*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Ch 1
In the 2005 yearbook of St. Thomas Aquinas, there were the usual sections; the graduating class of 2005, followed by the Junior, Sophomore, Freshmen, and Eighth Grade class pictures, both as individuals, and as a group.
The faculty photographs followed that; and the intramural sports. The various clubs and groups followed the sports, and then the assorted photographs that showed the casual viewer slices of life, slices of activity in and around the school brought up the rear of the thin hardcover volume.
One photograph in that section commanded almost immediate attention. Two of the senior class are standing next to a 1959 Chevy, a somewhat unusual automobile, its large tail fins prominently displayed in the photograph. The two seniors are dancing to an unheard song playing on the car's non-standard stereo system, the tinted windows down so that they can hear the music.
Her face has a goofy smile as she bends at the waist, pushing her ample rear end toward him and he bends at the waist to mimic her movement, putting his slimmer backside toward her. The sleeves of his sweater dangle over the girl's hands, obscuring her small hands from sight. He doesn't look cold, though, even though his girlfriend is wearing his sweater. His long sleeve flannel shirt has some warmth in it, and the strenuous dancing generates enough heat too.
The caption of the page read "Casual Day." There were five other photographs on that page, showing others dressed in their best 'casual' clothes for 'Casual Day.'
xxxx
"Brother Dominick, I got a way we can raise money," Elise Beatrice Simone announced as she bustled into his office.
"I HAVE," he corrected. "Not 'I got,' I have a way we can raise some money."
"Oh, yeah," the blonde senior giggled, flashing her braces at him. "Brother Dominick, I have a way we can raise some money."
"He sat, waiting. The girl had been elected, against her wishes, to the post of Treasurer of the Senior Class, but despite not wanting to be treasurer, she was dedicated to a fault.
"Shouldn't have gone to the dentist on Election Day," Kaitlin had shrugged when Elise protested.
"Casual Day," Elise said. "See, we got to wear..."
"HAVE," he corrected again.
"We have to wear these stupid uniforms all year," Elise pressed on.
"Wasn't aware they were stupid," Brother Dominick interrupted.
"You know what I mean," she giggled again.
She outlined her idea; on the last Friday of every month, the students would be allowed to wear casual clothing, rather than the school uniforms, but they had to pay two dollars for the privilege.
"You ain't got..."
You DON'T HAVE," he corrected her again. "Good God, Miss Simone, are you sure you're a Senior, on the cusp of graduating High School?"
"You don't have the two bucks, too bad, you got, you have to go home and put on your uniform, none of this 'oh, I'll pay you tomorrow,' 'cause I know these dorks; they'll NEVER pay up," Elise finished her pitch.
"Wow, that last sentence was almost grammatically correct," Brother Dominick said.
"Well?" Elise demanded.
"Nothing racy, revealing, inappropriate. No mini-skirts, no, oh, what do you call them, the shirts that don't go down all the way?"
"Crop tops? Belly shirts?" Elise asked.
"Those," Brother Dominick agreed. "No tank tops, no shorts."
"Got it," Elise promised.
"Good. Actually, I think this could be fun," Brother Dominick said. "I'm glad I thought of it."
"You!?" Elise screeched, and then giggled again as Brother Dominick smiled playfully at her.
xxxx
She presented the idea to each of the classes. The twenty eight students in the Senior class, the twenty four in the Junior class, the thirty one in the Sophomore class and the forty nine in the Freshmen classes and the forty four in the Eighth Grade classes were enthusiastic about the new privilege.
xxxx
"I wonder why there's like twice as many kids in the Freshmen and Eight Grade," she mused aloud at the dinner table.
"Easy; Dick shrugged. "What happened thirteen years ago?"
"Yeah, yeah, the biggest mistake America ever made," Elise rolled her eyes. "Bill Clinton gets elected to the White House."
Dick Davis' dislike of liberal politics was well known in the Davis household.
Once, Elise was trying to get her stepfather's attention. In a huff, after being ignored for several minutes, she finally huffed, "I'm so glad I'm a registered Democrat."
"What!" Dick yelled.
"Oh, good, now that I got your attention, I need..." Elise said.
"Very funny, young lady," Dick said, waggling a finger at her.
"And then eight years later, America almost makes an even bigger mistake, God damned Gore," Dick said tightly. "Even after getting caught, bold faced lying! 'I invented the Internet,' my ass! But no, no, Honey, think. Something else happened."
"I don't know," she finally said, shrugging her shoulders.
"Elise," Carmen laughed. "The First Gulf War?"
"Oh yeah," Elise said, then shrugged her shoulders again. "So?"
"So. Soldiers coming home, haven't seen their wives, their girlfriends in a couple of months, come home heroes?" Dick said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Ew, Dad! You're gross!" Elise screeched.
Ch 2
Julie Vogel stood, in all of her blonde glory and smiled as Marlon Dublachon hemmed, hawed and stammered his way through asking the beautiful Junior for a date.
"You got to ask Jack, you know that," the girl finally said, ending his babbling.
Jack was Julie's older brother, who had taken on the role of her 'father' when their father committed suicide a few years earlier. He took the role seriously; Julie and Marnie Vogel, Jack and Julie's mother indulged him this.
Marlon smiled. He and Jack weren't buddies but Jack knew Marlon was one of the good guys. He had even said so himself.
Marlon found Jack just where he knew he'd find him; in the gym, practicing basketball. Coach Blanchard didn't like Jack, said Jack was not a team player, but grudgingly admitted that Jack was the best player on the team.
"Hey, Jack, "Marlon said and grabbed the ball.
"Tell you what," Jack said, after hearing Marlon's case. "I'll make you a bet."
"No, Dude," Marlon said. "We ain't playing 'Pick Up,' you'll beat the snot out of me, Dude."
"No, no, nothing like that," Jack said, retrieving a rebound.
His massive ego was well-stroked by Marlon's concession of his greatness on the court. "Got a trick shot I been working on. I miss it, you and Julie? Have fun, see you."
"And if you make it?" Marlon pressed.
"You got to go out on a date with...." Jack thought.
"No, dude," Marlon objected. "I ain't going nowhere near Gretchen, man."
"Aw, why not?" Jack laughed. "At least you'd get you some!"
"Rather do my hand, dude," Marlon said, shuddering at the thought of sleeping with the unattractive Gretchen Dunbar.
Just then, Roberta 'Bobbi' Quarveros strolled by.
"Her," Jack said, pointing to the dark skinned girl.
"No way!" Marlon protested loudly, making the girl look at the two boys.
Her face darkened and she scowled at Marlon. She brushed her long hair back with her hand, tucking it behind her ear and quickened her pace.
"See, man, she freaking hates me," Marlon said.
"Too bad, man," Jack shrugged. "Never know, I might miss this shot. It's a hard one."
"Okay, what is it?" Marlon asked, challengingly.
"Bounce the ball off the floor, into the basket, from the free throw line," Jack said.
"Bounce the... From the free throw line?" Marlon asked.
"Yep," Jack said. "I miss, you and Julie, have fun. Just get her home before midnight."
"You're on," Marlon said.
There was no way he'd make such an impossible shot. Jack smirked as he steeped up to the free throw line, bounced the ball a couple of times, testing the ball's velocity, then heaved the ball downward.
"You and Bobbi have a lovely time," Jack said as the ball swished through, barely disturbing the net.
"Aw, you mother fucker!" Marlon had to laugh.
"Tell you what, dude," Jack said as he clasped Marlon's hand in congratulations. "Go out on a date with Bobbi, I'll let you take Julie out next time, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Marlon said half-heartedly.
"Bobbi says no, though shot with Julie," Jack said and bounced the ball though the hoop again, again not even touching the net.
"You're an ass hole, Vogel, you know that?" Marlon said.
Xxxx
Bobbi looked up as Marlon slowly made his way toward her table. She did not like him, had not liked him from their first day of school at St. Thomas Aquinas when the two Eight Graders had collided in the hall.
"N*gger!" Marlon had spat contemptuously as he picked his books up.
Her father, mother and she sat in Brother Dominick's office while Marlon, his mother and father pleaded with Brother Dominick not to expel Marlon. Her mother and father tightly accepted the frightened boy's apology, but Marlon was aware he was on thin ice.
Five years later, she still held the resentment. She resented the majority of the students, but Marlon received the bulk of her anger; he was the only one that had ever given voice to what she was sure the largely white population of St. Thomas Aquinas really felt. What the majority of the largely white, lower middle class of Bender, Louisiana thought.
"What you want, Cracker?" she hissed as he sat down across from her.
"Sitting down, eating my lunch," he shrugged.
"I didn't say you could sit here," she spat.
He got up, looked at the seat, looked behind it, looked underneath it, then shrugged and sat down again.
"Don't see no sign on it says I can't sit here," he said and began eating again.
He looked up and smiled almost apologetically as the pretty girl stared murderous daggers at him.
She was pretty, when she wasn't glaring in hatred. Her face was round, framed by the long, cark hair. Her eyes weren't dark brown, but were rather a soft, caramel brown, as was the hue of her skin. Actually, she looked more Latin than African American. Her best feature was her smile; a rare sight, but a beautiful one when it was seen.
Her body was slightly pudgy; her breasts were definitely noticeable, but weren't huge. They certainly weren't on the same scale as Kaitlin Monroe's that was for sure. Being short, her legs were a little on the stubby side, emphasized by their thickness, and her rear end was rather pronounced.
