Searching for Moore (3 page)

She just shrugged her shoulders, “I am so not into the group thing. I hate all this kumbayah shit.”

Schooner laughed out loud, “You into smoking some shit?” Mia’s eyes lit up and that little devil, partner-in-crime look he had seen on the day they first met, reemerged.

The three found a path off the main trail and hiked a ways to an area where they wouldn’t be easily found. It was hard for Mia to keep up with the two long-legged guys. They lounged on some large rocks and Beau pulled out the joint and lit it up. Schooner could tell that Beau was not comfortable with Mia. He doubted that he’d ever met anyone quite like her and didn’t know how to take her. Schooner, on the other hand, thought she was a blast. He’d never had many girls who were just friends, not flirting their asses off to try and get his attention, and Mia was so comfortable to just hang out with — kind of like hanging out with the boys, but there was something so cute about her and damn, she had great tits. He had to remind himself that she was only sixteen.

Beau held up the joint to her, “I hope you’re not a virgin.”

Schooner saw the blush flare in her face and knew that while his little sixteen year old friend might not be a virgin to getting high, sexually she was really innocent. Her urbane New York exterior masked just how innocent she really was. Schooner felt this strong need bursting to protect her. Protect her like a little sister, he told himself.

They smoked the rest of the joint while Beau pointedly ignored Mia, just talking directly to Schooner, as if she were not even present. It was uncomfortable and Schooner wondered what the hell was Beau’s problem. He thought maybe Beau was just used to pining over the California Barbie’s that shot him down, but whatever it was, Mia took off immediately upon finishing the joint.

“See you guys up at the lodge. Thanks for the smoke.” And she quickly retreated up the trail. Schooner wondered where her entourage was and why she seemed to be in loner mode today. But being stoned, that thought quickly evaporated and was replaced by something else, as was the fleeting thought that maybe he should not let her be wandering in the woods alone.

By the time Schooner and Beau made it up to the lodge, freshman class elections were well underway. They leaned against the wall near the door and Schooner surveyed the crowd. In the second row, paying rapt attention, were CJ and her soon-to-be group of sorority sisters. Scanning the room, he finally saw Mia sitting on a chair in the back. The look on her face was one of pure fright. Crouched down and clutching the back of her chair was Tim Vandergrift, freshman class President-elect and the class equivalent of douche bag Greg Marmalard from the movie Animal House (He looked like him, too!). He was crouched down and sniffing Mia. Schooner and Mia made eye contact and he could see she was paranoid as all hell that Mr. Brownie Points was going to turn her in to some school authority for reeking of pot and that she was going to get sent home for getting high at the Freshman Retreat (which, of course, was held at a Christian retreat center).

Schooner could see Mia’s eyes pleading with him for help as she mouthed the word, “Fuck!”. All he could hear was his father’s words in his head to look out for her. CJ noticed Schooner leaning against the wall and followed his line of sight back to Mia. She also noticed Mia locked in on her boyfriend. Just then, there was a loud crash as a pitcher of ice water smashed onto the Mexican tile floor. All heads turned to see the source of the crash. Schooner had “inadvertently” knocked a pitcher off the table. The crash had brought Tim out of his crouched position to his full standing height of 6’4” and his attention to the left wall of the room. Mia used the diversion to pop out of her chair and head out of the lodge’s main room through a door on the right. Schooner silently gave himself a pat on the back.

Mia was standing out at the front circle waiting for one of the earlier buses back, when CJ noticed her standing there. CJ had been in search of Schooner, but thought, “let him have his boys time. I’ve got something more important to take care of.” Grabbing her roommate and some girls from her dorm, CJ convinced them it was time to leave.

She sat directly behind Mia on the bus and went into full animation mode as she reveled her followers with tales of her prom court and of what a wonderful kisser her new boyfriend, Schooner was (still playing the virgin act, she was not going to let any of her virginal friends/soon-to-be sorority sisters know that Schooner liked to pull her hair when she blew him or that he liked it rough… and that she was learning to like it that way, too). She even went so far as to make the prediction that he was “the one.” Her followers giggled with delight.

Mia sunk deeper into her seat, wishing she’d had her Walkman and some headphones with her, so she didn’t have to listen to a show she somehow instinctively knew was being put on for her benefit. She couldn’t understand why though. CJ was gorgeous and had clearly already captured Schooner’s attention and from the sounds of it, his heart. So why the big show? Why did she have to make sure Mia knew he was hers?

Mia silently wiped a tear that began to roll down her right cheek. She buried her face against the cold metal of the bus so that no one could see. In her head, looping was a line from an old Blondie song:

Went walking one day on the lower East side
Met you with a girlfriend, you were so divine
She said, “Hands off this one sweetie, this boy is mine.”
I couldn’t resist you — I’m not deaf, dumb, and blind
¹

Mia had never felt so alone or so very far away from home.

Schooner had been sitting with his mother in a coffee shop eating a grilled cheese sandwich when the man approached their booth. Four year old Schooner was not very interested in what they were talking about, because the grilled cheese had bacon that tasted really good and the French fries had bumps (his mother had called them crinkle fries). His mother was also letting him drink Coke that day instead of milk with his lunch, which never happened at home. So everything on his plate and in his glass was much more interesting than anything this man had to say. But Schooner knew, they were talking about him.

“Photograph so well…All-American Boy…Pay for his education…”

The man handed Mrs. Moore his card and two weeks later, Schooner was in a photographer’s studio having his headshots and portfolio done. First, the photographer dressed him in a baseball uniform and posed him with a bat. Then, a bathing suit and had him stand next to a giant flowered surfboard, in front of a large mural of the beach. They finished up with school clothes and oversized glasses, pretending to be reading a book.

“A natural…The camera loves him…Big career in front of him…”

Schooner learned early the importance of his good looks and what those looks could do for him. From the age of four until fourteen, his photo graced the cover and pages of every major catalogue in the US (and internationally, too). All the while, a trust account in his name became sizable (a trust account that would one day help him to become a very successful businessman, at a very young age).

Schooner grew up looking in the mirror and worrying when his face started changing in adolescence, when his skin started to become prone to breakouts. Schooner worried that he wasn’t perfect anymore and that would mean letting people down — especially his mother, who managed his career very tightly and whom he wanted to please more than anyone.

Sometimes during those extended sessions of studying his face in the mirror, Schooner would think about “the mask” he was looking at. The mask that had perfected the heart-stopping smile. And he would wonder, “What does my real smile look like?” and “Who am I really beneath the mask?” and it frustrated him that he did not know the answers to those questions.

And so Schooner truly became the ultimate actor — acting out the role he thought would make his parents happy. He was the All-American Boy. Handsome, polite, top student, great athlete, buddy, boyfriend, son, soon-to-be frat brother. Schooner kept everyone happy.

Schooner Moore had no fucking idea who he really was.

CJ and Schooner sat on the big stone steps outside her dorm studying for a Biology exam. It was a perfect fall day to be outdoors, the air was clear, free of smog, puffy white cumulus clouds with towering tops floated by on the breeze and the mountains appeared as if they were the campus’ hand painted backdrop.

“But I’m still confused,” CJ’s pretty brows were knit together, “which one is oxidation and which one is reduction”.

“Oxidation is the loss of electrons or increase in oxidation state, while reduction is the gain of electrons or a decrease in oxidation state.” Schooner explained, again.

“But if it’s a reduction, how is it gaining?” CJ was getting frustrated trying to grasp the concept.

“Ok, just remember OIL RIG for the test. Oil is the acronym for oxidation is loss and Rig is for reduction is gain. Write down Oil Rig when you sit down to take the test.”

She sighed.

“The best thing you can do is to keep drawing the Citric Acid Cycle and the Electron Transport Chain over and over until you memorize it,” he offered and pulled out a piece of paper from his notebook and handed it to her.

CJ stuck her tongue out at Schooner and snatched the paper from his hand. She dug into her backpack for colored pencils and started her drawing.

Schooner lounged back on the steps, enjoying the warm sun and the breeze on his face. He squinted in the bright sunlight under the visor of his tennis team cap and started checking out the people hanging out on The Quad. Frisbee players, people studying on blankets, a few footballs being tossed and a group of about six kids in a circle doing something weird.

He started watching the circle people trying to figure out what they were doing. At first it looked as if they were doing the wave, but then one popped up and jumped in place spinning around, they each followed.

“Does this look right?” CJ asked, startling him.

He looked at her diagram, “Don’t forget to show the loss of CO
₂
and the NADH+H
₂
reactions.”

She went back to her drawing and he started to watch the circle people again. They were all facing outward now, holding hands and doing an odd kick dance. He could tell they were laughing and having fun. They began a new formation of a line snaking around the trees on The Quad and that is when he noticed leading the pack was Mia Silver.

She was wearing a white flouncy gauze peasant shirt and jeans and her hair was flying all over with the group’s movements. He didn’t even realize he was smiling watching her and her group until CJ asked him what was so amusing.

“I’m just watching that group, I have no idea what it is they’re doing, but whatever it is, they’re having a blast. It looks like some kind of improv thing.” Mia now had the group in a kick line and after a few attempted high kicks, they were soon all bent over in fits of laughter. Schooner was laughing just watching them. Coordination was clearly not their strong suit.

“Ick, aren’t they all from that stoner dorm?” CJ’s lip was up in a sneer, “That place is like the Island of Misfit Toys.”

Schooner laughed, “Yeah, it really is an odd assortment of people there, isn’t it?” He handed CJ another piece of paper. “Ok, give me the one you just drew, close your book and now draw it from memory,” her eyes widened with panic. “C’mon CJ, this is the one thing we know will be on the test for sure and it’s the only way you’re going to learn it. You have to know cellular respiration.”

She grabbed the paper from him and gave him a dirty look. He laughed, “You are a brat!”

As CJ attempted the diagram from memory, Schooner continued to watch Mia and her friends. They were now laying on their backs and pointing up at the clouds. They must be finding shapes in the clouds, he thought. He hadn’t done that since he was a little boy. The memory of laying on his front lawn with the kids from his neighborhood made him smile.

He felt CJ’s eyes on him. “You finished it?” He asked.

“Let’s finish this upstairs,” she stood and put out her hand to him. He took it and followed her into her dorm.

“I’m going to give you a biology lesson now,” she undid the button and zipper on his tennis shorts, “And I don’t need a diagram for this.” She sunk to her knees and took him deep in her mouth.

“Oh yeah,” was all he could say as he held her head in place and drove deep into her mouth. It felt so damn good. He was lost in his rhythm pounding into her mouth, “Just like that.”

He didn’t want to come, it felt too good, he needed to make it last. He kept one hand on the top of her head, holding her in place as he thrust. He opened his eyes, still driving relentlessly into CJ’s wanting mouth. Outside the window, movement below on The Quad caught his eye. It was Mia and her friends and they were now doing a crazy, abandoned dance. Her arms were outstretched wide and her long hair was flinging with her head, her hips thrusting rhythmically. It was so much fun to watch her being so free and he realized he was thrusting into CJ’s mouth to the rhythm of Mia’s wild abandoned dance. He felt his balls tighten and the pressure begin to rise and he could no longer keep his control.

When he left CJ’s dorm, Mia and her friends were still out on The Quad, sitting in the grass, hanging out talking. He caught Mia’s eye as he walked past and did the head nod/smile acknowledgement. Mia did the same in return. He suddenly felt shy and hoped she didn’t notice that he was actually blushing. Why did he feel like he had just taken advantage of her?

The remainder of first semester flew by alarmingly fast. Schooner made first string on the tennis team, an unusual feat for a freshman, and represented the team in the fall regional tournaments with a string of wins. Come spring semester and the aggressive team schedule, he would be juggling studies and travel — including trips to many of the small Ivy’s on the east coast. He looked forward to the travel matches and exploring campuses he had only seen in pictures.

The month of January was known as Interim. For four weeks, students took only one intensive class for four credits. Some classes were on campus, other’s were travel oriented — European capitals, Theatre in NY, Outdoor Adventure: Australia/New Zealand, Spanish Immersion in Ecuador and dozens of other equally interesting classes. For those who stayed on campus, the course catalogue offered intensive seminars on a wide array of subjects, including in-depth study on specific authors, film genres, American popular culture, music (from intensive instrument instruction to analysis of Beatles lyrics). While there would be papers to write and tests to take, Interim allowed students to actually enjoy studying and really delve into a topic of interest that wasn’t a part of their normal core curriculum.