Marla Pt. 01: Prologue

In sixth grade, there was this cute little girl assigned to sit next to me in homeroom. Marla was her name and she was the cutest, prettiest thing I'd ever seen. She had short blonde hair, wore glasses and at eleven years old was a little taller than me (I was 5'). I'd first seen her on the school bus on that first day and was immediately taken with her. She'd just moved to the district and lived one block over from me. We slowly became friends but midway through the year, we considered one another best friends.

In seventh grade I had a growth spurt and zoomed past her. Marla had only grown an inch or two. She was raised strictly Seventh Day Adventist and was allowed no makeup or 'stylish' clothing. But there was no denying how shapely she was becoming. I remember the battle she'd had with her folks, just to allow her to have braces to straighten her teeth. I also remember her bed time was 8:30, because while we hung out and played with other kids in the neighborhood, or rode bikes together in the summer, she'd have to be at home by 8. I remember thinking how unfair that was... hell, in the summer, it didn't even get dark until after 9:00, when I had to be home. But, I didn't have to go to bed until 10 at the earliest.

Marla wasn't exactly shy, but was uber-sheltered, bordering on smothered, if you were to ask me. So, she naturally presented as a little bit timid. She used to talk to me about wishing she could wear makeup and dress 'cool' like most of the other kids, but her parents would have none of it.

So, one late summer day, a couple weeks before school was to be back in session for eighth grade, I talked her into riding her bike with me to the department store some 3 or 4 miles away. She was so worried, since we had to ride the last mile or two on the side of a pretty major state road. She wasn't as much worried about being hit by a car, as she was worried about her folks finding out she did it. But she had resolved to, because we had a plan.

I had saved some money from mowing lawns for several of our neighbors and from my paper route tips. I was going to buy her makeup, a pair of cute jeans and top. She couldn't wait! The plan was to, one day a week, put on her makeup and change clothes in the girls locker room, once she got to school!

The clerk in the store was a very nice older woman (maybe in her 40's), who thought it was cute that we were there together doing this. I remember her grinning at both of us, probably thinking back to when she was our age, saying, "You two kids are just adorable! Here, climb up on this stool and I'll fix you up!"

Fix her up, she did! Marla's, now shoulder length, blonde hair was put back in a pony tail and the clerk tried several different shades and taught Marla how to apply it. I watched for a bit, but told them I was going to the sporting good department for a while. When I came back, I was astonished! Marla looked nothing like the cute blonde girl from homeroom.

The clerk cut us a break and gave Marla several 'samples'. I thankfully only had to pay for the eyeliner, mascara and lipstick everything else was pro bono. The clerk even made us stand together with my arm around Marla, so she could take our picture. That was many years ago, but I still remember it so well.

Next we found Marla some cute jeans and top with a smiley face screened on the front.

We rode home laughing all the way and I kept telling her she looked so pretty. Marla was giddy, and insisted she was going straight home, sneaking in and locking herself in her bathroom to wash it all off and practice putting it all on again.

The next day she told me she did it three times and almost forgot to wash it off the last time, before feigning taking a nap and emerging from her bedroom, her parents none the wiser.

Weeks later, eight grade began. We'd actually gone back to the department store a couple more times for more 'cool' clothes, which she'd hid under her bed. Feeling cocky with extra clothes and not satisfied with getting dolled up just one day a week, Marla started the new school year looking like every other cute girl with makeup and stylish clothe... every day! She'd sneak her new clothes and makeup in her backpack and change in the vacant locker room, unbeknownst to anyone but me... and she was a hit!

Her popularity jumped tenfold! We were still best friends, but now there were a lot of other friends in her life... both girl and boy. The latter bothered me, but I was pretty physically mature by 13 year old standards and played starting quarterback for the Junior High football team, by now, and was popular in my own right. Everybody had known we were close friends and nobody wanted to cross me. So, away from school nothing had changed between us, but on campus, we gave each other more space. But seeing her interact with other boys for the first time, sharpened my keenness on just how attractive she was.

As it turned out, her parents never did catch on to Marla's successful attempt to fit in and become more popular. They were both killed in a tragic automobile accident after the last snow storm of that year.

Marla missed a month of classes and was understandably so grieved, that everything changed back to the way she was before... quiet and now, depressed. She lived as though her parents were watching her every move from above. And, worst of all, she even withdrew from me! She'd moved in with her aunt, who lived in town, to finish out the school year. Through tears one evening, while studying together, she told me it was likely that they would move away in the coming summer. I was very upset. Marla was despondent.

Still in town, but no longer living a block away from me had certainly cooled our coming-of-age friendship. We used to talk for hours virtually every day. Now, a few minutes on the phone every few days was it. We were never really 'going together', but essentially we'd broken up.

Marla and I eventually lost contact completely. I assumed she'd moved away with Aunt Jane and was pissed that she'd never even told me goodbye. But that summer, I busied myself with extracurriculars like baseball and football. I'd always assumed we'd be together, as freshmen, when high school started. Hell, I'm pretty sure I assumed we'd always be together. I had learned a valuable lesson; in this life, you just never know.

High school started and I'd made the football team as backup quarterback during the previous summer camp. I was nearly as proud as my Dad was. He kept reminding me that I was a freshman and the starter was a senior. In his mind I was just as good. I knew Joe Smith had a stronger arm than I did, though... even if some of his passes looked similar to the way the 'Wild Thing' threw baseball pitches in the movie, Major League. But, I was still growing and getting stronger, working out with my teammates as a hobby, now. Making the varsity baseball team was my next goal, but I'd get my chance after football season was over.

On Fridays we'd wear our game jerseys to school, as a means to market the evening game, but it also helped with my popularity as an incoming freshman. The freaks didn't mess with us and the girls wanted to date football players.

The sister of one of my teammates was a varsity cheerleader. Carrie was a real pretty blonde. It's no joke how much I'm attracted to pretty blonde girls and she was all that! I mean, she wasn't enough to erase the memory of Marla, but she would certainly do!... plus she was an 'older woman' as a junior! Lol. We were dating and my stock was rising!

We won our first game and I lost my virginity the same night with Carrie. I never got in the game, but it didn't matter... I was a winner!

Carrie didn't seem to mind the adolescent taboo of dating a freshman. I was good looking and mature 'looking' enough that it wasn't an issue. In fact, she'd pick me up in her white VW Rabbit convertible, then toss me the keys! I wasn't driving her around to burger joint hang outs or the parties she always knew about in the most masculine of cars, but who cared!? I mattered was that I was driving and my hot, blonde, coed girlfriend wherever she wanted to go... with the top down! Marla was already becoming a more distant memory... a good one but more and more fuzzy around the edges.

The next few years of high school went unbelievably well for me. I was the starting third baseman for our school's baseball team and I was the star quarterback in football. I was popular and dated several girls by the time my senior year began. Carrie was long gone and in college. But, I'll never forget how she showed me the ropes. I'd become a 'stud' and it all started with Carrie.

Admittedly, I wasn't the best student, but I definitely wasn't dumb... just socially preoccupied. Besides, I was courted by several Division II schools for both football and baseball scholarships, despite my less than average GPA. I couldn't wait for college. I knew, I was sure to be a 'stud' there, too.

That's when disaster struck. Midway though football season, I sustained a shoulder dislocation and compound fracture of the humerus on my throwing arm. There was nothing humorous about it. I couldn't accept that my football and baseball dreams were officially over in an instant. But, I knew that any hope of the college scholarship, I'd been counting on, was likely shot to hell.

I was determined to work to get my old form back and thought maybe a year of healing and rehab would get me there. My idea was to take a year off after graduation, work for my dad's construction company and rehab the shit out of my bum arm. Then, I'd 'walk-on' at the junior college one town over, make their football team, make their baseball team, be a star again and transfer to a school with a better athletics program the following year.

That was the plan, but things weren't going as well as I'd hoped. After graduation, I began working for dad and working my arm in earnest. But, the physical pain of rehabbing my arm, was more than I could cope with and I became dependent on pain killers. Finding myself in an entirely different kind of rehab was devastating. And in that forum, I came to realize, those dreams of stardom were in fact dead.

Dad was disappointed, but proud that I had 'manned-up'. Soon I was working for him full time. Many of my closest friends were in college, but some worked as I did. Of course I was off the pain pills for good, but drank beer like every other guy my age. We'd take weekend road trips and visit campuses where our friends studied, enjoying the fact that, we got to enjoy the college party life without all that annoying studying.

One particular party was in the 'ghetto' area (that's what they called it) of off campus housing next to the community college nearby that I'd planned on attending. It was a notorious party school because of the freedom this cheap housing provided. It seemed that each 'house' was like it's own little fraternity with four to six roommates each. My working friends and I would go there often, and not just to hang with the few friends of ours that attended. We'd just crash parties stag-like and blend in like the rest of the enrolled college students there. Guys and girls had separate housing of course, but during the weekend parties, it didn't matter... chicks everywhere.

We'd been there for a little over an hour. I was refilling my beer cup at the keg on the front porch talking to a hot prospective 'date'. And that's when I saw her.

Holy shit! Marla was at this fucking party! I'm sure my mouth fell open at the exact second I recognized her. I hadn't thought about her much in well over a year, but there she was and I was once again mesmerized. I cautiously made my way over to her, she was sitting between two guys I did not know, leaning fairly heavily against one of them. Marla, now 18 like me, had certainly recaptured her sexy... with makeup, tight, low-riding, ripped up jeans and a tighter pink tube top. She was holding a red solo cup and was obviously drunk.

"Hey stranger! Remember me?" I managed.

Marla's eyes went wide as she struggled to push herself up off the outdoor sofa. She whispered something to the older guy she'd been leaning against and came up to me, unsteady, but determined.

"Josh! Izzat you!?"

I smiled on cue.

"Ooomygod, idizz you!"

She wrapped her arms around me and didn't seem to want to let go. Neither did I. My long ago quashed feelings for her, came rushing back immediately. We rocked in each others arms for at least 10 seconds, that felt like minutes. When we parted, she stumbled back. Man, she was trashed! I quickly grabbed her hand, steadying her, and led her to an unoccupied bench seat at the other end of the porch where we sat, just looking at one another. She was more drop dead gorgeous than ever, but totally plowed. I'm pretty sure she could see at least two of me.

I asked her, "So, do you go to school here?"

She did, but she told me she was flunking out. I gave her the briefest version of my story that I could, realizing, she wasn't likely to remember much, if any of it. That got me worried, would she even remember seeing me. So, I quickly got her number and saved it in my phone, then dialed her up and saved my name and number in hers. I handed it back to her and we held hands, as I gently stroked her long blonde hair framing her face. She just stared at me dreamily with a goofy, sweet grin that emphasized just how plastered she was. I could tell she wanted to talk more, but she was just too drunk... or high, or both.

The guy she'd been leaning on inside, came out to find her and bring her back. He looked Italian or Greek or something and, apparently, he was her boyfriend. He was a pretty mean looking dude, though, I was much bigger. He looked me over, puffed up his chest and nodded for me to get lost. As he corralled her, ushering her back inside, our hands reluctantly decoupled. We let go at the same time with both of our arms completely extended, mine forward, hers back. But, I knew, now was no time to fight. At least I had her number. I just sat there dumbstruck. I couldn't believe it. Marla was within my grasp again. She looked hotter than I could have ever imagined... wait, was that a tramp stamp?... Well, I'll be damned... As suddenly as my athletic career had ended, I felt I had a new purpose. Marla had to be mine at all costs!

end of chapter one

I think this story has better bones. I actually made an outline before I started it, so I have two real directions in mind with which to continue and finish it!

Let me know if y'all want the continuation to have me as "the fixer" or make this a "slippery slope" corruption story, like I usually write. I need to know what you think, because this is the point either scenario actually begins.