Condemning the New Guy

Condemning the New Guy.

I didn’t really know him. No one in our high school class did. He had moved into our small town in August just before school started. It is late November now, and we are still calling him ‘New Guy’. The rest of us had all grown up together, so he probably would be New Guy for quite some time.

I was surprised to see him at the Friday night school dance. As far as I knew, he had not been to one before. He would be easy to spot as he is rather tall. When he sat down beside me, I didn’t know what to say or do, so I didn’t say a thing, and looked out at the dance floor like I was searching for someone in particular. When I turned my head, I saw that he was doing something similar.

When the song that the band was playing ended, we both got up at the same time, to head across the floor over to where most of the ‘unattached girls’ were hanging out. Apparently we had the same purpose in mind. I felt I had to speak as we walked parallel to each other. 

“So your name is Frank, right? We are in most of the same classes.”

“Yeah” was all he said in reply.

“My name is John.”

He nodded his head and said, “Hi John” All I could say in return was an equally inspired “Hi Frank”. We shook hands, and then continued to where the girls were.

I felt that I could look at him now without being thought to be staring at a stranger. I saw that there was one girl that he had his eyes on – a thin girl with short black hair. So I asked the girl sitting beside her if she wanted to dance. She said ‘yes’, and we danced until the end of the set, and then parted company. I didn’t think that she was interested in me. I knew the signs.

I sat down on the same chair I had used before. The chair beside me was unoccupied. Maybe Frank had been more fortunate than I had been. I hoped so. He seemed okay, not just a nameless ‘new guy’ to me anymore.

During the band’s break I saw a girl crossing the floor in my direction. I got my hopes up for about three seconds. Then I saw that it was the girl who had been dancing with Frank. But Frank wasn’t with her. Hmmm.

She walked directly to me and looked me straight in the eyes. “I’m Jennifer. Do you think that your friend is interested in me. We only danced once.”

Looking at her inquisitive and a little bit sad facial expression, I thought that it was my gentlemanly duty to lie to her. 

 I wasn’t going to say that he was no friend of mine. I simply said, “Well Frank is new in town and he is very shy, especially with girls. I suspect that he does like you, but is just nervous about showing it.”

“Oh” was her reply. Then she turned and left. At least there was something of a smile on her face. At least I thought there was. My eyes followed her for a few seconds, until I saw some big guy grab her by the hand, rather rudely I thought. Brief resistance, then acquiescence.

A short time later Frank returned to his chair. I told him about Jennifer walking over and asking about him, adding “I think that she likes you.”

Frank smiled, and got up to cross the floor.”

He returned shortly thereafter, sans Jennifer. He plunked himself down with some force.

“She wasn’t there. I asked her friends, including the one you danced with, but they did not know where she was.”

Wanting always to be the bearer of hope and good news, and believing that a complex story can make for a good lie, I said “Maybe she is a smoker, went outside and crossed the road to where the apartment buildings are to have a cigarette”

After the Dance

After the dance Frank and I left the school auditorium at the same time. When we got to the outside door, he gave his head a slight tilt to the left, as guys do when they are acknowledging the existence of another guy, and little more. I returned the gesture, and walked home, alone – again, no girl, again.

Shocking News Next Morning.

There was shocking news next morning. Some girl had been beaten up in the park behind the school, and was in the hospital, unconscious. As more and more of the story was revealed over the day, it was said that her friends thought that she was beaten by some “tall creepy guy” that she had danced with.

Our history class was just over, and we all were fleeing the scene. When Frank left the room, there was a sudden loud noise. Two girls shouted out “That’s him. That’s him. That’s the guy who beat up Jennifer. One of them called the principal’s office, and it wasn’t long before she appeared, along with a security guard. They stopped Frank in the hallway, the security guard grabbing his arm. They told him that the police had been called, and he would have to go to the police station to “explain himself.” This became front page high school news in the hallways.

At lunch, this was all you could hear people talking about, that “New Guy” had beaten up a girl after the school dance on Friday. A number just spoke their unfounded assumption that he “probably raped her too”, adding to that the almost universal, ‘I never trusted him anyway. He looked too dangerous.”  

The next day Frank returned to school, only to discover that although the police had not uncovered any incriminating evidence, he had been declared guilty by the court of high school public opinion. He was given dirty looks wherever he went, was sworn at, and his locker was severely dented where people had kicked it.

I told whoever I could get to listen that I didn’t think that Frank did it, but no one really listened to me. Then I remembered seeing the big guy who had grabbed Jennifer by the arm on the dance floor.  I watched for him as I walked through the hallways.

I saw him just as he was entering a classroom. I took a picture of him with my cell phone. At the end of school, I hurried out the front door and looked for Jennifer’s friends. Maybe they knew who he was.

I spotted them, and when they saw me, they looked at me with some worry on their faces. I should have anticipated this, because to them I was a friend of the guy who beat up their Jennifer. And I added to this suspicion by barging in front of them and shoving my cell phone in their faces, showing them the picture I had taken. I asked, “Do you know this guy?”

The boldest of them, the one I had danced with, said, “Yeah, that’s Jennifer’s ex, Richard.” I replied by telling her what I had seen on the dance floor. Her friends’ faces went blank, but she breathed in deeply, followed by a slight whoosh of exhaled breath. “So maybe it wasn’t your friend.” 

Emboldened by her words, and wanting to look to her like I was in control of the situation, I dialed 911 and asked for the police. I wasn’t going to go through the principal, who didn’t like me anyway, not after a few stunts that I had pulled my first year at the high school. I informed them of what I had seen, and what I had just heard. I was picked up by the police outside the school. That would be a tale told in many ways, some involving handcuffs that I never wore. 

And so

And so Richard had his own visit at the police station, and would stay for awhile in one of their accommodations there. For Jennifer regained consciousness, heard what had happened, and gathered together her courage to lay blame where it rightfully belonged. People started talking to Frank, and he was no longer called “New Guy” by those in the know. At the next school dance, Frank and I double-dated with our new girl friends. And so the story has a happy ending.