NotExpected 20

Not What We Expected by Tiffany B. Quinn All in all, the emotional and social issues of middle and high school were the biggest challenges, which was why I stayed there in the first place. The school work, for the most part, required little effort. School would have been boring if it wasn't for my friends, volleyball, and the social challenges. I was glad that I had my college courses and work with Tom to challenge me intellectually during these years.

Chapter 20

Somewhere in eighth grade things got a little crazy. Or should I say that the Posse became more than a little boy crazy. Even I was sucked up into the morass to some extent.

One afternoon at the condo, Susie showed the first signs of boy crazy disease.

"OMG," she exclaimed excitedly once we were all safely inside the condo. "Did you see the Jones boy at lunch?"

Our female hormones had been busy in the prior year. We were all developing definite curves and had grown a couple of inches. Susie was the shortest of the Posse, but she had developed a rather healthy bust and enviable curves. She was already sporting a pair of C cup breasts. While she was the least athletic of the group, she did keep in shape for the sailing season. I had exercise equipment installed in the condo’s garage and we often spent time working out together, particularly in the off seasons.

Even I had expanded to tightly fill a B cup in the eighth grade. I would be buying new bras again when I graduated to a C cup as a freshman in high school. Fortunately, that’s as big as I was to get. By the middle of eighth grade, I had added two inches and fifteen pounds since my age regression stopped. Tom said that it was time to bring out the baseball bat as my curves would stop traffic. He expected to beating off the boys soon. I was sure that he was exaggerating, but I had to admit that I was looking pretty good.

On one family sailing vacation in the Caribbean while I was a Junior in high school, we had come across a photo shoot for Sports Illustrated’s annual swimsuit edition. One of the photographers saw me sunning myself wearing a bikini of the foredeck of the anchored rented sailboat. He motored out to see us and asked Tom and Sandra if he could do a few test shots of me on the deck. He was of the opinion that they could use me as one of the models in a future SI swimsuit shoot. I was flattered. Tom and Sandra, not so much. I don’t think that Sandra had ever seen the SI swimsuit edition, but Tom and I had. I was mildly interested in the offer, but Tom put his foot down. Hard.

I think that the direct quote is: "No daughter of mine is going to be featured nearly naked on the pages of Sports Illustrated."

The photographer was pretty sure that I would be a contender for the cover. That didn’t help his argument at all.

But I digress.

When Susie was over the moon for young Mr. Jones, we all admitted that we had seen him. He was hard not to notice. He was obviously smitten with our Susie and had made some awkward attempts to get her attention through some really stupid stunts. I remember doing the same thing when I was his age. It never worked for me. But then I’d been a skinny, pimply, geek. A social pariah.

"I think that he likes you," Jenny observed.

"I think that he’s pretty cute," Susie said fanning herself. "He’s on the football team."

I rolled my eyes.

"I think that he was just being stupid," Kelley gave her opinion. "I’ve seen him at the games. I think that he’s a bit full of himself just like all the other players on the team. There is no way that I would date a football player."

Fast forward one week.

"OMG," Susie exclaimed excitedly once we were all safely inside the condo after school. "The Roberts boy actually walked me to class after lunch!"

"We saw that," Kelley remarked dryly. "What happened to the Jones boy. I thought that you were in love with him."

"You were right," Susie admitted, "He is full of himself. But Carl Roberts is really nice, and a hunk too. Did you know that he lifts weights? He’s also has a cute butt."

Jenny rolled her eyes, "And so do all the other boys on the football team. They have something else in common: they are all jerks. I don't ever want to date one of them."

Fast forward another week.

"OMG," Susie exclaimed excitedly once we were all safely inside the condo after school.

"Not again," Jenny rolled her eyes. "Who is it this week?"

Susie huffed, "For that, I won’t tell you."

"Okay," Kelley said. "You can tell us next week when you fall for yet another guy."

Susie pouted at her.

"Let me guess," I ventured. "I saw Jimmy hold the door for you this morning. I’ll put my money on Jimmy."

Susie teared up, "You guys are so mean!"

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. "Sorry Susie, we all love you, but it’s a different guy every week. I think you need to take a deep breath next time you fall in love. I think that you need to learn how to control your hormones."

"It is Jimmy," Kelley stated, joining our hug. "Isn’t it?"

"Yes," Susie admitted, "He is so cute and he is not even a jock."

Rewind and repeat three times, once for each member of the Posse. None of us were immune. Even me, the thirty-three-year old former male. Female hormones are a powerful thing.

----<0>----

The school held an annual costume party/dance for the eighth graders after school on Halloween. At thirteen, we were all too young to actually date, but each of us had been asked - by boys! - if we would be there. Kelley had been asked by the infamous Jones boy and she actually seemed to be excited about it. We agonized over our costumes for the night, wondering what would impress the boys.

I have to admit that I actually got caught up in the excitement. I was flattered when two boys vied for my attention at the party. I thought that it might come to blows at one point. I couldn’t help thinking about how I was a nobody the last time I was in eighth grade. Now I have boys competing for my attention.

Tom had been a volunteer chaperone at the party and he watched me like a hawk. When things got tense between my suitors, he ambled over and took the two boys aside and had a heart-to-heart chat with them. I never did find out what he told them, but they instantly backed off and left me alone for the rest of the party.

"What did you say to those two boys?" I asked Tom on the way home from the party.

He gave a predatory smile and said, "I just explained The Facts of Life to them."

"Such as?" I asked with curiosity.

"I don’t think that you need to worry about those two young men anymore," He dodged the question.

"What if I want to worry about them?" I asked indignantly.

"You are too young to worry about boys," he said.

"I am thirty-three," I reminded him.

"Not in this context, sweetheart," he smiled at me.

In hindsight, he was right. I may have been thirty-three years old, but I had to learn how to deal with raging female hormones just the same as any other thirteen-year-old girl going through puberty. I had my own period of boy craziness that year, but after Tom had explained the Facts of Life to those two boys, word had spread that I was not to be messed with.

I still don’t know what he said to them but it must have been good.

----<0>----

When boy crazy disease struck me, Tom, Sandra, and I had a summit at one point where we discussed appropriate dating age. I was firmly convinced that, based on my thirty plus years of life experience that I could take care of myself as a girl age thirteen. Sandra pointed out that I did not have thirty years of experience with estrogen coursing through my body and that, like every other thirteen-year-old influenced by raging hormones, that I wouldn’t be ready for dating until I had learned to control them. For most girls, this is around sixteen. They ended up having to exercise their parental rights and put their foot down. I would not be allowed to date until girl age sixteen. After one particularly painful argument about dating, it suddenly occurred to me that I had thought, when the changes started, that I would never be interested in boys. How wrong had I been! I knew then that I had truly become the girl that Grandma Broussard’s magic had made me.

At the school's eighth grade Valentine’s party later that year Sandra was a volunteer chaperone. She was, at the time, the mother of a cute ten-month old boy and already pregnant with twin girls. I was now thirty-four years old, having had my fourteenth birthday party just after Christmas.

When I tried dancing a little too close with the captain of the basketball team, she took him aside and had her own little chat with him. I could see the blood drain from his face from across the gym as she was apparently explaining The Facts of Life. I didn’t see him again for the rest of the party and he avoided me the rest of the school year. Word spread, and if the boys weren’t afraid to court me before, they certainly were after that.

I really do want to know what Tom and Sandra said to those boys.

When I asked Sandra what she said, she repeated what Tom had said.

"I just explained The Facts of Life."

"But I’m thirty-four," I complained. "I can deal with it."

"Not in this context," she echoed Tom’s prior comment.

----<0>----

As we moved into high school, the other members of the Posse went through a succession of boyfriends. Kelley had the longest relationship of any of us when she dated that same boy for almost the entire Junior year. She was the first of the Posse to give up her virginity in response to her boyfriend's pressure. Fortunately she did not get pregnant. Unfortunately, that relationship ended not long after she gave up her virginity when she caught him making out with another cheerleader. It was Amanda, of all people.

She has always regretted giving her virginity to the jerk.

When it came to dating I wasn’t as lucky as my friends.

When Tom and Sandra wouldn’t let me date until I turned sixteen, I had a brief rebellion when I did sneak a couple of movie dates when I was fifteen.

One Saturday afternoon during the summer before my Sophomore year, I was exiting the mall theatre with a cute guy from the basketball team. It was actually our second clandestine date and I had spent the movie cuddled up to the boy. We had even shared a couple of awkward kisses, my first as a girl. I did have to remove his hand from my right breast at one point, but he got the message and behaved himself, for the most part, the rest of the movie. That is until I had to remove the hand that was creeping up the inside of my thigh towards the hem of my short skirt. After that, he did behave himself. We were going to get an ice cream before I had to get home. That is, we were going to get an ice cream until we almost literally ran into Sandra. She did not look happy. The fact that the boy had his arm around my waist didn't help much. Neither did the lipstick on his cheek. Neither did the mini skirt and crop top that I was wearing. I don't think that it made any difference that I was dressed similar to almost every other girl my age exiting the theater.

I knew that things were not good.

"I would like a word with you, young man," she tersely told my date before leading him off to a fairly quiet corner.

Fifteen minutes later, the young man was no where to be found. He avoided me like the plague after that.

After my date's hastily departure, Sandra had come back to where I was waiting and simply said, with a hurt expression on her face, "We will talk about this at home. I will follow you there. Now."

I could see the disappointment and betrayal in her eyes.

As I drove home, all I could see in my mind was the hurt in Sandra's eyes. Those two dates are the only times in my teen girl years that I can remember intentionally going behind Sandra's back. On the drive home to the mansion, I tried to think of justifications for my actions. Every excuse that I came up with sounded selfish and whiny. The realization of how hurt she must feel really sunk into my heart. I felt awful.

I was invited into the Study when I got home.

Tom was there and he also looked betrayed. I broke into tears before anything could be said.

"I am sorry," I wailed. "I am so so sorry!"

Tom looked like he was going to lose his resolve in the face of my tears. Sandra was not so easily swayed.

"What, exactly," she asked in a calm voice, "are you sorry for, Andrea?"

"For betraying your trust," I sniffed back the tears.

Tom and Sandra looked at each other. I knew that I had given the right answer, but I think that they had expected some teen angst about unjust parents. They probably would have gotten it too, if I had been a true fifteen-year-old girl.

Tom asked, "Do you love the boy?"

"No," I sniffed again. "He is just a friend from school. I think that he's really cute, though."

"How many times have you been out with him," Sandra asked without emotion, the hurt still very much in evidence on her face.

"Twice," I admitted knowing that she had probably already asked that question of my date.

"And how many other boys have you dated behind our backs," she pressed the issue.

"None," I told her. "He was the first."

"Why did you do it?" Tom asked.

I took a deep breath and replied, "I just wanted to know what it was like. The other girls at school have gone on dates, but I haven't. I know that you won't let me date until I am sixteen, but that is almost six months away. I didn't want to wait. I was being selfish and not thinking."

"In other words," Sandra pointed out, "you were being a typical fifteen-year-old girl."

I just hung my head at that.

"Why didn't you talk to me about this?" Sandra asked sadly. "I thought that we were best friends and had agreed to never go behind each other's backs again."

Memories of my sense of betrayal as a BFF a few years earlier, came flooding back.

I started to cry again.

I hadn't known what to say. I couldn't find words to undo what I had done. I don't know if I have ever been so miserable as I felt that afternoon.

It had really hurt to know that I had betrayed the trust of the person that I loved the most.

Sandra had come to sit by me and pulled me into a hug.

As I had sobbed into her shoulder I said, "I am so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I promise that I won't do it again. I don't think that I could stand to see your hurt again. I am so so so sorry!"

She had gently rubbed my back as she said, "You left your phone on the kitchen table for a while this morning and I went through your texts. When I saw the text about your date on your phone I was very hurt. But I realized that you were just acting your age. I decided to meet you at the theatre so that I could talk to the young man and so that I could see how you would act when caught."

I had felt a strong sense of déjà vu. Where had this played out before, I had asked myself rhetorically?

"You went through my texts?" I asked a little surprised at this invasion of my privacy.

"It's what the parents of teens do," Tom informed me. "It is our job to keep you safe."

There is a lot of advice to parents floating around to keep checking on their children's online activities. I had just thought that it didn't apply to me.

"It falls within the realm of the adoption agreement," Sandra pointed out.

It did, so there wasn't much I could say about that. It was one of the freedoms lost when I had given up my emancipation.

"When I talked to your date," she continued, "I realized that it wasn't his fault. It was yours for accepting the date knowing that you were breaking the ground rules. So I just explained The Facts of Life to him and suggested that he not try it again until after your sixteenth birthday. He seemed willing enough to comply with my request."

"I am sorry," I wailed. "I am so so sorry!"

"I know you are, sweetie," she had assured me.

Tom had cleared his throat. He and Sandra did some type of telepathic parent thing and I had known what was coming.

I had dug my car keys out of my purse and set them on the desk before they could say anything. "For how long?" I asked in resignation.

"Two weeks," Tom said.

"You are to stay on the premise unless you get permission for special events," Sandra clarified. "No friends may visit and you will help the nanny with your brother and sisters. You may work on your online course work and on projects for the company, but you will do it from here. And the sailboats are off limits. You must stay ashore. You may inform your girlfriends of your restriction, but after that I want your cell phone for the duration. You may only use email to interact with them."

"But we have a regatta next weekend," I reminded her.

"We will see how the week goes," she said, "before deciding about the race."

"And," Tom added, "see that you find some respectable clothing to wear."

Sandra had agreed with him.

It was a long two weeks, but I did get a lot done. We even made a breakthrough on one of Tom's research projects, which was exciting.

That was the last time any boy tried to gain my affection until I turned sixteen over the Christmas holiday.

It was also the last time that I betrayed Sandra’s trust by sneaking behind her back.

----<0>----

My next date occurred when a cute guy from the baseball team got up the nerve to ask me to a New Year’s party that took place just days after my sixteenth birthday. The rest of the Posse already had dates to the same party when he asked me.

Sandra was helping me to get ready when my date arrived to pick me up. As I quickly headed to the door to meet him, Sandra had gently restrained me.

"A girl always makes the boy wait for a few minutes," she informed me. "It’s in the girl handbook."

When I finally made my entrance on the grand staircase I saw a shaken young man standing in the entryway with Tom. It was obvious that Tom had explained The Facts of Life to my date.

"1 AM?" Tom pointedly asked my date.

"Yes sir," the stricken boy answered. "Not a minute later, I promise."

Sandra insisted on a few pictures of me with my first approved date before letting us go. Looking at those pictures now, you can see the fear in the boy’s eyes.

I couldn’t get the young man to tell me what Tom had told him but I could tell that it put the fear into him. He was very polite and attentive throughout the party. He was also careful to keep his hands to himself.

He had me home by 12:45 AM. The exterior flood lights were all on, lighting up the mansion. The lights made the building look even more imposing than it did in daylight. I was pretty sure that one or more of my adoptive parents were watching the feed from the security cameras, if not, they would review the recording in the morning.

He walked me to the door, but there was no goodnight kiss.

The exterior lights went out as soon as the boy drove away.

Yep, my parents were up watching for us. I was greeted by them in the atrium. I was debriefed before going to bed.

It was to be our first and last date.

----<0>----

It seemed that word had gotten out about my parents and it was a while before I was asked out again.

Throughout my second high school career, it seemed that every few months some new boy would get the nerve to ask me out. It was always some cocky arrogant boy, generally on a sports team, who thought that they could stand up to the challenge. I would agree to go out with them simply because I didn't want to be cloistered away like a nun and these were the only opportunities that I would get. It always turned out the same. I complained to Tom and Sandra that their filter simply ruled out dates with the good down-to-earth boys that I found cute, but they both said that it was for my own good, and their right and obligation as adoptive parents, to help my dates understand how to be gentlemen and how to treat me with respect. There were a few times when I was grateful that they had. A few of my dates went on to develop reputations for being really bad dates.

I had a lot more first dates than second dates. I can't remember any third dates in high school. We never got to third dates mainly because I was never really interested in the overconfident and arrogant type of boy that would try to get past Tom and Sandra.

I was friends with quite a few really nice boys, but none wanted to face my parents, so dating anyone that I was even mildly attracted to was out of the question. I never had a steady boyfriend in high school. Or any boyfriend for that matter.

----<0>----

"And now, for the All-tournament Team," the announcer yelled over the PA system at the State Volleyball Tournament in November 2015, "We have... Christine Cantwell, Andrea Broussard, and…"

Christine and I hugged each other as we jumped up and down.

"Thanks for everything, Andi," Christine cried, "I wouldn’t be here without you."

"And I wouldn’t be here without you," I told her. "All I did was set you up for over 30 kills this tournament. You made it happen, girl."

She gave me that ‘that’s not what I’m talking about and you know it’ look just before the rest of our team grabbed us in a huge group hug.

Looking up in the stands, I saw Tom and Sandra standing and cheering. They rarely missed a game. Sandra blew me a kiss with tears of joy streaming down her face. Christine’s parents and siblings were standing right next to them doing the same. The two families represented opposite ends of the economic scale, but we were all friends anyway.

As I mentioned previously, volleyball was my sport. My volleyball career really took off once I got into high school. We had a number of awesome players on the team, which helped a lot. My Junior and Senior years, our school team made it to the state tournament. We never won the championship but we were in the semi finals both times. I was lucky enough to be team captain both years.

Our most outstanding team member was the mousy girl that we had rescued from Amanda in the seventh grade. Christine had grown into a confident 5’11" terror on the court. She finished each year with a minimum of 400 kills. I finished each season with at least 700 assists. In addition to being selected to the All-Tournament team, we were both selected for the All-State First Team both years.

Not bad for a couple of 'losers'.

Christine and her family never could have afforded college if it wasn’t for the volleyball scholarship that she received. She was also one of several recipients of a generous academic scholarship from the Broussard Educational Trust, something that Sandra and I set up to help disadvantaged students of high academic potential. Now, in her senior year, she is a nationally recognized NCAA Division I player and closing in on completion of a degree in Economics as an Academic All-American. She will be the first one in her family to have ever earned a college degree. We are all proud of her. She texts me after every game to tell me how it went and to thank me for rescuing her and encouraging her to excel.

She has also been getting serious with an engineering student. He seems like a nice guy.

----<0>----

"Miss Broussard," our senior year U.S. Government teacher called on me, "Will you tell the class which theory of Constitutional interpretation was being espoused when Justice William Douglas stated that the First Amendment is absolute and shall not be abridged?"

I wasn’t sure about this one, "Original-intent theory?"

"Mr. Campbell," the teacher asked with a frown, "is Miss Broussard correct?"

Pete, the star of the class, looked uncomfortable as he glanced my way from across the room. I couldn't figure the boy out. He was brilliant but would run the other way whenever he saw me. I didn't think that he liked me for some reason. I didn't let it bother me, but it was strange. Other girls I knew told me that he was shy and awkward around them too.

He responded to the teacher's request, "Um, no she’s not."

"Would you care to provide the correct answer?" the teacher asked.

"He was using the plain-meaning-of-text theory," he looked at me apologetically.

"That is correct," the teacher smiled before launching into an explanation as to why Pete was right.

Susie passed me a note. "Good try, Andi."

As class let out, we almost bumped into Pete as we were exiting the room.

"Good answer Pete," I offered.

He turned bright red and mumbled, "Thanks" before fleeing down the hall toward what I assumed was his next class.

"I think he likes you," Susie kidded me.

I just rolled my eyes.

"Who likes Andi now?" Kelley asked as she joined us in the hall.

"Pete Campbell," Susie informed her. "He just turned red and hurried off when Andi said something nice to him."

Kelley rolled her eyes, "Just like every other boy in the school. We know that most of the boys around here are in love with our beautiful, intelligent, and kind Andi. If it wasn’t for her scary parents, she’d have suitors lined up around the school."

"Stop it!" I blushed. "I don't think that he likes me. He runs the other way every time I see him. Anyway, you two are beautiful, intelligent and kind and have your fair share of suitors. I am nothing special. I just have scary parents."

"Oh my," Susie had looked surprised at my blush, "you think he's cute too, don't you?"

"In a shy kind of way," I had admitted, "but then again, so are a lot of other boys."

"That's because they are all in love with you," Kelley had claimed, "but don't want to deal with your parents."

"By the way," I had changed the subject, "Someone told me that Amanda and her sidekicks are up to their old tricks again. There is a freshman girl that we need to go talk to."

"My goodness," Susie said with exasperation in her voice, "when is that bitch going to learn?"

"I guess that I will have to have another talk with Amanda at cheer practice after school," Kelley sighed.

I don't recall thinking any more about the interchange with Pete until we met again that snowy December evening several years later.