A New Pecking Order
by Douglas Young
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
Though slightly nervous, Radford McGinniss caught himself smiling en route to a fifteenth annual high school reunion thrown at a classmate’s home Saturday evening. Despite his four years at Theophilus Holmes High being his most miserable, littered with the usual adolescent angst and aggravated by a severe strain of shyness, Radford had still managed to make some friends and many friendly acquaintances there. By his thirties, he concluded that the fault of his terrible teens lay not with constipated teachers or bullying educrats, but his own failure to summon the courage to confront pronounced personal problems, especially his shyness.
Going away to college had been liberating, and then earning a law degree and becoming a successful small-town attorney helped conquer or, at least. manage many of his deepest insecurities. Though still somewhat nervous, especially with women, he now felt far more confident facing his classmates. Time had also pushed his few happy high school hijinks to the forefront of his memories, while the plethora of humiliating episodes and regrets had begun to fade.
Within five minutes of walking into Belle Boyd’s back-yard party centered around a large pool, he felt the hour’s drive to his hometown was well worth it, since several pretty ladies greeted him with a hug, something he had never received from a classmate.
He was also fascinated to learn the biographies of so many folks not seen in a decade and a half. Most had done well, and they were impressed and plenty surprised that the quiet boy in the back of the classroom had become an attorney with a thriving law practice.
Radford was so engrossed conversing with a slew of the fifty or so guests that he was taken aback when his watch revealed it was already 9 p.m. Looking for any buddies he might have missed, a loud feminine voice bellowed, “Radford McGinniss!”
Turning around, he beheld the exuberantly fetching face and striking figure of Camellia Fitzsimmons, his boyhood’s biggest secret crush. Camellia was tall, busty, flirty and more than a tad smart-mouthed, and Radford had long envied how commandingly confident she appeared in any situation. In high school, he was slightly scared of every girl, but Camellia’s feisty spirit and love of embarrassing folks made her the least approachable of all.
Despite looking attractive as ever in her tight jeans and form-fitting, bright yellow shirt, the tanned, dark-haired Camellia had been neither on the homecoming court, nor a cheerleader, nor even a majorette. She never hung out with the school’s pretty girls, since they held her in thinly-concealed contempt for openly displaying what they saw as distinctly unladylike conduct: talking back to teachers, speaking crudely, smoking cigarettes and marijuana, and having sex with many guys, especially the much-coveted stars of the football team.
Miss Fitzsimmons returned the alpha females’ disdain in the most effective ways possible, alternately ignoring or laughing at them. ’Most all of her friends were guys, anyway.
Awestruck that his ultimate fantasy girl shouted his name and now beckoned him to her, a wide-eyed, slightly slack-jawed Mr. McGinniss slowly but excitedly moved toward where she was standing by the pool. He duly glanced at his waist to make sure his shirttail was tucked in, and he quickly ran his hand through his hair.
Surprising himself, he marveled aloud, “Wow. You’re even more gorgeous now than you were in high school.”
“Well, you just earned yourself a kiss, Mr. Radford,” she replied. “And look who’s still got hisself all that great big, bushy, beautiful blonde hair,” she exclaimed before embracing him, pecking his cheek, and running her hands over his scalp.
“Miss Camellia, if you’d a-done this in school, I’d a-been too thrilled to sleep tonight, and I still might not,” he blurted before he could stop himself.
“Well, you shoulda’ told me, babe,” she exclaimed with her hands on her hips. “And if I’d a-known you was gon’ be some hifalutin’ lawyer, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time with all those jocks. Look at ’em now.” She chuckled, waving her hand toward the crowd. “Fat, already balding, selling used cars, and never even left town.”
Thankful for the loud music and chatter, Radford hoped no one else heard her. “Well, you’re mighty kind to me, Miss Camellia,” he replied, “but, as Senator Sam Ervin said, ‘I’m just a plain ol’ country lawyer,’ and one who ended up only an hour away, and in a much smaller town, at that.”
“But I heard you went way out of town to college and law school, and the point is that you got outa here and really made something of yourself,” she declared, poking her index finger into his chest.
Still stunned, the now thoroughly buzzed teetotaler tried to fathom what was happening. Ever awkward in receiving compliments, he looked down and stammered, “That’s sure super sweet of you. Keep talking like that and you’re liable to find this lawyer all swimmy-headed and totally tongue-tied. Seriously, many thanks, Camellia.”
Flashing a toothy grin that became a subtle smile, she leaned closer, looked deep into his eyes, and remarked, “And as shy as you were in school, I’m sure it hasn’t been easy. But you did it, Radford. Kudos.”
“Color me right flattered and deeply touched,” he replied, getting lost in her hazel green eyes.
“And, honey, as close as trouble shadows me, I figure it couldn’t hurt to have a good lawyer buddy.” She giggled.
“At your service.” He bowed and presented his card.
“Well, this one’ll definitely go on the refrigerator.” She laughed.
“So how about you, Camellia? Please enlighten me with all the exciting adventures in Camellialand.”
“Whew. There’ve been more than a few.” She widened her eyes with an exaggerated sigh before taking his elbow to lead them downhill toward the forest.
“But this scene’s too claustrophobic,” she remarked with a raised eyebrow. “So let’s skedaddle to where it’s a whole lot roomier. I grew up in this neighborhood, and we used to play in these woods all the time. With a full moon and clear sky, we’ll have no trouble seeing the trails.”
An awed Radford reminded himself he was not dreaming. Initially worried what their classmates would think, he soon realized he was getting a charge from it. Indeed, Radford became completely captivated as he and Camellia explored a host of trails amidst gobs of trees lit by a full June moon and starry sky. The thick forest glowed in the summer twilight, enhanced by the dance of flickering fireflies, the competing scents of various blooms and a cacophony of crickets and singing songbirds. To become ensconced in such a tranquil realm with such an intriguing beauty, he felt as if he had been transported to Dreamville.
Miss Fitzsimmons was enormously relieved to find a classmate genuinely interested in her, and one intelligent and witty to boot. Because of her reputation at school, she had hesitated even to come to the party but figured she might as well since she was staying just a couple of blocks away with her mother that weekend, and she longed to reconnect with folks not seen in years. Alas, all the aloof, stone-faced “Hello”s, heads quickly turning away, and pronounced indifference of so many female classmates hurt far worse than she had dreaded.
But the refusal of old male friends to engage in meaningful conversation — especially a pair of former beaus — proved particularly upsetting. It pained her to see them so obviously uncomfortable around her while they were standing next to their wives. When one ex casually told his spouse, “She was a friend in high school” and the other would not even introduce her to his spouse, Camellia had to summon all her anger to avoid breaking into tears. She saw Radford McGinniss as rescuing her from an otherwise disastrous evening.
“All those professional phonies back there were really starting to stick in my craw,” she admitted. “The same stuck-up gals who never had a nice word for me still want nothing to do with me, and all the guys who I knew quite well in school are now hitched to a bunch of cloned Stepford wives with nothing to say to me either. Shoot, I taught those boys more in one day than they’ll ever learn from their proud, big-haired, airhead wives. It’s one thing to have to put up with jerks and bores in school, but I’ll be danged if I’m gon’ share space with ’em now.”
“Their loss, Camellia. As Oscar Wilde observed, ‘Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.’ You personify the former, and they epitomize the latter.”
“Aw. Thanks, Raddy,” she said softly and leaned into him as the music and chatter in the yard grew more distant.
“So what’s Camellia’s post-high school story?” a curious Radford asked as they ducked under some pink dogwood branches stretched over the trail.
“Well.” She took a deep breath. “After graduation, with no idea what to do other than making a fine time and staying on Momma’s allowance, I went to the local university where I majored in boys. Now I was an A+ student in that course, but I flunked out of the classes you actually had to attend and write papers for instead of just flirty notes or ‘Dear John’ letters. I shoulda’ asked you to tutor me.”
“Maybe you should’ve majored in male psychology.”
“Ain’t much to that,” she retorted. “Besides, I had no use for most of those excuses for professors I suffered through — a bunch of low-T, beta soy boys and angry women constantly jonesing to be ‘outraged.’ As soon as a lot of lectures began, I’d think, ‘Okay, here comes the bitchkrieg.’ I reckon there’s a whole mess of mighty proud virgins in that racket. But some of the students were even worse. So much of the campus was just a reality-distortion zone for bitter neurotics.”
“The trick is to jump through the required hoops and get out as soon as you can with your common sense and values intact,” he remarked.
“Shug, I assure you those clowns never changed me, and I sure had fun, too.”
“I never doubted you, babe.” Radford grinned, surprised how comfortable he felt by her side. She patted his back and smiled at him.
“So, after getting the college passport stamped,” As they walked around a large white pine tree, Camellia continued: “I asked myself what job would get me outa town the fastest, see the world, and meet lots of well-heeled guys. So I became a stewardess for Delta.”
“Waouh! Très bien, mademoiselle,” Radford enthused.
“Vraiment, monsieur. Merci. I flew all over the States and worked my way up to the Asian and European routes. It was a real rush getting to tour every exotic city I’d ever pined for — Paris je t’aime ! — and a whole lot more. Plus, I got courted by some pretty cool pilots, which was a blast. But eventually I got sick of being a waitress in the sky, especially as passengers got more demanding, and I dared to refuse to take any crap from them.”
“You? Camellia Fitzsimmons? I’m flabbergasted.”
“You remember me well,” she noted and lit a Nat Sherman Fantasia cigarette. “So I left the air to work in public relations. They like to put my picture in ads, and I’m good buttering up businessmen doing contract work with Delta.”
“Imagine that,” he said with a wry smile as she grinned and punched his shoulder.
“I’m based in Atlanta, which is fine, since I got tired of all the traveling. Buckhead’s nice. I have a good time.”
“Any mighty lucky men blessed to have been your beau?”
“Aw, ain’t you a sweetie,” she remarked and gently elbowed him as Radford enjoyed how, though enveloped by tall trees, their faces still clearly stood out in the moonlight. The party’s music became ever fainter, and their classmates’ voices could no longer be heard.
“Well,” she continued, “a bunch of fellows may have been blessed to have me, but I don’t know how ‘blessed’ I was with any of them. Alas, my romantic history has been something of a ‘Long and Winding Road.’” She took a drag on her cigarette.
“A sister Beatles fan.” He beamed at her, and she smiled at him. “How I wish I’d known,” he exclaimed. “Maybe I would’ve gotten the nerve to try to talk with you at school.”
“And now you’re making up for it.” She leaned into him as he looked up at the moon and stars, still mildly incredulous to be traversing an enchanted forest with the most alluring lady he had ever known.
Copyright © 2025 by Douglas Young
