4 Years

3 Girlfriends
2 Sociopaths
1 Highschool

My highschool experience was...different to say the least. Now dont expect me to go

crying on about how my high school was the worst...because it wasnt. I guarantee that
someone out there has had a worse experience. I mean someone out there is probably getting
tortured by their mother right now or someone could be getting raped, or heck someone is
probably dead now because someone else shot him or her for no reason whatsoever. For all we
know there could be a horrible serial killer out their coming back home from his hunt waiting to
chow down on their flesh and drink their blood...er...s-...sorry about that, sometimes I get a little
morbid...or at least, in my mind. You could say it was my friends that did that. Some friends,
right? Thats what youre thinking. I know it. You think that I shouldnt have had those friends and
that it was my fault. But now youre thinking that thats not what you thought at all and there is
probably an explanation for this madness...except you probably didnt call it madness...probably.
I can tell you right now that everything you need to know about my time in high school is
in the title. Because thats all it was really was: 4 years, 3 girlfriends, 2 sociopaths, and 1 high
school. Now granted there is a few more details, but thats the important thing. Now Im sure
what youre expecting is some story about my years and how terrible they were. Well, to say the
least, they werent terrible. They were just...well let me explain...or rather just tell you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To tell any story you must know the story behind the story to give a sort of...background.
To do this Ill go back a few years and tell you about my middle school.
Middle school was the worst years of my life, like every other typical childhood middle
school story I was a goody-two-shoes. Not only that but I was bullied. Not to say I was
physically bullied but I was definitely verbally bullied. Good thing I could always rely on my
friends to help me out!...except...I didnt have any
Just kidding! Did you really think this story was going to be that typical? Of course not
no!...no!...I didnt have no friends...I had one.
His name was Kenny, he was my best and only friend. We had been friends as long as
weve known each other. Which to say is since kindergarten, except he says it was since
preschool so Ive come to accept that. Either way weve been best friends since we were very
little. Now Im going to ask you to do something, although youve probably already done it. I
want you to close your eyes (after you read these sentences of course) and think of this person,
my best friend since...well a long time. What does he look like? What are his characteristics?
You probably see someone whom you recognize. Admit it we all do it, usually our minds

associate characteristics of a person with how they look, and they normally end up looking
similar to someone we know.
Anyway, as you might have guessed thats nothing like Kenny. Throw it out the window.
Kenny is not who you think he is. So what is he like? Well...if I were to describe him in one word
it would be...random. Everything about him is a combination between things you wouldnt expect
and things too predictable to predict. But thats the short version of him, the long version
is...well...long.
Back to middle school. I was a christian in those days...not to say Im not one now...I am
and always will be. I was also a very sheltered kid, my family lived 20 minutes from the town my
school was in and the same distance to any source of food...or entertainment outside of my
home. I mean, I love my parents and all, but I was (and still am) the kid that people would stare
at disbelief because I havent seen, read, or done something. The saying Im uncultured, get
over it. Became something I said regularly.
Middle school is like growing up from kid to adult in three years, or at least thats how it
felt. In my first year I quickly realized what a friend truly was...and in turn lost many...and as in
many I mean all but one. Now I know what youre thinking, oh great hes just going in circles
now. Isnt this like, the third time that hes mentioned his single friend. Man this guy must be
lonely.
Well...its not true, I wasnt lonely...or at least I didnt think so. For the longest time I didnt
even think I ever got bullied, people just called me names and I didnt mind. I always saw
bullying as a physical thing. So I never really took offense to it. But outside of that I thought I
had many...well...lets call them acquaintances. Now they werent acquaintances per say, but to
my standards they werent friends...but also not enemies. So thats what I called them.
My middle school started with 6th grade. This year was kind of the initiation into the
world of middle school. As in
You had no choice in classes
You still had a homeroom but it was only where you had your locker
Everybody had to take band
More than half of the classes were less than 30 seconds away
You got your own computer but you couldnt take it home
You couldnt be in a sport but you could be the manager of one
You get the idea.
7th grade was the year that we were finally given privileges, and choices, and new
bodies...okay that might have been too far. But you know what I mean, puberty and all. I
remember their was a girl in my class that was seven feet tall by the 8th grade. With puberty
came a lot of...drama. Most of which I was not a part of...thankfully.

As most people know, middle school is the first time that you are almost forced to see
your classmates naked...or at least of the same gender. This school wasnt an exception. Also
what better way to do it than with P.E. Our showers had no curtains or walls, unlike the 6th
grade where you could shower in peace. They were just showerheads, right next to one
another. I remember going into the girls locker room one time to fetch a ball (the entrance was a
downward slope) and I saw that the girls had private shower heads. I thought to myself, Now
why do they get walls and curtains and the guys dont? Are their parts (I had enough
knowledge to know what was under their clothing) that much more embarrassing that they just
dont want to just cover them up? I mean I guess a guy has to just reach down and a girl has to
reach down and up but still!
Overtime (and by that I mean as soon as I could) I developed a system that would make
it so that I could shower and change with the least amount of embarrassment and/or
harassment...not that their was any it just seemed to rhyme so I said it andanyway first I
would wait until no one else was taking a shower. As I waited I stripped down to my underwear,
then i put on my towel with my underwear underneath. I then waited until the proper time and
then took off my underwear, hung them both up on a hook and get in and out of the shower as
soon as possible. Then I took my towel, wrapped myself back up and headed for the stall where
I would dry off and put my underwear back on. Then I would head to my locker which contained
my clothes that I was wearing before class and change back into them.
For a long time this system worked with little fail, but inevitably there were two instances
that exploited this system and turned it against me. The first is when there was a guy who
wanted to mess with me when I was in the stall drying off. He decided to try to throw my shoes
over the stall and hit me in the head. It worked, but it also made my shoes land in the toilet. It
wasnt too bad though since I dont normally go to the bathroom while I dry off, much less do I
not flush. So they just came out a little wet.
The second instance is when I was just getting into the shower, I had waited a bit longer
than usual but it wouldnt make me late to my next class so I wasnt worried. I was in the shower
when my P.E. teacher walked in and said, Oh by the way, we have a tornado drill in 2 to 3
minutes.
I immediately got out of the shower and rushed to the bathroom trying to dry off and get
into my underwear as fast as I could...well...not exactly actually. See he said 2 to 3 minutes so I
wasnt worried so I didnt rush too much. That was my downfall. Now normally when I get out of
the stall I still would have my towel wrapped around me for convenience and this was no
exception. The problem was, when I walked out of the stall, people were walking down the
hallway of the locker room. People that werent normally here. The tornado drill had started.
I followed in turn to find a place somewhere to sit and wait for it to be over. You know
how it goes: legs bent, hands on your head protecting your skull (but not the back of your neck
which is almost more breakable...I never understood that part). It wasnt so bad, except I
couldnt help but notice that people were giggling...and I was pretty sure it was towards me. But

I didnt know why. I thought, I have a towel on I know...but Im still wearing underwe and
thats when it hit me. I still had my towel on so people couldnt tell that I had underwear on...they
thought I was naked...that I was doing the tornado drill...naked
In my entire life, every drill that I had ever heard of, people were always clothed. Unless
it was in another state or something I had never heard of anyone doing a tornado drill with
nothing but a towel on. This was the first. And it was me.
But dont worry nobody talked about it...luckily...but it was still one of the most
embarrassing moments in my life. There was something though...that people talked about for
years. I believe people never stopped until my Junior year of high school, even then I didnt
know if people still knew about it. The event was...to say...my only gay moment in my life. I was
young though and didnt know the term gay at the time, much less what it meant. Basically me
and my cousin did...stuff...stuff that...I didnt know was wrong...and one summer there were
some people that I was talking to that were in my grade (this was back before middle school)
and somehow the conversation came up about something. Honestly Im not sure how I ever
brought it up but I did. So people knew about it, and naturally if you find out something
embarrassing about someone you tend to spread it for sake of having something interesting to
talk about. Eventually most of the school knew about it. It never went away...any time that
people asked me about it I got angry at them and told them to shut up...which was natural but
also even more reason to talk about it...to get a reaction out of me. That is what most people
who make fun of others do, they look for a reaction so they can feel like they have some control
over that person. Thats what some people want: control, power, dominance. Its a common
thing in people and its why we tear others down and why its such a good thing when we build
people up.
...Sorry my philosophical side got out there.
Around this time is when I first started to notice that Kenny was going through some
other changes. You see he wasnt given the best life. To start off with his parents by this time
have been divorced for a long time. So the children naturally had to split up. Kenny went with his
dad and his sister went with his mom. Being his friend...or best friend, I tended to see his dad
more often. On top of that his personality isnt exactly something you get attracted to. So
popularity wise, he was on the very low end of it. Which put me in a difficult situation. You see
because Kenny was so low in popularity, I realized that if I continued to be his friend that it
would also bring my popularity down. I remember walking to band class one day thinking about
this. It could have been in 7th grade or 8th grade, Im not sure. But it was definitely after I saw
Kenny get dunked in a trashcan and before I got in my first and last fight in school (I was
suspended for a week, forced to read books and go around town with my mom).
I didnt realize it back then, but by choosing to stay with Kenny. I chose a path in my life
that would change me forever. A path that would lead me to many missed opportunities, even
more drama, and ultimately a way of life that stays with me, haunts me, controls me to this very
day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The story of how Kenny became...his own person so to speak, is one that started in 7th
grade. Like anything else that can be twisted over time, it started small.
Kenny was obsessed with wolves. He talked about them all the time and claimed to
know everything there was to know about them. He was a wolfaholic you could say. Nearly
everyday I would hear him tell me or someone else a fact about wolves. He never stopped
actually, he continues to love wolves now, as he did back then. Just with not as much passion
so to speak.
Life moved on with him, I continued to be his friend and the effects were starting to
show. People started talking to me less, they didnt have kenny in their group so why should
they include me? It was a sad world to live in...well...not entirely.
You see, like most people I didnt live at my school. I had a home to go to with a little
brother and sister and two loving parents. They always cared for me and still do. My family had
moved to the family farm when I was eight. It was a big house with a lot of rooms and a
basement. It had a huge backyard (compared to the one in the town) and even more space
around to explore. It also had ancient machinery from when my great-grandparents had lived
their and many more before them. The deed has been in my family for over 100 years (since
late 1800s). The only downside to living their is how far away it was from anything. It was 8
miles to the nearest convenience store, 20 miles to the nearest grocery store, and a whole mile
to the nearest house. Interestingly, I remember hearing that the closest town to us was actually
the second smallest in the state with only 6 people living there. It was where my mom and
grandfather lived and grew up. Not at the town but the house. Although you could say that they
grew up there. There used to be a store, a church, even a school. But people just kept moving
out. Now the only thing that makes it even slightly resemble a town is that there is a grain tower
(called an elevator) and a railroad beside it.
Most of my life was spent in that house. Its also home to many memories, both of when
I lived there and when I didnt.