Chapter 25: Training

I WAS NEARLY FINISHED with my bowl of ice cream and Disney when the phone rang. Mom waved me to go answer it.

“Boyfriend! I’m home! Come over and kiss me,” Ronda said.

“Let me check to be sure I can leave,” I said. I asked Mom and Dad and they waved me on but reminded me it was a school night and I had to be home by ten.

“I’ll be right there,” I told Ronda.

I got to Ronda about two steps behind Chris, who already had our girlfriend wrapped in her arms. I hugged them both and Ronda pulled me in for a kiss. Her parents and brother were already in the house; we felt conspicuous on the front porch in the fading daylight.

“I missed you so much,” Ronda said, kissing back and forth between us. “Let’s go to the playhouse.”

We slipped around back and got inside where the kissing and fondling heated up immediately.

“Did you have fun skiing?” I asked. I’d never been skiing myself.

“Yes. I griped a lot about not being with my friends, but it was fun. It was a little lonely, though. I mean, there were plenty of guys who were interested. But that was the problem. They were interested in girls—generically. They just wanted girl bits to rub their boy bits against or in. I kind of stayed close to the family all the time.”

“I’m so glad you’re back. It’s too bad tomorrow’s a school day and we have to get back to the grind.”

“Mmm. I’d grind on you. Did you two have fun?”

“You should see the new studio!” Chris said. “We worked our asses off. And I spoiled our date by getting my stupid period Friday.”

“We stayed in with her family and I just had to hold her in my arms for a couple of hours,” I laughed. “It was such a hardship.”

“There was one girl at the lodge I about brought home,” Ronda said.

“Hey!” Chris responded with a frown.

“For Nate to photograph! If you have a new studio, she’d have made a great subject. She was tall! At least six feet. She made quite a show of herself when she removed her ski pants and jacket and was just wearing a bikini under it. She led a parade of a dozen kids to the hot tub.”

“Including you?”

“No. I didn’t want my skin to get all wrinkly, or to risk catching anything from the sleazebags who were following her.”

We talked and kissed, telling her about the studio and the photoshoot. We all agreed that we needed to finish up the draft of our papers this week and read each other’s. It was only two weeks until they were due. Writing a ten-page combination English and History paper was a real pain. The typewriters in Miss Sullivan’s classroom would be in use every afternoon.

We did a lot of kissing and a little petting, but we carefully avoided getting too involved. I kissed my girlfriends goodnight and headed for home.

“I feel like I was fucked and dumped.”

“Uh ... Vicki, I definitely did not...”

“I know! It’s just how I feel. I was hoping for at least another date.” The sophomore cheerleader I’d taken out one time accosted me in the hallway to complain about being dumped. “Do I need to get tickets to another concert to get you to take me out?”

“No! Vicki, It’s not like that. I’ve been really busy with my studio and all.”

“And your other girlfriends,” she sighed.

“Well, you know, everybody is kind of focused on prom right now and people aren’t just going out for the first time much.”

“Second. Or Fifth.”

“Ask her out this weekend,” I heard Ronda whisper in my ear.

“I’m supposed to see Kelly,” I said turning to her.

“That’s Friday. Ask her out Saturday. Practice a little.” I groaned and turned back to Vicki.

“I’m really sorry I haven’t asked you out again, Vicki,” I said turning back to her. Ronda vanished from beside me. “Is there something you’d like to do? Say Saturday?”

“Really? You’d take me out again?”

“If you really want to go out with me. I always intended to take you out again but March went sailing by and then spring break and prom. I just got distracted,” I said.

“If you really want to,” she said, as if she’d suddenly become shy. “They’re finally bringing A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum to Huntertown this weekend. Could we go to that Saturday?”

“Isn’t that like a year old? I mean, I haven’t seen it, so it’s fine by me.”

“The movie theater in Huntertown is having trouble. They can’t get first run films and when they get a film, they play the same one for a month or two. They’re trying to get more people in, so they’re picking up popular films from the past few years and changing every weekend in April. They released a whole calendar of what’s playing. There’s even going to be a double feature the twenty-ninth.”

“Wow! It sounds like they’re making a last ditch effort,” I said.

“Dad says he thinks this is the last step before they turn it into an art film house,” Vicki said.

“Art film?”

“I think that’s code for sex films.”

“Okay. So, I’ll pick you up at six and we’ll grab a burger before the movie. Sound good?”

“Can I sit beside you at lunch?”

“Friday. We’re not going steady.”

“Poo.”

Aside from my brief encounter with Vicki, I got straight home Monday after school. Besides needing to type the first draft of my term paper, I needed to call Levi at Camera Warehouse. Mom was out calling and Dad was at work, so there was relative quiet in the house. I wasn’t sure where Kat was. I assumed the library.

“Levi, this is Nate Hart out in Tenbrook.”

“Nate, it’s good to hear from you. Your uncle stopped by with some of your new work last week. You’re doing well. Do you need more film already?”

“Thank you. No, sir. I think I have plenty of film. I’d like to push it pretty high for night time photography. Any suggestions or special processing I need?”

“You can push the 400 three stops, up to 3200,” Levi said. “I’ll send you processing instructions. Just remember that if you push to 3200, you push the whole roll. You can’t control it by frame. It gets pretty grainy—more on the 35 than with the 120.”

“That’s the effect I’m going for. I’ve gotten some additional space for my studio and I need a few other things.”

“New studio? There will be some interested people happy to hear that,” Levi said.

“My paper backdrops are getting kind of ratty. I’d like to order a couple of muslin backdrops if I could, please,” I said.

“Ah! Funny you should mention that! I suppose you want the typical assortment with white, black, light blue, and red. That package is $100. But if you’ll take that, I got a bunch of stuff that came in this week that I can’t move and don’t want to store. It could take me forever to get a buyer for this stuff.”

“What kind of stuff, Levi?”

“A little theatre group up in Lincoln Park closed its doors and liquidated everything. Can’t say it couldn’t have been expected. They weren’t very good and did all kinds of psychodrama and improvisational mish-mash. Should have kept it for a therapist. They did some quality avant garde stuff—Beckett, Brecht, Sartre, you know—but they weren’t very good at it. One thing they did have, though, was an old Vaudeville scene painter. I think these past few years he was on some serious drugs because he painted up huge abstract backdrops for the shows. Well, that all came to me when I picked up everything that was left. If anyone could make something out of this trash, I’m sure you could. If I ship it with your backdrops, will you take it?”

“Gosh, Levi. Is there a lot of stuff? I don’t have infinite space.” In the back of my mind, I was seeing the third floor crammed as full of junk as the fourth floor.

“No, no. I won’t burden you with garbage. And anything you can’t use you can pitch or maybe find a buyer for it.”

“How will I get it? I don’t have a truck I can bring to Chicago.”

“I’m sending a bunch of stuff west to a studio in Des Moines. I’ll route the truck by your place. Send me a check for $100 and everything’s yours.”

“Thanks, Levi. I’ll go down to the bank and draw it now. It will be out tonight.” I wasn’t exactly sure what I was getting, but I figured I’d better let Mr. Barkley know that something was coming, so I stopped by the store on the way home.

Mom gave me her old typewriter since she had the new electric. I set it up in my room and sat down to start typing my paper. Mrs. Grayson wanted us to analyze some aspect of 20th century American literature, but stressed that half the paper grade for her class would be based on proper format, correct English, punctuation, and annotation of sources. We even had to have a bibliography—and it wasn’t included as part of the ten pages! Mr. Hennessey wanted to specifically know how the literature we chose reflected what was happening in the United States during the twentieth century and showed the societal changes that were taking place. Mr. Hennessey laughed and said that we could only fail the grammar and form part of the paper in one class. But he’d better at least be able to understand what he read.

I was thankful they were willing to take one paper for both subjects, but it was a painful job to make sure I was giving proper weight to each aspect of the paper.

I’d written most of the paper by hand, I thought, but when I was halfway through my handwritten draft and realized I was only three pages into the typed version, I had to go back and start expanding on what I’d written. What a pain.

Tuesday, Anna slid into the seat beside me at lunch, surprising everyone there, including me.

“Hey, you,” she said, nudging me.

“What’s up, Anna?” I asked.

“We have the science fair to photograph tomorrow after school. I wanted to be sure you’d be prepared,” she said.

“Oh, wow! I forgot all about that. Thanks for reminding me.”

“It’s a busy season. Next week, we have the choral concert and the music department awards. I hope you don’t have anything planned for that Friday night. I think you’ll have to consider me your date and your camera to be attached to your eyes,” she laughed.

“I never thought I’d get to date you again,” I sighed.

“Don’t become too attached to the idea. I’ve got a date to prom with two guys!”

“Anna! Wow! That reminds me that I need to get tickets. How are you handling getting tickets for a triple? Two guys? You go, girl.”

“We’re going to get them with you when you get yours Friday at noon.”

“I’m getting tickets Friday at noon?” I asked. I knew that was when they went on sale, but I’d thought I’d slip into the office quietly sometime next week and convince them that I needed a ticket for three people.

“We’re all going with you,” she said. “Pete, Judy, and Janice, too. Ronda and Chris have been organizing it.”

“Well, I’m glad someone is. So, tell me who you’re taking. Or the guys who are taking you,” I said. I don’t know why I had that morbid interest.

“You’ll be surprised,” is all she’d say. Still, we had a nice lunch and I invited her to visit the new studio sometime. She said she’d think about it.

If I never see another science fair project again, it will be too soon. There were three volcanoes made of clay or papier mâché and fueled by baking soda and vinegar. One bright kid had his father’s truck driving log and charted a graph of his diesel consumption. He showed that at the present rate of inflation, we could expect gas to be $5.00 a gallon in fifty years. As if! Another showed slices of white bread, wheat bread, rye bread, and a Twinkie with a big sign that asked “Which will mold fastest?” A girl with casts on both arms had a display called “Jumping Off Buildings: How High is Too High?” Two very geeky boys with braces, white shirts, and polka-dot bowties, did a display that looked like the FFA or FTA or FHA. Theirs, however, was labeled FVA: Future Virgins of America. The chart explained social behaviors that were almost guaranteed to leave a guy a virgin until after college. I could sympathize.

Maybe the best display analyzed the time it takes to create a science fair project across the frustration of the student’s parents, showing the point on the line where parents will inevitably intervene and “finish the damn thing” the night before the exhibit.

I was surprised at Kat’s display. She actually won an award for her exhibit on removing spray paint from a painted surface. She had my bicycle on display and was showing how she was carefully removing the purple paint that had been sprayed on the gloss black. I had to hug the kid. She was doing something special.

Thursday, I invited Ronda and Chris to my house after school to study and review each other’s term paper. I had cookies and milk for us and we sat at the dining room table to do our work. It was a little painful. I didn’t mind reading what they’d written. I was pretty impressed, but I felt like I needed to apologize for every error I marked. They seemed to have no such qualms about marking up my draft.

I heard the phone ring and Mom called me to it.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Sorry to have to call you, Nate, but I have to cancel our date for tomorrow night,” Kelly said.

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear that. Is everything okay?”

“That depends on what you mean by everything. I haven’t gotten back with Allen, if that’s what you mean. I think it’s going to happen, though. My monthly visitor started today. Not only am I crampy and achy, it would really be no fun at all to go out and not do anything fun. I mean, I could give you a blowjob, but that would be all one-sided. Remember what I said. Girls always come first. So, we’re still on for next week, though. Okay?”

“I can’t do Friday night because I need to photograph the school choral concert, but Saturday would be good.”

“Great. I hear the movie theater in Huntertown is going to show Alfie. Seems like a good start to the evening.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“Yeah. Me too. Really. Don’t forget to bring your supply. You know?”

“Oh ... um ... yeah. No problem. I’ve got it covered.”

“It’s a little early to cover it now. Wait until Saturday.”

She giggled and said goodbye. I went to join the girls at the table again.

“What’s up?” Chris asked.

“Kelly canceled our date tomorrow. She says she’s ... you know. Achy and crampy.”

“First day,” Ronda said. “She didn’t want you to come and watch TV with her like you did with Chris?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t feel that romantic with Kelly. I mean, I could sit on the sofa and just cuddle either of you all night long. With Kelly, it seems like there’s always a goal and she’s pushing us toward it.”

“I love you, Nate,” Chris said. “And I loved being held by you on the sofa. It was the sweetest thing you could ever have done.”

We went back to work on the papers and eventually the two girls walked each other home. I had to get ready for dinner.

The prom committee had a table set up with an arch over it in the cafeteria. The theme on the arch said “Deep Sea Wonderland” and the girls wore necklaces of shells. It was time to buy prom tickets. The girls at the booth, of course were classmates of mine because the junior class put on the prom for the seniors. One of the girls was Andy’s girlfriend Karen. The other was Jean Price, who I knew from my speech class and US History class.

I stepped up to take pictures of the display and the girls smiled at me.

“Are you getting your prom ticket?” Karen asked. I suddenly realized I was at the head of the line and several people had gathered right behind me. Chris and Ronda stepped up on either side of me.

“Yes,” I squeaked. “I’d like a ticket for the three of us, please.” I was met with dead silence. In fact, the whole cafeteria seemed to get quiet. I looked around and behind me was Pete, Judy, and Janice. Then there was Anna and I was shocked to see her with Kent and David. Behind them were Pris, Debbie, and Lonnie. I wasn’t sure but what there were other threesomes behind them.

“We only sell tickets for couples,” Jean said.

“Well, that’s not fair. Are we supposed to buy two couple’s tickets and then waste one seat?” I asked.

“Mrs. Abernathy?” Jean said turning to our assistant principal who was standing back, presumably to guard the money box. “Nate wants to buy a ticket for three.”

“Nate, who is your date for prom?” Mrs. Abernathy asked.

“These two beautiful girls beside me,” I said, putting an arm around each of them.

“PDA. Please relax. I don’t think you quite understand. A date is between two people, commonly called a couple. The prom tickets are for couples.”

“That seems exceedingly unfair,” I said. “What about individuals who don’t have dates. Can’t they come to the prom?”

“Why would a person without a date want to go to the prom?”

“For the same reason any of us want to go to prom,” I said. “Prom is one of the two most important events of a high schooler’s life. It’s not fair to exclude people because they aren’t divisible by two.”

“Prom and graduation,” Mrs. Abernathy mumbled, responding to my two events comment.

“I was thinking prom and losing their virginity, but graduation works, too.” There were a lot of giggles from the people behind us. The whole room was reacting to our conversation. “These people behind me are all wanting a ticket for a triple instead of a couple,” I plunged on. “It’s not like we are some freaks who just want an exception to an archaic rule. We all want to go to the prom. If a couple’s ticket is $5.00, then we should get a triple’s ticket for $7.50. Or a single who wants to attend the prom would be just $2.50.”

“That gets into making change. We intentionally set the price so that no one had to handle change,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “I can see the point in offering single tickets if there are really any people who want to go without a date. You’d need to buy a couple’s ticket and a second ticket we’ll mark as a single. But we don’t have any change. You’ll have to come back when we do.”

“Let me make it simple,” I said. I was getting a little worked up over this whole thing and I could tell by the others crowding behind me that they were unhappy as well. “I’ve made quite a lot of money this year doing senior portraits and selling prints of pictures I’ve taken of people here in school. There are about a hundred people in the junior and senior classes. At most, that would come out to $250. Just keep track of all the singles and thirds and I’ll pay for any single or third wheel person myself. I’ll bring proper change and settle up with you.”

Mrs. Abernathy stared at me, but I didn’t look away.

“Very well. Karen and Jean, sell the couple’s ticket to Mr. Hart and use this red felt tip pen to mark a three on it. Keep track of the names of any ‘third wheels’ covered by it. Mark any ticket for a couple, clearly with a two, and if any singles actually want to go to prom, mark their ticket with a one and keep their name on the list. I will personally collect the money from Mr. Hart.”

The people behind us all clapped their hands and then the entire cafeteria erupted in cheers. Karen handed me the ticket for three and Jean looked between Chris and Ronda to see which was the third wheel.

“They’re the couple,” I said. “Put me down as the third wheel.”

There was another round of applause and Pete stepped up to state the same thing.

As soon as we’d stepped away, Pete approached me and handed me $2.50.

“We were prepared with correct change. You don’t need to pay for our third ticket. Thanks for making such a great statement. I know several people who will come to prom by themselves or in a group. Most of them will give you money for their ticket, but there are a few who normally wouldn’t attend because they can’t afford it. Thank you.”

Over the course of lunch hour, I received twenty-five dollars from people who were taking a third or who decided they wanted to attend solo. I didn’t mind really if everyone in the class decided to go. It was worth it.

On the way out of the lunchroom, Patricia and Tony stopped me.

“Photos Sunday?” Patricia asked. “I hear you have a new studio.”

“Oh, good! Yes. You can be my first official session. Stop on the third floor instead of going all the way to the attic.”

“That’s my girl!” Tony said. “Get some great photos. And don’t forget, we need one that our parents can display.”

I nodded.

After school I stopped by the studio. Mr. Barkley said my shipment had arrived. He came upstairs with me to take a look at what I’d received.