The Cobras-Chapter 8

As he walked down the dusty road towards his house, Noah reflected on his new life. He was still getting used to the lack of freedom since he moved to south county. He was happy living with his Aunt and Uncle. It was great having a new school, friends, and the opportunity to start over. He had been in some trouble up north when he lived with his Dad and stepmom. Everyone had agreed that the country air would do him good. His new friends were definitely a step up from his old friends. Not in his estimation of course, but according to the "system."  His lack of freedom didn't stem from any unresonable restrictions placed on him by his folks but simply from the fact that he was isolated. It was four miles to the nearest store and another two miles into "town". The town of Bear Ranch was only a stoplight on the road south. It consisted of a small grocery store, a tire shop, one gas station and a western clothing store. Outside of the town center it was mostly farms, ranches and a lot of country folks who had simple houses on a lot of land.
 Noah had started smoking and partying back in junior high school as a way to "belong" in his new school. Moving into the suburbs of San Francisco had been a challenge. He enjoyed sports but found the "jock" social crowd to be difficult to break into. He had been a decent athlete for most of his childhood playing soccer on several teams before junior high. But he soon found that he was far too sensitive for the bullying and hierarchial structure of their social groups. He instinctively chose the "wrong crowd"when he moved in with his Dad and participated in some petty crimes to make his mark. After two years he finally felt like he belonged. He had made a few good friends and had gotten away with a lot of delinquent behavior before he finally got caught shoplifting cigarettes. His run had been longer than most. He had been lucky and he knew it. But his luck finally ran out and that's when it seemed obvious to everyone concerned that he should move back in with his Aunt and Uncle with whom he had lived with back in elementary school when his parents were going through their divorce.
He had been thrilled at the prospect of going to live with his Aunt and Uncle again because he had enjoyed it before. They were a childless couple in their thirties. It was hard being without his little brother, and he did miss his Mom and Dad, but his surrogate parents had made him feel loved from the first day he arrived. As their "only child" he received the kind of attention from both of them that he hadn't had since his early childhood. He felt like the "prince" in their royal kingdom. Life had lived up to his expectations so far and once he made friends with some people who could drive, like Spanky and Rosco, it got a lot better. It was a new thing having to be dependent on his friends to take him places but he didn't mind. He always made sure that he had some weed to share with them so he was always welcome. Back when he had lived up north there was a bus stop about a block away and it would take him just about anywhere he wanted to go for a quarter. That independence was gone but he was a likeable kid and most people didn't mind having him around.
Getting kicked off the school bus was humiliating but it was far better than getting into a fight with the local rednecks. He had learned to size up situations instinctively and to weigh the costs of choosing one path or the other. The consequences for this minor challenge to authority were negligible. The school administration wasn't likely to get involved. The bus driver had suspended him for two weeks he guessed and since he rode to school with Rosco or Spanky it didn't really matter. But still he felt a little bad about the way he had treated the driver. Even though she was kind of a bitch he had never really had a problem with her. Maybe he would be nice and apologize to her when he came back. "Nah," he thought to himself. It would be easier just to not ride the bus for awhile and let the heat die down. He was an expert at avoiding the consequences of his actions. It was a skill developed during his tumultuous childhood.
As he turned to go down the long driveway to his house he heard the whine of a familiar car. He turned to look and sure enough it was Spanky.  The tires chirped briefly as Spanky hit the brakes and skidded across the loose gravel on the road.
"DUDE," he shouted out the open passenger window. "Get in dude. Let's go to my house and get stoned and munch out!"
"Ok, but I need to be back by four-thirty to feed the critters," Gator said. This was a new thing for him too-having responsibility and he kind of liked it. He didn't have a lot of it but what he had was important. The small herd of sheep, a few hogs, and a couple of steers were his responsibility every day, morning and night. His folks gave him a generous allowance so he was happy to have a "job" to do that helped out. Even though it was a seven-day-per-week chore it only took about a half-hour to complete. He had to feed them, check the water levels and make sure the automatic fillers were not stuck or broken. He had only been in south county for about a week when he heard the stories about the family that went on vacation and didn't have anyone reliable to take care of their animals. They hired one of the local kids to do it and the child got in trouble, got grounded and the livestock all died. A couple of the horses had kicked down a gate and escaped to a neighboring farm where they were cared for until the horrified owners returned. Gator had heard the local legend more than once and it was enough to scare him into being extremely conscientious about feeding and watering "his" animals.
\"Let's go do it now," Gator said as he climbed into the car.
"Okay, cool. You are liable to forget later and end up grounded. Then who's gonna go with me to the drive-in tonight. I'll be stuck with Frogurt and it will be like a date, " Spanky laughed.
"Actually, I think Rosco is driving tonight if you want to ride with him," Gator answered.
"I knew it. That dick told me he wasn't going tonight." Spanky said half-pissed off and half-reveling in the fact that he knew he would weasel his way into riding with him anyway. Spanky hated being left out. In his mind he was the center of the universe. Besides, how could anyone possibly have fun without him?"
Spanky drive his car back to the barn in the back of the house so Gator would have an easier and more importantly, faster time finishing his chores. The first part of the driveway was paved but the last fifty yards or so out to the barn was a dirt and gravel road that was partially under water from the recent rain.
As they reached the end of the pavement Gator said," Dude stop here and I'll get out. I don't want you to get stuck."
Spanky shook his head and plowed ahead through the water and mud that was covering the road. "Don't worry I know how to drive," he said laughing.
"Seriously," Gator said, "The mud is deeper than it looks you should stop here and let me out."
"Shuttup don't be such a little bitch," Spanky said with a smile. "I got it."
He proceeded slowly along the muddy road between the green manicured lawns in front of the barn. He stopped the car in front of the shop door on the north side of the barn facing the house.
"Front door service," he laughed.
The barn was a simple wooden one-story building with a tin roof over wooden walls and a concrete slab. There was a dirt floor in the stalls and cement flooring under the shop and feed room. When the rain was heavy the whole place would flood bringing mud and manure from the horses into the shop and feed room floor. He always had the privilege of cleaning it up. Luckily it hadn't happened in a while.
Gator stepped out into a puddle of water. Luckily it was shallow enough that he didn't get his feet wet. One thing he hated in life was wet shoes and socks. He made his way past the shop under the overhang and opened the feed room door. None of the animals came running at the noise the door had created because it was earlier than their usual feeding time. He tossed out a few flakes of hay over the nearby fence and the cattle noticed the food and moved towards the waiting alfalfa. He threw another larger flake out to the sheep in the next corral and grabbed a five gallon bucket and filled it halfway with grain from one of the feedbags. When he shook the grain inside the bucket the sheep heard the familiar sound and came running from the far side of the pasture. There were about eight of them. There were two mothers with two lambs each, a ram and an older sheep without lambs. They all cried "baa-baa-baa" as they raced to get the sweet grain.
Spanky sat in his car smoking a cigarette and listening to the radio. He poked his head out the window as Gator walked by and said, "Dude, did I tell you I am getting my brother's stereo? He got a new one so he is selling me his old one for fifty bucks. Its gonna blow Rosco's stereo away. He'll be so pissed. I can't wait," he laughed.
"That's cool, when are you getting it?" Gator asked.
"Maybe today if he got his installed already." Spanky answered.
"He bought a Blaupunkt system for his El Camino. Its going to blow doors man. Its got a hundred-watt amp. Man its gonna rock." He said admiringly.
Gator finished feeding the sheep just as a dark brown Chesapeake Retriever mix ran up to him, jumped up on him and started licking his face. Max was a mix of "chessie" and something else. He looked a bit like a Labrador with short brown hair but had a slightly smaller head and was a bit more muscular.  Noah ignored the muddy paws and grabbed his thick neck and started scratching it. Max wagged his tail and showed his teeth in a classic "dogsmile". Out came his tounge and it licked Noah's face.
"Ok buddy your're next," he said racing over to the garage where the dog food was kept. Max always won this race to the food, but he waited patiently as Noah caught up to him. He got one scoop of dry food and a can of soft food everyday. Max definitely had it good for a dog. He'd get all of this and usually some table scraps after dinner. Although Max was about five years old, he never got fat despite all of the food he ate each day. He was very active. He would chase a tennis ball for hours if he found someone to throw it for him and he would bring it back with his tail wagging every time. He was so persistant that he would even fetch something thrown into the field next door which had mustard greens three feet high. Sometimes it would take him an hour but he always found whatever was thrown for him.
Noah checked his water, filled up his dish and set it down. Max started eating and Gator petted him gently on his head.
"See you later buddy, " he said and he was off to see how Spanky was doing getting his car out of the mud. Gator watched as the yellow and black Chevy Monza started rolling backwards down the muddy road. There was standing water and some soft spots underneath where he could get stuck if he didn't keep his momentum going. So far so good. He was backing the car straight out the way he came in without any problems so far.
Gator wondered how Spanky could see the road at all with the louvers that covered his hatchback window. They looked cool and all, but they must inhibit some of his vision, he thought. Finally, just as the car was almost to the pavement something happened. His rear-drive tire slipped off the track where he had previously been and it went "plop" into the middle of a large soft mud puddle about a foot deep. The car was now stuck in the mud.
Spanky threw the car into first gear and gunned the accelerator. Mud and water flew straight up behind the car like a geyser. Most of it landed on the clean white cement just feet away on the driveway.
"Dude stop you're making a huge mess," Gator said as he ran over to the passenger side of the vehicle. "Let me get the truck keys and I'll pull you out." Less than fifty feet away sat the workhorse of the ranch, a 1976 Ford F250 pickup truck. It had a towing package and overload springs to support the cab-over camper that sat on jacks next to it. It was easily up to the task of pulling Spanky out of the mud without any further mess being created, Gator figured.
"No Gator, I got it. Watch this," Spanky said with full confidence.  He threw the car in reverse again and popped the clutch after revving the engine to about 4000 rpm. The torque of the engine bounced the car backwards as the tire spun at high speed sending mud and water forward under the car and covering the driver's side door with a thick brown layer of mud.
"Dude stop!" Gator shouted as he ran to the passenger window and looked in at Spanky.
There he was in all of his glory. He had a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. His right eye was squinted like a caricature of Popeye as the smoke drifted up his face. His head was cocked like a bull about to enter a rodeo ring. He had one hand on the wheel and one on the gear shift in the center console. He continued to wrestle the gears and pop the clutch rocking back and forth in his seat as if his sheer determination would force the car out of the ditch. It was a fountain of mud and water that was now shooting in all directions as he forced his will on the car and the elements.
"I've almost got it," he shouted above the high pitched whine of the four cylinder engine winding out.
Once more the car lurched forward and then back again. Mud and water now covered the entire car. Gator stood back in horror as the stream of mud flew back past the driveway and into the garden box covering his aunt's prized tomato plants with a thin layer of creamy brown mud and water. Finally, to Gator's surprise, the car lurched out of the ditch and came to rest in the middle of the driveway covered with thick chunks of mud and a light brown creamy film covering all but the very back of the vehicle.
Spanky opened his door and stepped out next to the car and admired his "work."
"I'm the best fucking driver in the world, " he shouted.
Gator looked at the hole next to the mud covered dirt road and the mud disaster of the driveway and garden.
"Look at this mess dude. I could have pulled you out with the truck," Gator said. He was clearly exasperated by the whole event.
"Dude you would have screwed it up. Don't worry I'll clean it up."
Spanky came around the car and grabbed the large garden hose that was coiled up next to the garage. Gator watched as Spanky moved with surprising speed as he turned on the hose and used the spray gun attachment to spray the mud off of his car. His car was clean and dripping fresh drops of clear water in under a minute. He then sprayed the mud off of the driveway out onto the lawn and in the direction of the garden boxes. Swiftly and carefully he used the mist setting on the spray gun attachment to clean off the newly planted tomato plants. Gator stood in silence as Spanky coiled up the hose. Gator looked on incredulously. The next sound they heard was the honking of a horn. It was Noah's uncle swinging up the driveway in a large brown Jeep Wagoneer. The garage door opened automatically and he pulled inside. He got out and opened the tailgate grabbing two bags of groceries.
"Do you need a hand with those," Gator said trying desperately to sound normal as if nothing unusual was going on.
"No I got it Noah. We are having steak tonight so don't be late for dinner. His uncle was a large, fit man with broad shoulders and an easy way with people. he was kind and generous to Noah. He had always treated him like he was his own son. His dark hair and blue eyes and thick mustache evoked memories of Burt Reynolds in "Smokey and the Bandit." He was a bit taller and muscular from his work as an elevator mechanic up in San Jose. He wore his blue jeans and a dungaree work shirt proudly. His brown leather belt sported a silver cowboy buckle with a turquoise stone in the center. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up as he set the bags down briefly on the tailgate.
"Hey Mr. P you still smoking those girl cigarettes, " Spanky laughed.
"Well the boss of the house likes them so I just go along and smoke more of em," he laughed, exhaling his first drag of the cigarette he just lit. "What have you guys been doing? Washing your car?" He was looking around at all of the water on the driveway.
"Yeah we decided your garden needed a little water too," Spanky said smiling.
"Thanks. I'll put in a good word for you with the boss," he said. "Next time just leave the hose in the garden box. No need to water the tops of the plants. Got it?" He laughed ignoring the obvious fact that something more was happening here than met the eye.
Noah nodded and said, "Ok I already fed and watered the animals. I'm heading over to Ronnie's house until dinnertime."
"Mr. P" nodded as he grabbed the bags and walked around to the back of the house.
Gator got into the car and Spanky fired up the engine. He quickly spun the car around in a three-point-turn and headed down the driveway. Gator was silent but his face said, "whew that was close." Spanky chirped the tires as they headed out onto the main road. He accelerated quickly and chirped the tires again when he shifted into second. He looked over at Gator who was looking straight ahead.
"Dude you worry too much. I had it under control the whole time, " he laughed.
"I know you are trying to give me a heart attack, " Gator laughed.
Spanky reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of bright green buds dangling them in front of Gator's face. "If I killed you who would I smoke this with? Frogurt? He'd take two hits, say he was stoned and then start talking about the latest girl he's hitting on, " he laughed.
"Dude, where'd you get that stuff?" Gator said. He could smell the sweet quality of the buds as soon as the bag was in front of his face. It was clearly some "primo" Santa Cruz sinsemillia if his nose was accurate, not a common sight or smell at WAHS.
Spanky pulled the bag back as Gator tried to grab a hold of it for a better "smell test."
"You can smell but don't touch," he laughed emphasizing the word touch in a deep Darth Vaderesque voice.
"Dude I can smell it from here, where'd you get it?"
"From my bro," he said flatly.
"Cool." Gator said.
"Yeah we'll burn some with him when we get to my house, but first a little detour for Cobras only," Spanky said as he downshifted to second gear and slid the car around the corner of his street. He slowed down slightly as he noticed his neighbor, the county sherrif's deputy, eyeballing him and his rate of speed down the small residential street. Spanky saw his brother out in the driveway working on his car. He drove slowly past his house and continued down towards the cul de sac at the end of the road about a half-mile from his house. He turned the car around at the end of the road then proceeded up to a spot where the field behind them and the trees in front of the house across the street obscured them from prying eyes. He parked the car and shut off the engine.
Gator knew what to do next. He reached into the glove compartment and grabbed the "stash box" which held one of Spanky's most prized possessions, a small brass pipe with a chamber and a small bowl on top.
Gator handed it to Spanky who grabbed it and thrust it into the clear plastic sandwich bag packing a small bud into the bowl. He then unscrewed the chamber and placed two small buds inside. The idea was that the resin that penetrated the buds would make them even more potent once they had been in there for a while.
"Alright dude," Spanky said. "Lets get small," he laughed.
"Mini-sized," Gator laughed.
"Microscopic," Spanky added.
"Atomic," Gator said roughly as he lit the bowl Spanky had handed him. He inhaled deeply and held his breath displaying proper etiquette when smoking good weed.
Spanky took the pipe, lit it, took a huge hit and smiled.
"Subatomic," he said as he turned up the music on the radio. It was "Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon."
They both sat back and smiled as the car filled up with smoke.

The Cobras- Chapter 7

Gator was already in his seat at the back of the room when Spanky walked in. Mr Barrett had already taken attendance so he had to sign in as tardy on the board. The class started laughing as he signed his name so small that one could barely see it.
"Go sit down Ronnie," Barrett said in a flat monotone. He didn't even make eye contact with Ronnie as he passed his desk.
Barrett was considered one of the "cool" teachers at WAHS. he was a laid back guy in his 40's with a 1970's perm and a 60's hippie demeanor. He dressed very casually usually wearing a smock over his simple clothes. In addition to English he also taught ceramics which seemed to be his passion. This class was probably his least favorite class of the day. It was a rowdy group of 10th graders for literature class right after lunch. But he was a cagey veteran teacher who never raised his voice in class. He had mastered the art of the stern look, and sarcasm that could cut through stone. Usually that was enough to put all but the most outlandish disruptions back into order.
The subject matter in the class held little interest for Spanky. Gator on the other hadn enjoyed reading the information about literature and what the elements were of "good writing." Secretly he wanted to become a writier himself so he figured he would have to read a lot of famous authors to figure out what they had going for them so he could do it himself one day.
Mr. Barrett gave the assignment for the day after completing his attendance.
"Open your textbooks to page 115 and read the short story An Occurance At Owl Creek Bridge. When you finish answer the questions, in complete sentences at the end of the chapter." The instructions were simple enough and the class began reading. There was silence in the room. Gator thought to himself that it was a modern classroom and far better than the one he had back in his other school up north. For starters there was air conditioning, carpet on the floors, new desks and teachers who genuinely seemed to care about their students. Not that the teachers up north didn't care. Maybe it was just him he thought. Perhaps his interest in school had grown and that made him appreciate his teachers more. He definitely liked Mr. Barrett. He seemed to be one of those people who truly had dedicated himself to helping others.
Gator was about half-way through the first page when Ronnie let out an audible burp and said, "excuse me" in a flat monotone voice half mocking Mr. Barrett.
Barrett looked up from his desk where he was grading papers and lifted one eyebrow and slowly shook his head. He went back to grading papers and the class, after a brief chuckle, went back to reading the story.
Mr. Barrett was visibly agitated with Ronnie's disruption of the silence in the class. Achieving silence of that kind in a classroom filled with thirty tenth graders and a few 11th or 12th graders re-taking the course because of failing it the first time was a very delicate procedure. When somebody disrupts that silence it can sometimes be difficult to capture again.
Barrett seemed to be contemplating this as he resumed grading papers. It was as if he was walking on a tightrope and the rope had frayed and lost one of its tethers. Would the remaining rope be enough to hold the weight it was under? He slowed down the pace of his grading and eyed the classroom constantly hoping that the rope would hold until he got across the "crevice" below."
Gator finished reading the story and began writing his answers to the questions in his notebook.
Ronnie looked over at him from one desk in front and to the right side and put his hand out-the universal sign for "give me a piece of paper." Gator quietly opened his three ring binder and gave Spanky a piece of paper. He was careful not to make eye contact knowing what that could lead to and resumed his writing.
Spanky put his hand out again and Gator ignored him. Mr Barrett, seeing Ronnie's attempt to distract one of his best students put down the papers he was grading. He bored a hole in Ronnie's forehead with a stare. Clearly he meant to say "don't you dare disrupt this class again you little shit or it will be curtains for you."
Ronnie felt the weight of Barretts stare but paid him no mind. He wasn't done yet. Gator was being a "goody-two-shoes" and he would have to teach him a lesson.
Gator turned slightly away from Ronnie and continued writing. Spanky began flicking him with a finger to get his attention. He was in front and to the right of him in the next row so he could only reach his knee.  Slowly and quietly he leaned back and started flicking his knee with his left hand. Gator continued working despite the annoying behavior of his neighbor and best friend. He knew exactly what Ronnie was up to and was not about to give in and make a noise or movement.
Spanky then, seeing no success at flicking Gator's knee started flicking the desktop. It made an audible but muffled sound.
Barrett was a safe distance away, perhaps ten feet or so with several desks in between Spanky, Gator and him. Spanky saw that Barrett was back grading papers and started tapping his desk again more aggressively. Gator continued writing until he completed his assignment. He looked up at Mr. Barrett who appeared exasporated by Spanky's behavior but seemed to be resigned to the fact that there would be another disruption in his class.
Gator saw that the coast was clear so the next time Spanky tried to flick his desk he quickly caught his finger with his hand. He twisted it hard and Spanky was tempted to give out a yelp. But all the while Barrett was watching him between the students ahead of him as he finished up the last few papers he was grading. Finally, Gator squeezed as hard as he could to win the tug-of-war that had developed between the two of them with Spanky trying to get his middle finger back and Gator holding on to it for dear life. People around them started to notice and a few started to giggle at the sight of it.
Gator suddenly let go right as Spanky pulled with all of his might. The sudden release resulted in Spanky's momentum almost tipping over his desk. He balanced himself back and let out an audible "whew."
The whole class burst out laughing at this point and Gator gave Spanky a look as if to say," Don't mess with me dude you know better."
Mr. Barrett stood up and told the class to finish the questions for homework and to prepare an original short story of their own for class on the following friday. That gave them one week to write and edit the story and to turn it in for a test grade.
The bell rang and everyone started filing out. "You're a dick," Spanky said to Gator. "I just wanted to borrow another piece of paper.
"Yeah whatever Spanky. You just can't stand quiet can you?" Gator said.
"Only when I'm stoned, " Spanky said half jokingly.
"Noah," Mr. Barrett said, "Can I have a quick word with you?"
"Here we go," Gator thought. "Now I'll get my ass chewed because of you're dumb shenanigans."
"Later dude," Spanky said. "See you after school," he added.
Mr. Barrett, seeing that everyone had gone walked over to Gator and said," I wanted to tell you that I am recommending you for the journalism program next year. I have read your journals and your projects and I think you would do well in it."
"Yeah sure I'd like that Mr. Barrett," Gator said.  Although he was a bit uneasy with the compliments he liked the fact that someone had recognized some talent in him.
"Make sure," Mr. Barrett added, "you take your time and give me your best work next week and I'll use that for a writing sample to go along with your recommendation.
"Sure that sounds great. Thanks a lot Mr. Barrett." Noah said with all sincerity. Then he turned and walked out the door.
Gator was only steps from his next class but he decided to go have a quick restroom break first. He walked around the corner to where the boys room was and saw three football players going into the restroom. He knew the kind of jocks they had at Wild Acorn High School. The were cool if you saw them one on one like in class or at a party or something but for some reason they were total jackasses when you put three or four of them together somewhere without supervision.
Gator changed his mind and decided he didn't really have to go that badly and instead turned around and walked the other eay. As he passed the corner where his class was he saw Johnnyboy toe to toe with some cholo dude. The guy was new to Wild Acorn High. He remembered seeing him once or twice in the smoking area. He looked like a typical cholo to Gator. He wore khaki pants, and a white t-shirt along with slip on shoes like the ones they give you in juvenile hall.
Johnnyboy was dressed in his typical uniform. He ahd on dark brown corduroy pants, a belt with a silver buckle and a black t-shirt that said AC/DC on it. He also sported a suede vest over his t-shirt and black combat boots on his feet. He looked like any minute he was going to use his boots to kick this guy's ass who was harrassing him.
There were about three guys and two girls yelling at the new guy to come along and go to class. The two of them were sizing each other up and hurling insults at each other. Johnnyboy told the joker to meet him after school. Not wanting to look like a punk the guy agreed and then disappeared to beat the bell. Johnnyboy then turned and ran to class as not to be late himself.
Gator turned and walked back to his drivers ed class and made it in just befor the bell rang. He thought aboiut Johnnyboy agreeing to fight this guy after school. He hadn't ever seen Johnnyboy fight but knew he as a pretty good athlete because they had PE together and he was a pretty good football player in class. Like Gator though he was more interested in "sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll at the time than he was in sweating his ass off with a bunch of dick jocks. The football program at Wild Acorn was a "factory." They had won state titles in the previous two years and were still riding the wave. Everyone liked the coach. He was a winner and their PE teacher. But somehow students like Johnny Boy and Gator never made it out on the field despite some athletic ability they both possessed. Bobby was another example of those who rejected the allure of being part of the so called "in-crowd." High school was a cut-throat environment and unless you drove the right car, lived in the right neighborhood and had the right friends you were shut out of the circle. At least that's what the people in the smoking area thought.
Gator sat in class and thought about Johnnyboy's appointment with destiny. They hadn't really know each other that long but he considered him a friend. They worked at the same lab table in Biology class and they had PE together. Johnny lived up on the hill though, so hanging out with him wasn't much of an option like it was with Spanky. But now this guy had gone and agreed to fight one of the cholos at the school. This was not good Gator thought. At his other school he'd had personal scrapes with this guy's kind. They never fought alone and if you fought one you generally had to fight them all. Now it was 6th period and Johnnyboy wouldn't get a chance to go to the smoking area after school to get some back up. Gator also knew he wouldn't get a chance to see Spanky before school let out. He had to make a choice whether to go out front and watch the figh, knowing if somebody jumped in he would have to get involved, or thake the sure thing and ride home with Spanky. Although there was a pretty good chance he would get an ass whipping he decided to go out front anyway to make sure Johnnyboy wasn't alone. He at least wanted to make sure nobody jumped in. He wasn't sure what they were fighting about, but he'd seen enough fights in his day to know that you always had to have someone there to "watch your back" in case somebody tried to jump in. He'd seen a few cases where somebody got into a fight, started winning and then the guy's friends jumped in and finished the job. Personally, Gator hadn't been in a real fight since he left his home up north. That hadn't been much of a real fight. Some senior had basically punched him in the face while two of his friends watched doing nothing. He'd tried to avoid fights as much as possible because he was basically a coward at heart and afraid to get his butt kicked. He had been successful most of the time but now here he was and he knew he would have to show up to support his friend.
When the bell rang he got up slowly as if he was carrying sandbags on his back. When he walked out of the room and started heading towards the front of the school he had a queesy feeling in his stomach like he used to get when riding a rollercoaster.
He arrived out front and immediately began to regret his decision. He saw a large group of people, all similarly dressed in khakis, t-shirts and wearing bandanas and hairnets. There were about five or six girls and three boys standing behind the guy and they all looked pretty touch.
Johnnyboy waked out with a small entourage of his own. Mostly friends from up on the hill. Gator knew Lurch, the tall blond string bean of a guy who was also in their biology class. There were a couple of other guys there too from up on the hill but nobody from the smoking area. Gator sized up the guys he was with. They were all pretty lily-white upper middle class rich kids from up on the hill where most of the "in-crowd" lived. This didn't look good. It didn't look good at all. Gator stood at a distance but was clearly visible to everyone who was gathered for the fight.  Just as Gator was trying to pick out the most likely opponent if it turned into a melee the guy who started the mess with Johnnyboy walked out and started getting accolades from his group of assembled friends. He had a big smile on his face and had a look of confidence about him like a bullfighter entering the arena.
Johnnyboy didn't say a word. He just started swinging on the guy and hit him with a flurry of punches before the guy could react. He hit him in the face and the head. The kid tried to lunge at him but Johnnyboy got out of the way and pummelled him with another volley. The guy slipped and Johnnyboy waited for him to get back on his feet and hit him again in the face and head. Just then the vice-principal walked out of the office and broke it up. He was a large man and grabbed them both and dragged them into the office. It was over in less than an minute. Johnny had restored balance to the system of respect and territory within the school. He had stood up to a bully and won.
Gator walked over to his bus and got on. He figured Johnny would get a few days suspension but he was proud of his courage on that day. He had faced down an enemy and been successful at it. Gator smiled as he got on the bus and went to the back.
Gator rarely rode the bus. Mainly he hated the fact that it took about 45 minutes to get home instead of 15 in a car if he rode with Rosco or Spanky. But Rosco was working today and since he didn't show up at Spanky's car right after school he knew he was stuck on the "cheesewagon" with a bunch of countryfucks who thought they were cowboys.
He had a rough time with some of them when he started school. But he wasn't as bold as Johnnyboy and would have to find another way to earn their respect he thought. One way that he had avoided in the past was to challenge authority in a direct way when given the opportunity. That bus driver had been quite a bitch lately he thought to himself.  Friday afternoon was the most feared and hated day for schoolbus drivers. The students had been caged up like lions all week in the classroom and once that final bell rang it was like a champagne cork going off-unpredictable and dangerous if pointed in the wrong direction.
Gator had pretty much forgotten about his plan to disrupt the bus while drifting off to sleep. Suddently out of nowhere  he felt something hitting him in the back of the head. Someone was throwing paper at him. He recognized that he was next to his stop so he turned and looked at the likely suspects. There were three of the local yokels from South County. They weren't all that tough looking but there were three of them. he stood up and said "knock that shit off can't you see she's trying to drive?" With that, the driver, a heavy-set lady in her mid 30's slammed on the brakes. Gator almost fell over at the sudden stop.
"You get off this bus and don't come back for two weeks," she shouted as he calmly walked off the bus smiling. When he got off he turned back and said, "you don't have to be such a bitch about it." She closed the door and drove off in a cloud of diesel smoke and dust from the side of the road. He was only a block away from his house so he felt pretty good about things. Maybe now he'd be accepted. It wasn't easy being the new kid.

The Cobras-Chapter 6

Lunch was an hour of freedom for the students at Wild Acorn High School. The large modern campus was spread out over 200 acres of former farmland. It was purpose-built in the late 1960's and was a "state-of-the-art design" at a time when California was still interested in having the best school system in the country.
The school consisted of a number of "pods" for each subject. It was a "campus" which had the feel of a small college. Each subject had its own pod and there were courtyards scattered throughout the campus. Covered walkways connected the buildings in a maze of sorts. There was a lot of grass and other landscaping around campus and an outdoor cafeteria with picinic benches for students to eat on. In the back of the school there was an outdoor pool which was open year round, and an indoor gymnasium. The "industrial arts" wing of the school housed several regional occupational programs such as auto-body, print shop and horticulture.
South County possessed good weather most of the year so students roamed the halls freely at lunch and spread out to find space where they could hang out with their friends or just to be alone and read a book or lay down and take in the warm California sunshine.
The smoking area was next to the parking lot and it consisted of a small fenced in area across from the math department and next to the auditorium. There was no grass in the space just a few tables and concrete. There were ash cans at either end and students were encouraged to throw their cigarette butts in the cans or risk losing the privilige of the smoking area. Most students complied with the request of the administration.
Walking into the smoking area one would find an odd assortment of people. Usually there was the typical groups of "stoners" who smoked cigarettes. There were also "cowboys" who dipped snuff and other forms of chewing tobacco. There was also a "Cholo" or latino component. Usually a few girls and one or two guys.
The diverse groups all got along fine for the most part. Any "scores" that had to be settled had been dealt with in middle school which ran through 9th grade. The fact is that many of the people who were troublemakers in Junior High just didn't make it to High School. Most of them dropped out so they were no longer an issue socially in the school. People who made it to 10th Grade tended to be a little more reponsible and under control.
There was a lady yard duty supervisor named "Bobbie," who watched the smoking area like a hawk. She tended to wear long leather jackets and looked like someone from an old "gestapo" film. Her task of supervising the smoking area was far easier than that of the parking lot or the rest of the campus because it was so large. She treated the students with respect and had a good rapport with them. The concentration of students could often get up to near 100 people densely packed into the small area that was about fifty by one hundred feet.
Everyone who entered the smoking area was part of a "sub-group" at WAHS. It was by far the most peaceful place on campus. Not that there were a lot of fights at the school, but everyone in the smoking area was on their best behavior for fear of the privilige being revoked. Everybody knew that it was a privilige and not a right to smoke at school. People respected it and didn't want to lose the privilege. Being late to class meant possibly losing one's smoking area priviliges so students who smoked actually had a lower incidence of tardies than other students. Nobody ever dared trying to light a joint to use other drugs in the smoking area. Disturbances were rare. Most students followed the rules and the smoking area was one of the cleanest parts of campus.
The several picnic benches throughout the area were each staked out by a group. The Cobras had theirs and it was in the northeast corner of the area next to a small tree which somewhat covered the table.
Rosco and Gator entered the area from the north entrance. A four foot high cyclone fence extended around the area. There were hedges surrounding the fence giving the area less of a "cage" look. The rear of the smoking area was on the west side. There a six foot cyclone fence faced the parking lot. One could sit or stand in the smoking area and see the whole north end of the parking lot. That is where most of the "stoners" or "burn-outs" parked their cars. It gave them easy access to the smoking area, and from time to time the opportunity to take a few quick hits before entering the campus. As the two entered they could see their group assembled by their usual table.
Oakie and Vette were engaged in conversation and Spanky was busy telling "DWB" about the time that they all were lookng for him on a "snipe hunt." Everyone had driven right past him as time expired.
Snipe hunts were one of the favorite activities of the Cobra CB club. The club had been founded by Oakie and a couple of former WAHS students. They had been bored out of their skulls the previous year during the "dog days of summer." There wasn't much to do in South County socially except hang out down on Main Street at the old gas station or "cruise the strip," essentially burning gas cruising from one end of town to the other and back again. El Toro was pretty much a "one-horse-town" and in order to make something fun happen it took some creativity. The Cobra CB club had been around for about a year. It was a social organization first. People started getting on the CB radio when it became a fad in the late 1970's. By the early 1980's it had reached El Toro and the South County area. Finally a group of people started using it to broadcast the whereabouts of "road-parties." These were popular and spontaneous events that usually surrounded someone purchasing a keg of beer and then inviting people to help drink it for a nominal fee. The Cobras discovered that by posting lookouts with radios that they could vacate the area long before the police ever arrived to break things up and arrest those responsible for "contributing to the delinquency of minors."
South County was a large area but sparsely populated. There were still a lot of lonely roads, dirt roads and farmer's fields where people could gather briefly, and depart without getting caught.
The "snipe hunt" had developed as a way to call people to the party. Later it evolved into a dedicated club activity with a prize and a time limit. In essence, the Cobras was a way for people to pool their resources, have fun and stay out of trouble by working together.
Spanky, Rosco, Gator, Oakie and Johnny-boy were all members who attended Wild Acorn High. Suzy-Q was an "associate" as she didn't pay dues. But the club welcomed her and other girls anyway.  Someone had once suggested at a club meeting that it was a problem having girls join for free. Oakie had explained that it was one of the goals of the club in the first place. "Listen," he said. "If we get to the point where we have so many hot chicks trying to come to all of our functions that it starts becoming a problem I believe we will have achieved our objective in founding this organization." Everyone had laughed and that had ended the subject.
Steve fired up a Marlboro light in his usual detailed and repetitive manner. He was very particular about smoking and how he arranged his cigarettes inside the pack. he would carefully tear away the insulating foil from the top of the pack just inside the cover and then pull the entire pack out of the box. He would then return the cigarettes into the box filter-end first. He would then pull one cigarette out. Tap it twice on the box or another surface with the filter side down and then flip it into his lips and light his zippo lighter once and it would light immediately. He would draw the smoke in fast with the cigarette between his right fore and middle finger at exactly the second knuckle. He would observe the cherry on the end to make sure it was lit and then satisfied that all was right with the world he would continue to smoke.
Steve seemed to enjoy smoking more than others did.  Sometimes he would light one right after another as it he had a limited time to smoke and wanted as much as possible. Spanky had been the first to notice Steve's odd way of smoking and decided to share it with the group today.
"Frogurt you are way too religious about your smoking. Its not a damn holy act its just a cigarette."
Everyone laughed as Steve stood transfixed on his cigarette.  Spanky fumbled in his pockets, suddenly aware that he wanted a cigarette.
"Oh shit I'm out again," Spanky said as he looked into an empty pack of Marlboro reds.
"Gimmie one of those girl cigarettes you're smoking Frogurt I'm out again," he said.
"Gator did you take my last smoke?" He said looking over at Gator who was puffing on a Marlboro red.
"Not this time dick," Gator said laughing.
Steve suddenly caught up with the conversation after bing transfixed on something in the distance.
"Man you have nerve. First you insult me then you try to bum a cigarette from me. " Steve laughed.
"Here," he said offering one out of his freshly opened pack.
"Nah I'll take one of Gator's Marlboro reds. I'm not that desperate yet." Spanky laughed.
Everyone laughed and Gator handed Spanky one of his cigarettes.
"He where's the box? I want to choose my own." Spanky argued.
"Beggars can't be choosers," Gator said.
"You might have poisoned it," Spanky said straight faced.
"Why would I poison you? Then I'd have to ride the bus home."
"I'd give you a ride," Steve said, "If you'd just put him out of OUR misery." He emphasized the word "OUR" and everyone howled.
"Shuddup Rosco, this is serious. Gimmie the box Gator. Come on don't be a dick." Spanky said with agitation clearly in his voice.
Gator put the box in front of Spanky's nose. "Mmmm, smells good doesn't it. Fresh tobacco, ahhh." He said as he twisted the box slightly under Spanky's nose so he could smell it.
"Dude get your fingers out of my face who knows where they've been, " Spanky said laughing slightly but still trying to maintain a hard look on his face.
"Dude give me the pack so I can choose my own," he said as he pushed Gator's hand away.
"Beggars can't be choosers," Gator said again laughing at his ability to dangle Spanky on a string for a change.
"You'll be begging for a ride home if you don't give me a smoke right now and let me choose it myself," Spanky said with a hint of pouting in his voice.
"Hey Rosco," Gator said,"can I get a ride home?"
Steve was genuinely enjoying this game and said," Sure Gator it would be a pleasure to drive you home as long as you don't give Spanky here a smoke." He laughed and smiled at Spanky.
"That's it Frogurt," Spanky said. "You're dead." He lunged at Steve but missed and began chasing him around the table.
"Gator you're a dick," Spanky said, trying desperately to run down Steve who was much faster with his long legs.
Steve ran while smoking his cigarette and stopping every now and then to dump an ash. He mocked Spanky's slowness and whether he wanted to continue or not as both of them were beginning to tire from the activity.
Just when Steve thought he had given up, Spanky took of his jacket and handed it to Johnny-boy.
"Hold this," Spanky said.
He then ran to his right and Steve ran to his right too, keeping the short end of the rectangular table between them. There were several people sitting on the table including Suzy-Q, SueBear, and Misty. Steve stopped in front of Suzy-Q and her friend Misty and smiled at them both. Spanky was on the other side of the table and took a step on the bench and propelled himself at Steve twisting as he jumped. He landed on his back between two of the girls with his head between their legs as he reached out in one swift movement like a swimmer and grabbed Steve's cigarettes in his belt behind his jeans.
"I got your smokes," Spanky laughed. The two girls got up laughing and Steve reached down with both hands around Spanky's hand holding the brand new box of cigarettes and tried to dislodge them.'
"Let go Frogurt or I'll crush them." Spanky threatened.
Steve was defiant and said," Don't do it or I'll drop you."
Spanky suddenly realized that the only thing holding him up was Steve's two hands.
"You wouldn't dare," he said.
"I will," Steve threatened. "Gimmie back my smokes."
Spanky laughed and caught his breath. Everyone was watching him. He was drawing looks from across the smoking area now. Even Bobbie the yard duty supervisor was watching and clearly she wasn't seeing the humor in it at all.
"You won't drop me you're Frogurt," Spanky said laughing and questioning at the same time.
"Stop it both of you," Bobbie said in a calm and yet very authoritative manner. She was wearing a black leather trench coat with a belt around her middriff. Her high heeled boots and a scarf around her jet black hair combined with her dark sunglasses, and ruby red lipstick made her seem like a character out of a spy novel. She stood about five and a half feet but her boots and manner made her seem much taller. She looked down at Spanky hanging precariously upside down with his back to the ground and Steve holding him up.
Steve suddenly saw Bobbie next to him and was startled. He released his grip at her appearance and Spanky's smile of joy at the struggle and attention focused on him turned to surprise as he felt Steve release his hand. His eyes got big suddenly as he felt gravity return to his suspended torso. He fell about two feet onto his back knocking the breath out of him. He looked up and saw six people standing over him and laughing. One person was looking sternly at him.
"Let that be a lesson to you, " Bobbie said as she turned and walked away. Her notebok was tightly gripped in one of her leather glove bound hands, the other held a pen like a riding crop.
Spanky was gasping for air with his eyes wide open. Suzy and Misty leaned forward to lift him up. Each of them grabbed an arm and pulled him into a sitting position.
Catching his breath Spanky said, "I must be in heaven I see two angels."
The two girls dropped him and he fell back onto his back.
"Pig," they both said as they marched off.
Everyone laughed and Gator threw him a cigarette. It landed between his legs. Spanky grabbed it and put it between his lips asking "Anyone got a light?"
"You better smoke that thing in a hurry the bell," Gator was cut off in mid sentence by the sound of the warning bell.
"Shit," Spanky said. "Just my luck. Rosco you're a dick. Gator you're a dick. Why does everyone hate me?" He asked seriously.
Steve offered him the rest of his half-smoked cigarette. "You can get a few drags out of this one if you want, " he laughed.
Spanky got up and reached for the half-smoked cigarette just as Steve flicked it away and onto the table.
"You dick you're gonna pay," Spanky said.
"I pay everyday Spanky," he laughed and turned and walked out of the smoking area.
The smoking area cleared quickly and soon Spanky was all alone sitting by the table.
"Guess I'll go to class he said as he got up, dusted himself off and grabbed the half cigarette Steve had flippied and took a couple of puffs as he exited the smoking area.
He was about ten paces from the door to his class when the tardy bell rang.
"Shit, I'm late again." He said aloud. Then he opened the door and walked into the classroom.

The Cobras-Chapter 5

Rosco parked in his usual spot close to the front of the school. It was a good spot that allowed him to get out quickly when he left at lunch to go to work. He had a class called "Work Experience" in the afternoon that allowed him to go to work in the at lunch and get elective credit towards graduation. It was the greatest class he had ever had. He would meet once a month with the teacher and have his boss fill out some paperwork, he usually did it himself, and he would get an easy "A." Everything was going good today he thought. He got to run an errand for his photography teacher, which got him out of school for a short time. He had a highly coveted "off-campus" parking pass because of his work-experience class and occasionally he would run errands for Mr. Anderson, the teacher in charge of the print shop and all of the photography classes at the school. Steve had taken photography since his first year at WAHS and had become a teacher's aide since his junior year.
Steve loved photography and aspired one day to become a professional photographer who travelled the world in search of the perfect picture. "Someday," he thought, "I'll be taking pictures for National Geographic." In the meantime, Steve had a much simpler plan. He wanted to have fun and live a lifestyle appropriate for a person of his intelligence, character and sensitivity. He admitted to himself that at times he was "overly sensitive," or as Spanky used to say, "a bitch." He knew Spanky was right. The incident with Gator earlier in the morning had been his fault. He had been just trying to impress Suzy. But it didn't seem to be working. "Just as well, " he thought. "She lives right down the street from me and if we ever broke up it would be torture driving by her house everyday." He decided from that point not to pursue her any longer and he'd probably start accepting the gas money she offered him too. That would patch things up with Spanky and Gator. After all, as annoying as they could be sometimes they were his best friends.
Steve walked from the parking lot to the industrial arts building where the photo lab and classroom were located. Mr. Anderson was teaching a Photography I class there right now. Steve walked into the class of mostly sophomores and juniors with the look of disdain on his face. He truly detested underclassmen, with a few exceptions of course. As he walked in he didn't notice Gator sitting in the back by the door. He strolled in with his nose in the air, clearly superior to everyone in the class. After all that was why he was the teacher's aide. He slowly walked by the first desk without noticing who was sitting there. Gator stuck out his foot to trip him. Steve briefly tripped over it but caught himself before falling down. He laughed and said," okay Gator now we are even." Gator laughed and nodded. Most of the class didn't even notice as Mr. Anderson was in the front of the room showing prints from previous year's projects. Mr. Anderson called attention to the fact that a guest ahd arrived in the class.
"Steve here has done a great job with black and white work. Those are some of his shots posted over there on the wall, " he said. He seemed happy to segway the opportunity into his lecture for the day.
Mr. Anderson was one of the most respected teachers on campus. He was one of the rare teachers who had lived a "real" life before going into teaching. He had been a grunt in Vietnam, then worked as a photographer and as a graphics technician. He was physically imposing at six foot two and thickly muscled. He proudly sported a thick moustache and long-hair down the sides of his head. He had a typical 40's chrome-dome which gave him the appearance of a monk. He had a good sense of humor and was highly regarded by his students because he taught an elective class and all of the students who were in his classes wanted to be there. It was very apparent by his matter of fact manner that he didn't care much for the educational bureaucracy but he seemed to love his students. His class was always a hive of activity with students creating projects and learning valuable printing skills and how to develop an artistic eye.
"So Steve," Anderson said in his deep baritone voice, "Tell the class how you made those prints on the wall over there."
Steve was momentarily taken aback by the sudden spotlight but his love of his work quickly cut through any embarassment he was feeling and he walked over to the wall and pointed to his photos.
"Well it was pretty simple really," he said in his best self-depricating manner. "The one on the far side there of the trees is a half-tone set onto a flat paper. It was then cropped ot fit into the mount. It was originally a color slide that we made into a black and white negetive and then shot the final print."
"Nice work Steve," Anderson said.
"Thanks," he said nodding. "If you guys pay attention in here you will learn how to do that process in the next few weeks. Mr. Anderson taught me everything I know about photography."
With that Steve dropped the supplies on Mr. Anderson's desk and headed back towards the front of the room where he liked to perch himself next to the teacher's desk. He was blushing ever so slightly from the compliments he received and the brief eye contact he had made with a girl named Misty in the back row.
Gator thought about Steve's explanation of his work and was impressed with it. He had to give credit to Rosco: when it came to photography he really knew his stuff. Gator thought momentarily about this class and the ideas that it gave him about his future. He liked the class a lot especially the creative part of it and the fact that Mr. Anderson always tried to bring out the best in each of his students. While he didn't necessarily see himself as a photographer he had learned enough about photography to have an appreciation for it. Could he see himself as a photographer for a career? Perhaps not but he was happy to have the chance to learn about it. He felt like he was on the brink of some important discovery about himself but wasn't sure what it was related to. He knew he wanted to be a writer. Maybe somehow this class was a step in that direction. It was strange to him that he was even having these kinds of thoughts. At his old school he had many different classes that taught him concrete skills like woodshop, metalshop, ceramics, and electronics. None of those really peaked his interest like this class had. Gator liked photography class. He liked Mr. Anderson's no-nonsense approach to teaching. He had something the students were after and they all wanted to be there so they followed his strict rules and matter of fact method of classroom management. Gator daydreamed briefly about what it would be like to be a world famous photographer and to have photos in museums or on the cover of Time or The Rolling Stone. "That would be cool," he thought, "meeting and photographing all of those famous people." He acknowledged to himself that it would be a nice gig, but somehow not a good fit for him.
The bell rang and Mr. Anderson reminded everyone that their nature black and white projects were due next class. "Class dismissed," he said. Steve was talking to Mr. Anderson at his desk when everyone except Gator was gone.
"What can I do for you Noah," Mr. Anderson asked.
"Uh, nothing thanks I'm just waiting for Steve," he answered.
"Oh you know Noah?" Mr. Anderson asked Steve intrigued at the connection out of context.
"Yeah he lives down the street from me," Steve said. "He's a pretty good kid." Steve looked at Gator with a smirk. He knew Gator hated being referred to as a "kid" so he gave him a little bit of snarkiness to mess with him a bit.
Gator looked at him and smiled. He knew exactly what he was doing. "Payback is a bitch," he said to himself.
Mr. Anderson picked up one of the half-tones from the folder in front of him on the desk.
"Here's one of his best works," he said handing it to Steve.
"Not bad," Steve said, "for a rookie of course," they both laughed.
Mr. Anderson stood up from the stool he was sitting on and said, "well I'd love to stay and chat with you two but I've got Togo's wating for me in my office."
"That's cold," Gator said.
"No actually its hot pastrami, at least for the moment. You two amscre." Anderson said.
Steve and Gator walked out the door and as soon as the door shut Noah pushed Steve into the wall and laughing said, "you got me that time. You are a real dick sometimes."
"Yeah I know," Steve laughed. "Hey do you guys want to go to the drive-in toinght? The Cobras are all going and it should be a blast."
"I'll check with Ronnie and see. But it sounds good to me. You driving?" He asked.
"Yeah I'll drive," he said.
"How much do we need to pay for gas?" Gator said laughing.
"Nothing just bring some buds dude. I know you have some you stoner." Steve laughed.
"Yeah, I got some primo from my bro's up north." He bragged. It was always a source of pride for him that he could get good weed from his friends in his old neighborhood. It was a mark of distinction being able to present the goods and to share them with others. Gator was a very generous sort of person and didn't mind sharing what he had with most people.
"Cool." Steve said.
"Cool." Gator said.

The Cobras-Chapter 4

The final tardy bell rang as Spanky reached the gym door. Lance saw him coming and deliberately shut the door in his face. "Dick." Spanky said under his breath. "Now I'm going to get detention again. Oh well I guess it could be worse. I could be dead." He laughed. At that moment another door to the gym opened up. It was Oakie waving at him. "Hey come on Spanky over here," he said as he looked to see if anyone had noticed him opening one of the emergency doors.
"Thanks dude," Spanky said as he panted from the sprint to the open door.
"No problem, You deserve a break today," he sang the familiar jingle.
Oakie was simply the coolest guy he knew. He was smiling as he let him in the door. He was that kind of guy. He just did cool shit for people with no expectation of return. Spanky had no doubt that he would have stood up for him against Lance even if it meant getting his ass kicked. He hoped someday to be that kind of guy but he knew it was unlikely.
Spanky slipped inside the gym and moved carefully along the folded up bleacher seats and out of the sight of Lance who was talking with some of the other jocks. He slipped into the locker room which was curiously open when it should have been locked.
"Bonus," Spanky thought to himself and he quickly stepped inside. Most of the students had already left the locker room. He passed a couple of people dressed for P.E. Class and rushed to his locker. He began opening his locker when all of the sudden he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He quickly ducked behind the lockers near the open shower bay. Peering from behind the lockers he could see one of the P.E. teachers walk by and enter the office. He crept quietly back to his locker and opened the lock slowly and quietly.
He began to undress and was down to his socks and underwear when he heard another noise. It was the door opening. He quickly stashed his clothes in the locker and crept back to the showers for cover. Then he was surprised to hear a female voice. He was suddenly very aware of how naked he was. He recognized the voice. It was his swimming teacher Miss Jensen. She was a hot young 25 year old who had just finished her collegiate swimming career the year before. She was wearing a polo shirt and sweats in the school colors. Her long dark hair was in a pony tail under a white baseball cap. Her hair was still wet and she was wearing flip-flop sandals. Spanky figured she had just come in from the pool and was there to drop the key.
He was still trying to avoid being caught for being late since he knew one more tardy would result in detention. He decided to take a peek down the rows of lockers to see if it was safe to leave or if the coast was clear. He could see the door to the office was shut. Quickly he changed into his PE uniform and crept his way down to the end of the lockers. As he got to the last row he stopped momentarily and closed his eyes. He heard laughter coming from the PE office. As he opened his eyes he thought he could see figures moving behind the steamed up glass next to the closed door. He thought he saw two people engaged in an intimate embrace. He rubbed his eyes and it was gone. Realizing it was his chance to escape he quickly snuck past the door. As he got to the door exiting the locker room he thought he heard laughter again.
He imagined Miss Larsen in the throws of passion and turned to look back once more at the doorway and captured just a glimpse of the steamy glass. He thought he saw her eyes peering out of the glass winking at him. He smiled and winked back at the eyes and walked into the gymnasium.
The class was playing volleyball. It was his favorite activity. Not because he particularly liked the sport, but because all of the girls in the class liked to play and it was his chance to check them out up close without being called a pervert. As he scanned the gymnasium he could see three games going on. He searched for his team and immediately his gaze locked on the object of his thoughts and obsessions since junior high school. The time when he had received that one kiss. There she was, Amy. She was surrounded by her "in-crowd" friends looking perfect as ever in her green silk shorts and matching polo shirt. She wore leg-warmers, the height of fashion at the time and her long hair was in a green bow which perfectly matched her leg warmers. She had green Reebok sneakers with yellow and white laces to top it off. Her outfit was befitting of a sophomore on the Varsity cheerleading squad. School colors and school spirit oozed out of her every pore.
Spanky imagined what it would be like to have her as his wife. He would come home every night from his job "being rich" and find her cooking him dinner. She would give him a spoonful of her sauce that she slaved over all day and then smile and hug him. Then their three kids would run in and grab his legs. Two boys and a girl. Just like his family. They were all 5 or 6 years old and they would say "Daddy we love you. What did you bring us?" He would reach into his pockets and give them each a gold coin. "Ok kids go put this in your piggy-bank," he would say and they would run off and then he would pull a nice ring out of his pocket and put it on her finger. "But honey I already have so much gold jewelry. You shouldn't have." Amy would say as she kissed his cheek. He would nod and tell her "you deserve more honey, you deserve more."
Just then a volleyball hit him in the face. "Ow," he said. It hadn't hit him hard, just enough to jar him out of his daydream. Everyone on the court started laughing. he could see through the corner of his eye that Amy was laughing too, but when she saw him look her way she looked down shamefully.
"You can laugh now," he told himself, "but someday you'll be my wife."
Spanky watched as Lance walked over to the group and started talking to them. All of the girls laughed and two of them touched his arms admiring his biceps. Amy smiled but seemed distracted by something.
"You're in Spanky," Suzy said as she left the court and high-fived him. Spanky took the ball and gave it a whack over head. It sailed past the net and hit Lance, who was in the middle of telling what appeared to be a very important story, in the back of the head.
"Oh shit," Spanky said to himself as he instinctively turned around and non-chalantly started walking off the court, hoping not to be noticed.
From the corner of his eye Spanky could see Lance turning around and the girls, including Amy dying with laughter. Amy looked at Spanky the way a princess looks at a knight going off to die in a hopeless battle. Her eyes said bravo, but they also pitied him. She knew it wouldn't be good for him.
The veins on Lance's muscular face bulged under the anger at the sudden realization of who was responsible for the ball hitting him. "YOU!" He shouted as he clenched his fists and started running towards Spanky who had now turned and run back towards the locker room. He made it to the door about three steps ahead of Lance who had closed the considerable gap with blazing speed. Miss Jensen was coming out right as Lance grabbed Spanky by the scruff of the neck. "This time you're going to die you turd." He said.
"He's going to kill me," Spanky shrieked.
Miss Jensen opened the door and Spanky slipped out of Lance's grasp and into the locker room.
Miss Jensen blocked the door and looked up at Lance towering over her.
"Get out of my way Miss Jensen its time for that little creep to die now." Lance said his face red and his eyes bulging.
"Oh let him be Lance," she said. "Its beneath a stud like you to beat up a poor pathetic little boy like that." As she closed the door behind her she casually buttoned up one of the buttons in her polo shirt drawing his attention to her large tan breasts barely covered by the tight fitting knit polo shirt.
Lance stood only inches from her breathing heavily. He could smell the slight scent of perfume and was suddenly overcome by how attractive she was.
He smiled at her and said. "Okay Miss Jensen, but only for you and you owe me one."
"He's my pet," she said. "So leave him alone, and if you guys win the state in track maybe I'll pay up."
"Deal." he said walking away with all of the sure-fire cockiness that a senior athlete can possess. He knew he was destined for bigger things. Maybe he could add her to his trophy case of high school conquests before he graduated. "Man she smelled hot," he thouht as he walked away nodding and acknowledging the humor in the situation as it must have appeared to his audience.
Spanky was hiding in the showers when the bell rang. As the boys from his class filed into the locker room he looked for Lance so he could slip out un-noticed.
"There's the big dope," he thought. Lance walked with the crowd past Spanky's row of lockers. He could hear him bragging about his encounter with Miss Larsen. "Yeah she said if we win the state meet she was going to take me to Tahoe for the weekend." He was so engaged in his story that he didn't even look Spanky's way as he passed by.
"Whew," he said. "That was close."
Spanky slipped back out into the gym and went to the exit door where he saw Miss Jensen waiting by the door alone. She was going through her gradebook as he passed by. She looked up at him and winked. He winked back and walked outside singing to himself.
"She's on fire, my baby's on fire." The song was from the new Sammy Hagar album he had just purchased. It was in his head from playing it constantly and from his encounter, real or imagined with near death and womanhood. He didn't understand either of them. He only knew they were forces of nature.

The Cobras-Chapter 3

Spanky made his way towards the gym down the long walkway that went through the center of the "Quad." He was walking leisurely with some of the guys from the smoking area, Oakie and his brother Keith and a guy called Vette who got his name from the custom made baseball cap he wore every day to school. Spanky dropped something out of his pocket, it was his bic lighter and he fell behind the group to pick it up. As he stood up he accidentally bumped into a tall and thickly muscled football player who was carrying a glass bottle of orange juice that happened to drop, smashing into a million pieces.
"What's your problem runt?" The large dark haired jock said. Immediately a crowd gathered around them. It was mostly jocks, about 10 or 15 people surrounding the two figures at the center of the quad.
"Dude, I'm really sorry. Let me buy you another juice tomorrow and we'll call it square ok. I gotta run or I'll be late for class."
A high-pitched voice came out of the crowd. "Kick his ass Lance." It was a pipsqueak diving team member, the smallest guy on the team, but he was a jock and that made him royalty of sorts at WAHS. The crowd egged Lance on as he stood there deciding what to do. He really didn't want to hurt this pathetic loser but his reputation was at stake. One rule of the road was that jocks didn't show mercy to "burn-outs." It was just like that, the law of the jungle.
Spanky had been here before. He stood up, stuck out his chest, took a deep breath and all 5 feet 3 inches of him looked Lance in the eye and said, "I'm sorry man. I didn't mean it. If you're going to kick my ass go ahead but I won't fight you. I don't fight. I'm a lover not a fighter."
Lance was amused by the courage of this guy and was inclined to let him go. He was just a lowly burn-out sophomore and here he was a successful football player and captain of the wrestling team. It was very much beneath him he thought to beat this guy up but he had to do something or he'd never hear the end of it. Status had to be maintained or it vanished into thin air.
He had just grabbed his shirt by the collar when the crowd parted. It was "Bobby the Hulk." He had gotten the name on Halloween in his sophomore year when he'd dressed up like the comic book superhero "The Hulk," which essentially meant wearing ripped up shorts and painting his entire body green. He was the undisputed toughest guy in the school at least in the "Smoking Area." Bobby was walking with one of his buddies known as "DWB," for "Dirty White Boy" and he had a reputation as a scrapper as well. They were both clad in leather jackets and blue jeans, muscle t-shirts and combat boots.
Bobby walked straight through the crowd to about a foot away from Spanky. Lance looked him up and down. He had dirty blonde wavy hair that hung freely about his shoulders. He wore aviator glasses and had a five-o'clock shadow that made him look older than his 18 years. At 6'3" he was an intimidating to look at . In his boots he was about 6'5 and he was gifted with a large "V-shaped" body that he built up as an avid weightlifter. His brother, who had graduated a year earlier had introduced him to weights in junior high school and he had become an impressive physical specimen by the end of his senior year despite having given up "organized sports" after 9th grade.
Bobby had known Lance most of his life. Both of them had grown up in South County. Lance lived up on the hill with the rest of the "country gentry" and Bobby was a "flatlander." The distinction had little to do with money, as many of the people who lived down in the valley had good incomes, but there was a definite difference in style from place to place. It wasn't a big deal at a school as small as WAHS but at times like this it definitely played out. Bobby and Lance had been rivals since kindergarten. They had both played little league, soccer, and later pop-warner football. Somehow they had always managed to be on different teams so their rivalry was quite pronounced. But they had never fought each other. Just as the US and the Soviet Union had avoided war, these two "superpowers" within the town had never come to blows. Now they were standing toe to toe with each other. Lance was a superior athlete in most areas, but Bobby was a younger brother and much tougher than Lance who was an only child.
Lance was just about to grab Spanky by the throat when Bobby walked up and said, "What's up Lance?" His tone was a mixture of curiosity and contempt. he had sized up the situation as he walked up and although he didn't know the funny looking short guy with the curly hair and the goofy look on his face he detested bullies and the whole "jock aristocracy" of WAHS. He knew he could have been one of them too. Oh how they had begged him to play football where his size, speed and strength made him a devastating defensive player. But he'd given that up his freshman year after some rookie coach swore at him in front of the the entire Varsity team. He had been recruited to play as one of only two freshmen invited to Varsity tryouts.  Lance being the other one. Bobby took it out on the starting QB the next play as he was playing on the "scout defense". The same coach then grabbed him by the back of his pads and told him to get the hell off the field. He was humiliated in front of the entire team, and worst of all Lance. Lance was one of the running backs and just smiled during the whole incident. The coach eventually got fired as a "hot-head" and every year the  head coach who Bobby respected greatly tried to recruit him back to the team. But by sophomore year his dreams had changed. His older brother had introduced hi to weed, women and rock and roll. He felt destined to become an outlaw biker like his "old man" had been. He was determined to ride against the system with one finger in the air.
"This doesn't concern you Robbie." Lance said, swelling up with himself and proud of how he had used Bobby's childhood nickname as if it gave him some authority over him. Bobby took a step forward  and was toe to toe with him. An eerie silence fell over the crowd as everyone held their breath wondering if they were about to witness a "Clash of the Titans." Bobby looked down on Lance, his boots giving him about an inch of advantage in height.
"You're taller than you used to be Lance," Bobby said slowly and cooly but with an edge like a razor. "But that's not going to help you if you hurt my friend here."
"This guy is your friend?" Lance said incredulously. "This sophomore?" He struggled for the right word. "Low-life?" He added plaintively.
"Like I said, he's my friend. You got a problem with him you got a problem with me." Bobby said looking him dead in the eye.
Lance swallowed hard and said, " I should teach you a lesson but I'll let it go this time." He let go of Spanky's shirt and walked past Bobby, eyeing him as he passed by.
The bell rang and the group dispersed.
Spanky was still standing there, sweat dripping from his forehead. Bobby stood next to him and said," So what's your name friend?"
"They call me Spanky. Thanks a lot dude. I thought that guy was going to kill me." He said as he breathed a sigh of relief.
Bobby nodded and said,"Well Spanky you got lucky today. I hate jocks and especially that one. We go way back. Be cool. See ya around." And he was gone.