“Oh my God,” Bridget laughed. “Now he has standards. You would have drunk her bathwater just this winter, Alistaire, and you know it.”
I blushed, but decided to own it. “I agree,” I replied calmly. “But it has come to my attention since then that I can do better than Sherri.”
Bridget rolled her eyes and shoved my shoulder, “Fuck off, you conceited douche.”
It pleased me no end that none of the girls seemed to think in any way that I was wrong…
Still, I was more than tired of being the focus of all the hazing about dating. “How about you, Bridget,” I asked, picking a random target that wasn’t Beth. “Got a hot date lined up for this weekend?”
“Yes,” Bridget said, leaving it at that.
“You didn’t tell us!” Carla exclaimed.
“So, who ya gonna canoodle with during the movie?” Beth added.
Bridget muttered something none of us could make out.
“Peter?” Carla, who was closest to her, asked. “Freshmen are a little young for you, don’t you…”
“Petra,” Bridget corrected her. “I’m going with Petra.”
Well, that brought conversation to a momentary halt.
Listen, Bridget liked dudes. The evidence was in and very clear on that front. But this would be Bridget’s second date with Petra, the first having happened back in November. Was Bridget actually bi? Or was she just throwing Petra a bone? Or something in between?
My plan to take the focus off me had backfired. No one wanted to talk about Bridget and Petra. At least not with me around, I suddenly realized. I was just deciding to object to being left out of the interrogation when the three of them mutually agreed to return the subject to me.
“So, no date yet for you then, Alistaire?” Carla asked brightly.
“No,” I said easily. “I haven’t decided how I…”
“Ask Sherri. I’m telling you,” Beth said.
“Not. Sherri.”
“Fine then,” Beth laughed. “If she isn’t up to your standards, try Sara Eriksen then, for all I care!”
That brought me up short. Sara was up to my standards. Sara was up to Brad Pitt’s standards. With her willowy body, round hips, broad shoulders, naturally viking blonde hair, and big, bouncy tits that she invariably refused to encase in a bra, I was sure that Sara was the number one student instigator of nocturnal emissions among the school’s population. But the image of her in my mind wasn’t what brought me up short. I paused because I realized that I was thinking about it… thinking about it like it was even a remote possibility.
I shook my head, and, remembering her boyfriend Davis, running back and first baseman, I replied, “Nahh. I like my teeth where they are.”
We all walked along for several strides after that before Carla leaned in close to Bridget. I could nevertheless hear her when she muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ, Al actually just thought about going for Sara.” If I heard her, Beth did too. And all three of them just walked quietly after that.
I suddenly realized something that I had always known, but never really thought about. I had somehow accidentally lucked into having three of the best-looking girls at my school as close friends. None of them were Sara Eriksen, but they were all more than just a little hot. Maybe that was why I’d never been bullied as much as you otherwise, as I otherwise, would have expected. Did guys lay off me to avoid hurting their chances with my friends? Or did I get more respect than I realized for just hanging out with such a large portion of the good-looking girls at school?
“I still think…” Beth began at last.
“No,” I said. I looked her in the eye and flared my nostrils once, twice, three times. I was imagining the scent of her pussy in my mind, and I could tell she knew it.
“Well, I’m running on ahead,” Beth said, flipping her dark hair. “I’m starving and I need a shower before dinner, or they will throw me out of the dining hall.” With that, she ran from my gaze. I was happy to watch that ass as it retreated.
After a moment, Bridget mused, “Maybe you should ask Jenn.”
Jenn Potter was a girl whose cute face was marred by a constant struggle with acne, but still was attractive as hell. Her top notch rack didn’t hurt there… I was struck by the realization that I was actually confident that if I made play for her, I could probably have her. Who the fuck was I?
“That’s not a bad idea…” I thought out loud.
*
After practice the next day, I got hung up talking to Coach Parvis, first about Peter, then mostly about me and my own times. Coach continued to insist that I should not be peaking out as a runner yet, I had it in me to shave more seconds off my times. Inwardly, I wished Coach would point out where these hidden seconds were located, because I sure as hell could not find them. Outwardly, I listened politely, and wished he was right.
After a last clap on my shoulder, Coach head for his car, and I started walking back toward school from the far end of the track. As I went, I passed the high jump pit, where Carla was still trying to break five feet.
“I’d like just a few more tries,” Carla was saying to Mrs. Fletcher, the coach. “I just have to get the feel for the takeoff.”
“I agree, Carla. You are almost there. But I have to go. I have duty tonight,” the silver haired assistant dean said. “And I can’t leave you here jumping by yourself.”
“I’ll stick around, Dean Fletcher,” I said, turning from my path. “I know how to put the bar back up after Carla crashes into it.”
“Your faith in me is inspiring,” Carla said. “But I do appreciate it, Alistaire.”
“All right then. Just remember to cover the pad before you leave, and lock the chairs on top so morons don’t go jumping on it for giggles,” Mrs. Fletcher said, turning to go. “Oh,” she added, stopping, “what is with the ‘Alistaire’ thing? Should I be calling you by a new identity for some reason, Al?”
“Ah… no,” I said hurriedly.
“It’s just an inside joke,” Carla said with a smile. She turned to try again at her white whale of a height, and the dean ambled off, already reading and replying to emails on her phone.