she would be a great fit at the local community college. Sue already had her acceptance letter from Wellesley. We had seriously considered filing a complaint about it. I hadn’t met Sue yet, but I was pretty sure she had moved here next year, so I’d see her next fall or so, if things remained the same.

I knocked at her open door. “Miss Cuthbert?”

She looked up, smiled. “Steve Marshall? Come in, sit down.” I did.

She pulled out a paper. “You are trying to drop Typing?” I nodded. “And replace it with ... Debate?” I nodded again.

“It’s difficult for a boy to get into Typing,” she noted. “You must have insisted at sign-up.”

“I did, but then I practiced over the summer and am doing much better than I thought I would be. It feels like a waste of everyone’s time if I stay there now.”

She frowned. “You should have thought of that earlier. Those seats are scarce and someone else might have wanted it.”

I was glad I’d done my research. “Did I cost anyone a seat? I hope not, Miss Cuthbert. I know there are a few empty seats in 5^th period Typing.”

She was undeterred. “That is all very well, but you still could have cost someone their chance. I’m afraid we’ve decided that you should stay where you are until Christmas break. If you are meeting the end-of-year passing standard, then we’ll move you to Debate.”

Damn. “The end-of-year passing standard, correct? That’s the line?”

She nodded. “Meet that — you have until December — and we’ll move you.”

“Nothing I can do to speed it up? Say, demonstrate I can meet it now?”

She shook her head. “You need to wait until December. I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t. We both knew it. “OK, then. Thank you, Miss Cuthbert.” We both knew I wasn’t sincere in thanking her, either.

Walking back, I grumbled to myself. It would’ve been better to move earlier. I could try to hook up with the Debate teacher earlier — it’s not like I didn’t know her, though she had no idea who I was — but I rejected it. I had little time to meet with anyone, and I couldn’t handle the research load right now. Spring would be soon enough. All I wanted this year was to get my name into the mix. It was the mind-numbing tedium of Typing class that I hated. I could outdo the passing standard — I wanted the A, which was a much higher bar. I still wanted it, too. Giving up my A for a P just because I was changing classes was unacceptable.

I got back to English, gave Angie a little smile, Candice a bigger one, and then took my seat.

After class, Candice grabbed my hand, then grabbed Angie. “OK, what was all that about?”

“I’m stuck in Typing until Christmas.”

“And I’m moving to Geometry, thank god.”

“Well, I’m sorry for you, boyfriend, and happy for you, Angie.”

I shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world. I’ll move to Debate in the spring.”

Angie knew the plan and smiled. Candice didn’t. “Debate? Why? I mean, it’s not one of the big academic things or anything. I mean, neither’s Typing, but, still.”

“Eh. I’ll be fine class-rank-wise. I don’t want to get into Harvard. I mean, it’d be nice if they asked me,” I grinned, “but I’d be fine at a lot of places. I’d rather get comfortable speaking in front of people and thinking on my feet. It’s the whole well-rounded thing. If you know everything but just stammer if someone wants you to talk about it, what use is that, really?”

Candice bit her lip. “That makes sense. I was planning to fight for every grade point I could get.”

Shaking my head, I said, “That’s good as far as it goes, but I mean, say I want to do Debate but decide I can get an extra grade point by taking, oh, AP Biology II. Now, Biology’s fine and all, but I don’t love it and I’m never going to be a biologist or a doctor or anyone who needs it. So, am I doing myself a favor trying to get an extra point by sitting through a class I don’t like and that won’t be any use to me later? And remember a B in Bio II would be the same as an A in Debate, and no one that participates gets less than an A.”

She bit her lip again, then giggled. “OK! Well, I see the debating side of you already, boyfriend. Makes sense to me. No one’s explained it that way to me.”

“So? People haven’t thought it through, and many parents would say, ‘Well, you could have a higher GPA if you’d just take that course instead of this one, why sell yourself short?’ It’s a lot of stress to come back and say, ‘Yeah but, overall, I do better with the other choice’.”

“Can I watch you debate something? I think that’d be cool.”

“I thought you said you just did.”

She giggled and swatted me. “You!”

Hand-in-hand we hit the lockers, then walked to PE.

August 26, 1980

After school we all converged on the library. Ms. Meadows couldn’t give us the meeting room since some neighborhood group was using it. We picked a couple large tables towards the back of the reading room and spread out. There were few patrons, and I was pretty sure we wouldn’t bother anyone. As expected, we were without Andy due to football practice.

This time we were more careful to keep track of time. It wouldn’t do to annoy parents by showing up late. Angie was happy to be part of the Geometry studies since she was jumping in a couple weeks late and needed to catch up before the first exam. After seeing her work, I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a problem.

This Friday would be my first test in Spanish. The first test had hit me hard the first time around, so I was focused on it this time. Most of us were facing first tests this week (Mrs. Higgins had jumped the gun on that, with a test last week). Few of us were particularly worried, which didn’t surprise me. I was pretty sure we’d all do well.

As we were wrapping up, the subject of Saturday came up. We decided on ‘Airplane!’ since most of the group hadn’t seen it. We’d all gotten permission for Fridays, but the consensus was that we wouldn’t push that until later. Football would start in a couple weeks and we planned to go to most of the games. That would take care of Fridays, and by the time football season was over we’d have changed parental expectations. Saturdays were going to remain movie night, as long as we could find a movie we liked. If we couldn’t, there were other things to do. Transportation was going to remain an issue for a long time, and all the plans in the world don’t help if you can’t get where you need to go. Some ideas I wanted to suggest would be impossible until we could drive.

When we got done, Angie and I biked home in a hurry so we could catch dinner with Dad. I was still surprised he’d change schedules like this. It was a big difference between my two go-rounds. However, he’d told me, later in life, that one of his regrets was working too hard and spending too little time with the family. This wouldn’t change that by much, but if it eased one of his regrets, I was all for it.

After dinner I went to talk to him about something else. “Dad?”

“Yes, son? What’s up?”

“Well, I’m doing the yard work — along with Angie...” She had insisted that girls can work too, and she wanted in, even with her other allowance. “ ... and some other things, and of course there’s just my allowance. But, if any of your customers need help, you know I can work on price schedules, I’ve done that before. That and updating sample books, and things of that sort.” I smiled. “There’ll be more things to spend money on as I get older, and it’s worth looking for chances to earn a bit more, now. Please keep an eye out for opportunities.”

“Of course. As long as it won’t affect your grades. Grades come first.”

“Always. I’m feeling good about high school, so far. The study group will be a big help too.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. I’m proud of you for wanting to pitch in, son. I really am. Well, I’m proud of you in general. You’re a good son.”

“And you’re a great dad.”

He wasn’t enough of a hugger to hug me, but I could feel he wanted to. That was enough. If he’d known that I planned on gambling with some of that money it would have upset him — but is it gambling if you already know the outcome?

August 29, 1980

On my way out of Spanish, I felt as if I’d been holding my breath the entire hour. That test was hard! It’d been a disaster the first time through. I was certain this time was better. It felt good the whole way through.

Angie hugged me when she got out a second later. “Damn, big bro. That was hard! If we hadn’t had that study group, I’d have fallen on my ass.”

Dan was the next one out. He grinned and squeezed her ass. “Can’t have that, it’s too cute to damage.”

Angie playfully swatted at him, obviously not upset. “Hands off, Mister!” She was giggling. I suspected she’d allow his hands a few places tomorrow.

The rest of the gang emerged, grinning. “Well, that would’ve stunk if we hadn’t spent all that time going over things,” Emily said.

“Stunk? It would have totally sucked!” Morty laughed.

“Hey! Language!” giggled Angie. By this point, they all knew how ironic that was.