September 6th, 1955, the first day of the fall semester at Hank's Junior High. It was an important day for him. There would be new students, and a lot of them would be girls. Hank dressed carefully, then went to the bathroom mirror where he combed his hair with his mother's pomade. Once it hardened, it would put a shine to his hair and keep it frozen in place. The last step was to create a pompadour.
After breakfast, Hank lifted his schoolbooks, said goodbye to his parents and walked to the Cleveland Heights bus stop at Taylor and Fairmount.
Billy, the class brain, was already there. "Hiya, Hank. Our first day in eighth grade!"
"Yeah," Hank said unhappily, "with high school two long years away."
"Do not despair, old friend. Odds are in favor of us living at least until then."
The bus pulled up. Hank followed Billy on. They showed their passes, and then sauntered up the aisle while Hank eyed the other passengers, disappointed at the lack of pretty girls. Billy was too busy for that sort of thing, thinking about the different ways he could impress the new science teacher he had heard about.
The two boys sat together, Hank at the window.
"Hey, Hank, remember last semester's English class, the lesson about the word 'that'?"
"Yeah," Hank said without much interest, gazing at the Fairmount Boulevard houses they were passing.
"I worked at it and came up with a sentence that's got four in a row."
Hank turned from the window. "What?" He counted with his fingers. "That-that-that-that?"
Billy opened his notebook. "Here, I'll show you."
The bus came to a stop and three girls got on. One of them wore a Peter Pan blouse and a poodle skirt. Another wore a Peggy Sue circle skirt with a round-collar blouse. Both girls had their hair in ponytails. But not the third girl...
"Wow..." Hank whispered dreamily. He could not believe it. She looked like Marilyn Monroe. Her blonde hair fell in waves down to her shoulders, and Hank noticed the hint of breasts under her cardigan sweater. Her pencil skirt defined an attractive figure that stood in saddle shoes with cuffed ankle socks.
Billy nudged Hank. "C'mon, you're not listening. You'll get the meaning of each 'that' as I read the sentence."
Hank turned back to the window and leaned his forehead against it, paying no attention to Billy's recitation. His thoughts were on "Marilyn Monroe," four seats in front of him.
The bus came to a stop. Hank and Billy stood, Hank's eyes glued to her as she and the other girls got off. Hank and Billy followed after. Walking to Roxboro Junior High, they took their usual Stratford Road route. The girls were about two houses ahead of them.
"Look," Hank said to Billy, "she's lagging behind."
"Who's lagging behind?"
"I'm going to catch up to her," was Hank's answer.
Billy watched him jog ahead and stop alongside "Marilyn Monroe."
"Hi," Hank said to her.
She stopped walking, and so did Hank. She turned to him, folded her arms over her sweater and gave him a quick smile, which was more than he had expected.
