Stupid me, I was not wearing my seat belt.  The violent spin caused me to fall out the open door.  However, my legs got tangled up between the steering wheel and the seat.  My legs were trapped, so they stayed inside the car while my face and hands touched the wet pavement.  I struggled mightily to free myself, but it did no good.  My head was right under the open door.  Unable to move, I could see the oncoming vehicles.  I screamed as the first wave of cars missed my head by four feet at most.  Fortunately the next wave was able to slow down.  However, I was not out of trouble.  I could not turn my head to look, but I knew there had been a car trailing close behind.  Would the trailing car be able to brake in time on the wet street?  Expecting to be crushed at any second, I braced in terror.  Thank goodness the trailing car trailing was able to stop, but it was close.  I died a million deaths listening to the screech of car brakes. 

This reprieve gave me time to slowly extricate my tangled legs and wiggle free.  It took half a minute to regain my freedom, easily the longest half-minute of my life.  I stood up as fast as I could in case I needed to dodge another car.  I looked behind me.  As I thought, it had been a close call.  The trailing car missed hitting my car by a margin of two feet.   When the driver rolled down his window, I made sure to thank him for saving me.  He nodded and said something had warned him to be alert.  Very curious.

Since my car was not damaged and I was unhurt, I drove off unscathed.  Shaking like a leaf, I replayed the frightening vision of cars whizzing past my face as I lay paralyzed.  The helplessness evoked a kind of horror best described as "D-Day Fear".  Was this a Lucky Break or a Bad Break? 

Obviously the accident itself was a Bad Break.  On the other hand, some might say it was miracle I was not killed or hurt.  Indeed, I was shocked that the traffic on this major Houston artery had been so light.  Considering the accident took place around 11 am in the morning, ordinarily this busy street would have a dozen vehicles moving too fast to avoid hitting me or my car.  

I thought back to my previous near-death experience at the carnival race track when I was 5.  My father had given credit to my Guardian Angel for saving me.  Considering how lucky I was to escape unharmed today, I wondered if my Guardian Angel had been involved again.  I had no way of knowing, but I believed I had the right to call this a "Supernatural" event. 

Suspicious

FRIDAY, MAY 31, 1968, GRADUATION AND PROM

A WISH COME TRUE

The Car Accident took place Friday, May 24, on the final day of exams.  The SJS Graduation Ceremony took place on Thursday night, May 30.  I was extremely depressed that night.  Most of my depression was caused by what I interpreted as a frown from Mr. Salls as he handed me an award as the year's top German student.  To be honest, I was embarrassed to win this award.  The fact that I had been caught cheating deprived me of any satisfaction.  Did Mr. Salls really frown at me?  Maybe, maybe not.  Perhaps my guilty conscience had misinterpreted his penetrating gaze.   I deserved this award, but then again, probably not.  I felt so empty.

There was another reason for my low spirits.  As I sat with my graduating classmates, there was no way to avoid overhearing their excitement about our upcoming Senior Prom.  Scheduled to take place two nights from now, I had not planned on attending.  I refused to go alone, but who was there to ask?  It was a matter of great consternation that I had managed to graduate without one date in four years.  With the event just two days away, my mind was made up.  Forget it.

To my surprise, I changed my mind when I got home that night.  Alone in my room, I was surprised when the powerful desire to attend resumed haunting me.  Given my status as the "Poor Kid", I would probably never see my classmates again.  My 50 classmates operated in totally different social spheres.  Having felt inferior for nine years, I wanted to attend Senior Prom with my head held high.  But how would I make a good impression if I showed up alone?  Maybe if I had started looking earlier, I could have asked some girl at the grocery store.  However, as things stood, the idea was ridiculous.  Shaking my head in disgust, I dismissed my daydream as folly.

There were good reasons for my defeated attitude.  As far as I was concerned, the best and beautiful St. John's girls were so far out of my league, I dared not go anywhere near them.  Due to my long-standing status as the "Poor Kid", where was I going to find the courage to approach perfection??  My problems started in the 5th grade with my chipped tooth.  Considering the tooth did not get fixed until the 8th grade, the rumors suggested my parents were too broke to afford to solve the problem.  Unfortunately, the rumors were true.  I was embarrassed by endless teasing over a flaw I had no control over.  Stories of social events I had not been invited to reinforced my low opinion of myself.  The stigma of social inferiority took a heavy toll on my confidence.  When my classmates began to date in the 8th grade, I stayed on the sidelines.  However, when the chipped tooth was fixed shortly before my Freshman year of high school, I began to feel more attractive.  I was willing to give dating a try thanks to my secret weapon, Basketball. 

Football was out of the question, but I believed I could play basketball in high school without getting hurt.  Despite my blind left eye, I was a very good player, one of the best in school.  Unfortunately, no one knew this but me.  That is because I had practiced out of sight all summer long at a nearby city park.  Testing myself daily against other boys my age, I improved dramatically.  Alas, my basketball career at SJS ended before it ever started.  As we recall, a bizarre overnight outbreak of acne the week of try-outs derailed my hopes.  To my undying regret, I would never play a moment of basketball in four years.  Missing out on representing my school became one of the great regrets of my life.

Suffering from the most serious case of teenage acne my doctor had ever treated, I was truly hideous.  This is not an exaggeration.  The doctor referred to it as a "freak occurrence", a term my Readers should be used to by now.  Because my mother had waited too long to begin treatment, it took a year to get the problem under control.  Unfortunately the fading acne left behind a jagged landscape.  It took two skin-abrasion operations just to get my face close to a semblance of its original condition.  After the second operation, people said the scars were not as bad as I thought.  In Hindsight they were probably right.  However, I was unable to overcome the self-doubt.  There was no operation that could remove the scars in my mind from years of feeling like a leper.  The damage to my confidence was so great I refused to risk what little self-esteem I had left to ask a young lady at my school for a date. 

However, Graduation marked a new day.  I was no longer the ugly duckling of the past.  Assuming a person did not look at my scars too closely in the light, I was reasonably attractive. I was tall and had an athlete's shoulders to match.  Lately I had begun smiling again thanks to my college scholarship.  People noticed the difference.  I had noticed inviting glances from several girls at the grocery store.  Although I could not match my classmates' wealth or social acuity, academically I had few peers.  Graduating 4th in my class, I yearned to take my rightful place at the Senior Prom.  However my coming-out party would not work if I showed up alone.  It wasn't as if I had a rolodex bursting with phone numbers.  Maybe I should say this more bluntly.  I did not possess a single number.  Given the utter impossibility of finding a suitable date for the Prom on such short notice, with a sigh I dismissed it from my mind again.

So where is this story going?  Imagine the weirdest thing you can think of and you might just get it right.  On the other hand, don't bother.  It was another 'freak occurrence', a term my Readers should be getting used to by now.

The following night, Friday, I attended a rock concert featuring the legendary band 'Cream'.  I had purchased a solitary ticket two months earlier.  To my surprise, I found my assigned seat was situated next to an awesome blonde.  As I sat down, I was thrilled when this teen goddess smiled at me.  I soon learned why Cheryl welcomed my presence.  Cheryl's girlfriend sitting to her left had passed out.  Eager for company, Cheryl was more than happy to talk to me.  This was a true milestone.  Cheryl officially became the first beautiful girl I had ever spoken to beyond two sentences.

Cheryl wore a short dress with long, hippie-style blonde hair down almost to her waist.  With blue eyes, perfect teeth and flawless complexion, Cheryl possessed intoxicating beauty.  What in the world is going on here?

Cheryl was very restless.  Her feet wiggled non-stop, her hands pounded on imaginary drums, she could not sit still.  In addition, Cheryl was fighting a losing battle with her long blonde hair.  Her untamed hair frequently covered her face.  My favorite moment came when I used my hand to brush the hair out of her face.  I did it so I could see her better.  When Cheryl smiled at my gesture, I melted.  Believe it or not, Cheryl liked me.  In fact, she liked me a lot.  She touched my arm several times to emphasize a point, sending electricity through me each time. 

The moment the room went dark as the concert started, Cheryl grabbed my left thigh and squeezed tight.  Stunned, I impulsively grabbed her bare right thigh.  In that instant, a lightning bolt sent a shockwave through both of us.  This was all the encouragement Cheryl needed.  She crawled into my lap and stayed there for the next two hours.  Treated to a long-awaited lesson in female anatomy, this was the night I discovered drugs do funny things to girls. 

As I more or less carried the drowsy girlfriend to the car, I asked Cheryl if she would like to go with me to tomorrow night's Prom.  It was a long shot of course, but to my amazement Cheryl said yes without hesitation.  Wow!  Girls this pretty belonged to the star quarterback.  Knowing Cheryl would easily hold her own next to the best-looking SJS girls, I was curious why a girl of her magnitude was mysteriously available on a Saturday during Prom season.  Too bad I didn't ask her, but I was way too shy to be nosy.

My Senior Prom was pure joy.  I might add it was also a very strange night.  With this dazzling beauty at my side, here we go with the Fairy Tales again.  Assuming one could overlook the odd role switch, comparisons to Cinderella were unavoidable.  Cheryl was the Princess, I was the bedraggled underdog yearning to emerge from my past.  Given the mythic "Wish Upon a Star" overtones, I thought of Maria Ballantyne.  Was this her doing?  I smiled at the thought that my very own Fairy Godmother had granted me this wish. 

Thanks to copious amounts of marijuana supplied by Cheryl, I found the courage to dance for the very first time.  I wasn't all that great, but in my altered state I enjoyed myself too much to care.  As we danced the night away, I thoroughly enjoyed the prestige of having this blonde goddess at my side.  Simultaneously, my mind watched the event with an eye to the Occult.  This cannot be happening!  Based on the laws of Reality, girls of Cheryl's magnitude do not appear with the snap of one's fingers.  Nor do mentors of Mrs. Ballantyne's magnitude appear with the snap of one's fingers.  But in my case, they do.  I felt like my life had suddenly become super-charged.

Red-Handed Bob, Miracle Maria, unexpected scholarship, near-death car accident.  Given that Cheryl was my fifth "Freak Occurrence" in less than three months, I was acutely aware of the utter improbability of this latest coincidence.  Consequently I was on Supernatural Alert all night long.

I was convinced that Cheryl had been sent in much the same way as Maria Ballantyne in response to a fervent, yet unspoken wish.  Could there possibly be a better explanation?  I imagined a secret intelligence which lurked behind the curtain separating Reality from the Hidden World.  Did some invisible being arrange these curious events?  Are people interconnected in ways that go beyond normal perception and logic?  It seemed preposterous, but I was deeply suspicious that the Hidden Hand of God had brought this pretty girl to me.  Prom Queen Cheryl was my wish-come-true. 

Serious

SATURDAY, JUNE 1, 1968

THE DREAM ENDS
 

There was an interesting side benefit to having this beautiful young lady at my side.  Cheryl's presence enhanced my value in the eyes of Carol, the date of my lunchtime friend David.  David introduced Carol early in the evening.  Carol was a stunning girl in her own right.  She was just as beautiful as Cheryl and I had trouble ignoring her centerfold figure.  The moment Cheryl and Carol locked eyes, rather than be rivals for the coveted honor of best-looking girl at the Prom, they chose to be friends instead.  As outsiders, they understood the evening would go much easier if they forged a bond.  Consequently the four of us spent a lot of time together.  Due to Carol's beauty, I could not help but sneak a peek anytime the opportunity arose.  I think Carol noticed my interest.  To my surprise, she made the first move.  When Cheryl went to the restroom, Carol came over to chat. 

"David told me you wrote your Senior thesis on The Graduate.  That is my favorite movie of all time.  We should talk about it sometime.  I would be interested to know your thoughts."

Carol handed me her phone number and discretely drifted away before David noticed.  Over the summer, I would visit Carol at her house on several occasions.  Too bad she had a boyfriend.  But let's save that story for later. 

I thought it best to avoid explaining Cheryl's unusual role as princess to the pauper.  She did not ask questions, but I got the sense that she suspected something.  I am certain Cheryl was used to being stared at, but maybe not quite to this extent.  Cheryl could tell by the curious expressions of my classmates that something unusual was taking place.  Considering I had never been seen in the company of a young woman throughout high school, imagination the consternation of seeing the Creepy Loser Kid escort this amazing woman to the Prom.  Bemused by the quizzical gazes, Cheryl played her part to perfection.  Although one man after another came by to check her out, Cheryl declined offers to dance with anyone but me.  It was quite a thrill to have this beauty all to myself.  This was easily one of best nights of my life.  However, it was also a strange night.  Considering my four long years of intense loneliness, it was like someone decided to free me from whatever Curse had ruined my high school years for this one final night.  Thoughts of the fairy tale nature of this evening were never far from my mind.

Close to midnight, Cheryl lured me into the lush gardens surrounding the country club.  She pulled out a giant reefer and lit up.  Based on the look in her eye, we were headed for a replay of last night's rock concert passion.  Since I was worried about driving home safely, I deliberately held back.  To my dismay, soon after we began to kiss, Cheryl passed out in my arms.  Seeing her dead to the world, I was crestfallen.  What should I do?  I decided to take Cheryl to the car so no one would see her in this condition.  Cheryl was barely able to walk, so I ended up carrying her most of the way.  I sat there hoping Cheryl would revive, after 20 minutes it looked hopeless.  Cheryl had a 1 am curfew, so I decided it was time to take her home.  With a frown, I noted the irony of having my night turn to pumpkin.

Imagine the look of horror on the faces of Cheryl's parents when they opened the door.  As I held their their barely conscious daughter upright, her father looked ready to murder me.  Keep in mind her parents had no idea who I was.  We had just briefly spoken when I picked her up earlier that evening.  Cheryl moaned some sort of 'Hi Mom, Hi Dad' on the steps to prove she was alive, then staggered to the nearest couch and passed out again.  While her mother raced to the couch to look for signs of life, her father whirled on me and demanded I come inside to explain myself. 

Uh oh.  Time to face the music.  Fortunately I had danced off most of my earlier high, so I was fairly alert.  It was fortunate that I was sober or I would have been in a world of trouble.  From that point, I relied on my prep school polish to save me.  I stood up straight, made eye contact, and turned on my best show of respect.  Making liberal use of 'Yes, sir', 'No, sir', 'Yes, ma'am', 'No, ma'am',  Cheryl's parents were impressed by my willingness to answer their pointed questions without a hint of guilt.  It helped considerably that I had returned Sleeping Beauty before curfew in mint condition.  She clearly had not been harmed in any way, so that was a major point in my favor.  However, there was one serious unanswered question.  Why is Cheryl unconscious?  As expected, Cheryl's father demanded to know why his daughter was comatose.  I swore up and down that Cheryl was exhausted from all the dancing.  I could see her father was pretty skeptical, but when he let me off the hook, I got the feeling they already knew the answer.  Sure enough, I noticed his wife had begun rifling through Cheryl's purse.  Uh oh.  Cheryl could be in big trouble.

Sure enough, Cheryl's mother found the marijuana.  Cheryl's mother looked at her husband to see what he thought and he nodded.  I think they already knew Cheryl had a drug problem.  Fortunately for me, they sensed this was probably not my fault.  In fact, I think her parents thanked their lucky stars that I seemed to be decent.  One glance at their helpless daughter passed out on the couch was all it took to realize I had done them a real favor by bringing her home safely.  At that point, their suspicion turned to unspoken gratitude.  I may have been a deeply troubled kid, but at least I had my heart in the right place.

When I called Cheryl the next day, she was in a really bad mood.  She confirmed that after I left, her parents had read her the riot act.  Cheryl confided she had more than just marijuana in her purse, she had pills too.  I had not known about the pills.  That's probably why she passed out like she did.  After confronting her with the evidence, Cheryl was grounded for a month.  Not the best way to start summer vacation.   Cheryl turned hostile.  She chewed me out for not having the sense to look through her purse before bringing her in.  Before I could defend myself, Cheryl abruptly said she had to go.  Based on the tone of her voice, I got the message... don't call back. 

The Epic Losing Streak had just claimed its second victim.