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Beautiful Disaster
Chapter One
"Ignorance is bliss"
But for the quintessential small town of Augusta, it wasn’t football that brought the sport enthusiasts out in mass. In Augusta, the residents went mental over basketball. Augusta High School’s prized, consecutive championship-winning basketball team – the Augusta Tigers – were known as one of the best high school basketball teams of the state. Currently ranked number two in the state just behind the strong and undefeatable Morton High School Wasps, they’ve been almost unbeatable for the past five years thanks to a new and inspired coach whose tactics and game-plan could be considered worthy of the NBA. Of course, all the championship titles – regional and state titles – weren’t accredited solely to Coach Glenn.
The Tigers were the ones getting all the praise, adoration and attention from possibly every person living in this small tight knit community.
If we take a look at Augusta High School’s illustrious social hierarchy, you’d notice immediately that the top of the pyramid was not dominated by rich kids, jocks, and cheerleaders, much like high school clichés tell us, but by the Tigers solely (Of course accompanied by their closest friends and girlfriends). Rich kids (and I’m talking about the trust-fund, born with a silver spoon type of rich kids) were non-existent in Augusta, as the town consisted of hard working middle class (and a few upper-middle class) families. No Mercedes-Benz or gated communities in sight. Cheerleaders were not associated with popularity at our high school – namely because they possessed a functioning brain and morals. When it came to the Jocks, Augusta High School had a number of active athletic teams beside the basketball team, but neither one of the three other teams were nearly as popular or prized as the ever prominent basketball team. Volleyball, soccer and track were just not as interesting to the citizens of this community.
And in the proletariat section of the pyramid – the bottom, those considered scum in the eyes of high school society –the rest of the student body congregated. Chess Club members, Math Club, Science Club, your average Joe and Jane, straight-A students, slackers, loser deviants, newspaper staff members, yearbook staff members, the student council members, the cheerleaders, the list goes on.
Basically by looking at the social structure of Augusta High School one would calculate that the Tigers dominated the entire school. Imagine it, a group of twelve boys having the entire high school population of circa 400 students in the palms of their hands, abiding their every want and need.
Though the Tigers had complete power in their hands, they never really used it against the rest of the student body. They weren’t abusive, they didn’t torture geeky boys for their own sadistic pleasure nor did they come off as all that mighty. They usually stuck with their own clique, and avoided the rest like the plague. The only power abuse would be the consistent tardiness between classes, not abiding the strict school regulations that no student is allowed to leave the school premise during school hours, and violating the moral code they had solemnly pledged to when recruited for the team.
Any other student would get a day’s detention for not following standard school rules, but every teacher would overlook any wrong doing these twelve basketball players did.
Off the court and after school hours, they were considered the town’s golden boys. Old ladies loved them and pinched their cheeks, commenting how ‘nice young boys’ they were. They were given special treatment at local fast food places and at the town’s only movie theater. Rumors go as far as stating that they were given free alcoholic beverages at local convenient stores, or the owners of these convenient stores would overlook their illegal drinking age and sell them alcohol. Oh yes, these boys were worshipped.
According to all these people they deserved the free beer, or they deserved not to wait in a long line at a movie theatre.
For us mere mortals who didn’t belong with the basketball team or were not directly associated with any of the players, life could just plain suck if you happened to be standing in that long line at the movie theatre, or waiting for your order to be taken at Aunt Millie’s where you’d had been sitting for ten minutes while the Tigers who had just walked in gets their orders taken the minute they sat down.
This town was pathetic.
You must be asking yourself, ‘Why doesn’t anybody do something about it?’
I’ll give you the simple and painless answer. It’d be futile.
Do you honestly think the school administration doesn’t know what’s going on during and after school hours? Oh yeah, they do. This is a small town after all, and while the majority of the population adores the basketball team and condone their careless actions, there are a selected few who condemn under-age debauchery like drinking and drug use. And while a few worried – and really pissed off – parents have come forward with proof of these teenagers’ after school activities, the school administration has simply decided to overlook it. What could they do? Suspend the entire basketball team? Scandalous!
I like to think, in light of these failed attempts to bring justice for all, that everyone who actually gives a damn has decided to opt for the very well known phrase: Ignorance is bliss.
While the boys were breaking school rules and drinking under-age – while they had pledged not to – they were not doing anyone else no harm. They practically stuck with their own, and did not exactly show any totalitarianism tendencies towards the lesser population of Augusta High.
And that’s how we lived in harmony. The privileged Aristocratic Tigers at the top of the social food chain, and the proletariats – which consisted of the majority of the school’s population – at the bottom, floating around their high school years not giving a damn about this social structure but bowing down and worshipping the Tigers.
As an average student who wrote for the school’s newspaper – the Augusta Gazette - I of course belonged with about 96 percent of the school population. I had no ties to the basketball team, and didn’t want any ties with them either. I lived my high school days day by day, without a care in the world or for basketball.
Until now that is.
Now, thanks to an assignment personally handed over to me by the Gazette’s editor-in-chief Isaac Koopman, I have to march into uncharted territory and ask the captain of the basketball team if he would mind being interviewed for the school’s newspaper.
I’ve always thought I had natural journalistic instincts, and have never been one to be shy or uncomfortable to approach anyone for an interview, nor was I ever afraid of writing what I felt was the truth. But interviewing Dean Porter was considered the equivalent of approaching…the Queen of England. Or George Clooney.
General opinion about one Dean Porter was mixed. Around town he was worshipped and adored by everyone. He was everything parents would want their perfect daughter to bring home to be introduced: handsome, charismatic, smart and polite. The title of captain of the Augusta Tigers only heightened his reputation. Since he was drafted into the basketball team, everyone has had an eye on him, not only because of his all-American boy looks, but also because of his amazing ability to dribble a basketball. When on the court, he caught everyone’s attention for his skills and fast domination of the game. Off the court – for his drool-worthy looks. At the beginning of his junior year, there were rumors flying around that he was going to be given the title of captain instead of a senior. Whether the rumors were true or not was never confirmed because a senior was ultimately given the reign.
At school, not only was he the ‘it’ boy – you know, the one boy every girl ogles at and want to be with, while every other guy envies him for being the object of every females fantasies – he was big man on campus. I’ve already stated that the twelve team members ruled the school, but it was clear that this year Dean had the upper hand.
“I heard Dean went out with a model over the summer.”
And of course, with popularity comes year-round gossip and speculation about his personal and social life.
“Yeah, it’s true. His aunt runs a modeling agency. They met over the summer. He’d just broken up with Cecilia Raymond and was on the rebound.”
Over the past three years, the percentage of females interested in basketball grew about 30 percent, according to a poll taken by the Augusta Gazette.
“I’ve never really been a fan of basketball, but ever since Dean joined the team, the game became so much more interesting!”
With basketball season just a week away, the school’s been prepping for the official outset by hosting a number of weekly pep-rallies. My fellow students and I had to endure many overly animated pep-rallies where a significant amount of school spirit has been blatantly thrown in our face. It’s been like this since the beginning of November. Unfortunately, the start of basketball season does not mean a demise in these somewhat ridiculous – imagine our school principal sporting a flamboyantly colored t-shirt with a lone orange Tiger printed on it, jumping around the auditorium trying to get everyone revved up – pep-rallies either. From now until the end of the season, there have already been a string of events planned in the name of school spirit and the basketball team. The school’s sheer bout of optimism was a sign of how well the team’s been doing over the past years. Though it’s been two years since they won the regional championship – and it’s been a good three years since the state championship – the team still has the number two spot in the state ranking. In the end, it always comes down to the Big Kahunas of basketball for this state: The Augusta Tigers and the Morton Wasps.
Back to the illustrious Dean Porter…
You’d think with all the hype and attention from the community and female population he’d have a big head, right?
Well…actually, he is kinda cocky. But in his own defense, who wouldn’t be when one is considered the school and town’s golden boy?
“He uses the muskiest smelling after-shave I’ve ever smelled. I’ve never smelled anyone else with that after-shave.”
Actually, lots of boys at our school use that same particular after-shave. It’s a well known brand.
“My best friend’s sister dated Dean’s cousin and he told my best friend’s sister, who told my best friend, who in turn babbled to me, that Dean slept with an older woman once.”
Oooohh, Augusta’s very own Benjamin Braddock and Mrs. Robinson. Scandalous.
Dean Porter was gorgeous, to say the least. All those girls lusting after him were responding naturally to their hormones reaction at his grade-A-hotness. Dean epitomizes the term ‘tall, dark and handsome’. A good six feet tall, he has an athletic and quite muscled body, strong legs, perfect biceps and abs to die for. His face, it seems, was structured by God Himself – a long nose, strong jaw, with a nice pair of kissable lips masking perfect aligned teeth. Add gorgeous cerulean eyes and a heart-stopping smile and you’ve got yourself a contender for Hunk of the Year. These were all descriptions given by my fellow female peers, and one member of the male species who batted for the other team.
“I heard he spend his summer helping out habitat for humanity.”
Nothing screamed Golden Boy like charitable tendencies.
“Dean’s been quoted as saying that he’d like to become a veterinarian if his basketball dreams fade out.”
McVet, anyone?
“He and his father jog every Saturday morning. He looks exactly like his dad.”
When it came to grades, Dean was considered one of the best students in the senior class of 57 students.
“He hasn’t had a single bad grade yet this year.”
This is college application material! Wonder if he wrote his steamy relationship with Augusta’s very own Mrs. Robinson?
“He’s in the top running for valedictorian this year.”
Actually, I heard Margaret Chow and Cecilia Raymond are neck in neck for the top honor of Augusta High School’s Class of 2007 valedictorian.
“His mother is hoping he’d get accepted to an east coast Ivy-league school.” That’s every mother’s dream, isn’t it? But maybe, Mrs. Porter’s dream might be turning into reality if the rumors that are going around are anything but fictional. Dean’s popularity in the world of high school basketball has earned him the attention of top schools. Scouts and recruiters have been keeping an eye on him for quite some time now, and if all ends well, he’ll be sure to get a basketball scholarship.
But, not everyone was as delighted with Dean’s presence as the majority of the school. There were a few selected people who didn’t like Dean, simply didn’t care about him or really hated him.
“That pompous ass almost ran me over last September with his Bat-mobile! And he didn’t even have the decency to say he’s sorry.”
Some girls didn’t fawn over his oh-so obvious hotness whenever he walked into a room. They say they’re immune to his looks.
“Dean Porter isn’t all that. Sure, he looks like he just walked out of a GQ magazine. But looks aren’t everything.”
Some claim that he’s nothing but basketball and good-looks, having no other underlying qualities that would appeal to them.
“Last year’s basketball captain, now he was a cutie. Sweet, charming, nice to everybody. What was his name again?”
“I hate basketball. Therefore, I hate Dean Porter.”
So, to sum up the illustrious captain of the basketball team, all around big man on campus and the object of many girls’ fantasy: smart, handsome, charitable, might be into older women, loves animals, considered to be a pompous ass by a few girls.
Hmm…Dean Porter wasn’t hard to figure out.
But would he be difficult to interview for the Gazette?
“Earth to Jenna.”
I blinked and turned to Michelle, who was watching me with uncertain eyes. “You’ve been staring off into space for the past ten minutes.”
“They say if you’re caught in a stare it means your mind needs a break.”
Michelle smirked at my reference, an ode if you will to the smart and witty Veronica Mars. “After what you told me this morning, your brain will need all the rest it can get. Speaking to Dean Porter might cause a brain-overload or malfunction or something up to that par.”
Though Michelle wouldn’t mind drooling over Dean or spend the entire duration of class ogling at Dean – this has happened numerous times – she is publicly not a fan of Dean because he is, and I quote, “a poster child for high school cliques and all that is wrong with said cliques and the downsides of popularity.”
“It’s not like I’ve never talked to him before.” I muttered as I looked at my lunch with disdain. I’ve been eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch ever since the first grade. You’d think that my mother would have given me an assortment of lunch sandwiches over the past 12 years. Unfortunately, she hasn’t. It has been PB&J sandwiches every single day. I’ve suggested a change in the lunch menu, but mom just gave me an undecipherable look and said that if I wanted anything else I should wake up earlier and make my own lunch. And so I have decided to continue eating PB&J sandwiches until I graduate. I’d rather sleep the five minutes that it would take me to make said lunch sandwich, thank you very much.
“I think the correct way to describe your conversations with Dean would be a cordial greeting every now and then.”
“That’s not entirely true. Dean and I were in the same class together all throughout elementary school. I shared my crayons with him many times.”
“But has he ever said, hey Jenna, my old crayon-sharing friend, mind sitting with my friends and me during lunch?”
“Why the hell would he say that? We run in different social circles.”
Michelle snapped her fingers at me and a look of ‘FINALLY SHE GETS IT!’ dawned on her face. “Exactly. That’s what’s wrong with this school. The clear separation between those who rule the school,” Michelle pointed at a table at the far left corner of the cafeteria – the Tigers and The Selected Entourage of The Round Table, “And those of who have no ties whatsoever to the team or the players.”
“Honestly Michelle, they aren’t so bad. So what if they are considered the popular crowd? Compared to all those high school clichés, they are tame and completely harmless. In the four years that we’ve been here, have you ever seen a jock torment one helpless freshman or nerdy boy? No.”
“But my point is, why the social separation? Why the high school social food chain? The Tigers get away with so much. What’s with that? As far as I know rules and regulations apply to one and all. Not everyone except the basketball team. It’s about equality.”
“Are you channeling Karl Marx or something?”
“Don’t compare me to a communist.”
I laughed and took a bite from my sandwich. “Really Michelle, this whole ‘Screw the privileged ones’ attitude is getting old. Our high school life is nearing its end, after that we won’t have to worry with these types of people ever again. Then comes the real world where people worry about more important things than governing a high school.”
Rolling her eyes, she returned her focused to the table the Tigers congregated at daily at lunch. The table was the same size and color than every other table in this cafeteria, but with the Tigers naming it their personal private property, it stood out from the other tables, namely because the current twelve members of the basketball team sat there during lunch with their chosen entourage, a selected group of about fifteen additional people – girlfriends included. Now, they all crowded around this one table which normally would seat sixteen people. So, if appropriately calculated, it would mean that eleven of them would have to crowd around the table or pull a chair closer to actually be able to sit at that ‘prestigious’ table.
Currently, one the four remaining chairs were taken by Dean’s best friend Dylan O’Shea, while the other three were randomly given to one lucky member of their entourage. I’m willing to bet he or she is feeling mighty grand right now.
“When do you plan on asking him?”
Turning to meet Michelle’s gaze, I shrugged. “Maybe I should go over there right now. I might as well get this over with.”
Michelle and I quickly glanced again at the table. Dean was currently in what seemed like quite an interesting conversation with three of his fellow teammates – Omar Wilson, Edward Garrison and…what the heck’s his name? Ugh, I can never remember. The cafeteria was alive with loud voices, laughter and even a few giggles here and there, but even from here I could vaguely hear what the four of them were conversing about. No, I didn’t have super-human hearing nor were the four of them speaking in loud tones of voices. Michelle and I weren’t sitting that far from their table.
Dean laughed about something, throwing his head back, eyes closed and his fist banging lightly against the table as his friends joined along. At that moment, I don’t know why, but I decided not to approach him just yet. Maybe it was the intimidation that they – his teammates and entourage – presented, or maybe I was just being silly.
“I’ll do it Monday,” I said, “It’ll give me the whole weekend to work on the questions.”
Michelle smirked. “And what if he says no?”
“I honestly don’t think he’ll say no.”
Michelle cast one final look at their table, before turning back to me. “Could you ask him if he wears boxers of briefs?”
Third time. I know. I suck. But I really am confident about this story. I already have up to chapter twenty planned (that’s more than I had for the previous versions) and my mind is still filled with plans for this story. A sequel is in the works. This story will have two parts.
To those who have not read my previous versions of this story (previously titled Something Close to Wonderful), worry not about the mumbo-jumbo I’ll be writing in this author’s note.
To those who have read the previous versions and are reading this version – bless your heart – there are a few notable changes. First and foremost: the location. Augusta’s a fictional southern town. Secondly, this setting has more of a high school-y feeling to it. We’ll be sticking to that atmosphere for the remainder of this story. Jenna’s in her senior year. And it’s around January now.
Okay, I honestly don’t know what more to say because I’ve already explained everything (see the authors note under Something Close To Wonderful)
