Highschool Confidential

Though we have, like Elvis, left the building, we never really leave highschool until we get married and start procreating. That's when we become grownups, not one hour sooner.

Until then, we remain social teenagers.

Like we're still in highschool.

Take the other night at karaoke, for example. Please.

My karaoke buddy, Sparky, caused grievous insult upon my person by singing a karaoke duet with Punky Nerdster, when he and I had discussed singing that very song together not two hours before. Then he compounded the insult to what may be unforgivable levels by not even realizing that he had insulted me. Apparently, to him, our earlier conversation, the words of which were barely dry, had been of so little importance he didn't even remember participating in it.

So I'm never speaking to him again.

When they got up to sing and I realized they were doing Come What May, I thought maybe she had cajoled him into it. See, the girl in question — who, by the way, is nineteen years old, wears a dog collar around her neck, nerdy-cool glasses, and her hair in braids — has a crush on Mo, my other karaoke buddy. He and I had done I Got You Babe earlier. I thought maybe she wanted to get back at him by singing with Sparky, which I could totally understand.

(In case you're thinking, Gentle Reader, that perhaps it is Sparky who has a crush on Punky Nerdster, I can assure you that isn't it. Sparky has a girlfriend, and it seems quite serious between them, though she rarely comes to karaoke.)

There are unspoken, but understood, rules of karaoke etiquette. You don't do someone else's signature song. You don't even do a song by someone else's signature band, unless you ask them first. When it's Lana's birthday, she gets to sing twice as much and you don't do any of the songs that she wants to sing.

And if you tell a girl you're going to sing Come What May with her, you don't go singing it with a different girl.

When Sparky and Punky were finished singing I sent Mo to tell Sparky that I hate him and am never going to speak to him again. Then Mo and I went out behind the bleachers for a smoke.

It gets worse.

So Mo and I are out having a cig and he says, "You're really mad, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I really am. I mean, it was about two weeks ago when Sparky and I first discussed the possibility of doing Come What May. We thought that, with some practice, we could do a passable job. At least as well as Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman, you know? It's a challenging song, and you know how Sparky loves to learn a challenging song. And there are so few duets on the song list."

"Well, there's Fairytale of New York." Mo and I have sung that one together several times.

"I know, darlin', that's our song. So anyway, we agreed that we'd practice our parts at home and try it in a couple of weeks. Tonight, when we first got here, we talked about it again, and decided that when it got slow at the end of the night, maybe we'd give it a try. And then suddenly he's up there with Punky, singing Come What May. With not so much as a by-your-leave. What am I, dirt?"

"It sounds to me like Sparky owes you an apology."

"Yeah, well, that would be nice. At least they sucked. That makes me feel a little better."

"Meow!"

"I know how catty that sounds, but I'm not jealous of Punky — though I would have been, had she nailed the song — I'm insulted at Sparky treating me like I don't exist."

"It doesn't make any sense to me. Sparky emailed me the other day and asked me for Punky's email address. He said he wanted to ask her about a song."

I waited in vain for a moment for the manhole beside me on Queen Street to open up and swallow me. When it didn't happen I decided to go back upstairs and get drunk instead.

Curse him.

Lana was onstage, again, this time singing Add It Up. She was celebrating her birthday, and had invited a dozen or so of her friends, karaoke virgins all. Carson granted her the immunity challenge and put her in the rotation twice.

One of the friends that came for the party is the boy Lana has a crush on. Remember when you were in highschool, you had crushes? They'd come upon you for no sensible reason. The object of your crush was usually someone you'd known for years, and then one day he smiles at you a little differently and boom, you're crushed.

Yeah, you guessed it, there's a boy I have a crush on, too. He comes to karaoke sometimes. Good thing he's not the same boy as the boy Lana has a crush on. Since we're both mature, intelligent, desireable women, instead of talking to the boys we like, we went out for a smoke and talked to each other about the boys.

Me: "So the boy you like is the tall one, right?"

Lana: "You mean the one I've been practically hanging onto and making cow eyes at all night? How'd you guess?"

Me: "Don't worry, no one else noticed. Boys never notice when you like them.

Lana: "Boys are stupid."

Me: "Yeah. Have you ever seen that poster?"

Lana: "Which poster?"

Me: "This one:"



Lana: "So what do you think?"

Me: "He's cute! Where do you know him from?"

Lana: "He was a friend of a friend, and is in the circle of people I hang out with, so I've known him for a couple of years. I think he has a girlfriend, though."

Me: "You're not sure?"

Lana: "No. See, he mentioned this girl he met on Lavalife a couple of weeks ago, and I thought he was going to bring her tonight, when he said he was coming to karaoke, but he's here alone, so I don't know."

Me: "Do you want me to talk to him and try to find out?"

Lana: "Do you think you could?"

Me: "I can try, but I can't push it. If I ask him too abruptly, he'll think I'm the one who wants to ask him out. And then we'll find ourselves in the middle of an episode of Three's Company."

Lana: "So what about... you know, him?"

Me: "What about him?"

Lana: "Have you asked him out?"

Me: "No!"

Lana: "Why not?"

Me: "'Cause then he'd know I like him!"

Lana: "Isn't that the point?"

Me: "Not if he doesn't like me."

Lana: "What's wrong with men?"

Me: "Nothing's wrong with the one behind the bar. Let's go back in and have him pour us another little something."

Back inside, I sneak up behind Goldilocks and mess up his hair a little. I can only do this when I catch him off guard, and even then he squeals in protest. He has really great hair, it's so hard to resist. I wonder if he carries a comb in his back pocket, the way I used to do when I was in highschool.

I call him Goldilocks, to tease him. Remember when you thought that if a boy teased you it was because he didn't like you? Even though you teased the boys you liked, and just ignored the ones you didn't like? And much later, when it's too late to do anything about it, you realize that the boy who teased you by pulling your pigtails or lifting up your skirt or calling you "Blondie" did so because he liked you?

The verb to tease had a different meaning back then, too.

When I was actually in highschool, I used to read Cathy. It wasn't available online back then. I haven't read it for years, and only this week learned that Cathy and Irving, after two decades of dating, are getting married. Sadly, she doesn't think the silly pretty shoes were what did it.

* * *
Go to the next story in sequence, in which Postmodern Sass learns that her friend Sara is marrying Stephen King. Or, skip ahead to find out whether Sass and her friend Sparky make up. If you want to know who the boy Sass has a crush on is, you can read all about it in The Viking Trilogy, beginning with this story.