Solicited

Fourth period study hall is not a place that she normally stays. She practically always has a pass to the band room, journalism class, the library - but not today. There's a chemistry test she must review for the following period, so today she sits amongst a group of kids she rarely sees, none of whom she knows. This is fine by her, she's not exactly interested in socializing at the moment, or ever really, when it comes to the general adolescent public.

She fiddles with her hoop earring as she studies her periodic table. It's part of a large stapled packet, so full the staple can barely contain it all, and it's full of material she's expected to memorize over the course of the year. God, she hates this packet. She can sit for an hour and memorize one page for a test, and the next day it's gone from her brain as if its refused to hold material its deemed as useless. Her hair is pulled back in a pony tail, her tight black top is cut low and hugs her frame, her jeans are baggy and cinched at the waist with a large black belt. She's wearing the black Nike's with white trim that her mother can't stand, "Black sneakers are for boys." Whatever. She loves to experiment with her look. Baggy jeans and tight top one day, plaid skirt and blouse the next, then follow that with a black lace jumper and purple lipstick and no one has any idea what to make of you. It's like re-inventing herself every day - new style, new attitude, new persona.

"Hey, can I borrow a pencil," the guy seated next to her asks.

She stops fiddling with her earring, and wordlessly reaches into her book bag and pulls out a pencil and hands it to him, barely glancing in his direction. He's a senior by the looks of his facial hair, possibly held back. He looks too old for high school. His curly hair is slicked back and the smell of his Polo cologne is overpowering. Is it possible to wear Polo and not bathe in it? You walk past these guys in the hall and the smell hits you like a brick wall. Do any girls actually find that appealing?

"You're Veronica, aren't you?" he asks. Obviously, the pencil was not the object of his agenda.

"Yes," she replies, continuing to study the sheet in front of her. She has no desire to know this guy or give him the slightest encouragement to continue the conversation.

"So, I heard you like giving blow jobs," he says leaning closer in her direction.

Now, he has her attention. She turns to look at him, stunned and takes in the Cavaricci sweatshirt and gold chain around his neck. It couldn't be clearer if he were wearing a sign that stated "Italian Sleazeball." She knows that rumors are spread about her, that's been going on for years. Most of them started as jokes, but her refusal to debunk them and flair for the not-so-modest dressing of her well-developed figure has fueled the fire. But never has she blatantly been faced with someone who heard and unequivocally believed the rumors, nor has she heard that she enjoys giving head.

She could deny it, it would be the truth. He wouldn't believe her of course, but what difference would that make? Another guy spreading rumors about her and calling her a tease or a bitch isn't going to matter. But the shock of the situation is quickly wearing off, and she's beginning to find this amusing. Here she is, an honor student studying for her chem test being solicited for a blow job. It's hilarious really. Never had a boyfriend, barely any sexual experience to speak of, and this guy thinks she gives head on a regular basis.

"So, do you have plans this afternoon?" he asks, not giving her time to reply to his declaration. She knows the smart thing to do is shut this guy down and fast. Not gently, no niceties. Just rude, effective, direct and to the point. "In your dreams, loser," should do it.

But she doesn't. She is intrigued and almost strangely flattered. Even though she is not attracted to him, truly finds him rather repulsive, she says coyly, "No, no plans this afternoon." As if he's just asked her for help with his homework or to go for a soda.

There is this voice in her head whispering about what a bad idea this is, but she's refusing to listen. She's tired of playing it safe - her days filled with studying, chores, babysitting and rehearsals. Most other girls at her age have boyfriends, date, get past first base. At least this guy presents a break from the monotony, even if that isn't saying much. And her mother would hate this guy, which of course is a bonus.

So she gives him her address and phone number, wondering who this person is that's suddenly taken over her body. And when she goes with him that afternoon, what happens between them is neither intimate nor memorable. She declines to meet him again. There is no reason to. He brings her home and she goes up the stairs to her room and lies on her bed. She is happy to know that all traces of him will soon be gone. She is slightly sickened by the stench of Polo and the taste of him.

Comments

[Bookgirl]

How have I known you my entire life, and never knew you could write like this? Wow.

[Diosa]

Thanks, Bookgirl. That's quite a compliment, especially coming from you with all the reading you do. For one thing I haven't written much since high school, well college if you count all the essays. There is a reason I was a English Teacher, but enjoying reading and writing just wasn't a good enough one to keep teaching. In fact, it sucked every drop of enjoyment out of it for me.

[Polly Poppins]

This one is so intense it gives me a tension headache. Of course, the writing is great but it makes my throat and heart ache for Veronica....

High school is hazing.

[Mel]

ohhhh! Now I understand our conversation this weekend. That was very well written! Isn’t life great – we can redefine ourselves over and over again!

[Diosa]

In case you're wondering, Mel's referring to my husband calling me a whore this weekend after reading this. Isn't it sweet he can still get jealous after all these years?