Jennifer was smart, studiously smart. I thought she was brilliant. We met during a “Silent Weekend” in the Kingsley Library on campus. The nerds of the school had arranged “Silent Weekends,” in favor of academic-minded fun. In other words, studying. The school had passed this activity soon after Fall Break of my freshman year in light of all of the loud revelry that follows all holidays. Because no one seemed to want to settle down and do homework, the levy for “Silent Weekends” passed unthinkably quickly. Rob and I took quite a lot of credit for it as well as offense to it. We were some of those with the loudest and most obnoxious goings-on. I wouldn’t call them parties, exactly. We did, however, play hosts to many contests both in our room and around the campus. Who could eat the most of the cafeteria’s meatloaf, who could go the longest without showering, who could hit the marked targets (usually a girl’s or teacher’s window or car) with cottage cheese-filled balloons, who could let 348 pound Billy Jones stand on his kneecaps the longest. We called ourselves the Barons, and those we were, of our own society of pranks.
There was always money involved in the contests and dares. We had many upper-classmen supporters and sponsors. The more bet money, the louder the contests.
Neither Rob nor I, nor any of the other Barons took kindly to being silenced. We planned an elaborate parade to march through the Kingsley Library in full costume, carrying the loudest noisemakers we could muster. We had a band about 24 men strong that night, ready to saunter into the Library and cause a ruckus in our loud attire. Rob and I were to be the bandleaders. I dressed entirely in lime green, with an enormous fuchsia bow tie, so large I could barely see over it. I carried a baton with ribbons tied flamboyantly to the ends and wove my fist about. Rob had somehow gotten a hold of a Geisha costume and a banjo. We strode into that Library with all of our men behind, some in kilts and some in feathered Indian headdresses. One guy wore a sandwich board. One wore a sheet like a toga and carried a tuba. One was naked apart from a drooping purple loincloth. The boys carried everything noisy, from spoons to a boom box, from cowbells to snare drums, from kazoos to bubble wrap.
Not one nerd in that Library kept his eye on his sloppy, cramped class notes. Not one person could look away. Everyone stared at us, completely horrified. Along the walls and under the lit lamps, mouths were dropping open. Jaws full of chewing gum slowed. Pencils dropped and mouths slackened. And we hadn’t made a single noise—yet. I was on fire.
Not literally, of course.
As I glanced around to take in all of the revulsion of the studiers, I was swelling to new heights of cockiness. It was a completely new feeling to be in control like this, and I liked it.
Then I caught sight of one girl near the History shelves. She wore the strangest expression I had seen that night. She looked torn in between the terror of wreckage of her quiet study night and the mad desire to crack up. I couldn’t stop looking at her, cocking my head to the side to study her face. I could feel the boys behind me getting impatient, wanting to strut some more, wanting to ruin the silence once and for all, for Barons we were and Barons we would be. Slowly, the girl took in one costume, then another, then another. There was the clown and there was the dragon. There was the huge Billy Jones in sparkly blue fairy wings, and a boy in pirate garb. When she got to the loincloth, she burst into laughter—the first sound of the night. And that was when I knew she was the girl for me. My distraction and my saving grace.
Satisfied with this noise and with the revulsion of the nerds all turning to the laugher instead of the Barons, Rob and I made quick exchanges and decided to only pretend to play. We stood in front of the Barons and conducted an entirely silent concert in our ridiculous costumes. The nerds loved it, nearly went wild over it, or at least as wild as nerds could go. They began to make signs anyway, asking us to play this song or that by means of printer paper and Sharpie markers. In the end, Rob and I took bows and the band followed as the nerds clapped silently. Jennifer followed us outside to see us off, and I handed her my huge bow tie with my phone number tucked into the knot.
