Robin, Boy Virgin: Original Series

Ahh Thursdays:

1.) They are not Mondays, Tuesdays, or Wednesdays

2.) No more Jazz band practices that week. Thank you, sweet Jesus

3.) There were two more days left of school before the weekend. And that can go one of two ways

- a - If you're having a good week at school (and if you are, please contact me, I want to meet one of your odd species) then you'll have Thursday and Friday to still be at school

- b - if you're having a shitty week at school (like a normal person, you 'i-like-school' weirdos) then you just have Thursday and Friday to get through.

Me, personally, I am a category B personality.

I stared at Pink Floyd's prism, going over the plan and how I devised it. Yesterday at the record store I'd picked up this Lionel Richie cassette (it was like a dollar and I couldn't pass it up) and a Juelz Santana CD. He's the "there it go" whistle blowing song guy. I don't know why I bought the CD. I'm not really a rap/hip hop kinda guy... but I wasn't going to be prejudiced. Who was I to freaking judge? I listen to French Indie chicks and I don't speak French.

Anyway, while I was purchasing these items, I regained my energy at the record store and came up with this brilliant plan: today, I would not bring up yesterday to anyone. I was going to play it cool, if for just one time in my remarkably un-cool life.

While I got ready for school, I listened to the Juelz Santana CD. To my surprise, the album flowed pretty well and I actually really liked a few of the songs. Just another thing I couldn't mention today: see, white boy virgins like myself are not allowed to listen to this kind of music. We'll get ostracized from our emo/indie rock community and then laughed at by the hip hop/rap group. To balance out my breaking of teenage codes of conduct, I listened to experimental music on the way to school.

I ended up having to walk by Erica, Leslie, Jenni, and Amanda on the way to Music Composition. I could feel my skin prickle with revulsion from their shining, popular bodies. When Erica saw me walk past, she widened her eyes and tugged her sweater shut, as if she was scared I was going to rape her. Leslie and Jenni started giggling and Amanda pinched Erica for being so blatantly mean. Another teenage code of conduct: all mean actions must be carried out subtly and destructively. I just closed my eyes and hurried by them, trying to ignore the pounding embarrassment in my ears.

I sighed, relieved, when I was safe in the band room. I walked over to the little practice room and opened the door.

To my unpleasant surprise Cora was already there. Damn, I'd been banking on some time to be alone and steel myself for when she showed up!

Cora was flopped over on the narrow desk, her head in one arm and her other arm curled around that. In the outer free hand she was holding a travelling coffee mug. The coffee must have been a fail because Cora just barely opened her eyes when I came in.

"Hi," I said and immediately looked at the ground when those hard, but sleepy blue eyes were looking at me. Shit, I wasn't following my plan.

"Morning," Cora said, yawning. I glanced up at her as she straightened up and lounged back in her chair. She took a drink from her mug and then rested it on her angled stomach. I stared at her and when I didn't move to sit down, Cora slid her sleepy eyes over to look at me.

"Are you ok?" We asked each other at the same time, Cora with a comically tired air, and me with a blurting-things-out-like-dumbass air.

"Yeah," I responded when Cora said "Tired." She started laughing at the unison then and it turned into a yawn. I watched her yawn, still not sitting down.

"What are you listening to?" She asked me when she was finished her yawn. Oh, I forgot I still had my music on in my ears.

I paused and then decided to try and get back on track with the "I'm cool can't you tell??" plan. I smiled at Cora and sat down in my chair at the computer. I plugged in my iPod to the Mac and clicked on the song I was listening to.

The violins slowly stared and the soft electronic beat hinted at a soundtrack feel. I heard Cora's chair scrape behind me. Suddenly, Cora's elbow was on my shoulder and she was resting her head in the crook of her elbow, aka, resting her head right next to mine. Oh for Christ's- her hair smelled like fresh shampoo and it tickled my cheek. Her breath smelled like spearmint gum. And her dark lips were like inches from mine. If she turned her head to face me and I turned my head to face her, we'd be kissing.

Our lips would be touching I mean. It's not the same thing. Kisses need puckering and movement and intentions. And how did her breath smell like spearmint even though she'd been drinking coffee? Shut up, Robin's brain. Shut up.

When the band started to sing in Swedish, Cora slapped my shoulder lightly with the hand that was dangling from the arm that was leaning on my shoulder.

"This is awesome. What and who is it?" She asked me. How do you not have coffee breath? I insisted in my head.

"Um, Staralfur by Sigur Ros," I said.

"That's not English they're singing. What is it, Swedish?" Cora asked. Are you a mutant? How can you have sexy, kissable breath when you've been chugging down coffee? I demanded, furious at the unfairness. Oh and scratch the kissable part. Cora is not kissable. That's not in my plan.

"I think so. Well, actually I think they're brilliant enough to have come up with their own language," I said. I managed to say that, because of a list I made awhile ago concerning Sigur Ros and why I liked them.

Cora laughed at my comment about their language. Her fresh, alluring breath breezed lightly by me and I felt her hair shake against my cheek when she laughed.

"Sigur Ros? How do you spell that, Boy Wonder?" Cora asked me sleepily, tilting her head so that her head was properly touching my cheek. This was a casual, friendly encounter. Cora felt comfortable with me. Don't freak out, Robin.

"What are you drinking, Cora??" I asked her because it was driving me crazy. I said DON'T freak out. I never listen to myself.

"Peppermint tea," She answered, swirling her mug around. Not a mutant, thank god.

"Oh," I said, relieved. Cora turned her head to look at me, resting her chin on her arm. My reflex action was to turn my head too... but I only moved a fraction when I remembered the lips touching not kissing thing.

"Um. S-I-G-U-R space R-O-S," I replied, my eyes darting into their corners to look at Cora. She turned her head back to face the computer and rested her head on her arm again, the top of her head touching my cheek.

"Hm," She hummed sleepily. I hate it when she hums. She took a sip of her drink and I moved on to another song in my iTunes.

At lunch, I was sitting at the usual table by myself, waiting for Harold and possibly Max and Clarissa to show up. It used to be us three: Harold, Max, and me that always ate lunch together since we didn't have girls to go eat or make out with during the lunch hour. But now that Max has Clarissa, I don't count on him to eat lunch with Harold and I. But I understand: there were quite a few lunch hours that April and I ditched, and Harold understands because he's always insufferably understanding of everything.

So, I was sitting there, eating a bag of ruffle chips, when I heard someone approaching the table. I looked up and saw Clarissa.

"Oh, uh hey. Where's Max?" She asked me. Shouldn't you be the one who knows that, bra?

"I don't know," I answered. I watched her as she tried to decide if she should sit down or not. Eventually, she sat down delicately at the other end on the other side of the table from me. I frowned at her. I mean, yeah Clarissa is Max's girlfriend, but, like, she and I get along ok. I don't know why she was avoiding- oh fuckin hell.

"Clarissa?" I staged whispered. Clarissa looked at me, her eyes a little fearful.

"I'm not gonna hit on you. I didn't beg Amanda to have sex with me," I explained to her impatiently. "Why would anyone want to do that?" I tacked on at the end, trying to see if I could get her to laugh. She smiled a little.

"No, I know, Robin. I don't believe in gossip," She said. What a liar. Her attitude totally changed after I told her the truth and she even moved a little closer to me on the other side of the table and engaged me in regular conversation about classes and music. Clarissa is ok, but it's people like her that really piss me off. She might not start rumours, but she keeps them going, which is just as freaking bad.

At least, though, Clarissa believed me when I told her that I wasn't going to hit on her. That was nice. My friendship with Max would probably suffer if he thought I was going to rape his girlfriend.

"Hey," Max showed up, sitting down as close as possible to Clarissa and kissing her. Max and Clarissa kind of look alike: they are both skinny and kind of small with dark hair. Max is Jewish, but he didn't go to the Jewish School, he went to Oak Street with me. He and I were friends pretty much all through elementary school. When we started high school, he met Harold first and then introduced me to Harold and we all got along, so we stayed friends. Harold and I have pretty much been close friends since we first met each other, overriding my extended friendship with Max.

"Hey," Harold greeted, sitting down at his usual spot across from me. I know they didn't mean to do it, but the layout of everyone sitting across from me and not next to me probably looked really bad. Max and Clarissa wouldn't notice, they only really notice each other, and Harold is somehow totally blind to little nit-picky social things like that.

I stuffed a large ripple chip in my mouth and looked around the rest of the cafeteria. For the hell of it, I racked up a list in my mind for why I didn't like cafeterias:

1.) All the foods mixing together kind of leave a subtle, nauseating aroma.

2.) I feel like the layout of this cafeteria is like one big classroom: you're supposed to sit in the chairs and face either one way or the other, and people will look at you like you're a freaking psycho if you do something like sit on the ground.

and

3.) If you're new to a school that boasts a cafeteria, it's pure Hell trying to find a spot to sit.

Like, right now, I was looking at Cora and she was standing near the doors of the cafeteria and looking around for a place to sit. Cora, being the unfairly confident and good-looking girl that she is, had had an easy time the first couple of days with the cafeteria conundrums. She'd been accepted at the photography kids table: popularity speaking, just a few notches below Erica and the other bitches and bastards.

But today, their table was full and they weren't even looking at Cora. I couldn't understand it, how could anyone just ignore Cora? I mean, I understand when people ignore someone like me: I'm totally interchangeable with all the other music geeks out there. But hardly anyone is as coolly confident as Cora.

I must have felt really bad for her while she stood there, trying to find a place to fit in, under immense pressure to find it within thirty seconds, because I was complimenting her in my head. While I'm at it, I like her sneakers and hair-wise she's found a good balance between curly and wavy. So since a) I felt bad for her, b) she is pretty cool, and c) I like her shoes, I raised my hand to get her attention.

"Cora," I called out quickly so as not to attract too much attention. I noticed at that moment that Harold was also gesturing at her for her to come and sit with us. Harold and I looked at each other as Cora made her way across the cafeteria to our table.

"She's cool," Harold told me honestly.

"I felt bad for her," I said. Harold gave me a look, since I sounded like a total jack ass. I of all people have no right to feel bad for anyone, especially not for Cora, with her confidence and her good hair and shoes and everything.

"Mhm, Whatever," Harold hummed at me peacefully. Fuck him, I don't like Cora!

She sat down next to me as I was still glaring at Harold.

"Hey," She greeted everyone.

"You guys this is-" Harold and I started to say to Max and Clarissa at the same time, but we stopped. Harold closed his mouth and just nodded at me.

"Guys this is Cora. Cora this is Max and Clarissa," I introduced in a rush, trying to decide whether Harold had let me do that because I know Cora better or because he thinks I have a stupid crush on her.

"Welcome to Hellschool," Max said oh-so-cleverly. Clarissa giggled at him and waved at Cora, but didn't say anything to her. Female to female relationships confuse the fuck out of me. Like, apparently, you can be legit friends, or you can be sort of friends but not really, or you can pretend to be friends but in actuality are enemies, or you can just plain be enemies, or you can see other girls as competition for anything and everything, and so on and so on.

You see what I'm saying? Girls, what the hell is up with you?

I looked at Cora, trying to figure out how she felt about Clarissa. I had this feeling that Cora would refreshingly not carry the same kind of neurotic baggage that other girls did. Cora looked at me and her unforced, calm expression lead me to believe that I was right. Cora and I looked at each other for just a moment and in that brief period, something passed between us. The question about whether or not we were friends yet was gone: I knew then that Cora was my friend and that I was her friend.

Somehow, I didn't know any of this before, but now I did. I wouldn't have been surprised if Cora sat with me... I mean all of us... for rest of our days in the cafeteria. My one move of sympathy that reciprocated the several that Cora had shown me had made us friends.

Cool. Friends are good. Friends fit into my plan. I hadn't been hoping for any new friends to crop up since the Health Class fiasco, and in fact expected to lose one or two (the fact that Max and Clarissa still hung around was a testament to mine and Max's long friendship). So, it was nice to know that Cora and I were friends.

At least, we were friends in my head.