Almost a Beating

OK. I have a 6th grade photo of Jeanette that I will put up sometime later, but I don't want to connect the image to the story. This is not a literal blog, anyway.

Jeanette, as I said, was the first girl in our class to get breasts. It didn't really do any of us any good, though, because her boyfriend's were older. Jeanette just looked fast. She wore her hair in an adult way and was the first to get some bleach in it, "frosting" is what they called it, I think. She had short bangs and the top of her hair was teased. If you don't know what that is, you are young and need to look it up. And she was one of the first to wear short dresses that hit her legs mid-thigh. I never dreamed of Jeanette. I mean if I did, it was a dream where I was in trouble. She was just not a kid like the rest of us. I think her father or brothers or someone must have been after her all the time because she wasn't very open or forthcoming with us.

When the sixth grade was over, half of us went to a new junior high school and the other half to the high school that was an all-encompassing seventh through twelfth grades. It was a different experience for those kids, I'm sure, being around kids with cars, etc. Jeanette was one of the ones who went there.

One night, though, I went to a basketball game that pitted our team against theirs, and I saw Jeanette. Somehow--and believe me, I haven't a clue how--we ended up talking outside, and it was the first time she had ever showed any interest in me. It is all a dark memory. We were talking and leaning up against the metal poles that held up the roof of the walkway. I don't know who kissed whom, but we kissed briefly. And then she told me she had a boyfriend. I figured he went to school with her and so I didn't think I'd have to see him, or her again, for that matter.

But he didn't. On Monday, I was standing in the hallway with some fellows when an older boy came up mean and fast. "I'm JImmy T________" he said, angry as hell. He was about my height, but he was different. He was a grade higher than I, but he had failed once and so was two years older, and those two years had hardened his muscles and ligature a bit. But there was more to it. His face looked hard. There was something mean in his eye. He wore a letter jacket with leather sleeves and had his greasy hair combed with bangs, but even that looked like a challenge. I didn't know what was going on. Who the hell was Jimmy?

And then I knew. "I hear you like kissing my girl?" he said. Shit, oh shit, I was in trouble now. Everyone had gathered up in a circle and all the faces seemed to push into some fisheye space claustrophobically. I couldn't breathe.

I stalled. "Who's your girl?"

"You know who she is you asshole. Jeanette."

"Oh. Jeanette. Yea, I know her, I went to school with her last year."

"She said you kissed her Friday." He was gathering himself up for some great violence. I had to think quickly.

"What? Oh, no, nothing like that. I saw her at the basketball game, but we just said hello. She was kidding you." All this delivered with a sweet voice but hands and legs shaking like vibrators.

"She said you kissed her. You calling her a liar?"

"Nope. Not me. But man, she's just fooling around. I didn't kiss her."

Somehow, it seemed the time had passed for him to gracefully hit me. Somehow, I had stalled long enough. The truth, though, was that he had enjoyed being tough and facing me without a fight. Had I maintained face? Hell, I didn't care. I didn't get an ass kicking. And that was enough for me.

I don't remember ever seeing Jeanette again.

But I saw Jimmy get quite a beating a little later. Another story.