#phone rings in a midtown office building wednesday morning, a young voice picks up
Dynamic Management? (She makes it sound like a question, but it's not)
so are you going to this 10 year reunion?
*laughs* (the kind of laugh given when she's caught sounding like a grown up and then realizing the hilarity of the question.)
fuck noooo. (she says, still in that familiar pain of getting up to go to THAT school kin of way) Wait, 10 years, it's finally here? are you going?
My oldest best and I bruised our way through High School together. Yearly, since the sixth grade, we'd count down the years till we graduated. "Only six more years, we're half way there!"
Am I going? hmmm
This question ranks up there with should I go to The Prom? Which puts my mind frame in like the 7th period, Ms. Sampson's class. Do we really want to go there at all? Then there's the whole Columbine issue. It's been strange enough going back to my childhood home for the holidays, and driving by my old school, but there is something creepy rubbernecky about going to the reunion.

Of course at one time I envisioned the ten year reunion as some sort of vindication, we were all living in a Howard Deutch movie. The Stoners, the Preppies, The Wavers, Geeks, Jocks, and the Country Club. The uninspired teachers, the few that made the difference, year book signing, trips to the mall, three ring binders and lunch money. The worst thing to happen at the time was someone lit a car on fire in the court yard. No wait, Columbine once had wood paneling, that was the worst thing that happened to that school.

But just incase, jess, fuck no really wasn't your answer. ha ha. I got two words for you.
Derek Clardy (hahahaha)