Stories

All high school freshmen are dumb, but I was, most likely, the dumbest, goofiest freshman to ever walk the halls of Woodlawn High.

Life as a freshman there was nothing if not confusing.  Just figure out where your classes were—spread across three different buildings—and navigating the distance between them on time was a daily tactical challenge.  There were times you had to run, or at least you felt like you had to, until you eventually discovered the path of least resistance through the heavy crowds of students.  Or, perhaps I was just the only kid who felt that level of urgency.

Trying to fit in was my primary concern.  A few seniors actually knew me and would speak to me in the halls, which felt like a major win.  My personal hero, the Student Body President, Steve, was in my gym class.  He essentially adopted me like a kid brother, teaching me the ropes of the school and introducing me to all the Woodlawn luminaries.  I quickly adopted his mannerisms and tried my best to mirror him.  He even introduced me to his friends and the cheerleaders as if I actually mattered!

In the eyes of every guy I knew, those cheerleaders were the epitome of female loveliness.  They were, without a doubt, the best-looking group of girls I had ever seen.  But they weren't the mean, self-centered types you see in the movies; these girls were smart, sweet, and genuinely approachable.  They all knew my name through Steve, and because I was a permanent fixture in the cheering section, shouting louder than anyone else.  I had plenty of school spirit, and they would always thank me after the games for being so supportive.

Honestly, I watched the cheerleaders more than the games themselves.

Of the whole squad, one stood out above the rest: Tina.  I had a massive crush on her and was convinced she was the most amazing person I had ever met.  Every guy in my session room was in total agreement on that point.

Just as I was starting to believe I might actually make it at Woodlawn—maybe even become "popular"—I managed to do the worst thing imaginable.

Lunch followed gym class, and it always turned into a race among the freshmen to see who could get to the front of the line first.  After a quick shower, we’d dress and take our positions in one of the tunnels under the stadium.  At the bell, the route took us through a back door, down a hall, through a sharp ninety-degree right turn, down a side hall to a ninety-degree left, and finally down the main hall to the lunchroom door.

We’d race off like fools, pushing and shoving just to be first in line.

On the day of the "incident," it wasn't just raining; it was pouring.   By the time we made it from the stadium to the main building, our shoes were soaking wet.  I was well in the lead until I hit that first turn.  Both feet flew out from under me, and I slid clear across the hall, slamming hard into the wall.  Stunned, I opened my eyes only to realize I was directly under a crowd of girls, looking straight up someone's dress.

Naturally, the girls were the cheerleaders.  And the dress I was looking up belonged, of course, to Tina.  That is how the universe works.

Tina looked down at me with a look of pure disgust and muttered, "Stupid Freshman."  Another cheerleader yelled, "Safe!" and gave the umpire's signal as if I had just slid into home plate.

I never ran in the halls again, but the damage was done.  The story made the rounds quickly, and it took a long time before my buddies stopped calling me "SF" and let me live it down.  Because they were sweethearts, the next time the cheerleaders saw me, they acted as if nothing had happened and greeted me by my real name.

Tina even gave me one of her amazing smiles and a quick wink.  I took it as her way of apologizing—and a sign that I wouldn’t be a "Stupid Freshman" forever.