Kenneth Grieslie

There aren't many people at ERHS that associate with M. I mean, most people either don't acknowledge it at all, or they see the fact that I associate with it and am a social outcast. I also think that a reputation altering incident M had with one particular person has to do with everyone's avoidance with it. The sad thing is, no one really knows about the incident except me, M's confidant and friend. The only thing everyone knows, is how the incident affected Kenneth Grieslie.

Kenneth Grieslie was the blonde haired, blue eyed, all-American, boy next door type. He was kind, pretty good looking, kept up an A/B average, and played baseball on the embarrassing ERHS basball team. For the most part, he was nothing more than a blip on the status defining radar of popularity. It wasn't until every spring, when baseball season commenced, that people started paying him any attention. Whether it was the annual debut of his perfectly sculpted glutes that hid under baggy jeans for the majority of the year, or his somewhat above average skills on the pitcher's mound that had everyone up in arms, is arguable.

---

"Hey, are we going to the baseball game this afternoon?" M asked one cool April day last school year. We had stopped by my locker on the way to seventh period.

"And why do you want to go to that, M?" I asked. "I thought you were more a softball fan." At the, time I was almost certain of M's gender. I have to admit that I was prying more than I usually do, especially since I found myself taking a particular liking to the softball chicks and wondered if M and I shared the same gender, or at least the same taste in gender.

"I thought I explained to you why I went through that softball phase," M huffed, seemingly frustrated. At that point, I decided I wasn't going to ask anymore. Being so nosy was definitely one of my more crowd-following moments. I was sorry I asked, until M's next statement led to even more intrigue. "It was sophomore year and I was sitting next to Kenneth Grieslie in Biology. I overheard Nigel and Jadria talking about how he had an amazing ass, so I figured it might be worth my time to get to know him."

"Oh yeah," I said, popping out of my locker and leaning against the ajar door. "Dreamy Kenny Grieslie," I pretended to swoon. I truly didn't remember M's fascination with Kenneth. In all honesty, M's interest probably was overshadowed by the rest of the school's. "So which one ended up getting with Kenneth? Nigel or Jadria?"

As M continued to growl, I couldn't tell whether it was me or the discussion that was upsetting M.
"Hell if I know. I'm sure Jadria tried, if not succeeded. But I know there's pretty much no way that Kenneth would be interested in Nigel," M grumbled. Nigel Lendley was our openly gay class president, who was every ERHS girl's 'gaybestfriend'.

M then began to explain how through softball, it was able to make a modest connection with Kenneth, which not only established a genuine interest in him, but something that actually resembled a friendship. I closed my locker and listened intently as M delved into what appeared to be tangible feelings for Kenneth.

"So we would talk in class, and every now and then, we'd chat on the phone. Usually it was about Biology. He was sure that he had some sort of science deficiency," M giggled, a lighthearted aside from it's earlier frustration, "so I would go over stuff from class with him on the phone. It continued all through that year, and now into this year since we're in Chemistry together. Now, it's kind of pissing me off, that we never do anything together in person other than attend science classes."

"So do you... like Kenneth?" I vowed that this would be my last question, seeing how a hopefully honest answer would place M in a category with either Nigel or Jadria.

"Well," M began as the bell rang. "Shit! I've gotta get down to shop class. Meet me at the gate to the baseball field at 6:30 tonight, okay?"As M jogged to the stairwell, I realized that still, I was left confused as hell about M.

Going to that evening's baseball game and the events that transpired afterwards didn't seem to clear much up either. It gave me not as much insight into M as it did Kenneth. He definitely waved at M as he took the pitcher's mound that night--an action that led to whispers not only in the stands but on the baseball diamond. The following day, M was definitely in better spirits than it was during our locker conversation the day before.

"So Kenneth and I are studying at my house tonight for tomorrow's Chemistry test!" M was trying way too hard to not sound excited.

"Really?" I asked. "You will have the nicest ass at East Ricercrest in your house! Are you excited?!"

M seemed to blush, but immediately composed itself as it readjusted it's shop project that rested in it's hands along with a Chemistry book and some loose cash. As we departed for seventh period, M took a purple velcro wallet out of it's back pocket, placed the loose bills inside next to what appeared to be a condom, and shoved it back in it's pants.

I was confused again.

That evening, Kenneth Grieslie showed up at M's house at 7. After he returned home at 8:15, he got a call from head baseball coach, Al Winters. Coach Winters explained to Kenneth that the other guys on the team were uncomfortable with Kenneth due to some suspicions that arose after his acknowledgement of a certain individual at the game the day before.

"So Kenneth resigned from the team," M told me the next day right before it's Chemistry class. It was clearly not as thrilled as it was after it scheduled the study date with Kenneth.

"Sounds to me like he was kicked off," I speculated.

"No shit, Sherlock," M spat. "And it's all my fucking fault. Do you know what it feels like to be responsible for someone else's demise? I mean, Kenneth was hoping to get a baseball scholarship somewhere." I knew that wasn't going to happen, unless they gave scholarships for firm bubble butts. Still, M continued, "Now I am the reason why he's not on the team anymore. And for what reason? People don't know me! What's so wrong with a guy talking to me? If they just took the time to get to know me or even ask, they'd realize that I'm--" I stood there ready for the long awaited revelation as M stopped dead in mid-sentence. "Kenneth?"

Walking towards the Chemistry lab was Kenneth Grieslie. He was wearing all black and had strange drawings in black permanent ink on his arms and hands. He didn't hear M call to him, and it seemed like he hadn't really heard anything all day. This was a good thing because obviously, the talk around the school was that the dude with the nicest ass in the school had made an ass out of himself by associating with 'that M freak'.

---

Kenneth's amazing backside is now only referred to as a myth. It hasn't been seen in a red striped baseball jersey since the day before his life altering study date with M last year. Ever since that day, his image has been more that of an emo. He wears all black--usually army surplus cargos and t-shirts of indie emo bands. He also sports greasy dyed black hair and black fingernail polish. The black permanent marker tatoos that appeared the day after the study date are still part of his appearance, which makes him appear highly unwashed. None of his drawings ever seem to wash off, which I always consider highly ironic, but never impart to M. I honestly don't think M could stomach my cynical thought that even though Kenneth Grieslie's new image never seems to wash off, his former flawless, typical, everyday teenage image was so quickly and permanently stripped from him.