Katie rolled over in her sleeping bag and gripped her stomach. She was experiencing intense stomach pain from the nausea and also from the hysterical laughing fits she and Mel broke out in every time they heard a huge farting sound from the boys’ tent, which had to be at least 30 feet away.
“Ughhhhhhhhh,” she groaned. “I want to puke, but I can’t, because I keep laughing.” As Katie thrashed around like a wild woman, the loud rustling sound of the synthetic outer part of her dad’s old sleeping bag filled the girls’ tiny tent. Mel cracked up.
“Stop kicking around like a psycho!” she choked out through her cackling. “You’re gonna knock over the lantern! ” Mel raised her eyebrows smugly at Katie, who momentarily gave up the battle against the demon in her stomach and flopped flat on her back. “Besides, I feel fine.”
“No duh you feel fine,” Katie whimpered. “You only had like, two bites of beans.”
“Yeah, because I don’t trust Brad’s cooking, and for good reason,” Mel responded, snickering. “I mean, maybe you should just go into the woods and shit your brains out. You’d probably feel better.” Katie shot Mel a horrified look.
“Ewwww! Mel, you are seriously twisted.”
Pbgghhbbvfghhhhhhhbbbbpppff
Another gaseous blast from Brad and Franky’s tent echoed through the campgrounds.
“HAHAHAHAHA,” the girls wailed.
“Good lord,” began Katie, rubbing her own tormented belly. “I wonder if it’s coming from both of them, or just one.”
“I don’t know, but those sound a little too hard core just to be coming from one person,” analyzed Mel. “I bet the really squeaky ones that go off one right after the other are coming from Franky, and those long, gnarly explosions like the one we just heard are coming from Brad.”
“Oh god, Mel,” groaned Katie in disgust.
“I know. What geeks.”
The girls lay in silence for a minute until a couple more high-pitched squeaks emerged from one of the boys and into the atmosphere. Mel let out a derisive snort.
“Want a hit of pot?” she asked, as she retrieved a doobie and a pack of matches from her duffle. “It’ll probably help your stomach.”
“Sure,” responded Katie, taking the stuff. She lit up, exhaled, and gazed up at the ceiling of the tent. “You know, I wish I could fart out all my troubles,” she stated nonchalantly. She passed over the joint.
“Yeah, don’t we all,” said Mel, holding in her inhale of pot.
Another few squeaky farts rang out, at which Mel inevitably chortled.
“That can’t be Franky,” Katie muttered under her breath.
“Oh no?” probed Mel, as she stashed the rest of the weed. “Why? Because Franky’s too much of a stone fox to be able to lay a gasser that whimpy?”
“NO!” Katie defended, sitting up.
“Woah! The puke monster rises!” teased Mel.
“Shut up, goon! I’m just starting to feel a little bit better.”
“Oh, phew! I was afraid I’d have to sleep outside if you started blasting like Franky.” Katie didn’t laugh like she knew Mel expected.
“You know that reminds me,” Mel said, tentatively. “Is there, like, something going on between you two?” Katie felt herself blush, but figured she could just pass it off as another side effect of the beans.
“Between who?” she asked, hoping Mel couldn’t detect that she totally knew. This weekend camping trip to Utah’s Zion National Park was the first time Katie was chilling with Mel’s crew for an extended period of time. Mel was in her Chemistry class at Valley High School in Las Vegas and was known as the “I don’t give a shit” girl of the eleventh grade. Mel hung out with the pothead boys, Brad and Franky, known as “the PJs,” an abbreviation that was rumored to have evolved from “Passers of the Joint.” A raunchier rumor was that it stood for the “Pussy Jumpers.” These were cats who the popular girls refused to associate with but all secretly thought were way attractive. And they were. They didn’t wear cool threads or have big muscles like the jocks, but the PJs had amazing shaggy blonde hair and the most naturally chiseled jaws you’d ever find on a couple of seventeen-year-olds. See, their reputation for being Stonehenges (hence “Passers of the Joint”) was proven and widely accepted; but what people couldn’t prove yet still believed was their reputation for regularly doing the Horizontal Tango with all the freshman girls at Southern Nevada Community College (hence “Pussy Jumpers”). This made the PJs sort of exotic, even if they were eleventh grade rejects; because, unlike the jocks, who just passed around the same cheerleaders, Brad and Franky “did it” with a different college girl every other day. Kids who paid any attention guessed that this particular piece of hearsay stemmed from how the PJs lived on the outskirts of the school district (which was right next to the community college), didn’t have too many friends at Valley High, and never denied the rumors. Katie, like most, believed them. She had just started hanging out with Mel and the PJs this year. Katie was a fallen popular chick of sorts: a bored cheerleader, who decided she didn’t want to be doomed to spending the rest of high school getting felt up by some horny wide receiver, or god forbid, a linebacker. Ever since turning sixteen, all her cheerleader friends had started losing their virginities left and right to jocks behind bleachers or in parking lots. Katie knew if she didn’t make a change, she’d be next. Chilling with the popular crowd had never been much fun anyway. So, she figured now was a better time than ever to socially experiment. Mel and the PJs seemed like the perfect crowd to start with, because all you have to do to get along with stoners is to be nice to them and smoke pot. Katie could do that.
Plus, she had a two-year long, top-secret crush on Franky. They had P.E. together. He always picked her first when he was team captain for Flag Football, even though she sucked. And before they ever started hanging out, he’d smile at her whenever he saw her around school. Katie could get with almost any footballer at Valley High, but for some reason, she wasn’t interested in giving emotionless hand jobs at the drive-in or dating some brainless jerk simply so she could wear his varsity jacket and pretend she was in love. Although it wasn’t much, Franky made Katie’s knees go week. No other guy did that. But she knew such an edgy, experienced guy wouldn’t want her. She never told Mel about it. She didn’t want her new friend to think that Franky was the only reason she started hanging out with their crew.
“Between who?” Katie repeated. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Between you and that fart factory, Franky. For your sake, I hope the answer is hell no,” joked Mel. Katie didn’t respond. “Earth to Katie!” Mel formed the shape of a megaphone with her hands. “Am I gonna have to force feed you another can of beans to get an answer!”
“Oh, take a chill pill,” Katie said dismissively. “Franky would never go for me anyway.” Katie saw Mel’s face light up with curiosity.
“What makes you say that?” Mel offered, spinning around so that she was now lying on her stomach, facing Katie.
“Oh, come on, do we have to talk about this?”
“No, we don’t have to.” Katie sensed the reverse psychology, which was actually comforting. She figured if Mel already had a hunch and wasn’t pissed off, then she could dish a little. Katie slid out of the sleeping bag and readjusted her posture.
“Okay, I sort of like Franky,” Katie admitted quietly. “Like, like like. But it’s not a big deal.” She waited semi-tensely for a reaction.
“Yeah,” Mel responded casually. “And?” Her unsurprised attitude made Katie relieved, but not exactly relaxed enough to spill her guts. Her crush was, after all, supposed to be top-secret.
“And…” Katie began. “And that’s it. I know he doesn’t like me back. It’s not a big deal.”
“How do you know?”
Katie started sweating. Between the blushing and perspiration, she didn’t know how far she could take blaming the beans.
“Um, I just, well,” Katie searched for words that would drop the conversation but still somewhat tell the truth. “I mean, why would he?” she chose to say. “Why would Franky, the PJ, the bad boy, like me? He has all of Southern Nevada at his beck and call.” She thought that would clear things up.
“Southern Nevada Community College?” asked Mel.
“Yeah, everyone knows. Brad and Franky get all the freshman chicks there. I mean, no wonder they’re so nice and relaxed all the time. They do it more than anyone at Valley!” Katie laughed to break her own tension and hopefully kill the topic. She stared down at her pink-polished toenails.
“So, the reason you think Franky doesn’t like you is all about sex, huh?” Mel posed. Katie decided this conversation was not going to end any time soon. She surrendered.
“Well, yeah,” she responded. “That’s all guys care about, so yeah.”
“And, you don’t think you’re good or something?”
Katie didn’t predict this conversation was going to happen with her new friend so soon. She and her old cheerleader gal pals talked about sex, but the conversations mostly consisted of them whispering about in what strange places they did it, and how it didn’t feel that good but they were sure it’d get better soon, and how excited they were to go shopping for lingerie now that they had somebody to see it. Katie would sit there and listen, occasionally asking a question, but mostly just dreading that her future sex life would be as bleak and meaningless as theirs. Listening to her friends’ stories also enhanced the complete self-loathing she felt from being too chicken to simply get it over with herself—that being, her first time. Katie actually hated the phrase, “first time.” She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she felt awkward, icky vibes about it. You never heard dudes talk about their “first time.” She didn’t want it to be any more embarrassing or taboo for her than it seemed to be for guys; because, although she didn’t want to have sex in any of the ways her peers had so far, she also didn’t want to be a virgin. It was her life’s greatest daily dilemma. Well, that and what color toenail polish to use.
“I,” Katie murmured. “I’ve actually never had sex.” Katie prayed Mel wouldn’t make a huge scene about it. The fact itself was already humiliating enough.
“Really? I thought all you cheerleaders mated like rabbits.”
Mel and Katie shared a laugh.
“Well, the rest of them do,” Katie revealed, happy to be talking about someone other than herself. She knew Mel would love the opportunity to get the skinny on the popular crowd. Anyone who wasn’t a part of it would, even the supposed “I don’t give a shit” girl.
“Yeah, Pete Welsh and Cindy Christianson do it every day after school in the woods behind the softball field. And Mark Phelps sometimes goes over to Cindy’s house, and does it with her right afterwards!”
“Oh, sick!” Mel exclaimed, delighted.
“Yeah they all do it with one another. Pete and Cindy, Mark and Cindy, Don and Cindy, Steve-O and Carol (they’re dating), Steve-O and Melanie (Carol doesn’t know; it’s a huge scandal), let me see… Josh and Melanie, Josh and Rita, Josh and Susan, Josh and Kim… Josh and pretty much everyone besides Cindy, because they’re like, 3rd cousins or something.” Katie was really enjoying airing out all the dirty laundry of her former half-friends. Mel was eating it up.
“Wowzzers,” Mel reacted, shaking her head. “So, it’s true; all of those kids really are as slutty as people say.”
“Pretty much,” answered Katie, embarrassed on the popular crowd’s behalf. “Except the stories all sound horrible! Awkward body parts in the wrong places, bizarre positions they read about in their parents’ old coma sutra books and attempt to do; I remember Carol telling me about how when she and Steve-O tried to get it on for the first time, it was in the dark in the back of his dad’s station wagon, and he actually ended up doing it with her knee. Like, apparently her knee was bent, and he couldn’t see, so he accidentally stuck it right between her calf and her thigh and just started going for it.” Mel managed a smile as she shuttered in horror. “I know,” said Katie, laughing. “How do you not regret such a terrible experience? That is the type of thing I’m desperately trying to avoid.” Katie let out a breath that sounded like a mix between a chuckle and a disheartened sigh.
“You know, it doesn’t have to be like that,” Mel suggested, after a beat. “I lost my virginity when I was camping in Colorado last summer.” Katie perked up. She had never heard Mel divulge anything really personal before. “It was with the son of a family friend,” she continued. “A guy named Billy. We were friends as kids, but I hadn’t seen him in a long time, because his family moved across town. Well, out of the blue, he invited me out to Colorado for a week to go camping with him and some other kids I used to know. Anyway, he’s the nicest guy and had gotten so hot since the last time I’d seen him. In kind of a Warren Beatty type of way, you know, actually handsome. So, one night we were all telling ghost stories around the campfire (NO beans were involved, thank god), and Billy asked if I wanted to take a walk. And I said sure. So we got to talking, and he ended up telling me he’d liked me when we were younger but was always afraid to tell me. God, he just looked like such a fox that night. So, after walking around and talking for a while, we snuck back to his tent. And, we did it. No, I wasn’t in love with him, and no, it didn’t feel one hundred percent incredible, like I was gonna lift up into the heavens or something; but it was nice. And he was nice. And I don’t regret it at all.”
Katie processed the story for a minute. She found it ironic how Mel, a girl who everyone in school thought had absolutely nothing to offer, was doling out such mature, no-nonsense advice about a topic she could have easily mocked.
“And if you want to know the truth,” Mel continued. “I have known those PJs since before either one of them ever put a joint to their mouth, and I will tell you for certain, as a secret between you and me, that their nickname comes from nowhere but their smoking habits.” Mel raised her eyebrows at Katie, making sure she understood.
“Wait a second,” Katie said, abruptly. “Franky doesn’t go around laying tons of community college girls?” Mel shook her head.
“Absolutely not,” she replied. “It’s a hilarious rumor, though, and they both obviously love it. That’s why they don’t deny it to anyone. They know no one at Valley is gonna do it with them, so why not let all those kids think they’re getting it from somewhere better?” Mel chuckled.
“Oh my god,” Katie gasped. She couldn’t believe Franky’s sex god status was a total lie. “So, who started that rumor in the first place?”
“No idea,” shrugged Mel. “Where do any of them start? Do you know how many rumors are circulating about you? I mean, just the other week, I heard you were involved in a threesome after the Sadie Hawkins dance with Josh Tanner and Susan whats-her-face.”
“Susan Powell?!” Katie exclaimed. “Me? With Josh Tanner and Susan Powell?” Katie couldn’t believe there were rumors about her going around at Valley that she didn’t even know about. But she sort of had to smile to herself at the prospect of people thinking she was wild enough to be involved in a threesome.
Mel reached back over to her duffle to grab the joint.
“Yeah, people who believe that BS are such suckers,” she asserted, as she lit up once again. Katie was going to respond, when all the sudden one of what Mel described as Brad’s “long, gnarly explosions” reverberated through the campgrounds.
“God,” Katie said. “At this point, they have to be doing it on purpose, just to mess with us. They’re probably bothering other people trying to sleep out here!” Mel was too zoned out on her weed to say anything. “Well,” Katie said, almost to herself. “I’m going to go over there and see what in the world is going on. I’m gonna take the lantern. Is that okay?” Mel nodded sluggishly and rolled over on her side. Katie guessed she was out for the night. She grabbed the lantern and headed out of the tent.
“What the hell are you boys doing?” Katie called out, as she unzipped the PJs’ tent. “Oh man! That smell!”
“You unleashed the stench!” Brad whined, as he gripped his stomach and let out a squeaky fart.
“You mean all that was coming from you, Brad?” asked Katie, stunned.
“Yes it was,” answered Franky, clipping his nose shut with his thumb and forefinger. “I just had a little stomach ache, but this cat seems to be possessed!”
Katie threw her head back and laughed.
“I had a stomach ache too,” she said. “But I’m better now. Are you?”
“Yeah, I had some pot. I’m better.”
“Right on.”
Katie and Franky’s eyes met silently for a minute until Franky finally said, “Do you, uh, wanna go for a walk with me? I should probably get out of this toxic waste bin of a tent. This place needs to be fumigated.” Katie smiled.
“Yeah, I do.”
Franky got out of the tent and stood up next to Katie. His hair looked particularly shaggy and blonde by the light of the lantern. He looked at Katie and smiled sweetly like he always did in the hallway at school.
“I’m really glad we’re getting to spend time together,” he told her. Katie detected a level of nervousness in his voice that she’d never noticed before.
“Me too,” she said, and took his hand. It was sweaty. Katie tried to convince herself it was from his being nervous around her, and not some gross and mysterious liquid from Brad. She laughed at the thought.
“What?!” Franky asked, grinning.
“Oh, nothing, just Brad, that maniac,” Katie replied.
Hand and hand, the virgin Stonehenge and the virgin Cheerleader rustled through the leaves in the night.
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