Walking Naked

1 I am responsible for a great many things, but being put on detention for talking in history was not my fault (not technically, anyway). On that Monday, I was not nearly so interested in history as in Candice Perkins's story about what happened at Michael Sorrell's party on Saturday night. Parties and dating were not usually my thing--that was Candice's domain--but there had been an arrest, and that piqued my interest. Candice and Michael had been going out for about three months. They talked on the phone a couple of times a week and kissed at school socials, but that was about it. The exciting thing that happened at Michael Sorrell's party (which was, technically, Michael's older brother's party) was that the police caught two of the Year 12 boys doing a nudey run. "There were about six of them but only two of them got busted," explained Candice. "The others ran down the lane and hid behind the scout hall. One of them, Jacob--do you know Jacob?--he's over eighteen and might go to court. Can you believe it?" I thought Candice seemed pleased with herself--it was quite a coup to be invited to a party with the Year 12s. Candice and I had been best friends since kindergarten. We had all sorts of stupid sayings that had become ritual between us. We always said "Like, oh, yar, I know, totally," in a Valley girl voice. Candice and I were the founders of "the group." I was the brains, she was the beauty, and in Year 4 we had begun to hang out with Jessica Chou as well. Jessica was pretty and smart, but not enough of either for Candice or me to feel threatened. It wasn't until Year 6 that we started recruiting in earnest, but I'll get to that. On this particular day, our history teacher, Ms. Sloan, had asked us to be quiet more than once (I strongly suspected that Ms. Sloan was hypoglycemic, because lessons after lunch went much more smoothly than lessons before) and so we were, technically, being quiet. Of course, what Ms. Sloan meant was "be silent"--and if she had been clear on that point, then I might not have ended up in detention. Candice and I were whispering quietly when Ms. Sloan said, "Right! That's it! Out!" I'd never been sent out in my life. Candice had--mostly for talking. I politely slid in my chair so that Candice could leave. Ms. Sloan found this gesture somewhat provocative. "Both of you!" "What, me?" "Yes, you!" I wasn't familiar with thrown-out-of-class protocol. "Do I take my bag? Or will it just be for a short time? Where do we go? Do we just stand outside the door? Or is it sort of like an early mark?" I wasn't being difficult, I swear. I was just trying to establish the procedure. "Out! Out! Out!" A moment later Candice and I were out in the hall. "So you reckon Jacob is going to court?" I asked. "I know, can you believe it? Michael said that all of the Year Twelve boys that are seventeen are going to hold a Grand Nudey Run in protest. When they get busted they can't get a record. I mean, it's just ridiculous." "Ridiculous," I agreed. It didn't occur to me at the time that Candice and I might not have meant the same thing. A movement at the end of the hallway caught my attention. I turned my head and saw Perdita Wiguiggan crossing the hallway. She was scooting along with her head down and a stack of books pressed against her chest. I made the sign of the cross. Candice did the same and said, "Freak," loudly enough for Perdita to hear, but not loudly enough to draw attention to us. Every school has one. They are ugly or fat. They have scars or acne or birthmarks. Or maybe it's just something about them that doesn't quite fit with our cherry-lipgloss, video-hits view of how teenagers sBrugman, Alyssa is the author of 'Walking Naked', published 2004 under ISBN 9780385731157 and ISBN 0385731159.