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“Secret Sex, A Book Alive Online,” written and lived by John Scott G.
Chapter 13 – Hi, School.
You may not believe it, but the powers-that-be at middle school allowed me to move on to high school. Go figure. I believe they said something like “After in-depth deliberation, it is our judgment that it will be to the reciprocal mutual advantage of all concerned parties that John Scott now move forward with the next stage of his educational pursuits.” Translation: get this guy the hell out of here.
You can probably tell that they felt I was still not living up to my potential. But I disagree. Look, if the goal was to graduate from one level of hell to another, I had achieved it! Don’t I deserve some points for that?
So it came to be that I was set loose on the grounds of William Lovelace Binkley Academy High School. I should point out that here, as well as many other places in this book, names have been changed to protect the guilty.
Opening Gambit
New school, new part of the city, new semester, new everything. Naturally, I set to work making as many female acquaintances as possible.
“Hi.”
“Uh, hi.”
“I’m John Scott.”
“Um, Barbara.”
“Nice to meet you, Barbara!”
“Sure,” she said tentatively. “You, too, I guess.”
“What do you think classes will be like here?”
Okay, that’s how you’re supposed to do it. For you guys who are taking notes, allow me to live up to my goal of being Ever-So-Helpful to you by going over that brief conversation again but this time with the Crib Notes For Success appended for your enlightenment.
The Art of Making Friends
“Hi.” (Smile when you say it. Note: make certain beforehand that you do not have any food stuck to your teeth.)
“Uh, hi.”
“I’m John Scott.” (Note 1: Use your name rather than mine; you’ll find it much more effective. Note 2: Keep smiling. Note 3: Make sure you do that “And your name is…?” tilt of the head to get her to reply. Optional move: hold out your paw for a handshake.)
“Um, Barbara.”
“Nice to meet you, Barbara!” (Always repeat her name. Everyone likes hearing their own name in a social context. Also, it helps to be genuinely pleased about meeting her, genuinely happy about knowing her name, and genuinely ecstatic about saying her name. You really need genuine sincerity. Believe me, once you learn how to fake that, you’ll be well on your way.)
“Sure,” she said tentatively. “You, too, I guess.”
“What do you think classes will be like here?” (It almost doesn’t matter what you ask at this point. Just get her to talk. Basically, you want to give the impression that you’re saying something like “Tell me all about yourself and what you feel about everything because I am absolutely positive that I’ll be fascinated.”)
Once she’s talking, nod and smile whenever it seems appropriate. Like after everything she says. Phrases you’ll want to practice include the following: “You’re right.” “That’s so true.” “Good one!” “Um-hmm!” “Yes.” “I hadn’t thought of that!” And the most important of all: “Tell me more.”
And don’t make the mistake I made that first day. Don’t rush things. You want to have a nice long conversation, or even two or three conversations, before you say something like, “Ever hear of The Game?”
She hadn’t. And she didn’t want to know, as it turned out. After striking out once too often, it occurred to me that I was approaching the wrong type of person. I needed to find the Bad Girls. And the way to do that was to be bad.
Bad, Relatively Speaking
Trouble is, I wasn’t able to do the traditional bad boy stuff. I didn’t get into fistfights. I didn’t steal cars. I didn’t even do the jerk thing by being a sports star. Hell, I barely make it onto the gymnastics team. Officially a part of the team, I was never good enough to compete in the meets and get the Letterman’s Jacket or sweater or patch or crest or whatever.
No, I had to find a different way to be bad. Forging bus passes wasn’t going to cut it and I was a little too afraid of the police department to try forging driver’s licenses. Fortunately, I discovered electronics. This turned out to be important. Here’s why. . .
Now Hear This
At the start of every school day, the entire student body was forced to sit quietly in their seats to hear the morning announcements as they were broadcast through the public address system. Poor-quality but overly-loud speakers were mounted high on the wall of every classroom. While I’ve never been incarcerated, I imagine prisons have pretty much the same sort of P.A. system as the average high school.
We thought of the announcements with mixed feelings. On the one hand, they ate up some time. That meant we had to endure a little less of First Period History or whatever class you were in. But on the other hand, they were grating and annoying and full of pops, whistles, squeals, and squawks and were perhaps the most boring five or ten minutes in the history of recorded announcements.
Wait a minute, did you say “recorded”? Yes, they recorded the daily announcements the previous afternoon. This enabled the administrative staff to come into the office a bit later each morning.
Home Hi-Fi
At the time, my dad had a hi-fi system that he had built. Which means I had access to recording equipment (which meant tape recorders back in those days) and editing tools (which meant razor blades and adhesive tape back in those days). So, all I had to do was get into the administrative offices, snatch the tape, take it home, make some edits, bring it back, and replace the tape so it was in place to be broadcast the next morning.
Grabbing the Friday afternoon recording would give me the maximum amount of time for editing prior to the Monday morning announcements. After four in the afternoon, things got fairly relaxed in the Admin Building. Any student wandering in there at that time of day just had to be a Hall Monitor or someone looking to sign up for a meeting with a Guidance Counselor. Therefore, students moving respectfully and quietly through Admin were routinely ignored. I went through there whenever I needed a new pen or some other school supplies.
No, the really tricky part would be switching the tapes first thing in the morning. There was always a lot of confusion in the Admin offices in the morning, and more than a few folks with dazed and glazed eyeballs from the night before. Still, it seemed like it might be a good idea if I could dare someone else to make the switch. It could be part of an initiation process to be in a club. Or clique. Or gang. Wait, what? No, back up, let’s avoid the gangs and stick with the cliques. The girl cliques. Which were kind of like gangs, come to think of it.
Satin Sweethearts
It became clear to me that I needed to make contact with the Satin Sweethearts. They were not a sewing society. They were not a bowling team. They were not a car club. They were bad girls. Their quadruple-dagger emblem bore an alarming resemblance to that of the Waffen-SS logo of the Third Reich.
One bright and lovely morning during Nutrition Break, I sauntered over to the leader of the Satin Sweethearts so we could have a nice, quiet, polite, and very civilized conversation.
“Bunch of pussies,” I said. As you might imagine, that got her attention.
“What did you say to me?”
“Your girls have no guts.”
“Fuck you. They’ll kick your ass.”
“Hey, don’t blame the messenger. I’m just saying. Look, you make your new members shoplift something from the mall, and I’m telling you that doesn’t take any guts. You know they do it in teams. Two girls create a distraction while one girl tucks something in her blouse or under her skirt. Big deal. I’m proposing something a bit trickier and more fun.”
“Yeah, right. Get the hell out of here. Asshole.” Pause. “Like what?”
And that’s how I was able to get the tapes in and out of the Admin offices. A different girl filched them and swapped them every time. Neat. Sweet.
Good Morning High Students
Every one of the morning announcements was supposed to be fairly straightforward, as you can imagine. And they always began the same way:
“Good morning, students. This is Principal Oafley.” Slightly nasal voice. Guy sounded constipated. “And now I’d like to turn you over to a member of your Student Participation Leadership Advisory Team. Today, it’s your Team-Worker-in-Training, Mark Schriker, who will lead us in the Pledge to the flag.”
Perceptive readers will have noticed that Student Participation Leadership Advisory Team is SPLAT and that Team-Worker-in-Training is TWIT.
After the baying opening from Oafley, it was then time for one of the dweebs on the Student Council to go into a monotonous, mindless, by rote recitation of the Pledge.
“Thank you, Principal Oafley. Please rise and face the flag. Ready, begin. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
“Thank you, Mark. Good job, as usual. And now I’d like to turn you over to your girl’s vice principal, Miss Fairlegson, for the rest of the morning announcements.”
And so on. As I warned you, very boring. But after my editing, the Pledge was a bit different. In fact, everything was a bit different. . .
Tape Tricks
“Good morning, high students. This is Principal Oafley. And now I’d like to turn you over to your student shoddy president, Mark Shreiker, to lead us in the sledge to the flag.”
“Thank you, Principal Oaf. Please rise and deface the flag. Ready, begin. I pledge obeisance to de flag of de untied Snakes of America, and to the Republicans for which it stands, one notion, underwhelmed, invisible, with libertines and bustiers for all.”
“Thank you, Mark. Good hand job, as usual. And now I’d like to turn you over to your girl’s vice principal. Miss Fairlegson, for the rest of the boring announcements. Actually, I’d like to turn Miss Fairlegson over and I’d like to climb Miss Fairlegson and rise up on Miss Fairlegson and go down on Miss Fairlegson and really stick Miss Fairlegson very hard and — ”
There was a very loud POP and that morning’s broadcast ended abruptly. There was nothing but static over the classroom intercom speakers. Not that anyone heard it in the gales of laughter that swept through the campus.
In addition to the fun of screwing with the Admin folks every few weeks, the Satin Sweethearts were now quite accepting of my presence. After all, once they heard what I did with the tapes, I was accepted as one of the bad girls. Wait, that’s not right. Bad boy, not bad girl. Boy.
Well, okay, there was that one time when they made me an honorary member after I passed a very special initiation during which they dressed me up in some of their party outfits. But that’s a whole different story.
What? Oh yes, I looked very hot. Thank you for asking.
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“Secret Sex, A Book Alive Online,” written and lived by John Scott G, is Copr. © 2011-2012 by JSG, all rights reserved under U.S. and international copyright conventions. Commercial use in any form is forbidden without express written permission of the author. Originally published on eNewsChannels.com with permission. Credits: Book cover design: Phil Hatten; Author Photo: Phil Hatten.
