pigeon

That’s embarrassing! Especially when you’re not wearing any underwear!

Remember what the inside of a school bus smells like?

Rubber. Diesel. Sweat. Urgency.

That must be where I was when this happened, because that’s the scent memory that comes up when I think about it.

There had been a spate of pantsings going around. It was the cool thing to do among the accepted extrovert caste. It was the cool thing to be done to you, if you were one of them. Was this high school or middle school? The visual I get is middle school but the vibe is high school. Physically high school but mentally still middle school? As is the case with so many boys.

On this particular day, one of the popular jocks pantsed another one of the popular jocks right after the bell rang, while everyone was gathered around or getting on the buses.

Everybody laughed at the spectacle — look! It’s the best and strongest among us, playfully joshing each other! Making mischievous memories of those echelons they exemplify! The one who had it done to him showed that he was a good sport, pulling his athletic-leisure shorts back up, laughing full-faced, saying, “That’s embarrassing! Especially when you’re not wearing any underwear!”

What everyone else didn’t know, watching adoringly from the bus windows these robust lads with bright futures, was that this self-confident good sport was the same guy who had sexually assaulted one of my girlfriends, and then helped spread the rumors that she was a whore. This experience damaged her adolescence, her sense of self, her way of going about in the world.

People like that get to be president in this country.

Why?