The Fast Times

His heart was hammering a hole through the bones of his ribcage the rhythm was the same as the drum beats playing on the speakers of the school gymnasium. Across the dance floor was Nancy Durden, standing there in a black dress, fitting perfectly out of an Addams’ Family movie. To him, she was the real life Wednesday Addams, minus the deep brooding murderous plots of revenge. Nancy wasn’t like that, he knew. Nancy was different, but she wasn’t the kind of different people labeled him as.

Pete was the weird kid who was dark. He had, had dreads, wore baggy clothes with anagrams and “satanic” imagery on them. He was teased and called names; bullied for being different and occasionally for being a bi-racial child. He hid behind music, books, art; anything that kept him away from anything having to do with being put forward. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from becoming noticed.

He played soccer; he was good enough to get scholarships, if he worked hard enough. He was popular in the local hardcore; he was in a bunch of different bands, despite the fact he couldn’t sing or play an instrument. Nothing really stopped Pete, but Pete…and his thoughts.

The single thing on this 17 year old boy’s mind, as of late, was Nancy Durden. Nancy was this short girl with long legs; short brown hair, thick eye brows that Pete admired. She had a nose ring, a little diamond stud, a belly button ring that her parents allegedly had no clue was there, and she had a funny laugh that sent shivers down boys’ spines. No matter how different she looked, everyone liked her; she was pretty, popular and nice. She was smart too; Pete had seen her tutoring other kids, kids like him who had no plans to ever really pay attention in class; though, Pete got by, by getting the soccer team off the ground, the teachers gave him a break.

Pete wracked his brain trying to come up with something clever to say when Nancy came around. He had two periods with her, and lunch; he had several chances of talking to her, but came up short. Pete was more than tongue tied when Nancy came around; he wrote little speeches and comments, clever little things he couldn’t say, but thought frequently as she passed by him.

They shared AP Art History; Nancy sat in the last, fourth row, behind Chip Armstrong, the star quarterback who was smart, handsome and an everlasting pain in the ass. Pete hated Chip; he had dated Nancy once; he had seen them share a kiss and a dance at some party Pete managed to sneak into, when he wasn’t invited. He was there for the hell of it, not having anything better to do than to drink and crash some rich asshole’s pre-Halloween party; that’s when he saw his crush Nancy. Back then, Nancy hadn’t been on his radar, for the simple fact she had been really popular and was dating chip, but he did have a crush on her; what boy didn’t at New Trier? Now that they were broken up, and Nancy had started to wear glasses instead of contacts, and she had this black cloud hung over her, Pete found her very appealing and attractive.

It was all over the news that her parents had died in a car accident on Lake Shore Drive; caused a huge pile up. That’s when Nancy became quiet, withdrawn and dark; she moved into her grandmother’s house near Rogers Park and commuted to New Trier on the bus. Her friends still hung out with her, but you could see the friendships she had were slowly falling apart. It was like death truly made Nancy do a 180.

Pete often had dreams of mending her heart and falling in love with her. He longed to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. He had barbaric wet dreams about taking her caveman style in front of every girl he met before her just to show them up. But, Nancy didn’t know he existed; Pete was sure she knew his name, not his face and he prayed to whoever would listen that she would, one day. Now, as she swayed to Just Like Heaven by the Cure, he forced the courage out to say “hi” or even accidentally bump into her, getting punch, just to know that he talked to her.

He swallowed the growing lump, chugged his red punch, shake his dirty dreads back and started over. Nancy swayed alone, her friends all falling into their boyfriends’ arms to dance. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Chip watching Nancy, chugging his own paper cup full of sugary red punch, wanting to go over and get another lame chance. Pete forced his courage to emerge, to beat Chip; he bee-lined it to Nancy, who sipped her punch, and stood beside her.

Nancy looked at him, catching sight of his hazel eyes behind a dreadlock hanging over his eye brow; “I know you,” she said, “You play soccer, right?”

Pete almost threw up. ‘She knows me!' he screamed into his head. He swallowed, “Y-yeah, I do.”

Nancy swallowed the rest of her punch, grimacing at the amount of sugar coating her mouth, “I’m Nancy. You’re…?”

Pete blinked, “P-Pete!” he exclaimed nervously. Nancy giggled at his flushed face; his cheeks began to burn, “Sorry, I’m Pete. Just Pete.”

Nancy smiled at his shyness; she stuck her hand out, “It’s nice to meet you, Pete.”

Pete’s hand, fingers wrapped around her palm; he didn’t know it, but that jolt of courage to stand next to the girl of his teenage dreams would turn out to be something he hadn’t ever dreamt of.