Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!

THREE | The Actors Guild

On the way out of AP Psychology we were to pick up our homework from Mr. Craig's designated "Assignment Table" (doesn't that make us sound like second graders?). He stands next to the door and bids farewell to his first period students as they file mindlessly out of the room. I try to make an escape through a sea of backpacks, but I'm shoved over to the side by Roger Murphy's massive shoulders. My books in hand go flying across the Assignment Table and my face bursts into flames. I rush to the floor to pick up what has fallen, but Mr. Craig has already lumbered his six-and-a-half foot frame over to my aid.

"Are you okay? Everything just kind of went in all directions, didn't it?" He laughed, picking up my black pencil bag. I tuck my hair behind my ear nervously and stand, barely making a sound.
"Yeah, lot's of people in the way. Of, you know, the door. I couldn't get through..." and then our eyes locked. Neither of us moved. After standing in silence for what seemed like 10 minutes, he laughed lightly.
"Well, just be careful. We don't want you to go tumbling over next time." He handed me my pencil case and I noticed that his hand bore no ring. What am I thinking? Ray, stop! I grab my belongings and make a beeline for the door. What a complete moron. He has got to know what I was thinking. 'We don't want you tumbling over next time'. Yeah, wouldn't that be fabulous. Me, falling square on my ass would only improve my image of immaturity. Thank God lunch is only two hours away.

Marty and my friend Ben were standing in the flourescent-lit commons after first period. They greeted me with a smile.

"Hey Ray. So what did I miss in Psychology?" Marty asked, flipping her yellow Life Saver around in her wide-opened grinning mouth.
"Nothing much. It'll probably be really boring-"
"Yeah, but I heard the teacher's a real stud. He graduated from here like, 5 years ago. Big lacrosse jock or something. I heard Bitchy (Brittany) Delany blabbering about it. She'll probably jump his bones in, oh, an hour from now." Marty interjected, laughing at her own humor. Ignoring the subject, I looked over at Ben. He had his Walkman headphones on one ear and was paying no attention to anyone around him.
"Hey Ben, how was your summer?" I ask, sticking my face directly in his. He jumps back a little.
"Eh, not bad, girl. Hung out, smoked a little, slept a lot, worked none. Oh, and I think I saw The Ramones, but it was probably on TV." Ben's burn-out lingo tapering off back into him singing along with the music on his cassette. Yeah, he had a good summer. Ben was your typical high school burn-out. Shaggy brown hair, hazy blue eyes, about my height and slouches over even when he's completely awake and alert. He hung out with Marty and I most of the time, but would transition a little into the burn out crowd when he felt the need to "escape". He lives with his older brother in an apartment above the oldest antique shop in Baltimore. His brother, we suspect, is also a junkie. Marty and I have never taken the initiative to find out for sure though. It just isn't all too appealing to get to know him. Because of that, it really is a miracle that Ben even made it to his senior year.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Marty asks. I shrug.
"I don't know. Are there any good, old movies playing at the Harbor?" My mind perks up a little when I remember the Harbor Theater. I would every weekend there in the summer with Marty and Ben. They played non-stop old movies from nine in the morning until midnight. You paid once and could go all day if you wanted, like in the old days.
"Yeah! I think Cleopatra and Easter Parade are playing tonight. Wanna go?" Marty asks enthusiastically. Ben nods in response. They both look at me. I give them both a narrow-eyed smirk.
"Well, no shit. I'm the one that suggested it."

Part Four >>