#3 The Middle Years

I could hear him holding court in the back seats of the classroom. Without even looking, I could tell from the laughter that he had them mesmerized. I enjoyed for several minutes his seemingly and unusually wise monologue before turning around. Troy was his name, he was "thee" man on campus, and he was only 13 years old. He was tall, ridiculously handsome, had a silky white mane, green eyes, and a smile that would knock you into next week. I assure you, he was no average 13-year-old boy. For that matter, are any of us average? Me thinks not!

Chuckling, I slowly turned in my seat to take a look-see at this unusual character. When our eyes locked, he stopped talking mid-sentence. Embarrassed by his reaction, I quickly acknowledged his acknowledgment with a smile and turned back around. The bell rang moments later, and I sprung out of my seat, climbed on and over all the chairs in my path out the door as though it was a race. Not graceful... I know. I don't know what I was running from, but in those days I either walked quickly or ran to my next destination. Still, even in the midst of my gymnastics, I could see and feel in my peripheral vision his amusement as he stood watching me sprint out the door.

The following day,hands in his pockets, he moseyed on over to where I was sitting, and asked if he could sit in the empty chair in front of me. I nodded, as I couldn't seem to manage any words. Troy had impeccable manners, again unusually mature. He said, "Hi, I'm Troy," In his fantastically confident, sweet and very intense manner. The energy between us was unearthly, palpable and blissful. Thank goodness the Gods that be helped me out, and I managed to say my name. "Mia, that's a pretty name," he said. "Were you at this school last year? I have never seen you before," he continued. After that day, he set up permanent residence in that chair for the rest of the year. Every day he would turn around in his seat, chin in hand and stare at me. Did I mention he would stare every day? Every day. Every single class day. He was a cartoon. Wouldn't say that much, but he was going to stare as long as the teacher would allow.

One day, he turned in his chair and drew a heart and a cloud on my desk. In my brilliant wisdom, I exclaimed, "Heart cloud!" "You love heart clouds?" He looked a little deflated,lowered his head a bit, breathed shhhhh....looked quickly to his left and right to see if anyone in the class heard me and then continued drawing. He drew legs under this "cloud." I said proudly, "You love sheep!" He face planted on my desk, looked up at me frustrated, and said, "What's another word for sheep?" "Laaammb, I answered nervously." "Don't you ever watch Happy Days?!" he said. A year later, while watching Happy Days, I saw the episode where Potsie did something similar for his beloved. Doesn't it make you want to vomit how naive I was?

We entertained that 7th/8th grade class that entire year in 1977, mostly unknowingly. One day, I caught the teacher while standing lecturing at his chalk board, stop mid-sentence as I watched him scanning the entire room. Although I may have been incredibly naive to amorous overtures from the male fare at that tender age, I was still an empath. I didn't know it at the time, nonetheless an empath I was and am. I knew what I knew in that look in the teachers face. Mortification consumed me for five seconds. I couldn't even muster the nerve to look around the class, because I knew that it meant the entire class was focused and fascinated on and by Troy. Yup, he was turned in his chair assuming his position. Immediately, the teacher gently said, "Troy, turn around, I would like to see you after class please.

More to come...