Changes in Heather

The headlights from Heather MacAdams’ car cast long
shadows along the pine trees lining the dark country
road winding through the flat, furrowed fields of
central Mississippi. Although the surroundings were
lonely and deserted, the mood inside Heather’s large,
white Cadillac Escalade was buoyant and upbeat. Heather
and her friends, Natalie and Mary Catherine bounced
silently in their seats as the CD player pumped heavy
backbeats through the sound system, grooving to Gwen
Stefani at a nearly ear-splitting volume.

“…cause I ain’t no Hollaback Gurrrrllll…
Yeah, I ain’t no Hollaback Gurrrrllll…”

Only an hour or so earlier, the three girls had been
cheering loudly at a high school football game,
watching the Warriors win their sixth game of the
season, Heather leading the crowd as a junior member of
the cheerleading squad. After the game, they had piled
into Heather’s dad’s car and sped out past the city
limits to a ramshackle frame house in the country where
custom dictated the kids from the school would gather
to celebrate the team’s victory in a boozy haze of beer
and occasionally, marijuana smoke.

Heather’s boyfriend, Brian would have normally been in
the car with her, but tonight it was just the three 17-
year old girls in attendance. Brian played on the
football team, but had begged off the party, telling
Heather he and a few of his friends had planned a
hunting trip in the morning.

He told Heather he didn’t object to her going with her
friends, as long as she agreed to be home at a decent
hour. His placing limits on her activities after the
game had given her a warm feeling, making her feel that
Brian truly loved her and Heather felt lucky to be
dating a boy who wasn’t overly possessive but who still
felt concern for her.

Heather and Brian had started dating in the spring
semester of last school year and the evolution of their
relationship hadn’t gone unnoticed at school. In many
regards, they were the “it” couple and Heather’s peers
had gotten so used to referring to them together that
they sometimes jokingly said “Brian-and-Heather” even
when talking about them individually. Brian was tall,
lanky and good-looking and was the object of dozens of
schoolgirl crushes.

Heather, petite, blonde and athletic was a perpetually
smiling ball of activity at school, often described as
“cute” by everyone familiar with her slim figure,
surprisingly curvy for a young girl of 17. It was
expected by everyone Heather would captain the
cheerleading squad next year when she became a senior.

Both teens came from good, upper middle class families,
Brian’s dad was a local attorney and Heather’s father
was a successful real estate developer who doted on his
“princess” and didn’t hesitate to give her the keys to
his massive white Escalade or cut her slack in missing
a late night curfew occasionally.

Heather sped along the road, spitting dust and gravel
as she rounded curves, music blaring. The house at
which they would be partying was an old white frame
house, paint peeling and windows darkened with years of
dust and grime, but it was the regular Friday night
party spot for all the kids at school. Somehow or
another, a group of boys would finagle a keg of beer
and the teens would gather to listen to music, drink
and celebrate their team’s success and the exuberance
of youth.

There were already 40 or 50 cars parked in a grassy
field next to the house when Heather pulled in. The
girls piled out, laughing and ran toward the party,
Heather still dressed in her short, blue and white
pleated skirt and sleeveless top, emblazoned with
“Warriors” across the front. Her friends in jeans and
t-shirts followed close behind.

“Hey, Heather,” Whitney Brady called out. “Where’s your
better half?”

“Home in bed,” Heather replied. “Brian and his buddies
are going hunting tomorrow, so I’m here by my little
‘ol lonesome self.” She gave Whitney, with whom she
shared a second period science lab a hug as she
approached. “Where’s the beer?”

“Over there,” Whitney replied. “Help yourself.”

The three girls weaved their way through the crowd of
chattering teenagers, making their way to the keg.
Heather and her friends never brought anything to drink
to the parties they attended. Somehow, magically, for
certain girls there was always alcohol provided. The
girls were handed plastic cups filled with the cold,
foamy drink and then huddled to check out the crowd.

“Any cute boys here?” Natalie whispered
conspiratorially. “I need to find me a boyfriend.”

Mary Catherine laughed with a look of mild shock on her
face. “Ohmigod, Natalie,” she said. “Why don’t you just
stamp ‘available’ on your forehead?” In reality,
Natalie had never had trouble finding boyfriends, only
keeping them. She would date one boy for a month or two
but then mysteriously break up with him. Heather and
Mary Catherine teased her that it took that long for
the boys to find out Natalie “wasn’t even close to
being a virgin.”

Barraged by a thumping backbeat, the girls watched the
gathering of animated teenagers. Each of the school’s
most obvious cliques had collected in groups large and
small, smoking nonchalantly, drinking reflexively or
gesturing wildly. There were jocks and preppies,
druggies and rockers, brainiacs and pseudo-hipsters,
all inhabiting the same space but all ignoring the
presence of the others.

Natalie spotted the boy she called her “dream date”, a
tall, dark haired senior named Eric off to the side of
a staircase at the back of the house and gushed. “God,
there’s that stupid-shit Eric back in the back talking
to all his gearhead buddies,” she hissed. “I can’t
believe he’s here tonight!”

“I thought you liked him?” Heather said.

“She DOES like him, Heather, you silly bitch!” Mary
Catherine said, rolling her eyes. “She just calls him a
stupid-shit because he hooks up with practically every
girl at school except HER!”

Natalie stared hard at Eric, trying her best to will
him to come over and talk to her, to no avail. “Damn, I
can’t understand why he can’t see that I want to be the
mother of his children,” she said. “If I could just get
him naked, he’d be mine forever.” The girls laughed at
Natalie’s plight. Even when guys from school called her
day and night, she always fell hard for the one guy she
couldn’t have. She always found indifference incredibly
sexy.

Heather looped her arm in Natalie’s and pulled her to
another part of the house, away from the object of her
desire. The girls rounded a corner and found themselves
at the opposite end of a hallway from a group of six
black teenaged boys, all members of the football team.
Towering above the group was 18-year old Marcus
Williams, the school’s star linebacker and the athlete
most coveted by local colleges.

“Oops, wrong turn,” said Mary Catherine, beneath her
breath.

“Oh, that’s Marcus,” Heather said. “God, look at him!
He’s a monster. Did you see him at the game tonight?
Those guys from Ravenwood were scared to death of him!”

“I can see why,” Natalie said in a low voice.

Heather laughed. “Listen to you two!” she said. “He’s
really a sweetheart. He’s in my fifth period American
History class and he’s absolutely a great guy! He’s
friends with all the girls in the class.” Heather
lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Of course, it
doesn’t hurt that he’s got a body like a Greek god…”

Heather’s girlfriends gasped and burst out laughing.
“Heather! I can’t believe you!” Natalie giggled.

“What?”

Mary Catherine leaned forward. “I never figured you
lusting after the black guys at school! Wait’ll Brian
hears about this. You got ‘jungle fever’ or somethin’?”

“Yeah, Heather,” Natalie chortled. “Next thing you
know, you’ll be puttin’ spinners on the Escalade and
dressin’ like a rapper’s ‘ho!”

“I heard when he transferred here from Memphis,” Mary
Catherine said. “The rumor was he had three kids from
three different girls up there. He HAS to make it in
the NFL ‘cause they’re all depending on him for child
support!”