Chapter 13: Moving Along

Fall 1970 to Summer 1971

Tenth grade moved along quickly on schedule, my advanced schedule. I managed to squeeze Trigonometry and Analytic Geometry into the fall semester, and nailed Probability and Statistics in the spring, when it was normally held. The unusual part was that I took the class with seniors two years older than myself. They treated me okay, but differently, like an alien had landed among them.

I was active in both the Explorer post and the church’s teen youth group, led by Pastor Joe. I figured I went camping or canoeing at least once a month through the entire year. I had enjoyed this immensely on my first trip through, and now was no different, except that I was a lot more knowledgeable. I was a whole lot better campfire cook this time around, which is a skill you only learn through experience. At least this time I didn’t dump my canoe and partner upside down in the middle of the North Branch of the Shenandoah River, like I did the first time.

I didn’t warn Mr. Becker about what was waiting for him on that trip, though. He had a brand-new plastic canoe, which cost him a fortune and of which he was inordinately proud. It was about a third of the weight of the Grumman aluminum canoes the rest of us were using. It was one of the very first non-metal canoes ever built, plastic, not fiberglass, and was made of two halves welded down the keel. He was one of the church deacons, and was with us for the trip, and his partner was a young girl, Jenny Smith. After about an hour on the river, he signaled for a stop, and we all beached our canoes. His canoe had sprung a leak along the seam at the keel, splitting for a couple of inches.

Not to worry! He had a patch kit, just in case! Still, it would require him to beach the canoe, flip it upside down, and let it dry, then apply the patch and wait another hour or two. He and Jenny would be along in a few hours, so make sure dinner was ready. I smiled to myself, and we all went on our merry way.

We didn’t see either Mr. Becker or Jenny until Sunday afternoon. Five minutes after they were back in the water, the entire keel split down the middle and dropped the pair of them into the Shenandoah. They swam to shore and spent a wet night under the stars. The next day, Saturday, they hiked out along a railroad track, and found a phone. Jenny’s parents were called, and they drove four hours into the West Virginia countryside to rescue them. Jenny went home, and Mr. Becker was taken to his car. He slept in the car overnight, and then drove to a lookout the next morning, where we found him waving to us. He told us the incredible story amid much laughter about his “new and improved” canoe.

I continued working out and running and gained some muscle mass. By the end of the tenth grade, I was 5’10” and weighed 155 pounds, almost thirty pounds heavier than I was way back when. I was big enough that nobody thought about pushing me around, especially after word about the fight with the lacrosse players got out. That almost ended right there, but Jerry Jones decided to keep pushing it. The day after he was back in school after the suspension, he came calling and demanded I meet him after school behind the gym. I said I would be there.

Instead, I rode the bus home. Jerry was a certified moron. Ray Shorn, a friend from Hampton Elementary days, looked shocked. “You’re supposed to be fighting Jerry Jones behind the school!”

“Jerry Jones is an idiot,” I replied.

“He’s going to say you’re chicken.”

“Jerry is going to say whatever he wants to say, regardless of what happens. What Jerry says about me isn’t worth the breath it takes to say. Why don’t you go back and ask Tessa if I’m a chicken?”

Ray glanced over his shoulder at where Tessa sat with some friends, and then looked back at me. “I don’t know, man. I think he’s going to be all over you tomorrow.”

I blew this off. Ray was right, however, in that Jerry found me at the lockers the next morning and tried to brace me right there in the hallway. He was yelling loud enough to cause a commotion, and was grabbed by a teacher, and got a week’s detention. That night I got my father alone and told him what was happening. Mom would have freaked out, but Dad was more or less human, now that he was no longer hitting me with the oak paddle.

I ended by saying, “I don’t want to start anything, but I don’t see Jerry letting this drop. For one thing, he ain’t smart enough to let it drop!” Jerry was a big guy, with at least three inches and forty pounds on me, and it was all muscle, especially between the ears.

Dad gave an exasperated shrug. “Well, the good Lord says to turn the other cheek, but I don’t recall him mentioning doing it more than once. I will tell you something I learned long ago, when I was your age, and later again in the Navy, and that’s if you have to put somebody down, put him down hard and fast and permanent. Let me know what happens.” I nodded and we broke apart.

A week later, after his detention was up, Jerry was back in my face, and actually tried to grab me and push me into the lockers. Like I said, Jerry was a moron anywhere other than the lacrosse field. I noticed a teacher standing behind him, and as soon as Jerry grabbed me, the teacher yanked him away. He got marched down to the office and got another five-day suspension.

The day after his suspension was up, Jerry started mouthing off that he was going to beat the shit out of me right there in the school, and no pussy teachers were going to stop him. Everybody heard about it, of course, and several people mentioned it to me. I just nodded and thanked them and kept my eyes open. It happened in the lunchroom. I was seated at one of the benches, when Ray elbowed me and pointed towards the door. Jerry was striding purposefully towards me. “Shit, I need this like I need a hole in my head!” I muttered and stood up to face him.

It was over quickly. Like Dad told me to do, I put him down hard and fast and very, very painfully. He grabbed for me, so I took his wrist and twisted it up and around, breaking it in several places, and then as he screamed in pain, flipped him up and over, and dropped him on his shoulder, wrenching his arm up and backwards and dislocating it brutally, shredding the joint. Jerry was going to the hospital, and he was not going to the NCAA. He lay there screaming and crying, and I stepped away. I wasn’t all that hungry anymore, although I did pocket an apple for later. Jerry ended up in the hospital, and I ended up in the Principal’s office, waiting for Dad to come over. By now, there was more than enough evidence, with two suspensions, a string of detentions, and countless witnesses to the attack, that got me out of any punishment. Jerry was expelled.

Mom was less than amused. I heard her and Dad arguing about it that night and hid out in my room.

Tessa made good on her promise to pass the word about me to some of the girls, and the results were interesting, if a little schizophrenic. A number of girls looked towards me as somebody who would protect them, so I was a ‘safe’ boyfriend. Other girls heard that I wasn’t interested in ‘nice’ girls, but ‘not nice’ girls, which was a wholly different demographic. I made it a point to thank Tessa, which she laughingly accepted. A couple of girls even tried to use me in the protective role, to make their boyfriends jealous, but it wasn’t like I was some dumb teenager; I saw through those tricks immediately and told the boyfriends they were welcome to the trouble.

The net effect was that I had several different girlfriends that year, although opportunities to be alone with them were extremely limited. I didn’t have a car or a license (I was only fifteen) and you really can’t get too frisky in the back seat when Mom or Dad is driving you anywhere. Whatever mischief we could get into occurred at parties where we could sneak away, or bike rides around Loch Raven Reservoir, or maybe after school at her house, if she didn’t have family around.

The first was Jenny Smith, she of the St. Paul’s Canoeing Hall of Fame, who proved that canoes weren’t the only thing she went down on. She wouldn’t go all the way and was very nervous when I pulled her pants off and returned the favor, but once she understood I would play by her rules, was very enthusiastic when I ate her out. I think I was the first guy to ever do this to her. I would have to admit that while it’s not my favorite activity in the bedroom I had certainly done it before, back on my first time around, and it’s definitely a favorite of the ladies. If my counterparts weren’t going to take advantage of the opportunity, I was more than happy to make up for them.

Jenny and I didn’t become an item but were more like occasional friends with benefits. On the other hand, girls talk, even more than guys do, and probably more honestly. When Shelley, Tammy, and Jenny began telling the girls about my oral expertise, I became even more popular than when Tessa told them I was a hero. Heroes are good; heroes who eat pussy are even better! I am not going to say the phones were ringing off the hook and girls were battering down my door, but if I didn’t want to be lonely, I didn’t have to be.