Insidious Adaptation

"You don't know what 69 means?" This said to me by a few classmates on a walk back from the mini mart at lunch. "Yea I know what it means." I lied. "What does it mean then?" The fateful challenge, an inevitable elevation of argument. "It's drugs." I went with what I thought was most relevant at the time. (laughter erupts) I have outed myself. I in fact, do not know what 69 means. The rest of that day in 7th grade was abysmal, for I was reminded again that I was different. I was on the outside of something all the other kids knew about. How did I miss this. I couldn't help but wonder, sitting in math after lunch, consumed with the social exclusion I was feeling. After all, nobody will like me now, for not only did I not know something so obvious to everyone else, but they caught me pretending. What if they figure out other things about me? As my adolescent armpits start to erupt with moisture, I now start to fear sweating...

"Get over here!" This as John (not real name), called me over to his locker. "Are you going to carry my football pads at practice today, or are we going to have to show you what happens if you don't?" A rhetorical question for it wasn't like I was going to be simply, "let off," by not assisting. I wasn't as intimidated as one might have thought, being a freshman in high school and this senior talking to me like he was. I was taller than him, and when he brought me closer, it kind of killed the effect yelling across the hall would have accomplished. John knew I was out for football, for we had already ran the gantlet of our 2 and 3-a-day practises. Most of the guys bond during this time, some bow out, some still on the fringes of being accepted. Outward acceptance was not apparent, however I think John liked me. I think he was mean to me in front of the other guys, but my willingness to do whatever it took to be left alone was downright ki...