Alyssa and Keith are bored. They stare up at me from my blank screen waiting for direction. Alyssa bites her lower lip. Keith brushes his hair out of his eyes. They say nothing. After 10 minutes, Keith decides to finish his X-Box game, and Alyssa runs to her room, slams the door, and begins furiously texting, cursing me under her breath for ruining her flirting mojo. I don’t blame her, but she needs to cut me a little slack. Writing teen is not easy.
I have the setting down. The high school lockers reeked of gym socks, just like in my alma mater. The nearby park, the scene for Keith and Alyssa’s first date, had tennis courts at the ready. And Keith’s car had been newly shined at the local band’s fundraiser. But all these things are not enough. I need the language of teens, the moves, the ever important drama of those dreadful years.
I try to remember what it felt like to be sixteen, but it’s been seventeen years and what was cool then is decidedly not cool now. I realize I’m not going to get in touch with my inner adolescent sitting in front of a computer screen. “I’m going out,” I inform Keith, who flashes me a look of pity and goes back to his game. In the name of reviving my young-adult book, I head to the Mecca of all teen hangouts: The mall.
The Food Court
Just after one, I enter the mall food court dressed in my most teen-tastic attire—capris, platforms, and a hoody. I slip into a seat beside two girls. One has pink highlights and a tongue ring. The other is wearing an “I slept with your boyfriend” T-shirt. I strain to overhear their conversation without being conspicuous.
“And then he was all up in my grill,” says Tongue Ring.
“Oh no he wasn’t!” exclaims Promiscuous Shirt. “I hope you told him he better chill.”
I crane my neck into an awkward position. But even if I could hear them better, I don’t understand the problem. Did Tongue Ring not need the guy’s help barbecuing? As I’m pondering this, Promiscuous Shirt shoots me a dirty look. “Girl, why are you all up in our business?” she demands. I glance at my notebook. Alyssa rolls her eyes and throws on her iPod headphones, blasting Fall Out Boy.
My cover blown, I slink off to the next hot spot.
Hot Topic
It’s dark inside the store and the clothing —black baggy pants with chains hanging to the knees and shirts with pictures of bleeding skulls—might work well for the Goth group of my fictional high school but not for clean-cut Keith and Alyssa. On my way out, I see green glow-in-the-dark earrings.
“Those earrings are gnarly, dude,” the salesgirl informs me. She has piercings in her eyebrows, nose, and lip. Ah, so gnarly is back. I smile, remembering my surfer friends describing six-foot waves as awesome and gnarly.
“Thanks,” I say and head to the register to pay for my gnarly earrings. I leave the store my head held high.
The Movie Theater
The next night I decide to check out the teen-popular bargain movie at the local theater. Before I go, I scan IMDB.com to identify the hot teen stars and pick a flick starring Chad Michael Murray (CMM to his loyal One Tree Hill fans).
“Thanks for seeing this movie with me,” says the blond girl sitting in front of me. She’s clinging to a hulky guy with a varsity jacket that reads Jackson.
Jackson straightens and throws a muscled arm around his date. “You got it, Jules. I mean, it is our one-month anniversary.”
Jules swoons and rubs her new hickey. Another teen couple takes a seat in front of them and promptly begins making out. On cue, Jackson and his third-wheel buddy throw popcorn at them.
“Like, gawd! Why do you have to be so immature?” Jules asks.
The two boys snicker. Jules pouts.
“Aw, c’mon. babe,” Jackson says, flashing his best “forgive me” grin. Jules snuggles into his shoulder as the lights dim and CMM appears on the screen.
“He’s so hot,” Jules gushes.
“What a wuss,” Jackson retorts, his friend snorting with laughter.
Jules storms out of the theater. Third-wheel is falling out of the chair in hysterics. Jackson sighs, shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth, then runs out after her.
Two long hours later, I exit the movie and spot Jules and Jackson making out beside the video games. Ah, high school love.
Dunkin’ Donuts
It’s 11:30 p.m. as I pull into the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. Way past my bedtime, but Alyssa and Keith are counting on me. I move toward an imposing posse of teens, then beeline for the door, shrinking in my sweater dress, as they stare at me unwelcomingly. I suddenly feel like I’m in high school again, trying to mesh with the cool kids. Inside, where it’s safer, two girls and a guy are sitting at a window table splitting one doughnut to conform to the “must buy to sit” rule. I order a hazelnut coffee, and the window group snickers. Duh. Big mistake. No one actually goes to DD to drink the coffee. I take a corner table and watch the group outside. I realize they are texting the teens inside from their cell phones. I sip my coffee and text my friend Vinessa to appear cool. Stalking for my article. I write. LOL, she writes back. And just when I feel like I’m fitting in, a boy from the outside group points at me (or maybe at my fuzzy boots) through the window and doubles over with laughter. I turn red and stare into my coffee. I think I’m finally getting into the high school mentality. A new boy comes in and purchases a doughnut. One of the table texters shouts, “Dang! You’re not going to eat that, are you? That doughnut looks gnarly, yo. Yuck!”
I finger my earrings remembering the Hot Topic salesgirl’s comments and head home dejected. I need a break.
Yearbook Perusing
The next morning, while Alyssa and Keith throw me nasty looks, I head to my garage in search of memories of the worst years of my life.
In a dusty box labeled “old stuff” is my high school yearbook. It’s filled with K.I.T.’s from people I don’t remember, some “don’t forget…” dates that have long been forgotten, and a “What if…?” from a boy whose timing never matched mine. On page twenty is the class couple who broke up a month after the photo was taken, next to the class clowns, who now work in finance. A girl I once gave half of a B.F.F. locket to smiles up at me. We stopped talking the summer after graduation.
Alyssa walks over to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Now you’re getting it,” she tells me.
The “Aha!” Moment
I go back into the house and call a friend from high school who I’ve stayed in touch with. We reminisce about our first dates, high school crushes, issues with our parents. And then it hits me. The words and clothes may be different (although everything 80s appears to be back), but the rest—the raw emotions, the intensity—is the same and always will be. I hang up the phone and sit down at my computer. Alyssa and Keith look up expectantly. “Get ready, guys,” I say. “There’s some gnarly stuff heading your way.”
Gnarly good? Gnarly bad? I’ll let them figure it out.
Comments
1 Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich // Oct 12, 2009 at 3:30 pm
so right about the timeless quality of the raw emotion and intensity — great article!
2 Corina // Feb 12, 2010 at 2:19 pm
This was an awesome, awesome post! Reminded me what it was like to be a teenager and how oh so glad I’m past that stage of my life now. So glad I ran into your blog.
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