From that night forward, we became closer than ever. Jacque still tried to gain Vic's attention, but when ignoring her didn't do the trick, he literally yelled at her in the school lunchroom one day to "GET A LIFE!" That seemed to discourage her from any future plans of persuasion that she might have been brewing.
Vic and I spent our time together going to the drive-in movies (without Bill and Rita), taking long expeditions through the countryside, or just listening to the rain beat down on the car roof while parked along the Rims. I thought that my life couldn't be any more perfect than this.
As for school, I studied diligently but wasn't involved in many activities. I did, however, have a "REAL" job working in the office two hours a day for which I was paid $50 a month. It was important for me to become independent because I felt that my parents had given me more than I ever deserved. I was feeling so good about myself until the unthinkable occurred.
I was a senior when it happened. I had what they called a "split lunch" period. I would go to class for half an hour, have lunch for the next half hour, and then return for the remainder of my class, which in this case, happened to be civics. My instructor was Mr. Cox, a state legislator at the time. I loved this class and was eager to return. There were a few students in class already as I walked through the door that afternoon. While making my way to my assigned seat, the boy who sat in front of me placed his legs on the chair across the aisle, blocking my way.
"Excuse me, please."
I can to this day still see the glare on his face as he slowly removed his feet, stood up before me, and slapped me across the face as hard as he could (at least it seemed that way), and said, "I've always wanted to do that to you!" As I sat at my desk, I could hear the gasps and whispers from my classmates; but I was so stunned, I had no idea what to do at that moment.
It was so hard to hold back the tears--I couldn't do it. After Mr. Cox arrived, I grabbed my books and walked out, knowing that he would be right behind me. I ignored his calling after me. I didn't want to have to explain to him what had just happened, and I certainly didn't want him to see me cry.
When I told the Dean of Girls about the incident, her response was, "Why would he do that?" I blurted out, "I think you're asking the WRONG person! How would I know? I don't even know him!" All I knew was his name...Ken Ketterling...because it seemed he was forever sitting in front of me because of the "seating alphabetically" rule among the teachers. She had no idea how to handle the situation so she turned it over to the Dean of Boys, Mr. Kosich. After telling him my story, he said that he would take care of it, whatever that meant. As far as I was concerned, they had better find me a different class because I refused to go back.
When I told my parents what had happened, they were furious to say the least. This was all so new to them that they had no idea how to comfort me. Around 8:00 that evening, the telephone rang. My mother told me it was the "boy" and he wanted to talk to me. "Absolutely NOT! Why would I even want to do that?" But she insisted.
"I'm sorry for what I did to you," was all he said, and I hung up without saying a word. What would I have said? "Oh, it's okay?"
The next morning before school started, I barged my way to the front of the line of boys waiting to see Mr. Kosich. He didn't have a chance to say anything before my rampage... "That's it? A fake I'm sorry? That's your way of taking care of it? He STRUCK me! He humiliated me in front of the entire class! and WHY? Did he tell you WHY he did that? or did you even ASK him? You need to DO something!"
Even though Mr. Kosich gave the "boy" a 3-day school suspension, for some unknown reason, it didn't make me feel any better about myself.
To be continued...
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