Band Fags! (23 page)

1986–1987

I cannot
stand
Pep Rallies!

Like rats in a Biology room cage, the Hazel Park Vikings are ushered into the Gym and forced onto the bleachers in their Designated Class Section. After listening to members of Chorale sing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in four-part harmony, they view the Vikettes kicking off the event with a high-energy dance number set to the stylin' tunes of Earth, Wind & Fire.

The entire squad of eighteen girls—including my First Love, Lynn Kelly, and the Kristian Alfonso look-alike, Marie Sperling—strut their stuff on the shellacked basketball court identically clad in white puffy blouses worn with maroon sequined vests, matching mini-skirts, and high-heeled leather boots.

Nobody's paying attention to any of this…Except for me. But I've always had a thing for synchronized choreography, be it ice skating, swimming or dancing.

That's when I first notice her, standing at the far end of the kick-line on account of she can't be more than 5' tall and they always arrange the girls according to height. Not that I find her particularly attractive, 'cause I don't. Though she is cute, with blondish-brown shoulder-length permed hair and an ear-to-ear grin. What drew my attention to her was…She totally reminds me of the actress who plays Gina Capwell's long-lost daughter, Lily, on
Santa Barbara.

In case you're worried that I've given up on
Days of our Lives,
I haven't. But over the Summer I took to watching
SB
from 3:00 PM to 4:00 PM on account of there's this girl on the show I also kind of like named Robin Wright. She plays the youngest Capwell daughter, Kelly, and just like Kristian Alfonso, I predict someday she's going to be a Big Star!

Apparently I'm not the only one who notices the addition of incoming Sophomore Diane Thompson, to the HPHS Vikettes drill team…

“Bra-yad!”

The following Monday at Lunch, Brad and Max and I are all sitting together at an orange-topped table for four, when from across the cafeteria comes the totally loud and totally obnoxious bellow of You-Know-Who.

“Pretend you don't hear her,” Max tells us. “Maybe she'll get the hint and go away.”

But it's no use. There she appears, beside our table. Though I almost don't recognize Luanne Kowalski with her shoulder-length bob now cut up to just below her ear and slicked back on both sides. You should see the Marching Band photo we took last week outside in the cafeteria courtyard…I'm telling you, Lou looks more like Judd Nelson every day!

“So…What are we having?” she asks, before inviting herself to sit down with us. From the way she's become notorious for mooching food from the Undergrads, you'd think Lou didn't have a job working at Sam's Jams in Ferndale. Or maybe her Mom has stopped giving her lunch money. Regardless, she's becoming annoying with a Capital A.

“Wha's up, Lou?” Max groans, mouth full.

“Max,” Lou replies all cool. “How's it hanging?” Then she picks up the apple sitting on Brad's tray and takes a bite. “So…I've got the scoop.”

“You do?” Brad asks, the only one to oblige Lou as she babbles away. I'm too busy watching the way her jaw works from side to side as she chews, calling to mind the words “cow” and “cud.”

“Her name's Diane Thompson,” Lou continues. “She went to Beecher…Her locker's down the back hall near the Teachers' Lounge.” Finally taking time to swallow, she adds, “She's in the French Club
and
she lives over by the Courts.”

“Somebody's been doing their homework,” I interject.

“Somebody's gonna have to teach me how to do a little
parlezvous
-ing,” Lou replies, knowing I've got Mrs. Carey again this semester for French II.

I should've known Luanne would get the dirt on the “totally cute Sophomore Chick.” A bunch of us Band Fags decided to head out to the Tombs after the first Varsity Football game of the season last Friday night…The entire drive out Rochester Road, all Lou did was talk about Diane, informing us how she could tell just by
looking
at her that she's “a Bean”—code for “lesbian”—and how it would only be a matter of time before she had her way with the girl. (Gross!)

“Don't look now…” Max nods in the direction of the far end of the cafeteria where Diane Thompson and Hannah Danson just sat down with their lunch trays piled high from the Salad Bar.

Of course, Luanne totally looks, her face totally lighting up. “Watch how a real man does things,” she gloats before making a beeline towards Diane's table.

“What a dyke!” Max sighs, shoveling in today's Mystery Meat with a side of Veggie Surprise.

Brad says nothing and neither do I. Though I'm tempted. But I'll admit the cool thing about Luanne is…She's made it perfectly clear to Max how she is. By which I mean sexuality-wise. But she hasn't said a word to him about Brad. As far as she's concerned, it's totally up to Brad to tell Max about himself when the time is right. Which leads me to believe that my secret's also safe with her. Though like I've already said, I'm not
like that
anymore. So I've got nothing to hide.

The following day finds Diane Thompson a Special Guest at our lunch table…

“You should join French Club,” she tells me after I mention I've got Mrs. Carey for 4
^th
hour. I've decided I might use
le français
as a backup in case the whole Journalist/Writer thing doesn't pan out. Though so far, so good. I talked to Mr. Dell'Olio at the end of Sophomore year about working on
The Hazel Parker
and he's allowed me to join the Staff.

“When do you guys meet?” I ask Diane, much to Lou's chagrin. I get the feeling she doesn't appreciate the fact that her
supposed
new girlfriend is taking a greater interest in me. “I just might stop by.”

Which is exactly what I do. I join the French Club and the following week, I ask Diane Thompson out on a date…

“You know Lou's gonna be pissed, don't you?” Brad tells me as we cross the muddy football field after morning Marching Band practice. I've just told him I invited Diane to join us on our Friday night Triple Date. Which isn't exactly going to be a date-date as far as Brad's concerned. But last time we were out gallivanting around the Tombs, we ran into another group of kids from Clarkston High. One of whom just so happened to be Brad's date from the 9
^th
grade Carnation Dance, Ginny-What's-Her-Name.

Of course, he'd totally lost track of her after
Operation Revenge of the Band Fags!
Something tells me the date that night didn't go so well. Considering Brad didn't even kiss Ginny good-bye when his Mom dropped her off out of fear Laura would see them locking lips and he'd end up Grounded for Life. Though we all know now the real reason why is…Brad wasn't interested 'cause Ginny's a girl!

Which is why I have no idea why he invited her and her Best Friend, Missy, out on a Triple Date with me and Diane and Max. Not that Max was complaining or anything, 'cause he wasn't. As far as I can remember, Max hasn't been on a real date with a girl in his life. In fact, I think the last girl he ever went with was Angela Andrews back in 7
^th
grade. Which was totally a shock to everybody at the time, and looking back on it makes it even more so. Because Angela Andrews is a totally Popular and totally hot Vikette now!

This Friday night's football game is at Southfield so Brad and I don't have to march with Marching Band. Which is why he and Max and I end up taking Ginny, Missy, and Diane to see
Top Gun.
Even though I liked that Val Kilmer guy in
Real Genius,
I had no interest in seeing a movie about a bunch of guy Fighter Pilots. But all the girls wanted to, so…Needless to say, they were practically wetting themselves during the volleyball scene on the beach!

Afterwards, we have to drive Ginny and Missy back to BFC—Bum Fuck Clarkston. Though I should say
Max
has to drive them on account of we took his car on account of it being a LeMans and it fits in more people than my tiny pea green Dodge Omni.

One thing I think I failed to mention is…Max got his license back on May 27
^th
when he turned Sweet Sixteen. But Brad—who celebrated his a mere fifteen days ago on September 4
^th
—hasn't even gotten his learner's permit on account of he
failed
Driver's Education. But that's all I'll say on that subject being that it's a sore one with Mr. Dayton.

After cramming four in the backseat—me and Diane and Brad and Ginny—so Max could sit up front
alone
with Missy, we drop Ginny off first. Talk about fancy! She lives in one of those humongous two-level jobs with tan aluminum siding, brown shutters, and an actual two-car garage. You know what I'm talking about? The kind of neighborhood where the houses all look the same-but-different, none of the yards have fences around them, and the streets all end in a circle. Like the Courts in Hazeltucky, only much nicer—and bigger.

“Be right back,” Brad tells us before walking Ginny to her door.

From where I sit with my arm around Diane, I can see him through the back window standing beneath the yellow light of Ginny's pillared front porch, looking totally awkward.

“Kiss her already!” Max says aloud, to nobody in particular.

To which I think,
Oh, Max!

If he only knew his friend Bradley is a Total Fag. I mean, seriously, what would he say? After knowing Brad for how many years and defending his sexuality against Total Jerks like Tom Fulton, would Max really care if he found out Brad's gay and that—for a brief time—I thought
I
might be too?

And then he does it…

Brad leans over and kisses Ginny What's-Her-Name—right on the lips! I'm thinking,
What the Hell?
He's made it perfectly clear he “feels nothing” for girls. So why's he kissing one? Then I realize, he most likely did it for Max's benefit. Maybe Brad's not as comfortable with the whole being gay thing as he claims.

“Wha's up, Stud?” Max squeals, getting out of the car and pulling the front seat forward so Brad can climb in back. From the look on Max's face, I can tell our friend has done him proud.

“How was it?” I tease, giving Brad a look.

To which he just rolls his eyes. “Brrr!” he shivers. “It's fucking freezing out there!”

Next stop, Missy's house…

Which makes Ginny's look like Servants' Quarters. I'm not even joking when I say…There have to be at least five bedrooms in that place and an acre of land behind it. Talk about a fucking mansion! It's a wonder these girls want to have anything to do with us Hazeltucky Hillbillies.

Following Brad's example, Max walks Missy to her giant double-wide front doors.

“You think he's gonna kiss her?” asks Brad, climbing up front just as soon as Little Miss(y) Rich Girl is gone.

“If he doesn't,” I reply, “he's never gonna hear the end of it.”

Brad lets out a grunt. “Don't look now…”

Of course, Diane and I totally have to look. And what we see, we can't even believe our eyes…

“Oh, my God…”

“Did he just—?” I ask.

“He did,” Diane confirms.

“What a fucking Pussy!” Brad sneers.

After a moment, Max gets back in the car, not saying a word. Then he puts it in gear and pulls away.

“Wha's up, Stud?” I mock.

“Oh no, you don't!” Brad chides. “I can not fucking believe you
shook
her fucking hand!”

Max cries, “I couldn't tell if she wanted me to kiss her or not,” sounding totally frustrated. Knowing him, he probably had a Total Hard-on the minute he walked up to Missy's front door. Then BAM! Nothing…

“Turn this car around this instant!” Brad demands, sounding more like Max's Mom than one of his Best Friends. Though Annette Funicello would have added, “Young man!”

Max keeps driving down Sashabaw Road towards I-75. We're at least 30 miles from home and it's already after 11:00 PM. Diane needs to be home by Midnight. In the distance I see what must be the lights from the hill at Pine Knob. I haven't been skiing since the time Max conned me into going along with the Ski Club, back in 7
^th
grade. Talk about a nightmare! I had the damnedest time getting up that stupid tow rope.

“I mean it, Maxwell Travis Wilson,” Brad continues. “If you don't go back there and kiss that girl good night, you're gonna regret it for the rest of your life.”

Max steps on the break. Then he makes a U-turn in the middle of the totally dark two-lane highway. I know for sure we're going to die. Or at least get hit by oncoming traffic. But we don't. Poor Diane does get banged around a bit in the backseat as Max beats a hasty retreat over to Heather Lake Road where he doesn't stop till he arrives at Missy Whatever-the-Hell-Her-Last-Name-Is' house.