Robin, Boy Virgin: Original Series

On Wednesday morning, I woke up and wasn’t sure how to feel. I stared at the Pink Floyd prism, asking it for answers. On the one hand, Cora was still going with Brandon. Freaking DOUCHE puppy. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to pick this guy’s brain and ask him why the crap he thinks he’s good enough to be dating Cora.

But on the other hand, Cora is being a bit confusing with this whole thing, because she didn’t really seem to like Brandon that much. I mean, yesterday she’d hung out with me, we had cuddled and watched Empire Records, and then she talked about her dad. Does she do that with Brandon? I don’t know, actually. But my mind highly doubts it.

So I asked the prism for the strength to get me through the day and then I got out of bed. I dressed and went downstairs. Glenn wasn’t home, but there was a note on the kitchen table from him:

‘Kiddo, your mom called, she wants to have you spend the weekend with her. Call her back, and set it up. Don’t forget it’s her birthday on Saturday, so pick her up something nice at the mall this week. Have a good day at school. I’ll see you tonight! Love, dad.’

That is so like my dad to remember his ex-wife’s birthday and tell me to buy something nice for her. I guess that no matter what; she’ll always be the mother of his son so there has to be a little lingering nice feeling for her.

I went to school, trying to think of something my mother would like. I had no clue. Like nothing whatsoever. Classic male problem: I can’t think up good gifts, especially for my mom. The best I could come up with was, like, a new address book or flowers. I know, I know, I suck.

The school day started off shitty. I was walking through the parking lot and I saw Cora and Brandon walking together quite a ways ahead of me. Like, they weren’t holding hands or anything, but they were walking together. Part of me wanted Cora to turn around, notice me, and call me over and talk to me and show Brandon how much closer she and I are compared to her and him. But most of me just wanted to be left alone and spy on them.

The day got better, though, because after that brief walk together, Cora didn’t hang out with Brandon. She walked with me in the halls during class and we talked and kicked at garbage. At lunch she sat with our group. Minnie spent the lunch hour chatting with Clarissa while Cora and I ate Cora’s corn chips and drank a great deal of Coke. Harold was reading this book, it had a German title I can’t pronounce and Max just listened to Minnie and Clarissa talk.

Across the cafeteria, Brandon was sitting with his popular douche bag friends. I saw him look at Cora (and I wanted to gouge his eyes out) and he smiled secretively at her. She smiled back at him a little. Goddamn it. What the fuck? Like, seriously.

After lunch, Cora and I went to Music Composition. After only like five minutes of sitting and playing the guitar, I had to excuse myself to go to the men’s room. I drank, like, two and half cans of Coke at lunch so, my bladder was pretty much bursting.

Men’s washrooms, super quick:

1.) Don’t look at the other guys’ junk. Ever.

2.) If at all possible, use the urinal furthest away from the other people using a urinal.

3.) Don’t take too long looking at yourself in the mirror. Because that is, like, some kind of automatic excuse for other guys to call you gay. And, generally, you don’t want to be labelled something you’re not.

Luckily for me, no one else was in the washroom, so I took a leak in the exact middle urinal and spent a little time looking at my hair in the mirror when I was done. My hair is short and blonde and I can’t really do anything with it. But still, I can run my hands through the short bristles and pretend it makes a difference.

When I left the bathroom, though, my day got shitty again. Outside the washroom, a few of the douche bag popular guys (you know, Carlton, Travis, and Jake) were wandering aimlessly. Probably ducking out of shop class or whatever elective the popular douches take to waste time.

Ordinarily, they would have just ignored me. Even now, the virgin thing was calming down and they would have ignored me. Hell, once upon a time, before the Health Class downfall, they might have even nodded at me in a kind greeting or said ‘hey’ without the douche factor.

But, oh, how the times have changed.

“Sup Robin?” Carlton said.

“Nothing much,” I said casually, planning on just continuing walking. But they had more to say to me, apparently.

“What class do you have now?” Travis asked insistantly. I stopped walking away and had to turn and look at them. I shoved my hands in my pockets, hoping this would be as brief as possible.

“Music Comp,” I said. They know ‘Comp’ is short for ‘composition’ and not ‘computer’. At least, I hope they do, the dumbasses.

“Ohh. Isn’t what’s her face taking that?” Jake said, frowning at Carlton for conformation. He sounded so transparent. They all knew exactly who Cora was.

“Yeah. Brandon’s girl,” Carlton said. Ooohh those fuckers. I’m sure my face got quite tense, but I kept my hands firmly clenched in my pockets, keeping my stance as casual as possible.

“So being a musician doesn’t actually get ya laid huh?” Jake said, nodding at me. The other two burst into snickers.

“It could if I was the market for getting laid,” I answered. Oh please, musicians only have to play one A minor chord on their acoustic guitar and blink their eyes sleepily at a girl and they can get laid.

“So, still a virgin, then. Dude, that’s just fucking embarrassing,” Carlton told me, as if he was trying to give me awkward news I didn’t know. It made the other two practically snort with laughter.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t expect you to think any differently,” I muttered darkly at them, turning to leave. They are so immature, for real, huh?

“What’s that, Rob?” Carlton asked. Uh oh, I could hear the slightly more tense aggression in his voice, even though he was keeping up a casual air. I could smell a fight starting to brew. I’d have to tread carefully. I just gave them a stiff smile over my shoulder.

“Hey! Just in case!” I heard Jake call. I turned reflexively and he snapped a (thankfully clean) condom at my chest. I caught and just chucked it pointedly in the near by trash receptacle.

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Carlton called. I could hear he was getting impatient and my heart panicked once. I was fast losing any control I had over the situation and this was shaping up to a potential ass kicking.

I turned back to face them, though. I’m not totally yellow; I’m not going to, like, run away.

Although when they kind of circled around me, I wished that I had just booked it down the hall when I had had the chance.

“Here,” Travis said viciously and dug a string of wrapped condoms out of his pocket and draped it over my shoulder. I just kept an icy look on my face and tried to keep the emotions from escalating. But it was looking bad as they stared back at me, trying to calculate how best to get the situation up to ass kicking level. I could feel myself start to sweat.

“What’s goin’ on?” Someone interrupted.

We all turned to look as Brandon came strolling over, eating Doritos. Great, super: one more guy to help beat me up.

“Nothin’ man. Just chatting with Robin,” Carlton said, but his grin suggested they were hoping to destroy me.

“Oh, hey Robin,” Brandon said, nodding at me, casual as anything.

“Yeah, hey Robin,” Jake repeated and shoved his shoulder against my shoulder violently. Fuck! This was bad. I swallowed and my muscles tensed instinctively.

When guys get into fights or are about to, we kind of just revert back to total animal instincts. The attacked is backed up into a corner; the attackers use old school wolf pack circling tactics. Not much more talking goes on, just punching and spitting and pushing. Sometimes, we don’t have any reason at all to fight; we’re just super pissed about something and want to slam someone's, anyone’s head into a wall.

Unfortunately, my head was the one that was about to be slammed into a wall. Carlton grabbed my arm and I held fast, bracing my legs. I wouldn’t be a rag doll and just let myself get chucked into the lockers.

“Let’s go to class, guys. We’ll see you later, Robin,” Brandon said suddenly, cutting in between Carlton and me and breaking Carlton’s hold on me. Whoa, did douche puppy actually just save me from being pulverized? The other three seemed just as surprised.

“But-” Travis began. Brandon turned to me, looking conflicted. Then his face just relaxed and he smiled evilly at me. I raised an eyebrow at him, icy as fuck. We were the same height, so it was easy for us to standoff with facial expressions.

“Hey mind if I take those off your hands?” Brandon asked abruptly and took the condoms off my shoulder. “I might need these later,” He went on, making the other three guys laugh.

I inhaled sharply though my nose and raised my chin slightly. I didn’t even have to go through the mental process of picturing him and Cora together like that to feel the white-hot anger and protectiveness pump through me. Maybe this situation should get out of control. I would, actually, like to freaking pound on Brandon’s face just once.

“I mean, they’ll just expire and be useless if I leave 'em with you,” Brandon finished. His douche bag friends howled with laughter. Brandon turned and led his friends away, all of them chuckling. I wanted to spit. I wanted to run after him and tackle him to the ground and hurt him so bad that he’d be incapable of screwing anyone. But I didn’t do those things. I turned and walked to Music Comp.

It took Cora barely ten seconds to detect something was up.

“Are you alright? Bad washroom experience?” She asked. She was partly joking, partly serious. Since she didn’t know that my ass had almost been severely whooped.

“Kinda,” I muttered darkly. I didn’t really want to tell her about what happened, because real issues between guys are usually, you know, kind of kept on the down low between just us guys if we can help it. I mean, yeah, some guys (the douche bags) like an audience when they fight. But when you're having actual problems, you don't tell anybody. And also I didn’t want Cora to worry.

“What happened? Or… ew…?” Cora asked. She seemed very confused, torn between wanting me to tell her what happened and not wanting me to tell her if it was disgusting. Probably because she thought I had, like, diarrhea or something. Gross! I’d better set her straight, because that’s, that's gross.

“Some douche bags kind of corned me in the hall,” I said. Cora’s eyes flashed and she was fully concerned, now that she wasn’t going to hear about any digestive distress.

“Who?” She demanded.

“Travis, Carlton, Jake. Fuckers,” I muttered angrily. I picked up my guitar and settled it on my lap for comfort and security.

“What did they do?” Cora demanded, sounding protective. My heart pounded happily, even though my brain was still pissed.

“Nothin’. They were going to kick my ass, until douche puppy showed up,” I said with a shrug, being super nonchalant.

“… who?” Cora asked, thoroughly confused. Oh shit, did I just call Brandon 'douche puppy' out loud? I did! Aww jeez, Robin.

“Um, Brandon. He came and intervened,” I said. Cora blinked.

“Oh. Well. Good. I’m glad nothing happened to you then,” She said genuinely. “… see? Brandon’s not that bad. He’s not a… douche puppy,” She said, using my word and grinning beautifully at me. She is so beautiful it makes me sick. Oh, but she’s wrong about stupid Brandon.

“Yeah. He was nice, until he took the condoms the guys had thrown at me and bitched me out for being a virgin,” I said harshly. Oh, and he also implied that he was going to get in your pants in the near future. But I left that part out, because that would sound like I was reading too much into the situation. Even though it was totally true.

“… really?” Cora said angrily, her voice far away and calculating as she shifted her eyesight to look away from me. The damage was done. I didn’t need to mention Brandon’s cockiness about their relationship to piss Cora off and cast a bad light on him. Cora’s my friend: if stupid little douche puppy was mean to me that was enough to piss her off. And I’d feel the same way. If someone I felt kind of neutral about was mean to Cora (like, for example, Bonnie), I’d be right pissed off with him or her, too.

Cora looked at me again. Her eyes drive me crazy. How can that be?? Like, everyone has eyes, why is it only hers make me nuts?? I don’t understand that at all. She gave me a sympathetic smile and suddenly slid from her chair to sit sideways in my lap.

Yeah, shit, fuck, whoa.

She put her arms lightly around my shoulders and hugged me, resting her head on top of my head. I carefully put my arms around her waist. I wanted to crush her against my chest and never let her go. But that would have freaked her out, can you imagine? She’d probably punch me or something.

“People are awful. You are great. Don’t worry,” She promised me and squeezed my shoulder. Whatever you say, Cor. As long as you’re sitting on my legs, I’m good.

Wednesdays, hump days, are just weird days, huh? At least this one had ended quite nicely.