Being Diane Read online

  Chapter 3

  “Hey, hurry up you are going to make us late again,” yelled my brother Ralph.

  “I'm coming, I'm coming. Keep your shirt on!” I yelled back.

  “You are slower than some girls I know, getting ready.” exclaimed Mom.

  “If you hadn't let me over sleep, I would be ready.” I replied.

  “Shoot we couldn't get you to even roll over this morning. What time did you go to bed last night anyway?” Asked Mom.

  “I got through with my English homework about eleven.”

  “You are going to have to start getting it done sooner. Now get in the car and let's go.” complained Mom.

  School for me was a nightmare, even though I was supposed to have a high I.Q. I was having all sorts of problems with school. Not only was I not doing well in Science I was having a lot of difficulty with plain math, not to mention the Algebra that was in it. It seemed as though I was a daydreamer and I had a lot of trouble focusing on the subjects at hand. English wasn't so bad as long as we were studying literature of some type. I really excelled in literature and history but sucked in things like P.E.

  I played in the band also and loved it even though I wasn't that great. I still hung in there and kept trying; it was the most fun of the day. I had another problem that at the time seemed like a normal Junior High thing, I was constantly being picked on by some of the older guys, now they call it bullying, but then it was considered a normal thing, kind of like a pecking order and no one seemed to care.

  I probably would have done a lot better if my Mom and Dad had taken more interest in our studies, but they didn't. All I got from them was why wasn't I doing better in school and why didn't I read more like Ralph, an answer was never there. It wasn't that I didn't try to do well, but all I could accomplish was a mediocre showing. I was getting more and more frustrated as time went along especially since the more I tried the worse it seemed I was getting. I was having some other problems with being sad and then being so elated that I couldn’t stand it. Mom said I was going through puberty and that it would go away, but I was starting to wonder if it would.

  “Hey, dufuss.” I heard as I walked into the school. Damn. It was one of my main tormentors. A guy by the name of Hugh. We all called him Baby Hughie because he was in my class but was twice as big as any of us and twice as dumb acting. He was arrogant and insubordinate to the teachers and would try to pick a fight with them just to see if they would rise to the bait. He was epitome of the problem child.

  “Hi Hugh. What's happening?” I replied. I was looking around for a teacher to run over to and start a conversation with, but as my luck would have it, none were around.

  Hugh grabbed me by the collar and leaned in close. I could smell his fetid breath reeking of alcohol and tobacco. The smell almost made me throw up. “I need some lunch money and you are going to give it to me or I'm going to beat the snot out of you.” He growled.

  “Dude, I don't have any money. My Mom has started giving it to my brother to keep. Sorry. I think I may have twenty five cents but that's it.” I stammered.

  “Give it here and you had better not be lying to me. You little turd.” He said

  I reached in and pulled out two nickels a dime and two pennies. “Here take it, just don't hit me again like you did the last time.” I begged.

  He took the money and walked away jingling it in his hand. I felt even lower than I usually did right then. It didn't help matters any with two of the prettiest girls in the school standing by watching. They shook their heads at me and walked away. I could have died right then and wished that I could but it didn't happen, so I would have to go through the rest of the day being teased by everybody about it.

  Things didn't go any better the rest of the day. I flunked a math test on Algebraic equations and then I couldn't climb a rope in P.E. After that I was popped with towels in the shower leaving huge whelps on my butt and was teased about how I was growing titties, they did seem a little large. Industrial arts turned out to be a pretty good class. We had a sub to come in and show us how to do wood turning on a lathe. I made a candle stick that was pretty cool. Then came lunch and the harassment started all over, two of the football players picked me up and put me head first into a garbage can with the coach watching. He just laughed and made me go to the end of the line for lunch, but I was so embarrassed that I just went out to the front of the school and sat under a big old oak tree that grew there until the next class.

  After lunch came History and I did pretty good in there. I had already read the chapter and was half way through the next one already. The pop quiz was a breeze so I made an A on it. Mr. Simmons was cool, he had just started teaching and wasn't into many of the things that the other teachers were. Like making, us write papers all the time or explain something in front of the class. I did think that on occasion he seemed a little on the slow side and smelled like burning grass, on those days he just had us read our books and keep quiet.

  Now came my most favorite part of the day, MS, Givens... er, ah, I mean English class. I was able to understand even the most minute ideas of any of the books or stories she had us read. Now I am not saying that I am a Rhodes Scholar in English or anything like that, but it seemed to come to me easier than all of the rest of my studies and it didn't hurt that she was a hottie with a capital H. She always was very trendy with her clothes and shoes and she kept her hair pulled back in a ponytail tied up with a ribbon. I, because my last name started with an A, had to sit at the front left row and was surrounded by four of the prettiest girls in my class. All of whom tried to dress just like her.

  She would sit on the side edge of her desk facing me and lecture. I could see everything some days, even the color of her panties and the tops of her stockings. Damn! The English classroom always stayed hotter than any of the others. Today she had on a sleeveless dress that was just above her knees and nude stockings that were being held up by a white garter belt. She had black pumps on that weren't too tall but made her legs look fantastic. To a fourteen year old, it was like being in heaven.

  It's not that I didn't like girls or anything like that. I just didn't have an interest in trying to date them, besides I was still too young to date according to my parents. So I would just sit there and admire how well dressed they were and wish that guys could wear things that were soft and colorful instead of the dull and drab same old blue jeans and plaid or solid colored shirts. I found one of my Mom's wool skirts in the cedar chest one day and tried it on with some of the stockings that I had found. The look to me was awesome and the feel was a high that I wanted again and again. I am not queer and don't like boys so don't even go there. It's just that I for once felt right like I should.

  Ms. Givens gave me more than a peep show. She made me see that being female was a good thing. She showed me that a female could succeed and do well; also, she showed me that not all women were inferior to men. I guess that I am jealous of her and her accomplishments. I wanted to teach and be as good as her.

  The class progressed and the bell rang and as usual, I gathered my books and started out the door to band, but the day had one more surprise for me. “Dennis, would you mind staying here for a minute. Please.” she said.

  I sat back down wondering what I had done wrong. Had she caught me staring at her crotch or had she caught me looking back at one of the girls in the row next to me. I didn't know but I knew that it was never a good thing to be asked to stay behind the rest of the class.

  She waited until everybody else was gone, having to fend off two of the football players juvenile attempts at being suave and debonair, it was hilarious to watch them trying to impress her. Finally, they left and she walked over and shut the door. I believed at that time that I was a goner, dead meat ready for the butcher to carve up. How could anyone as beautiful as she was turn into a raving werewolf. Oh well this is just my luck again.

  “Dennis, I have been going over your transcript and... Are you alright? You look pale.” She said.


  Well so much for the werewolf, “I'm fine. It's just that no one has ever asked me to stay behind to talk to them.” I said.

  “Honey, you aren't in trouble. I was just going to talk to you about your grades,” she said in a soothing tone that reminded me of the description an angel. And she called me “Honey”. “As I was saying, you have been assigned to me to counsel about your grades and while I was going over them I noticed that several of the staff have made note that you are not preforming up to expected levels. As a matter of a fact, your yearly performance scores far exceed what you appear to be doing in class. Now what I want to know is why. So I scheduled an I.Q. Test to see what level you are at.”

  I just sat there stunned. Now I was going to have to take another test to see if I was crazy. Why oh why was she doing this to me? I always acted good in her class and never caused any trouble. So why? Then another thought hit me Mom and Dad, probably are going to hit the ceiling when they hear about it. Then I was going to be in more trouble at home. Then it struck me, an idea to get out of this wretched situation.

  “Uh, Ms. Givens, I don't think Mom and Dad will go for it. I mean it's bound to be expensive and both of them work and I work helping my Uncle on the farm being the grease monkey and all. So I really don't see that I can do it.” Then I begged God to let that be good enough, but....

  “Oh, don't worry about that I have already talked to your Mom about it and she thinks it will be good for you. As far as the cost, the High School Counselor can give the test and grade it. He is also going to give you some personality tests to see where you are developmentally. So this afternoon you are going to go to the counselor’s office for the tests. Ok?” She said.

  Hmm, intelligent, beautiful and sneaky wow what a combination.

  “Okay I'll be there. Is there anything else?” I asked.

  “Yes there is. You will also have to come to my house twice a week for tutoring in the afternoon and we might as well start it tomorrow afternoon. So meet me by my car after school. Now get going to your next class I have already told the band director that you would be late.” and she opened the door and I left.

  Yeah I thought this was going to turn out to be a plus. Maybe even some of the guys will give me a break now. I was thinking of all the time together with her and didn't see Baby Hughie hiding in the recess to the boy’s bathroom. He reached out and grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the bathroom and threw me on the floor and began to kick the crap out of me. I curled up in a ball and tried to make myself as small as possible but it just wasn't enough. Finally, he quit and as he was walking out the door, he turned and said. “The next time you squeal on me, you won't be able to talk for a long time,” and he left slamming the door behind him.

  I just laid there unable to move for a few minutes trying to figure out why he beat me. I hadn't told anyone about this morning and no one said anything to me about it. Damn, am I the only one in this school that can't fight? I finally got up and went on to band. The Director just looked at me and pointed to my chair. I got my horn and sat down. Gill the first chair clarinetist that sat next to me turned and asked, “Damn, what happened to you. It looks like you have been run over by a truck?”

  I just bowed my head and said. “I was.”

  Band was uneventful and I left and walked down to the School Counselors office for the test. If I was lucky, the Principal wouldn't be there but as usual, my luck kicked in.

  “Dennis! Come here right now,” commanded Mr. Alverez the school Principal, “What the hell happened to you? You're all bloody and bruised and don't give me some crap about falling down.”

  Well here, I was in a dilemma again. If I told him what had happened then Baby Hughie would find me and finish the job, but if I didn't, then he would probably suspend me for not telling him. So I decided to tell the truth and let Hughie kill me. I was dead either way. “I was going to Band and Baby Hughie grabbed me and pulled me into the bathroom and beat me. He said it was for snitching on him today.”

  “I can take care of that, he has stepped over the line this time. Oh and by the way it was someone else that told me about what happened this morning.” He said. “Now go on into the Counselors office he's waiting for you.”

  The Counselor just looked at me and shook his head. He gave me the test and told me to be careful going home. Before I got out the door he stopped me and handed me a book, a plain paper back book that had the picture of a Chinese guy on the cover and he was posed in a fighting stance that I had never seen before. The author was a man by the name of Bruce Lee and it was about something called karate. I took the book thanked him and left.

  I walked up to the store where my Mom worked and went inside. I saw Mom waiting on a Mother and her daughter and it seemed as though she was having a tough time making a sale. It seemed as though the Mother thought all of the dresses were entirely to mature for her 'little girl'. The Daughter apparently didn't agree and wanted to wear clothes that were a little more hip than what she had on. I agreed the clothes she was wearing made her look like a first or second grader at a party. She had a dress that had puffed sleeves and a full skirt that was delineated from the bodice by a sash. I thought she was a big second grader but she was the same age as I was. I stood off to the side and suddenly the Mother looked at me and asked. “Tell me young lady do you think that these are a little to risqué for a young lady?”

  “Not really, I think that they represent the conservative side of the current fashion scene. May I ask what the dress you are trying to pick out is for?” I said and Mom was staring daggers at me. I didn’t know if it was for not correcting the lady on the gender gaff or if it because I spoke up and gave my opinion.

  “She needs a dress for a party that is coming up and there are going to be several young men there also. It is a dinner party for the Young Lawyers Association. I think that these are entirely to mature and expose too much. I don't want my daughter to look like a woman of the night.” She said.

  The daughter spoke up then. “Mom, I won't look like a whore in a dress like this. I don't know why you continually think I am trying to sleep with every boy I meet. All I want to do is to look like I am fourteen and not eight like you have me dressed now.”

  “May I suggest an outfit for you?” I offered.

  “Yes please, anything to get out of these horrid little girl outfits.” She said.

  “Well if you are going to a party where there are going to be lawyer types then I suggest a professional looking outfit something along the lines of this blue suit. It has a pencil skirt and a jacket that is tailored to accentuate her feminine figure. A lovely shell of white or winter white with a string of pearls and pearl earrings would be about perfect. I also suggest these matching blue mid heel pumps and a pair of suntan hose. She would look awesome and would be the hit of the party. I also suggest that the earrings be single pearls and that they be rather small so as not to overpower her beautiful face. Would you like to try the outfit on?” I asked.

  “Yes.” said the daughter.

  “Well, okay we'll see what it looks like.” said the Mom.

  “Great, the dressing room is right back here.” and I took the dress and the shoes and carried them back to the dressing room for them. I left them to try them on and walked back up to where my Mom was.

  “I hope you enjoyed yourself playing sissy fashion adviser.” She said. “I hope you didn't blow the sale.”

  “I was just trying to help, that's all. She asked for my opinion and I gave it to her.” I said.

  “Go on over there and ask that gentleman what he needs and be quick about it.” She ordered.

  “Can I help you sir.” I asked.

  “Yes I need a handkerchief.” He said.

  “Would you like one that is for the back pocket or a nice one for your suit?” I asked and led him over to the display case with the handkerchiefs.

  “I need one for my suit and I really need one for my back pocket also. So do you work here all the time?” he asked.
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br />   “No sir, I just came in to wait on my Mom to get off. I usually work on the farm that we live on in the afternoon. I do the greasing and the grunt work, but I love it. So what do you do?” I asked making small talk.

  “I am an investment banker in Memphis and I am down here to meet with several of the local business men and farmers. We are trying to get them to invest their extra money in some companies that appear to be going places. So, what do you recommend, I was listening to you sell that dress to that young lady and you appear to have a knack for it. So sell me a handkerchief.” He said.

  “Well, the plain white cotton ones are what you need for everyday use, but these are very attractive and would go well in a suit pocket. A lot of the local black ministers and funeral home directors like them. I asked one why they liked these and he told me that when he was in the spirit during a sermon it made for an excellent way to punctuate it by reaching up and drawing it out and wiping the sweat from his brow. I really like him, I was able to go to his church and stand outside and listen to him and he is really good at what he does. He seems to believe in the word and that means a lot. But I don't think you will be pulling it out of your pocket with a flourish in the middle of a presentation so let's concentrate on the color and material match, like this one. It matches your suit well and it not to flashy.” I said.

  “Hmm, I like it would you fold it for me to fit in my pocket?”

  “Of course is there anything else I can get for you. We have men's underwear and socks on sale today. We also have a wide selection of dress shirts that are reasonably priced.” I said.

  “Not today. Thank you. I just needed a handkerchief today. You see I had to change a tire on the way down here and I used my handkerchief to wipe my hands with,” he said.

  “Have you gotten the tire repaired yet?” I asked. “If not I can recommend an excellent tire repair shop to you just down the street and he is reliable. It is two blocks down on the left. The handkerchiefs are going to be a dollar and seven cents.”

  “Here take this it is two dollars. Keep the change. I was impressed with your sales ability. By the way here take my card.” and he gave me a business card that had gold lettering on it. “Stanley Washington Financial and Bank Investments.”

  “Thank you Mr. Washington. My name is Dennis Allen.” I had never seen anything like that card before it had his phone number also. “If you ever need anything just give me a call and I will be ever so happy to assist you.” he shook my hand and left.

  I took the money over to Mom and gave it to her and told her what he said about keeping the change. She took it put the sale money in the till and put the rest in her pocket. “Go on out and wait for me in the car.” she said.

  I went out and got in the car and I started reading the book the counselor gave me and realized that it was about how to defend yourself and to train your mind to survive. He talked about the need to have the right mental attitude and how to strengthen your mind and body. I decided to try it and see what happened who knows maybe I would be able to keep from being whooped in every fight. So that night after I did my homework I started with the first chapter and practiced the moves that he recommended. I did them outside in the washhouse so I wouldn't be teased by my brother since he reveled in doing so. They didn't seem so hard at first but after a while, I started feeling the pain of doing each simple move. I kept going until I had the first moves down and then I went inside.