Dear Diary,

People frequently claim that high school was the best time of their life.

I think those people are either lying or describing a view from the very pinnacle of the socially elite mountain, a perspective that can only be attained by stomping on the many poor unfortunate souls that form the base of the pyramid

Or maybe they just didn’t go to my high school. 

Surviving High School, Pt. 1              Surviving High School, Pt. 2

“Natural Selection”

There were one thousand, four hundred and thirteen students attending San Joaquin High School in the ’90’s. Seven hundred and thirty could immediately be discounted because they were only freshmen and sophomores; they wouldn’t have enough social credibility to keep from getting a wedgie in the locker room.

Subtracting the same sex and the non-athletes reduced the dating pool to around two hundred remaining candidates. Of those, about seventy-five percent had girlfriends.

I was very, very careful to research this part, because girls are extremely territorial.

And that was not an error I was likely to survive without some very serious scarring.

I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s life.

I just wanted to graduate…with perfect grades and a scholarship to Anywhere Else.

One or two or three guys a week were still asking me out, usually boys from the tennis team or cross country now. No more football players wanted to risk any more damage to their monstrous egos, which was perfectly fine by me. There were some dark looks aimed my way now and then, which made me nervous. One guy I could handle, but I knew I would never recover, mentally or emotionally, if the entire football team decided I needed a lesson in “manners”.

That’s why it had to be one of their own.

And then, there he was.

Six foot four inches tall, he was an only child, a hometown boy who had moved away during fourth grade but had mysteriously returned in middle school. He was aloof but respected enough that his interest in computers was considered merely offbeat.

That was the one, the one I had been waiting for, searching for.

Image result for smallville football

That one. The second-string quarterback, a guy who had actually been seen holding a book not assigned for class now and then.

Someone who knew there was more in the great wide somewhere than this poor provincial town.

Continuing tomorrow with Part 4!

Sincerely,

Sunny