Emily Jane - Loose Lessons

Emily Jane Scrimshaw was your typical teenager, or so she liked to believe. At the start of her final year of high school, as she sat across from the Phys-Ed teacher, Mr. Hawthorn, Emily smiled. Not a friendly smile, or a contagious smile but one stemming from satisfaction. The burly man before her stared at her schedule as though his scrutiny might reward him with some kind of explanation. There were only four classes listed for the entire year. His blue eyes lifted from the bright yellow stationary.

“You’re sure this is right?”

Emily nodded in a self-satisfied manner and tried to explain to him once more why she had so few classes listed.

“I didn’t take any spares for the past two years; I opted to fill those time slots with classes. I also didn’t bother with my optional classes. The first option I took was French and the second one I filled in with Biology.”

“But it says here you have finished both Biology and Chemistry 30, yet you only have Math 20. Students are not allowed to take the 30 level science classes without having completed at least Math 20 first.”

She shrugged and repeated the question she started with when she first sat down. “So, will I be able to put all four of these classes in the first semester and then just come back for graduation in June?”

“I’m sorry, Emily. Clearly you have worked very hard for the past two years, I assume your goal was to finish high school in two and a half years?” At her nod he continued. “That was an admirable goal but you should have perhaps spoken to someone before embarking on such a huge task.”

Emily’s stomach did a slow roll when Mr. Hawthorn broke eye contact with her, his eyes darting

from her schedule to a point somewhere near her chin and down again. She didn’t fidget. Didn’t try to prompt him to hurry up and spill whatever bad news he was so reluctant to share, she composed her features to show a pleasant vacancy, readying them to give away not even the smallest of bit of disappointment. When she saw him draw a deep breath to begin again, it reminded her to do some breathing of her own. She let out the one pent-up in her chest without letting her beauty pageant smile slip once.

“I’m not sure how you managed to sign up, let alone pass your science classes without the prerequisite math but done is done. You’ve passed both courses and I won’t be the one to take back the grades you worked for. However, even if these classes,” he tapped a meaty finger on her schedule, “were available to take all in the first semester, you will be seven credits short of the requirement for graduation. Plus, each student must have at least two and a half classes per semester to stay in school.”

Mr. Hawthorn’s gaze managed to meet Emily’s part way into his little spiel. What in reality was most likely sympathy shining from their oceanic depths, came across to her disappointed heart as Pity with a capital P. He continued speaking, basically telling her the same thing in different words but Emily, who had understood the first time, tuned him out. Her mind shot down options as fast as she could think them up and inevitably came to the conclusion that she was just going to have to suck-up another year of teenage bullshit, whether she liked it or not.

                                              II

Once the final year of her high school experience was underway, Emily let go her disappointment and somewhere in the deepest part of her hormone-driven psyche decided, ‘Screw it, I’m gonna have some fun!’ Unfortunately, the mendacity of her daily routine, the one whose grooves spiralled back in time to the first grade, refused to release her from its embrace. The days fell on top of each other. First, her seventeenth birthday passed with barely a hoorah, then Halloween. Snow began to fall and soon Old Man Winter had settled himself comfortably across the landscape of her life.

On this particular day, Emily sat in the cafeteria eating her favourite comfort food – fries smothered in gravy with a healthy sprinkling of pepper on top. You would never know by looking at her slender waistline and clear skin that she was a junk-food-junkie. Her hazel eyes were open but even a casual observer could tell she was not seeing the mostly empty tables and chairs before her.

Thoughts flitted, dipping into memories, questing and questioning, rewriting scenes where she actually had a comeback to shut down the ignorant bullies of her past. Satisfying as her daydreams may have been they still did not solve the dilemma of how to make her final year of high school fun.

No longer was she thought of as a socially awkward, pimple-faced brainiac. There were actual boobs riding high and proud on her chest, no longer in need of artificial enhancements. Her skin was pizza free and she’d finally caught on to how to speak to her peers without receiving a blank stare. She sucked in her stomach and straightened her back, thrusting out her bust in case any eligible male happened to be in the vicinity. Giggling at herself, she slouched back down. As if she would actually date any of the boys she knew.

Boys. Logically, boys would bring something new to her life. At least they would if she could find one special guy. A slide show of all the single guys she knew flipped and then hit the rejection pile in her mind. The problem was she knew them all. Cute as some of them might be, she’d grown up with most of them. Watched them morph from belching, profane, fart contest entering, hormone-raging lunatics into perfect little gentlemen the moment some girl they were interested in sauntered by. She thought it was too bad there were no new students in her grade this year; it would have made her quest so much easier.

The bell for her next class rang. Emily gathered her books and paper plate, dropping the latter into a nearby garbage can. Within moments she was submerged in a human tide of bodies jostling their way through the cafeteria and on to their next class. All thoughts of boys lost sway to the cacophony of laughter, shouts, elbows and humming conversations.

                                                            III

“Trace, are there any hot, available right away, type guys at your school?”

“Duh, of course there is, why?”

Emily twirled her finger in one of her auburn curls. “I’ve decided I need a boyfriend.”

Familiar sarcastic tones with strains from Stairway to Heaven in the background shot down the line. “Really, and when did this great revelation come down and smack you on the forehead? You’re about four years behind the rest of us for the boyfriend thing. Why now?”

“Don’t get snarky. I can hear Stairway playing and I know you’re mooning over Steve still. He’s not worth this kind of mooning, it’s totally wasted on him and you know it.” Emily smiled; she could almost see the mulish expression overtaking her friend's face.

“Yeah, well, at least I have a guy to moon over. Which brings us back to why you - Miss Independent, all guys are just little boys masquerading in bigger bodies, who needs ‘em attitude - suddenly want a boyfriend.” She paused a beat, “and give it to me straight. Don’t bother trying to pretty it up with big words either.”

Emily picked up her ratty stuffed puppy from her bed and plopped her bottom in its place. “I’ve been thinking about having sex.” Silence. Her teeth worried her lower lip. “Are you still there?”

“Yeaaah,” the word came out slow, filled with layers of questions.

“Well,” Emily filled her lungs and let everything flow out on the exhale. “Everyone I know has had it. I’ve been asking. Heck, even my parents are getting some if me and my brothers are any proof.”

“Gross!”

“Yeah, well, at least I didn’t have to walk in on mine to know for sure.”

“Don’t remind me. My retina’s still aren’t the same.”

She ignored the fake gagging sounds. “Anyhow, I’ve decided it is time for me to find out what all the fuss is about, you know?”

“Don’t do it.”

Trace’s dead-pan tone surprised her. “You’ve done it.”

“Yeah, and my life was waaay happier when all Steve and I did was hang out watching movies, sneakin’ some makin’ out time and holding hands. Now all he wants is sex.” Her voice dropped. “Just a quickie before we go, come on, please. Ugh, it’s all he thinks about, Em. We don’t talk. We don’t do anything anymore. It doesn’t live up to the hype, believe me.”

A little knot of hurt coiled in her stomach. “How come you never told me this stuff before, Trace? I thought we told each other everything.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Em, but you are just the tiniest bit naive. It’s not your fault and it happens to be one of the things I love about you most, but it makes it hard to talk to you about stuff like this.”

“I’m not stupid. You could have told me.” Her eyes burned as she stared blankly at her popcorn ceiling, willing herself not to cry. How could her best friend not have told her something so important?

“Nope, not stupid, inexperienced maybe but ... look, you had this image of sex bringing something magical to a relationship. Maybe it even does for some people; I didn’t want to wreck that for you. I thought that you out of all of us might actually find that special someone. But now you’re talking about sex like it’s some kind of science experiment, so I guess you aren’t as naive as I thought. I’m sorry, Emily.”

The tension holding her shoulders tight let go and she flopped back onto the bed. “Oh, well, no big. I was worried you were mad at me but I guess I can understand your reasons. But you should know you can tell me anything by now. I mean, you’re closer to me than anyone else is.”

“Dude. You’re like getting all mushy and stuff. You need to stop before I start thinkin’ you waaaant me.”

“Please, like your skinny ass does anything at all for me.” Emily shot a quick glance at her bedroom door. Giggling but still wondering if her mom was home yet. The woman walked like a cat.

“Seriously though, Em, think about this for a bit before you rush in. Okay?”

                                                            IV

Emily checked her make-up one last time - perfect. Graham would be here any minute. They started dating after the Christmas holidays and now spring was here in full swing. She was not going to graduate as her class' only virgin. This is it! Now if she could only get rid of the medicine ball rolling in the pit of her stomach everything would be fan-friggin-tastic. Her parents and brothers were gone for the weekend, two days and one whole night. One night, the night she would remember for the rest of her life.

Bouncing her way to the living-room window, a grin lighting her face, she decided she was glad she waited until her first time could be in a bed. Her bed. So many of her friends did it in cars, back yards, bushes and other less than private places but the thought of grass rash on her bum did nothing for her libido. It was better this way, more romantic, almost grown-up somehow.

The doorbell sent her heart into overdrive and made the medicine ball bounce. It was him. To say the next hour was disappointing would be fairly accurate. It started off okay. They chatted for a few minutes. He asked to see her room. They kissed their way from the door to the bed and then he kissed her neck and shoulders while taking off her shirt, just like the movies. The foreplay was awesome, so much fun. Everything was going great until he said he was going to put it in.

She didn’t feel it. No pain, no stretching sensation her friend Alma spoke of. Nothing. And to top it all off, she was pretty sure she didn’t have an orgasm. At least if Graham’s face was anything to judge by. It got all scrunchy and it looked as if he were in pain. He let out a half yell, half groan. Truth be told she wanted to laugh but didn’t think he would appreciate her sense of humour at that particular moment.

Then came the awkward, cliché moment at the end: Him asking her if it was good for her, and her smiling and nodding for all she was worth. Then both of them trying to get dressed without the other seeing, back to back, slipping on underwear and jeans, rushing but trying to appear casual as if this type of interlude happened every day.

Contrary to her expectations, he didn’t spend the night. She didn’t know which was the bigger surprise, his not staying or her relief to see him go. The rest of the weekend crawled by; thoughts of sex occupying most of it. Dredging up every memory of every conversation she ever had regarding sex. There was only one conclusion her nimble mind could come up with.

She was a loose woman.

Staring into the bathroom mirror, she leaned in close, looking for any changes. Did she appear more mature? One brow rose, more worldly? Lips pursed, she shook her head. Ridiculous to think anyone would notice. Pulling her shoulders straight, she spoke to her reflection.

“Suck it up. You’re a woman now. Just keep your mouth shut and maybe no one will be able to tell you’re loose.”

No one ever did notice. It would be another year and a different boyfriend before Emily completely lost her virginity and made a happy discovery. Male anatomy comes in all shapes and sizes. 


Just for fun,

Rain