Having been given the opportunity to withdraw (kicked out) of the coed and brutal Hun School of Princeton, and bounced into being at the all boys Woodhall School, Im at Emma Willard School for girls this weekend for ring week. All of us Woodhall School boys have been invited, as Sarah is the daughter of our headmaster. Phoebe and I are behind the gymnasium, theres a dance going on in there. She has her new junior ring on, being a year older than I am, and is proud of having survived the hazing required of it. Shes in a rockabilly plaid dress, ripped stockings, and Doc Martins, which I think is wicked hot. Im in cargos, a scrub jacket from Columbia Presbyterian, and Chuck Taylors. This song is playing on some boombox, and theres something mischievous in the girls eyes. The song means something to Phoebe. I am totally afraid of her, but she pushes into my chest and plays tonsil hockey with me nonetheless. Our mouthes taste like unfiltered cigarettes. And vodka, we are both quite drunk. For just one moment, my teenaged angst and geekiness dissipates between her lips. High school had its fleetingly cool moments, most were at Emma Willard School for girls. youtube/watch?v=6sMdIutZMmI
Posted on: Sat, 01 Feb 2014 15:14:23 +0000
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