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Leftovers
High School, for those of you who have not been for a while is all about survival. Learning is the base justification for the building, but the social defines and divides are the real inter-structure.
The point is to belong and therefore survive. The problem is when you are odd or new or different or shy or just easy to pick on, there is no group for you and you become a Leftover.
I have learned all this the hard way, this being my fourth school in less than two years, so I am normally a Leftover. In my good fortune, I am thin enough, smart enough, cute enough and fast enough not to draw too much negativity. You try your best not to draw negativity.
The High School world can turn on you and eat you up in an instant; all that is important, is the avoidance of that. You do your best to survive!
0o0o0o0o0
"Take the five, switch to the sixteen at the downtown depot. Get off at the corner of Olsen and 45th Street. Walk about a block down the alley past the gas station and I'll be waiting for you. Got it?"
"Yeah, no problem," I said
I walked down the isle of the city bus about twenty minutes later. As I looked around I wondered how I got to this place, knowing it was just one more place, one more situation, but the last stop if I didn't want to end up in the care of the state.
Some of the people along the isle looked at me; others were into their own world. I found an empty seat next to the lease harmless person I could fine and thought back to where I had been.
I don't feel picked on or unlucky; things just happen and you end up where you are, no fault of your own or anybody else.
Mom died when I was six, dad began to drink a lot and his life ended in a traffic accident about eighteen months ago.
My dad's parents, my Grand Parents took me in, and I had to move four hundred miles away from the only home I knew. I had to move anyway, the accident was dad's fault and the house and any money he had was covering the lawsuit.
My Grand Parents really tired to make a home for me, but their health was deteriorating quickly and it just wasn't working out.
My father's sister, Aunt Silvia took me in, two hundred miles to the south. We were like oil and water and no mater what we did, we just could not get along. Her two Rat Terriers had the DNA of Amazon Mosquitoes; all they knew how to do was bite. Oh yeah and hump your leg. I think we tried, but hey somethings just don?t work out.
The talk was they were turning me over to the state and it was going to happen if my mother's brother would not take me in.
I had only seen him three times in my life. The last time was ten years ago at my mom's funeral. Everyone said he was the black sheep of the family, but he was all that was left and my only chance not to end up in some state run group home. My Grand Parents put on some heavy pressure and Uncle Frank said send him over.
Another hundred and fifty miles by bus to the west, I arrived just outside St Louis. I waited for my luggage and dragged two big bags out to the street where I stood for over an hour.
The roar of the engine on the big bike was deafening, but it brought Uncle Frank. He had a bandana on his head a tattoo on each arm and a face with a weeks growth. Uncle Frank did not look happy and I had a lump in my throat and my knees shook in wonder of what the heck I was getting into.
Uncle Frank sized me up and looked at my bags. He turned off the bike and nodded his head my way.
"You Tom?" he asked
I said, "It's Tim."
"Bring the bags over and help me strap them on the bike."
I did as I was told; Uncle Frank did not look like someone you would want to defy.
"No room for you. Take the five, switch to the sixteen at the downtown depot. Get off at the corner of Olsen and 45th Street. Walk about a block down the alley past the gas station and I'll be waiting for you. Got it?"
"Yeah, no problem", I said
This was not the best part of town and I had never been to St.Louis, so I kept my wits about me and on the lookout for whatever.
The bus was almost full and everyone one on it was black or brown or dirty or old. I was white and clean and very much out of place. The lady I chose to sit next to had an odor like garlic mixed with urine. It was not pleasant but she seemed safe. So I endured.
Following Uncle Frank's directions brought me to Olsen and 45th. The street had beer cans in the gutter and the garbage cans were overflowing. Some men sharing a bottle of cheap wine watched me enter the alley heading towards, what I wasn't sure.
As I walked along the sound of revving engines began to fill the air. There at the end of the alley was a greasy shop with a few bikes out front of the open garage where all the noise was being produced.
Towards the back of the shop I could see Uncle Frank leaning over a Harley. I stood there watching I'm not sure what for about twenty minutes. Finally he looked up and frowned.
"I guess you found me"
"Yeah", I said
Uncle Frank turned off the engine and motioned me over. He sat on the floor surrounded by tools. He looked up at me and spoke.
"Look Tom, I didn't ask for you and I don't need you, if you want to stay it's really up to you. Got it"
"Yeah, it's Tim"
"This is not baseball. Here you get one strike and you're out. So don't cause trouble, don't get into trouble, don't be trouble. Don't lie to me. Don't steal from me. Don't mess with me. Got it Tom?"
"Yes Sir", I said
"I'm a working man, don't call me Sir," He growled
"Don't call me Tom." My words stumbled in fear
He smiled, "Okay Tim, call me Frank if you want"
He pointed to my luggage and told me to take it up the outside stairs to my room. And then he went back to work.
I dragged the bags up the steep stairs one at a time and then opened the door with a bit of a surprise.
It was nice. In front of me there was a small living area and a smaller still kitchen with a table separating the two. To the rear was a bedroom with an attached bathroom and a large shower stall. In the bedroom was a queen size bed with a comforter that matched the drapes over the bedroom window. I put my bags in the bedroom and went back out to survey the living area. I had a nice loveseat and rocker facing a small television. There was another door, but it was locked so I decided it was storage or something I didn?t need.
On the small table there was a twenty-dollar bill and a note.
I don't know what you like, so buy the food you want, Frank
I unpacked and found a place for what little I had. I tried the bed and found that it was well used and slumped in the middle, but hey it's only me so I did't really care.
I went back down to the shop and found two more Bikers hanging around. They looked at me but didn?t speak. The new engine roar made me jump and they smiled to each other. Frank rolled over on his bike and stopped in front of me.
"I like to ride most weekends, so you're on your own. Close the shop door behind you and be ready Monday morning to start your new school. Got it?"
"Yeah, no problem." I answered
At that the three of them rode off.
I closed the shop and wondered back up the alley to fine a store.
0o0o0o0o0
The area was definitely blue collar or less. At the end of the alley was the gas station and across the street was a large apartment complex. There was a fence around it, but several holes had been pushed through so it was easy for anyone to come and go. I walked along that side of the street heading for the store I had seen from the bus during my arrival. I had only walked a short distance before I heard some yelling.
You know it's only natural to look towards the action and that's when I saw this skinny light haired kid come running out of one of the apartments on the third floor. Luckily he was fast, wearing nothing but his boxers to slow him down. Right behind him was a large Spanish looking man yelling at him and throwing a pair of shoes at him. One hit the kid's back bouncing off and knocking his shoulder slightly forward. The kid rounded the corner and disappeared before the other shoe could make contact. The large man looked my way and yelled some kind of Spanish curse; I stepped up my pace and moved on to the store.
El Mercado is what it was called. It wasn't very big and a lot of people seemed to be pushing passed each other to find the items they needed. There seemed to be a lot of Spanish type food available, which was fine with me, I liked tacos and burritos and all of that stuff.
Once I collected all that I could reasonably carry for twenty dollars, I headed back toward the shop. This time I walked on the other side of the street not wanting be to near the angry big guy. As I passed the apartments though, I did see the skinny blonde kid sitting on the stairs, still wearing just his boxers. I guessed he wasn't quite ready to go back and face the big guy.
I looked back from the corner of the alley and could see the kid standing now and it seemed like he was watching me.
Once back in the safety of my little place, I unpacked the groceries, and planned my dinner. It was getting dark and I didn?t think it was wise to go again.
The next morning the sun shinning in my bedroom window brought me to the sense that I was hungry again. You know a teenage boy has few major desires. I had completed one of them in bed last night and now lay there naked and deciding if I needed to eat or beat off again. I chose food, knowing that a full belly made shooting off even better.
It was nice to have my own place. I already felt secure and enjoyed the privacy. Let me tell you, living with Aunt Silvia was not conducive to enjoying the pleasures of the body. She liked to walk into my bedroom at her pleasure, assuring I never had much chance to pursue mine.
I ate in the nude and once breakfast was over, I jumped back into bed for another jerk. After a nice long shower I headed down stairs. The shop was locked tight and no one was around. I realized how lonely I was and began to feel sorry for myself and the fact that here I was in a new town living over a bikers garage with a guy who made it clear I wasn?t really in his plans. I shook off the depression and pushed myself to head back up the alley to see what was going on.
It was Saturday and kids were out in the lawn and tarmac playing. Some guys were washing their cars and women stood at the front of their apartments looking out to the street, sharing gossip and conversation. I crawled through the hole in the fence and joined a few guys playing basketball. I was pretty good. so that fact that I was new ended quickly as my team began to win.
Once hot and sweaty and the game over, I headed out to find a bottle of water.
The gas station sold soda and small items so I headed there. That's when the yelling started again. I saw the blonde kid again, but this time very quickly and just from the back. The loud voice seemed to push him out the front door of his apartment, this time it looked like he was naked. Before I could be sure, a large arm pulled him back in the door, and it slammed behind him.
I headed back to my place and spent the rest of the day enjoying my privacy watching sports channels in the nude.
Sunday was a lazy day and I never left my place. I ate my food, napped, jerked, showered and ate and jerked some more, a perfect day for a teenage boy.
It was early the next morning; I woke to the strange smell of after-shave and a dark figure in a button down shirt looming over my bed. I realized I was naked and very helpless at this point as the large hand came at me I coward in a ball.
His voice seemed thundering, but familiar.
"Get up, get dressed, you're going to school. Got it?"
It was Frank and I said, "Yeah, no problem."
0o0o0o0o0
High School, for those of you who have not been for a while is all about survival. Learning is the base justification for the building, but the social defines and divides are the real inter-structure.
The point is to belong and therefore survive. The problem is when you are odd or new or different or shy or just easy to pick on, there is no group for you and you become a Leftover.
I have learned all this the hard way, this being my fourth school in less than two years, so I am normally a Leftover. In my good fortune, I am thin enough, smart enough, cute enough and fast enough not to draw too much negativity. You try your best not to draw negativity.
The High School world can turn on you and eat you up in an instant; all that is important, is the avoidance of that. You do your best to survive!
With survival in mind, I realized I would be entering my new school with dear Uncle Frank in tow. I was sure that everyone would label me either a hoodlum, or biker or just trouble to stay clear of. I visualized arriving on the back of his Harley Hog, bandana flying in my face and no hope of just blending in.
Once I was dressed and somewhat red in the face realizing that Frank had seen me nude and probably hard. I was shocked to find him clean, shaven and dress nicely. So that's where the after shave odor came from I thought.
Frank looked up and smirked, crap I thought he did see me.
"Eat the apple and Granola Bar. It's important to start your day with a good breakfast."
I was assuming he would offer me a can of beer and stick of beef jerky.
"You drive right?" he asked
"Yeah no problem" I said
We headed out back into the gated area where there was a dirty 1996 Chevy Camaro. I think it once was red, now coverED in filth. He threw me the keys and I got behind the wheel.
"Crap its stick." I said
"You can't drive stick?"
"Nope"
"Push the clutch in and start it up, shift to first, the shift design is on the knob, push on the gas slowly while releasing the clutch. Got it?"
"Yeah no problem" I said
I jumped out of the lot and into the alley, I skipped down the street, heads turned and watched me grind through the gears. In a short while I somehow managed to get to the High School and into the parking lot. Frank never said a word.
As I got out of the car just happy to be alive, a rough looking character said
"Hey dumb shit, you're in my space."
Frank got out on his side and the kid waved and said
"Hey cool man, I'll just park over here today."
We walked through the halls and my cheeks burned from all the stares. I was almost glad to get to The Dean of Boys office.
The old lady behind the tall desk instructed us to have a seat. It was weird seeing Frank dressed up and sitting in a school office. I wondered if he felt out of place and if he blamed me for those feelings. I was about to tell him to go ahead and leave when the old lady announced "Timothy Norton, Dean Wagner will see you now."
"I turned to Frank and said, "I got it, if you want to leave now."
Frank looked at me and smiled.
I walked away and headed into the Dean's office.
"Mr.Norton, Mr. Timothy Norton is that correct?" a stern voice from a prune shaped face.
I opened my mouth to speak and heard from behind me,
"Hey Waggy how's it hanging?" The voice was Frank's
I am so dead, I wonder if I can run out of here before I pee my pants I thought
"Frankie, Dude what the f...." he stopped, catching himself.
Now standing and moving from behind his desk Dean Wagner greeted Frank with a fist slam and a quick hug. Frank hugged back. I thought, damn I didn't get a hug!
Frank spoke, "Waggy this is my nephew Tim Norton, he will be living with me and I want you to make sure he doesn't have any problem in school. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah Frank, don't worry he'll be fine." Replied the Dean
"By the way Tim will be driving his car and will need a parking spot, we're in B14 today and I like that one."
"Sure Frank, B14 will be just fine, I'll reassign it today, but Tim here will need to keep a 3.5 grade average to have a car." The Dean warned
Frank turned to me and said. "3.5, got it?"
"Yeah, no problem"
"Waggy, bring your bike by next week, I got a new light that would be prefect for it." Frank smiled
"Sure Frank, thanks, I'll come by for sure." The Dean smiled
Frank looked at me, and said.
"Make a difference." Got it?"
"Yeah, no problem"
0o0o0o0o0
Will the new student Timothy Norton please stand up and tell the class a little about himself.
"Yes, yes thank you, thank you very much, no applause please."
"I'm Tim Norton and my hobby is beating my meat and I really enjoy watching my spunk fly high in the air and land on my belly."
No, No
"Hi I'm Tim Norton and I am glad to join your class. I look forward to meeting each of you so that we can learn more about each other, thank you."
Three times so far today and now I need to figure out where the gym is so I can get to my next class.
"Excuse me Mr. Gordon, but can you direct me to the gym. I'm not really sure where it is." I asked the teacher politely.
He looks up obviously preoccupied. "Pope, are you heading towards the gym?" he yells
"Yeah Mr.G, but don't make me do the new guy scene." The voice protested
I turned to look; it was the Blonde kid from the apartments.
"Pope, just do it and quit complaining." Mr. Gordon didn't even look up.
The Blonde kid gave me a look of scorn and headed down the hall.
I followed him across the campus and into a large warehouse looking building. This was the gym and it had all the normal parts you would expect to find in one. We headed toward a group of offices lining one side of the structure and opened the first door.
Inside sat a well developed man in gym shorts, shirt and cap. When I handed him my paperwork he looked up and yelled.
"Pope, get this kid a locker near you and show him around."
"Ah Coach, please don?t make me baby-sit the Newbie." He wined
"Here's a lock, follow Pope."
So off we went, him rushing ahead trying to look like we were not together, and me speeding behind trying not to be lost.
Our lockers were just a few apart and the Blonde kid began to remove his shirt. I watched.
I was thin, but he was skinny. Blonde kid was about as tall as me, maybe 5'10". His skin was a milky silky covering that allowed the veins in his arms to stand out. As other boys began to enter the locker area, he pulled off his jeans and kicked off his shoes. It appeared that he had on the same boxers I had seen him in over the weekend, or maybe all his boxers have Palm Trees on them. His legs were thin and taunt and blonde fuzz covered them below the knee down to the ankle. When he turned his back to me I could see a reddest burse on his left shoulder, probably from the shoe I thought. With his back turned he pulled down his boxers and there was another dark bruised area running along his left buttocks. I watched him slip on his jockstrap just like everyone else was doing, and then he turned to face me and spoke to me for the first time.
"Aren't you dressing out?"
"I didn't bring anything to change into." I replied
His eyes moved up into his head and he shook it in disgust.
"Well at least you wore sneakers, here put these on." He threw me a slightly ripped pair of gym shorts.
I slipped off my shirt and jeans and stuffed them into my locker. Not having a jockstrap I decided to put the shorts over my boxers. The elastic ban was old and they hung down and slipped when I tried to run. I must have been quite a sight, running along with one hand pulling up my shorts making them so high the bottom of my boxers showed, or letting them drop showing the top. I was glad when the Coach blew the whistle.
Back at the lockers there was a lot of chatter and some of the boys stripped down and header for the showers, The Blonde kid began putting on his street clothes. In the process he dropped his shirt and I could see the pain in his face when he tried to bend over to get it. I grabbed it off the floor and handed it to him. He spoke to me for the second time.
"Thanks."
I became brave and asked,
"Why do they call you The Pope?"
"They don't call me The Pope, just Pope." He turned away dismissing me
I decided not to give up.
"Why?"
He turned back as if surprised I was still alive and said "Why what?"
"Why do they call you Pope?" I tried again
"That's my name dipshit."
Well, we're bonding I thought.
"Tim, first or last?" I countered
He looked at me like what the hell is your problem and answered.
"Last, it's the only thing my old man gave me worth having." At that he walked away.
I found myself to the next class and the rest of the day repeated,
"Hi I"m Tim Norton and I am glad to join your class. I look forward to meeting each of you so that we can learn more about each other thank you."
0o0o0o0o0
I started the car and made it out of the lot. I parked behind the shop inside the fencing. Inside Frank and another mechanic were busy on some bikes that weren't there when I left that morning. I stood out of the way and watched Frank for a while and finally he looked up and said,
"What?"
"I need a gym outfit."
"Okay, take a twenty off of the work bench and get one."
"I need a jockstrap too."
"Okay, take another ten, the sports store is back near the school. Oh and I know you're skinny, but don't get a small. Based on what I saw, you'll defiantly need a medium. Got it?"
"Yeah, no problem"
Cool, Frank thinks I'm a medium.
To be continued.....