1997
“Psst… hey, Justin,” Vance whispered from the seat next to me as we were sitting in our seventh grade Life Science class. “Griffin’s got one of those universal remotes under his jacket. He spent the first ten minutes of class setting it up to work with that TV over there. He’s going to use it when Ms. Dinkling starts the video. This is gonna be classic.”
I cast a look at Griffin who was seated in the back of our class doing his best to look innocent. Over the last two years, my friendship with Vance had solidified when he brought me into his circle of friends. Wherever we went, it was almost always Vance, Griffin, another kid named Bryant, and me. When we weren’t in school, we were often found hanging out at the local park. Vance and the guys had taught me how to play Frisbee and football. None of them ever made any mention of how much smaller I was than them or less athletic. What I didn’t know about sports they taught me, encouraging me not to give up when something didn’t come easily to me. Griffin and Bryant accepted me as quickly as Vance had. They didn’t give me a too much of a hard time about anything, they mostly saved that kind of teasing for Bryant. He was a great kid, but an easy target with his gullibility and forgetfulness.
Since coming to middle school, we were often split up into different classes, but I had at least one of the guys in every single one. In this class, it was just Vance, Griffin and me. For the most part, Life Science was an easy class that gave us plenty of time to mess around, whether through whispers or note passing. Ms. Dinkling, for her part, was older and a little scatterbrained. Her hair, which she tried to keep in something of a bouffant-style, was always a mess because she either was running her hands over it or sticking pencils in it. She was cool though. She didn’t lose her temper and pretty much let us all get away with murder.
Today, however, was the dreaded sex-education video. We’d had what you could call an introductory class about the birds and the bees at the end of fifth grade where they told us what happens after a baby was made. This one was the one where they explained how it happened. Of course, it was a great big joke, considering we were thirteen years old and already knew all about how it went. Ms. Dinkling though had been trying to hype it up all week as if it were the most amazing thing in the whole world. I secretly thought she might not be wrong since I had started to realize there was something to the whole fuss every time I saw Kylie Moore. She was the prettiest girl in our school in my opinion, with her blonde ponytail, green eyes and the cute freckles smattered across her little, up-turned nose. She’d been at our elementary school, but I never noticed her so much back then. This year, she showed up at school looking like a whole new girl, sporting curves where none had been before. Man, I had the strongest urge to reach out and touch her whenever she walked by. It seemed other parts of me felt the same way, because she sure got their attention, too.
I snapped out of my daydreams of Kylie when Vance reached over and punched my arm.
“Did you hear what I said, Sever? Griffin is going to make Dinkling lose her marbles.”
I grinned in response as Ms. Dinkling clapped her hands to get our attention before turning on the old television which was situated at the front of the room. She dimmed the lights, and suddenly, this cheesy melody began to play. I hadn’t expected it to start with bow-chicka-wow-wow, but this tune sounded like it belonged in a commercial for some religious program. I had the random thought it was probably some idiot’s idea of preventing teen pregnancy. Make sex education as cringe-worthy as possible, and kids won’t even want to have sex! I snorted a soundless laugh at my own joke.
Just when a scene where a father sits down with his son to talk about “the changes” he is experiencing started, Griffin turned off the television. Ms. Dinkling, who I think had been trying to nap at the back of the class, jumped up with a start and scurried to the front of the room. She pressed the power button, and the screen came to life once again. She nodded her head once, satisfied she had fixed whatever the problem was.
She returned to her desk in the back and sat. As soon as her butt connected with the chair, Griffin turned the TV off again. I heard her sigh before she rose again and hurried to the front of the room.
“I’m sorry, guys. I don’t know what’s wrong with this thing. It’s so old, it must be ready to give out.” She pressed the power button again, but as soon as the picture filled the screen, Griffin switched it off again. They went back and forth like that for a few seconds, the video blinking off and on each time one of them pressed their respective power buttons. I looked over to Vance, who was leaning back in his seat with his fist pressed against his mouth, trying desperately not to laugh. I chuckled audibly when Ms. Dinkling pushed the power button on for the last time, and suddenly, the cassette sprang out of the old VHS player. Vance was writhing in his chair as she growled in frustration. I looked back to Griffin quickly, and he just gave me the lopsided grin he got whenever he was up to something. I gave him the thumbs up, then turned my attention back to the room.
Finally, giving her a break, Ms. Dinkling made it back to her desk once again. The video played on for a while, just until the portion about masturbation came on. It was a terrible scene where a mother walks in on her son as he’s beating off. Griffin hit the pause button, freezing the image of the boy with his hand in his pants and his mom standing in the doorway with a look of shock on her face.
Vance lost it at that point, the sound of his laughter more like a high-pitched whine than a real laugh. He was still trying to hold back, but just couldn’t anymore. His little girl giggling set me off, and I began to laugh loudly. Soon, the rest of the class was laughing hysterically as Ms. Dinkling scrambled out of her chair. I could hear Griffin cracking up too.
Ms. Dinkling pulled the cord on the TV hastily, causing the screen to black out again. She turned to us, her hands gripping the hair at the sides of her head, quite obviously flustered.
“I just don’t know what’s wrong with this thing,” she muttered as everyone’s laughter died down to soft titters. “I guess we’ll have to save our presentation for another time when I can reserve the newer AV equipment.”
A loud clatter came from the back of the room, and we all turned as one. Griffin was sitting there with that “Oh shit” look on his face. Right there in the aisle between the desks, lay one long black remote, the battery door laying right beside it with one rolling slowly back and forth next to the casing.
“Mr. Bennett,” she exclaimed as the bell rang for the passing period to our next class. “Remain in your seat while I write up your referral to see the Dean.” She looked a mixture of exasperated and angry, but was that a hint of a smirk at the corner of her lips? Ms. Dinkling had probably thought she’d seen it all after her many years of teaching. We had a long way to go before the end of the year. I was sure it wouldn’t be the last time Griffin tormented the poor woman.