Robin, Boy Virgin: Original Series

I woke up the next morning. Tuesday is better than Monday because:

1.) Duh, it's not freaking Monday.

2.) No Jazz band.

3.) No Linda and no awful and awkward dinner. Well, Linda could potentially come over, but she and dad would probably go out for dinner.

But Tuesdays do suck because:

1.) It's still near the beginning of the school week.

2.) I start the day off with Music Composition. While it puts me in a pretty good mood, I have nothing to really look forward to for the rest of the day and that sucks.

And I guess I would still be suffering the whole being-a-virgin thing today. But that issue isn't day specific. It's, sigh, on-going.

I got dressed and walked to school. I took a slightly different route, entering the school from a side entrance. I successfully dodged the popular girls and even the popular boys. Maybe they were all busy doing those unknown popular kid things. Smoking weed? Getting Egg McMuffins? Who knows.

I opened my locker, though, and new condoms spilled out. I was tempted to kick the prophylactics down the hall. That would be kind of funny, to watch the other people skirt around condom litter.

"Trojan condoms? You should invest in some polyurethane condoms, in case a potential sexual partner is allergic to latex," Minnie said, appearing next to me like a ghost.

I startled a little, but responded, "they're not mine. I mean, they were in my locker, but some assholes stuck them in there". I sighed, starting to collect the condoms from the floor.

"Could I have couple?" she asked.

I looked at her, surprised. "Sure. Knock yourself out," I said happily and gave her all of the ground condoms.

"Thank you," she said, looking them over for punctures and starting to walk away.

"Wait," I said. Minnie turned around. I dug out the rest of my condom stash from the back of my locker. I handed them to Minnie. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Robin."

"Hey, no problem. Anything to help keep sex safe.... for you," I wanted to swallow my fist just then, but Minnie ignored my awkwardness.

"Good bye," she said, turned, and walked away.

I selected my Music Composition binder and then closed my locker. I walked toward class and I could hear people talking about me as I passed. I was beginning to wonder if this gossip was just about me being a virgin or if the story had advanced. Maybe I had an uncle who had molested me (didn't happen) or no penis (I do have one).

I ducked into class and made a bee line for the practice room. I closed the door behind me and dropped my binder on the narrow desk and picked up the guitar. I sat down in my chair and strummed the guitar strings. The instrument was reasonably in tune. I started picking out the song I've been playing at home. As I was getting into it, the door opened.

Long slim legs slid into the room, closing the door behind them. My stomach clenched a little. Cora hadn't been mean to me, per se, no more mean than anyone else, and in contrast had been remarkably supportive of my situation. But she still made me nervous.

"Hey Boy Wonder," she greeted me. I looked up automatically and then looked back down at the guitar, playing it quietly. I grunted my greeting, displeased with the nick name.

"How are you this morning?" she asked.

"Ok I guess. It's Tuesday."

"An improvement over Monday," she said. Nice, she and I were on the same page. Cora sat down in her chair... I mean the spare chair... oh alright it can be her chair. She crossed her legs and leaned back, resting her arm on the back of the chair.

"Exactly," I agreed to the Monday versus Tuesday statement.

Cora was quiet for a moment. She was totally comfortable with the silence and with every soundless second that passed made me more and more uncomfortable.

"... how are you? This morning?" I asked in return.

"I'm okay. Hungry. I was running a little behind this morning so I didn't have any breakfast."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," I muttered, picking out my composition on the guitar.

"That's what they say," she said and I could hear the crooked smile in her voice. "What did you have for breakfast?" she asked curiously.

"I didn't have any breakfast," I admitted.

"There are a few minutes before the bell. You could go to the vending machine," she suggested.

"I don't think so." I chuckled, not remotely amused. "I'd rather not expose myself to the gossip any more than I need to."

"Well, I'd rather you didn't expose yourself either," she said. When I looked at her face her blue eyes shone, and her smile was wide and mercilessly teasing. I gave her an unconvincing glare.

"Oh come on. I'll go with you," Cora said, as if her presence would make things better. Okay, what are is more likely to stir up conversation: a single leper or a pair of lepers walking around together?

"I don't eat breakfast," I said. The bell rang, wonderfully muffled outside our mostly sound proof practice room.

"You just said it's the most important meal of the day!"

"It is important. It's just a practice I don't partake in," I said cryptically, playing some minor chords loudly.

"Another one, huh?"

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and put the guitar down. "Okay fine. Let's go," I relented.

Cora grinned and stood up. She opened the door for us, but then blocked the doorway. "Are you one of those guys who don't drink coffee because you think it reduces your sperm count?" she demanded, dropping her raspy voice to a mocking, serious tone.

"No," I said frostily. She grinned and it made me sweat.

"Just checking," she said and then turned and walked over to Mr. Giraldi. I paused and then shuffled after her reluctantly.

A minute later, we were out in the mostly empty hall. Although it was nearly time for the bell, we'd been permitted to go get food anyway. Mr. Giraldi is very chill like that. Cora stood in front of the vending machine, contemplating her choices. I opened my can of Coke.

"That's all you're having for breakfast?" she asked.

"It's got caffeine in it," I said, leaning against the wall next to the vending machine. I took a sip.
Cora focused on the vending machine again. "Corn chips," She decided and pressed the appropriate code into the vending machine. I looked at Cora while she waited for the vending machine to spit out her food, watching the machine carefully. She crossed her arms and tapped her slender fingers against her arms.

Erica took me by surprise. All she did was walk; she didn't say a damn thing. But as she walked by, she looked at Cora and me, looking at her at the vending machine and then looking at me watching her. She even kept looking over her shoulder after she passed by, fully observing us. I watched all this, feeling nervous, but keeping eye contact from behind my coke can.

Cora looked over at Erica when she felt the disturbance in our force, realizing the other girl's presence a beat too late. The two girls locked eyes for only a moment before Erica looked forward and continued walking down the halls. She took her cell phone out from her purse.

"That girl just gave us the once over, didn't she?" Cora said, picking up her corn chips from the bin at the bottom of the vending machine.

"I dunno," I said. I wasn't sure what she meant exactly by the 'once over'.

"Who is she?" she asked. She opened her corn chip bag and picked out a chip.

"Evil," I said.

Cora started walking slowly down the hall and I trailed after her, drinking my coke. "That's what she is, or might be, not who she is. Unless her name is 'Evil'," Cora said, giggling at her own joke.

I burped in my throat, trying to keep quiet, and it stung my vocal chords. "Her name is Erica. And what she is, is popular and evil," I said.

Cora looked over her shoulder at me.

"She's part of the duo that started the "Robin's a virgin and we all care" thing," I explained.

"Definitely evil," she assured me. She looked forward again and kept walking at a snail's pace. I sucked back more Coke.

"You want a corn chip?" she offered me, holding up the bag. I hesitated and then took one. "You can have more than one, you know," she said. I crunched on my solitary corn chip and then drank my pop. "Whoop," Cora muttered, accidentally spilling a couple of corn chips on the ground.

When we reached the band room, I scooted a couple of steps ahead of Cora and opened the door. I held it open for her.

"I'm not gonna sleep with you," she told me in response to my gesture.

"You seemed to have your hands full with the corn chips," I managed the sarcastic remark. Cora snorted and started laughing. When she had walked in and was in front of me again, I permitted myself a smile.

We walked back into the practice room. Cora put her chips on top of the piano and pulled her chair up to the piano. She began pressing the E key above middle C over and over. I sat down in my chair, putting the Coke can on the desk, and then I picked up the guitar.

"... can I ask you a question?" I asked.

She sighed and turned to me. "Okay, look, as long as you don't freak out, a girl can't tell if you've never had sex before. Just don't come too quickly."

"How do you know about that?" I demanded, stunned she had known about the specifics of that question.

Cora looked at me and took a breath to say something. "Never mind. Don't, don't tell me. That wasn't my question," I interrupted her.

She smiled, making me sweaty again. "K, go ahead," she invited, turning back to the piano.

"Why are you taking a Music Composition course?" I asked. She answered my question by rapping off a quick, intricate arpeggio, crossing her left hand over her right as she scaled up the piano.

"Oh. Wow," I said.

She smiled and took her hands off the keyboard. "My dad plays the keyboard for a band in Pasadena. It's just a house band at this café for aging hipsters, but they're pretty good. My dad taught me how to play," she said. She plucked a corn chip from the bag.

"Cool," I said.

"Your dad teach you to play the guitar? You have a dad right? You weren't hatched in lab somewhere, were you?"

"No, yes, no," I said.

Cora smirked. "So what's your dad like, then?" she asked, munching on her corn chips.

"Um, really happy, I guess." How else would you describe my dad?

"Really?" she hummed. Then he dropped her hands to her legs and looked up at the ceiling. "Ohhhh. I get it. Gay parents. You were adopted," she said as though she had had an epiphany. I stared at her, a frown on my face.

"N-no. No. My dad is straight. I have a mother. My dad and my mom are my biological parents. They just don't live together, hence my dad's happiness," I said, shaking my head.

Cora looked at me. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to push you to talk about that."

"Yeah you did," I disagreed immaturely. "But that's okay. And no, FYI, my mom is not a lesbian," I said. Cora smiled and turned back to the piano. She played a high G.

"At least, I don't think. I actually have no idea." I said, frowning. It was a possibility: I mean, as far as I knew she hadn't seen any men since she and my dad split up. But I mean, also, why would she talk to her teenage son about that? I guess... she could... but that wasn't really my mom's way... was my mom a lesbian, though? Was that why she had split up from my dad? Huh. I guess, maybe. But also maybe none of my business. Hm.

Cora just snickered and ate her corn chips while I pondered this all over.