Paula
Movin On / Pt. 3 / King Jr. High
Summer vacation was at an end, even though the sun was still scorching. It was time to say farewell to the Beaches of Sorrento, Venice and Malibu. I entered the ninth grade at Thomas Star King Jr. High School. It was much more overwhelming, than Le Conte summer school had been; surpassing my farthest expectations. Thankfully, my guardian angel, Judy was right there by my side, paving the way, until I could manage on my own. And, of course, Mike was always on the horizon, making sure I was safe and because of that, I was slow to realize that King was a rough school.
Slowly, in spite of my inner turmoil, a new horizon unfolded. I felt free for the first time. Free from the shackles of Catholic school. This was the real thing. No more uniforms, no more nuns, and no more censorship. I could dress the way I wanted and express my views without harsh repercussions. My babysitting jobs had allowed me to save up a good amount of money, even though I only earned fifty cents an hour. Before the semester started, Mom gave me back two hundred and fifty dollars of the money I earned and took me shopping for school clothes. But, this was not nearly enough money for a decent wardrobe; so, I clearly needed to use my imagination. With an edgy use of accessories and a few hand-me-downs, I built up my repertoire.
My mother picked clothes for me that bent toward the classics, so I altered them with quirky touches. In no time, I exhausted my stock of cloth and looked for ways to expand. That's when I began sneaking clothes from my sister, Geri’s closet, and stuffing them under my bed, instead of putting them back. She didn't have much herself and kept her clothes in such pristine order that she could tell when something was missing. It was of little consequence to me, that my actions drove my sister to tears. I was really being a brat.
“She’s ruining my life! Do something!” she cried to my mother.
“Gosh I only borrowed a few things.”
My mother locked me out of my sister’s room, with a warning.
“Fine!” I said, and stomped off . . . but I was pretty concerned, about the whole thing.
This new affair, turned out to be only a temporary setback. I was a desperate girl, with a mission and eventually I found a skeleton key, in my Dad's first drawer. Mind you, it was not so much that that I wanted to look pretty, it was, that I was up against the ruling click of rich, princesses; whose cashmere sweaters and skirts, expensive shoes, purses and jewels, were their daily faire. Why was it that everywhere I went, there were so many rich people? The pressure was intense, but I refused to be ashamed of what little I had. In less than a few months, I was setting trends. I did things like dropping my sweaters down like a lazy shawl, or folded my skirt over at the waist and pulled it down so it would hang inside out and tight over my hips, like an under garment and at the same time making the skirt really short. Soon every girl was doing the same. This was about the point where I let my hair grow really long, again. I was looking sexy and I knew it.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Movin On / Ch.9 / Pt. 2 / Drop Me Dead!
Before I knew what was happening, Mike Castro was after my deepest affections and was not going to settle for anything less. I figured he was just playing around, as he was known to be a notorious lady killer. But, there was enough conceit and sense of play under my belt, to give him quite a time of it. In actuality, I never stood a chance. He never was one to chase a girl, so his interest in me, surprised all that knew him and the whole drama was therefore, played out in public. Everyone was watching. Once I could tell that he was being sincere, it didn’t take much to let my guard down.
So, the word got out, that Mike Castro was enthralled with the new, Catholic girl. Unfortunately for me, this outraged a tough girl by the name of Dolly Medrano. She was out to kick my collective ass.
I got a phone late phone call one night. There was heavy breathing on the other end and then a girl’s deep voice, oozing with hostility. “Yea, bitch . . . Dolly’s talkin here. Yea, surfa girl . . . ju know? Ju fuckeeng bother me. Yea, I don’t think I like ju.”
“Huh?” I said.
“Ju got some, fancy plans wid da man, Castro?”
“I, Uh, uh, uh . . . “
“I hate just lookin at jur fuckin face. You think jur so fuckeeng hot and you ain’t shit! Dju know what I mean, bitch?”
“Well, yes, I mean no . . . I mean, Well, I really don’t think I’m that hot . . . I rather think that . . . Hello?
Man, oh my god! Dolly Medrano, was after me . . . tattoos, chains, and bunnies. (Not the animal, but the shoes . . . mark of the Vata!) It was said that she had razor blades planted in her ratted foot-high hair. Spiders could live in there and she’d never know it! I became a paranoid wreck, looking out my window till dawn. That day, I made sure that I was never by myself.
Somehow, I made it through school without being knifed in an alley. Then, came the night. The phone rang late, again. I stared at it and reluctantly picked up the receiver. “H-h-ello?”
“Hellooo.” He laughed gently. There was no mistaking that smooth sultry voice, or that cock sure attitude. My heart began to pound, my throat ran dry, and my tongue became tied. After some maneuvering on his part I was able to speak with complete ease.
Drop me dead! I liked his want! I liked his way. We fell in hard and stayed that way all through Jr. High and high school. It wasn't easy, as my parents were concerned about me. My socialite friends certainly raised eyebrows thinking that it was a high risk situation. But, Mike was his own man and he understood pressures. He was patient with me, putting up with my silly naive ways, as I entered my new world, and I didn’t mind his rough reputation. We both put up with each others endless string of admirers. Nothing, threatened him. He knew I was his, completely. I was his and he was mine. Once in a while we would flaunt about, but then we’d go underground again. We liked our privacy. So, outside of a certain circle of friends who we partied with, now and then, we kept to ourselves. People were puzzled by us and that was the way we liked it.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Movin On / Ch.9 / Pt. 1 / Mike Castro
 | Paula  |
I wondered about him . . . this leader of the pack . . . luscious, bad boy.
It took but a minute of asking, to ascertain that this was the infamous Mike Castro. I thought that I should call him, “Dionysus.” I took note that he wore a perfectly ironed, button-up shirt, tucked into loose-fitting khakis, which he wore high at the waist, and held there with a cloth belt. He walked slow and sure of himself; obviously comfortable, in his own skin. Leaning to one side, with his hands in his pockets, he smiled . . . thee most gorgeous smile!
Then, slanting against a tree, he spoke to his homeboys, as they hung on his every syllable. I later learned that these guys were Johnny Greco, and Mike Voyovitch and that they seemingly carried out Mikes every command. The juicy gossip had it that Mike made money by extortion and other devious methods. This was fascinating. It certainly was a fast, new, world.
The next morning, proved misty once again, but chillier than the day before. I was minding my own business, walking to my math class, when out of nowhere, Johnny Greco appeared before me.
“Hey pretty one, u got a name?”
“I’m, Paula.” I said.
“Paula huh? O.K. . . . Miss P. . . . nice name. See ja aroun.” And he strutted off.
I kept walking on, a bit puzzled, until I noticed Mike Castro leaning against a chain link fence, chewing on a toothpick, looking me up and down, with a determination. Whew!
Later that day, Johnny Greco came up to me again. “Hey Miss P., dju hear of my man, Mike Castro?” Without waiting for me to answer, he continued on. “He wants to meet u. Dju know what I’m talkin bout?”
I looked at over towards the direction of Johnny Greco’s chin thrust and saw Mike staring with a teasing smirk on his face, and then he laughed.
“What a conceited bastard.” I thought, but said, “He sure likes to play cat and mouse doesn’t he?” I turned my head and started down my path, with my nose in the air. “Humph!” All the while feeling weak in my knees. He was so gorgeous, and he knew it.
They both sat looking at me till I passed by them and then, Mike said something to Johnny and they both snickered. Thrill chills prickled down my spine. One did not play games with these guys. My parents would kill me twice if they caught me even talking to one of them. My dad, cause they were Latin, my mother, cause they were trouble. Not only were trouble, they were bad to the bone. “Where and when did he first see me?” I wondered excitedly.
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Ostracised / Ch. 8 / Pt. 9 / Got To Move On
Still, that didn’t remove my pain or shame.....
I would never let anyone know how difficult my days had become. Nothing could be done about it. I simply had to accept what was and deal with it. If I had my choice I would never have spent another day in that school. At the same time, my father was drinking so heavily that he lost another job. Money was scarce and my mother started in with her ulcer attacks. The only thing that made her smile was playing bridge with her pals. I had broken up with David Warner, because of some lies told to me by jealous girls. I found this out too late, so my young heart was broken. When I did find out, I could have kicked myself around a thousand blocks. It was a hard lesson, and one that still bothers me, strangely enough. Spending time with David was a happy time in my life, and it ended much too soon, because of my inexperience. It was lousy being at school but it was lousier being at home.
A seething anger towards my poor father grew stronger with every passing day. He was drinking too much and dropping out from his jobs, family and reality. He just couldn’t cope. I didn’t understand this and wondered where the gentle man went; the man who I had spent my best days with, the man who had been there for me, in my darkest hours. It never even occurred to me, that my father was right there, but in a deep pain; and perhaps in his darkest hour. I could have been there for him, then, but I wasn’t.
Eighth grade graduation from Our Mother of Good Counsel came and went, marking the end of my Catholic school days. Sandy Clevenger and I decided to attend summer school at Le Cont Jr. High, in Hollywood ( a school even rougher than King ) in order to prepare ourselves for public school in the fall. Sandy would, however, continue on to Le Conte. We started growing apart because she was moving faster than I, smoking, having sex with guys.
Aside from a splatter of Judy’s faithful cronies, I was basically alone. On the second morning of summer school, the weather had turned cool, with a mist which was typical for early June, in L.A. Everything seemed a bit surreal, as the trees swayed in the soft wind. Suddenly, I heard a ruckus and out of the haze, emerged a small crowd moving across the school yard, in locomotion. Curious, I moved closer to see what the spectacle was all about. There, in the midst of the hubbub was the reason; a boy who was so staggeringly movie star handsome, that my mouth dropped open. His skin was dark, as were his eyes and wavy hair, and his lips were full and sumptuous. I wondered about him . . . this leader of the pack . . . luscious, bad boy.
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Bobby thank-you, for this post, I apologize if there was too many comments on it.
You could say Bobby is a "Cool Cat" ...for sure!............ Ha!