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Very Best Friends – Chapter One
The year was 1975 newly turned eighteen, a Senior at the height of the 'Free Love' era, and we were very best friends--at least that's how Tony seemed to see it. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't believe a guy like him would consider me his very best friend. It didn't add up--and I didn't really trust him. But there I was, waiting for him beside my locker--waiting for him to finish wrestling practise.
I mean that alone--that he was a half year older, captain of the wrestling team, while I only did gymnastics, put Tony in a whole other league. Never mind that Tony was also on the baseball team--was always surrounded by its giggling cheerleaders--that every cool jock in Rutland High considered him their own best friend. Let's also throw in the additional fact that Tony was a 'townie', while I was bussed-in everyday from our farm. Farm boys were 'hicks', '4-H'ers'--in other words, 'dirt' to those who lived in town. I mean, I could see the silent envy, bordering on contempt, whenever Tony left his admirers behind in order to meet up with me.
Just the fact that Rutland High even offered Gymnastics was an oddity. Only two other schools in our region did. No one paid us much attention, making the gymnastics team feel like that what we did wasn’t was all made up of us ‘farm boy hicks’.
No one except Tony came to our events. The empty gym echoed from his hollered cheers when I would dismount from the rings or bars. It was embarrassing as hell and made me instantly flush with chagrined pride. Were it anyone else, I would just want to die, but Tony Rodrigez was considered 'King of the Jocks'. His enthusiastic cheers over my performances were viewed by my team as ‘the’ supreme compliment and served to subconsciously make me do my routines to please him alone.
In my own mind, though, I felt lucky. I felt lucky that Tony was my 'buddy'. So on that day, I leaned against my locker in the empty hallway and again thought, "Yeah, I'm just a buddy. It's a good word. Buddies are 'just friends'." Buddies aren't best friends, and certainly not very best friends, I counselled and cautioned myself. I did so because I still couldn't believe that Tony had called me his very best friend--but he did--and not just once.
I shook my head over the whole idea.
Even the first time he'd said it to me, I tried to correct him. We were at the swimming hole on my family's farm. Tony was wearing his red Speedos while I just had on gym shorts. We were sitting on the raft, watching the sunfish nibble our toes.
"You ever have a best friend?", he'd asked out of the blue.
I had to think it over. "Tommy Walker, I guess--before his parents sold the farm. They moved to Montpelier. I never hear from him anymore."
Tony kicked the water around a while. Then he looked at me so long, I finally had to turn and look back at him. His eyes are like a deer’s'. They're very dark brown and have long lashes. They’re the biggest eyes I've ever seen. I can hardly look into them without feeling like they're looking right through me. It's weird.
"You are my best friend," he said quietly. "You are the very best friend I have."
I suddenly looked at his full lips and snow-white teeth, as if unsure he was speaking to me--which of course was stupid because there was no one else there. "Oh, come on," I blushed.
"No," he said, once again catching my eyes. "You are, Jon. Can't you believe it when I say it?"
I truly blushed then. I could feel the blood going right up my neck. I don't know why I blushed, except Tony is the most handsome guy in our whole school. Everyone thinks so, especially the cheerleaders.
"You're the most popular..." I began to protest.
"No, I'm not," he interrupted forcefully.
"Anyway, I don't care about that--or them either, really."
He seemed to want to touch me or something. He seemed intense and agitated, as though trying to grapple with unknown forces.
Tony is the most physical guy I know, and his eyes went very dark and liquid.
"Don't you want a best friend?"
I felt my whole face bloom scarlet at his question. "S-sure", I stammered, hating myself for sounding so eager.
He put his hand right on my knee--his dark brown hand on my bare knee.
"Then say that you're mine," he insisted, smiling, squeezing into my leg.
"Okay," was all I could say back.
"Good. Now let's race to the dock."
So we did. And I won.
That was the first of several more times. Tony's face always brightened when he saw me in the hall between classes. He'd leave girls in mid-sentence to playfully push me against the wall, pinning me there.
"How's my very best friend?" he'd grinned down at me a few days ago.
Now, I'm five-foot-four, and Tony is about five-eleven, with the widest shoulders of anyone.
"How's mine?" I'd managed to mumble back, having to look up into those eyes and grinning face.
He then messed up my blond hair. "We're going to my cottage, aren't we? --I can't wait!"
"You invited anyone else?" I'd asked, looking at his adoring harem and jock clique impatiently waiting for his attentions. The girls were glaring at me.
"Hell, no," he whispered, letting me go. "I don't want to ruin it, now do I?"
And suddenly his magical presence was back being courted by his muscle-jock friends and shamelessly-fawning cheerleaders--and I was left wondering if it had even happened. I was left wondering how he could be so physical, almost affectionate with me in front of those guys. It was hugely embarrassing, yet because he was Tony Rodrigez, anything he did was instantly called 'cool'. But the lingering looks of others in the hallway let me know pretty quickly that they thought I was a brown-nosing little nerd, and a hick.
"No," I again thought, as I leaned against my locker and searched the now-vacant hall, "I'm a buddy. He may say it'll just be the two of us, but it won't be. He's too popular. They'll all show up somehow and he'll act like he's surprised."
That was last week, and today was Friday, D Day for our weekend trip to his parents’ cottage.
Very Best Friends – Chapter One
The year was 1975 newly turned eighteen, a Senior at the height of the 'Free Love' era, and we were very best friends--at least that's how Tony seemed to see it. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't believe a guy like him would consider me his very best friend. It didn't add up--and I didn't really trust him. But there I was, waiting for him beside my locker--waiting for him to finish wrestling practise.
I mean that alone--that he was a half year older, captain of the wrestling team, while I only did gymnastics, put Tony in a whole other league. Never mind that Tony was also on the baseball team--was always surrounded by its giggling cheerleaders--that every cool jock in Rutland High considered him their own best friend. Let's also throw in the additional fact that Tony was a 'townie', while I was bussed-in everyday from our farm. Farm boys were 'hicks', '4-H'ers'--in other words, 'dirt' to those who lived in town. I mean, I could see the silent envy, bordering on contempt, whenever Tony left his admirers behind in order to meet up with me.
Just the fact that Rutland High even offered Gymnastics was an oddity. Only two other schools in our region did. No one paid us much attention, making the gymnastics team feel like that what we did wasn’t was all made up of us ‘farm boy hicks’.
No one except Tony came to our events. The empty gym echoed from his hollered cheers when I would dismount from the rings or bars. It was embarrassing as hell and made me instantly flush with chagrined pride. Were it anyone else, I would just want to die, but Tony Rodrigez was considered 'King of the Jocks'. His enthusiastic cheers over my performances were viewed by my team as ‘the’ supreme compliment and served to subconsciously make me do my routines to please him alone.
In my own mind, though, I felt lucky. I felt lucky that Tony was my 'buddy'. So on that day, I leaned against my locker in the empty hallway and again thought, "Yeah, I'm just a buddy. It's a good word. Buddies are 'just friends'." Buddies aren't best friends, and certainly not very best friends, I counselled and cautioned myself. I did so because I still couldn't believe that Tony had called me his very best friend--but he did--and not just once.
I shook my head over the whole idea.
Even the first time he'd said it to me, I tried to correct him. We were at the swimming hole on my family's farm. Tony was wearing his red Speedos while I just had on gym shorts. We were sitting on the raft, watching the sunfish nibble our toes.
"You ever have a best friend?", he'd asked out of the blue.
I had to think it over. "Tommy Walker, I guess--before his parents sold the farm. They moved to Montpelier. I never hear from him anymore."
Tony kicked the water around a while. Then he looked at me so long, I finally had to turn and look back at him. His eyes are like a deer’s'. They're very dark brown and have long lashes. They’re the biggest eyes I've ever seen. I can hardly look into them without feeling like they're looking right through me. It's weird.
"You are my best friend," he said quietly. "You are the very best friend I have."
I suddenly looked at his full lips and snow-white teeth, as if unsure he was speaking to me--which of course was stupid because there was no one else there. "Oh, come on," I blushed.
"No," he said, once again catching my eyes. "You are, Jon. Can't you believe it when I say it?"
I truly blushed then. I could feel the blood going right up my neck. I don't know why I blushed, except Tony is the most handsome guy in our whole school. Everyone thinks so, especially the cheerleaders.
"You're the most popular..." I began to protest.
"No, I'm not," he interrupted forcefully.
"Anyway, I don't care about that--or them either, really."
He seemed to want to touch me or something. He seemed intense and agitated, as though trying to grapple with unknown forces.
Tony is the most physical guy I know, and his eyes went very dark and liquid.
"Don't you want a best friend?"
I felt my whole face bloom scarlet at his question. "S-sure", I stammered, hating myself for sounding so eager.
He put his hand right on my knee--his dark brown hand on my bare knee.
"Then say that you're mine," he insisted, smiling, squeezing into my leg.
"Okay," was all I could say back.
"Good. Now let's race to the dock."
So we did. And I won.
That was the first of several more times. Tony's face always brightened when he saw me in the hall between classes. He'd leave girls in mid-sentence to playfully push me against the wall, pinning me there.
"How's my very best friend?" he'd grinned down at me a few days ago.
Now, I'm five-foot-four, and Tony is about five-eleven, with the widest shoulders of anyone.
"How's mine?" I'd managed to mumble back, having to look up into those eyes and grinning face.
He then messed up my blond hair. "We're going to my cottage, aren't we? --I can't wait!"
"You invited anyone else?" I'd asked, looking at his adoring harem and jock clique impatiently waiting for his attentions. The girls were glaring at me.
"Hell, no," he whispered, letting me go. "I don't want to ruin it, now do I?"
And suddenly his magical presence was back being courted by his muscle-jock friends and shamelessly-fawning cheerleaders--and I was left wondering if it had even happened. I was left wondering how he could be so physical, almost affectionate with me in front of those guys. It was hugely embarrassing, yet because he was Tony Rodrigez, anything he did was instantly called 'cool'. But the lingering looks of others in the hallway let me know pretty quickly that they thought I was a brown-nosing little nerd, and a hick.
"No," I again thought, as I leaned against my locker and searched the now-vacant hall, "I'm a buddy. He may say it'll just be the two of us, but it won't be. He's too popular. They'll all show up somehow and he'll act like he's surprised."
That was last week, and today was Friday, D Day for our weekend trip to his parents’ cottage.