How did I end up in the back of this van? That’s what I’m trying to remember. I had a crush on this girl at school. Her name was Kimaya, I think. It means divine or miracle, and she was beautiful. I mean, gorgeous! Guessing at her parents’ ethnicity, I would say they were Hawaiian or Samoan. She had jet-black hair, shoulder-length, of course, because that was a thing in the latter half of the 1980s. Did she wear makeup? If she did, it was light, consisting of eyeliner, perhaps a bit of mascara, and lip liner. However, back then, we referred to it as lipgloss. She was beautiful, with curves in all the right places. And a smile that would light up a room. If there’s one trait about women that has stuck with me through the years, it’s a beautiful smile. If you have that kind of smile, I can overlook a lot of other physical characteristics.

               Well, she did. And she didn’t like me. Perhaps that’s a bit excessive. She didn’t know me, didn’t know who I was, and didn’t want to get to know me. That was probably more to the truth because I was an outsider outside California’s native existence. Even though I lived in California since the late 1970s, I wasn’t part of their clique. Not part of the status quo of Castro Valley High School. But I was smart. Smart enough to understand where the popular kids hung out, namely the mini golf course in Castro Valley, right on the main drag, Castro Valley Boulevard. Yeah. California really isn’t very original when it comes to street names. Then again, with as many streets as California needs, is it a surprise? Not to me.

               Kimaya was at the mini golf course place that night. So was Amanda. And Marcelle, a girl I dated in my sophomore year of high school. Now I was a junior, so I expected a certain amount of respect and seniority. But remember, I’m the outsider, not part of the local community. Like it or not, I didn’t have a name, nor would I. All three of these, what I would call beautiful girls, were in my proximity, and I figured I never had a chance. Because I believed that I would never have a chance. Marcelle was dating another guy, some dude named Dan, I think. He was a douchey-looking guy. You know the type. The popped collar on the Polo shirt, khakis before they were stylish, and the penny loafers, complete with pennies where they belonged. I immediately hated him for absolutely no reason. I couldn’t stand that she was with him. Can you say jealous? I can. And, like it or not, I couldn’t get away from that feeling. That, and the sense of dread when I saw Kimaya with her boyfriend. Now I was really feeling bad, sorry for myself, mostly.

               I didn’t have a girlfriend. Not even a remote possibility at this school. At least, that’s what I thought. If I had put myself out there, would it have been different? Probably. Would it have been different if I didn’t act like an arrogant jerk? Yeah, I’m sure it would’ve been a different story. I wouldn’t be in the back of the van with Amanda, that’s for damn sure.

               It’s pretty clear when you walk around with a black cloud overhead to everyone around you. It’s like everybody wants to clear out of your way, knowing something is wrong, possibly contagious. And if it’s contagious, they don’t want any of that! 

               Amanda barely knew me. I think I had a class with her. I’m not sure. It didn’t matter, not then. All I knew was she was talking to me, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. If there’s one thing, no, two things I had going for me back then, it was my thin but not anorexic figure and my smile when I smiled. There was a magnetism to my personality even back then, even as much an arrogant jerk as I could be. If I wasn’t a jerk, people enjoyed being around me. It was a thing, a thing I still have to this day.

               “What’s wrong?” Amanda asked me (this was still at the mini golf course).

               “A lot,” I said. “I don’t feel like talking about it.”

               “Are you sure?” she asked. “I’m good at listening if you want to talk about it.”

               I looked up at the stars. It was hard to see all of them because of Castro Valley’s city lights, but quite a few were still highly visible. “I’m lonely. My mom is incredibly abusive. Oh, and I have a crush on Kimaya, who’s here with her boyfriend, as is a girl I dated last year that I never got to kiss. And I really, really liked her.”

               I didn’t say any of that to her, instead staring up into the night sky.

               “Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand. “You can hang with us tonight.” She looked up at her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s boyfriend. She popped her gum and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Amanda.” Amanda’s girlfriend’s boyfriend however wasn’t as kind. He sneered at me, trying to stare holes through me. “What’s Trevor going to think about that?”

               Amanda looked at him and said, “Trevor’s not going to hear anything about this, Adam. Jasmine, please don’t be like that.”

               “Who is this guy?”

               “He’s cool. He’s in my English class.”

               “Just what we need. Another brain,” Adam said, pushing past me, almost knocking me off my feet. Amanda jumped up, almost into his face, but Jasmine got between them.

               “Amanda, don’t.”

               “You better get him under control.” Amanda squeezed my hand, “Come on. Let’s play some games.”