I Am as Vain as I Allow

Fourteen was an odd year for me. There's high school - where you just graduate to the next biggest building on campus - there are older, more daring girls, there are more prospects, more expectations.

I had prepared over the summer before freshman year to lose 20 pounds and get a wicked haircut. I always liked to make good first impressions. Needless to say, that didn't happen.

What I had actually done during the summer was sit in front of the piano, read endless amounts of books, sing, and spend too much time with my younger sister.

I changed a lot that school year. I got much taller, gained a bit of confidence, grew closer to my mom, and even started great friendships.

I met Greg Phillips that year.

Once a year Sacred Heart and the all-boy's Catholic high school in NYC would get together for a dance. It was on a Saturday night and though I didn't want to go, my mom told me it would be a valuable experience. I wasn't sure what she meant by valuable, but I went anyway.

I slipped on a pair of old jeans and a red- and white-striped sweater and didn't say a word as my dad drove me there.

He told me if any boys did anything stupid, I was to call him right away. I just rolled my eyes, knowing that would never happen in a million years.

My two closest girlfriends, Amelia and Jennie, had totally bailed on me, so I was all alone. He dropped me off at this nice hotel downtown where they were holding the dance and drove off before I could even say goodbye.

Entering the venue was mortifying. Obviously, no one had told me this was semi-formal dress. All the girls were wearing short-cut cocktail dresses and stilettos, their makeup making them look like perfect clowns, and all the boys were wearing suit pants and nice dress shirts.

I could tell my face turned a thousand shades of red, but I went in anyway, hoping I could find someone, anyone I could talk to and make a joke of it. Good, Stef, pretend like you planned it.

As soon as I walked in, Georgette Smithson, the daughter of this very well-to-do, snickered and called to me from in front of her huge group of friends. "Nice dress, Germanotta."

"Thanks," I replied sheepishly.

I instantly went to find a seat in the back and began to people-watch. People-watching is one of my favorite things to do, it always gives me inspiration.

The first song began to play - "Let Me Blow Ya Mind," the hit of the summer - and instantly the famous grind-line appeared. I saw way too many asses thanks to extremely short dresses that night. Hello Catholic school.

Since I already knew most of the girls and already knew them to be sluts, I switched my focus to the guys. There were guys grinding with girls, guys talking to girls, guys making out with girls in the corner, and guys hanging out by themselves doing stupid shit that guys do.

I sighed, whatever hope I had within me that I'd find someone to talk to crushed. I knew I couldn't just call my dad to pick me up, he was probably out drinking. Though I was mad at myself for not bringing a book with me. That would have made the whole thing easy to get through.

And then Bootylicious came on, every girl's proclaimed 'favorite song.' I swear people were fucking on the dance floor.

I retreated to the bathroom for a few minutes just to get away from it, but was horrified to see two girls making out in a corner and a group of four girls smoking marijuana cigarettes in the other corner.

Thankfully, there was one unoccupied stall. I covered my ears and felt a tear escape me. I was kind of glad no one was paying me any attention at that point in my life, because I in no way wanted to be sucked in that.

Sitting that bathroom stall listening to "Ride Wit Me" and "Lady Marmalade" blaring from the next room made me realize for the first time what a hypocracy the Catholic church was.

It almost felt like God was hearing my thoughts because the next few songs lifted my spirits. "Jaded" and "Drops of Jupiter" and "Don't Tell Me" by Madonna.

By the time I finally left the stall and got a few glares for staying in there so long from the marijuana girls, they were playing "Pop" by Nsync. Feeling excited and ready to dance, I practically ran out into the dance hall only to find that mostly everyone was sitting and booing.

I was probably the only freshman there. The older kids didn't like Nsync because even though they themselves had listened to them while growing up, they thought their music was babyish. Whatever, I still thought it was genious. They were quality pop.

Figuring I couldn't dance alone without getting made fun of, I danced inside my mind and happily walked over to the punch bowl. There were a few people around, most of them boys and all of them whom I didn't know.

"Hey, nice dress," a boy's voice said and I looked up from the punch bowl to see a tall boy with light brown hair and almost surreal green eyes looking at me. His remark didn't seem offensive, it actually seemed like a compliment.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Yep. Hey what's your name?"

I was afraid he was hitting on me. He seemed to be at least a year or two older than me. I looked to my right and to my left and all I could see were sexually-frustrated teens making out. Oh no.

"Stefani," I replied and took a sip of my punch. It was digusting, but I swallowed it anyway.

"I'm Greg," he said and smiled and took a sip of the punch, almost instantly spitting it back in his cup. "Oh my God this is disgusting."

"It tastes like cat piss," I said and happily threw my cup in the trash.

He laughed. "But you drank it anyway?"

"Yeah. I thought you'd think I was weird if just spit it back out but then you did it yourself," I explained.

He just smiled at me. "Are you a freshman?"

I nodded. "Why, do I seem like one?"

"Yeah," he laughed.

I frowned.

"Oh, I don't mind freshmen, it's just that usually no freshmen come to this thing," he looked around with a disgusted look on his face. "Probably just to have one more year of innocence. I didn't go last year."

So he was only a year older?

"This dance is supposedly supposed to be a faith-filled night with tasteful songs where were can just hang out as boys and girls, not fuck on the dance floor," I let out, happy to have someone to finally talk to.

He laughed again. "You're funny. Gender limiting at schools makes Catholic boys and girls even hornier," he sighed. "It's a proven fact."

"Says who?"

"Me. I'm a bit of a people-watcher myself. This is just what high-schoolers do," he explained.

"I'm a people-watcher too!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah I know. You were sitting alone for the first twenty minutes of the dance. I was going to come and sit next to you but then you ran off to the bathroom. You aren't friends with the Mary Joanna's are you?" he snickered.

I obviously must have looked confused.

"Marijuana. There's always someone smoking in the bathroom. Kids usually only limit themselves to regular cigarettes at school. We're really not as holy as we seem."

"Tell me about it," I responded sadly. Something was obviously wrong with the world. I wondered how public high school kids acted then. Probably better than we did..

I spent the last half hour of the dance people-watching with my new friend Greg. At the end of the dance he gave me his screenname and I excitedly left the venue.

I sat outside for a half hour, knowing I told my dad when and where to pick me up, but he didn't come. I didn't bother calling because I knew if I asked him to pick me up he'd yell at me drunkenly.

So I took the Subway all the way home. I usually hated being on the Subway alone at night, but meeting Greg had somehow brightened my day.