March 10th, 1987
Independent study. A whole class period of sitting in a classroom with some ditsy teacher while we all pretend to be studying or doing homework.
I nearly flinch at the small note falls onto my desk, right in the middle of the math homework I'm working on. I look up and see Dylan Renolds, one of the most popular boys in the senior year, smiling at me and pointing to the note.
Dylan heard that I like him, from some dumb rumor someone told him last week at a party. One that I didn't even go to. Ever since then, he'd been trying to get me to go on a date with him, just like almost every other girl in my high school does.
I roll my eyes (mentally) as I unfold the note.
"Hey. Wanna hang out after school?"
I scribble back: "Sorry I can't. I have to be at my friend's house. Studying for the english test on Thursday. :("
I feel bad about what I wrote for a second, but it's not a complete lie. I really will be at Michelle's house. Just not studying. . . We'll be watching her brother's band practice.
Not even bothering to sneakily pass the note back to him, I toss it in the air and it lands at his feet. A tornado could tear right through this room, and I'm pretty sure Ms. Lemmons wouldn't notice.
I tap my pencil on my desk as I stare up at the clock. Ten minutes till school's out. Thank God. I can only tolerate this place for so long.
I turn around when I feel someone lightly tap my back. The girl sitting behind me, Mary, points to Dylan, who has on a pouty face as he looks at me. I bring my hands up to my sides, and hope that the look I give him conveys my mock sadness enough for him to leave me alone.
Just then, the bell rings.
I shoot up out of my seat, trying to avoid confrontation with Dylan. I grab my things, and give myself a mental pat on the back for getting out of there so quickly.
It's not that Dylan isn't good looking. He's just rude. I can't even count the number of times I've heard him say some snide remark to an underclassmen for no reason during lunch or in between classes.
Definietly not someone I could like, let alone tolerate.
"Chasity!"
Michelle McKagan, my very best friend calls my name as she runs down the crowded hallway, right towards me.
"Hey loser."
"Oh, please. If I'm a loser, you are too."
I let my arm rest on her shoulder as we walk down the hall, my other arm occupied with my physics textbook.
"True. But maybe not as much as Dylan Reynolds." I say, keeping my voice quiet so only Michelle can hear.
She looks at me then, shock on her face. "He's really still trying to get into your pants? Oh my god. He's so desperate!"
I shush her in between my laughter. "I know! It's as if I'm the only girl in this school or something. I swear, I would do anything to get him to leave me alone. Anything."
"Earlier today someone told me he yelled at Katie in the parking lot yesterday morning as she kissed Brian. He called her a slut! Which doesn't even make any sense, she's been dating Brian since freshman year, and I swear they're gonna get married! Dylan is a-"
I manage to get Michelle to shut up once I quickly take her by the arm, turn in the opposite direction, and hide behind the big group of girls in front of the girl's bathroom.
"What is your problem-"
"He's right over there! And you're practically shouting!"
There may be a lot of teased hair hiding us from view, but I can still see the top of Dylan's head as he stands at his locker. I should've known better than to come this way.
All of the sudden, Michelle is sighing dramatically as she pulls me along with her, leaving the sight of Dylan and his friends in the dust behind us.
"God Chasity, you'd think he was an axe murderer or something," Michelle says.
"Well I hate talking to him! Can't blame me for trying to avoid being within a couple yards of him."
Once we make it outside, we begin our walk home.
Michelle and I live on the same street, the house I've been in since I was just a few months old right across the street from Michelle's. When her family moved to Pasadena from Seattle, we both weren't any older than six.
And I didn't just get to know Michelle really well. I'm friends with her brother too. Duff, but his real name is Michael. He moved out three years ago, but he still comes around a lot since his band, Guns N' Roses, uses the basement to practice.
They've all been a group for a couple years now, and Michelle and I have been lucky enough to see what they've all created as time has gone on. Their first album is coming out this summer.
"You know, I wish one of them would be nice enough to pick us up. I get lazy."
"Right! I can't wait till we won't have to do this anymore." At this point in the school year, senioritis has set in.
We don't even live that far away from school. Maybe fifteen minutes or so, but it's still annoying day after day.
In front of Michelle's house is a couple cars, all of them belonging to members of the band.
"Oh brother. Here we go. Another afternoon."
I couldn't have said my exact thoughts any better than Michelle just did.
