Outside of the Orangeside cafeteria buzzed with an energy that was half-civic duty and half-impending disaster. Dean Starmer and Amelia Winters were wearing graphic tees with the phrase “Orangeside STD-Con” written on them. Both clutched a stacks of neon flyers, walking together energetically.
“I booked a sketch artist, an improv troupe, and a laser projecting a burning pelvis onto the ceiling,” Amelia announced, her eyes gleaming.
Dean Starmer, standing beside her with a stack of his own flyers, nodded enthusiastically. “A laser?”
Amelia nodded back with a hopeful expression.
Well, this isn’t gonna be your mother’s sexually transmitted disease awareness convention,” Starmer chirped. He patted Amelia on the shoulder. “You’ve been quite the little helper, Amelia.”
“STD-Con, guys!” Amelia called out to a passing group of students. “Catch knowledge!”
Among the passing students were Tyrone and Elvis. Tyrone took a flyer, crumpled it into a tight ball, and took a leap toward a nearby trash can. He missed. By a lot.
Elvis stepped forward, calmly took a flyer, and flicked it with a wrist snap that would make a pro-athlete weep. The paper swished perfectly into the bin.
Tyrone froze. “You think you’re better than me?”
“No,” Elvis said simply.
“You stick to quoting movie lines,” Tyrone challenged, his ego visibly bruised. “I’ll stick to sports.”
“Trying to reduce my referencing,” Elvis noted.
“Well, you’re not moving into sports. You and I are playing real basketball, right now.”
Elvis shrugged. “Sounds fun.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Tyrone snapped. “And it won’t be.”
Chase and Christina were making a steady beeline for the cafeteria, skillfully ignoring the Dean’s frantic waving.
“Catch knowledge!” the Dean’s new assistant yelled out.
“Sorry,” Chase called back without looking. “Not interested…”
Chase then noticed the voice came from a beautiful young blonde woman. “…in ignoring your very important cause.”
She was young, vibrant, and wearing a skirt that Chase’s scheming-brain immediately cataloged as ‘high priority.’
“Hi,” Chase said, his entire demeanor shifting into smooth-operator mode. “I’m Chase Wright.”
“Oh, Sabrina is my new secretary,” the Dean introduced.
“Secretary is a little degrading to women,” Sabrina interjected, crossing her arms. Sabrina smiled vacantly. “I help the Dean do office-y things.”
“Oh, gender saved,” Christina remarked.
Chase turned his charm up to eleven. “My casual friend and I are gonna have a non-romantic breakfast if you’d like to join us.”
“Cafeteria’s closed while we set up for the fair,” Amelia cut in. “Fortune cookie?” She held out a bowl. Chase grabbed one.
“Isn’t it great? Orangeside is the latest campus to catch a case of public-health fever.” Starmer added.
Christina sighed. “You know the toilets in the women’s bathrooms don’t have seats, right?”
“Because they keep getting stolen, Sabrina, take a note,” the Dean said solemnly. “I want hidden cameras in every stall in the women’s bathroom.”
Hearing his resolution Christina quipped, “Problem solved.”
Reading the fortune from the cookie Amelia provided him: “‘You will get AIDS.’”
Amelia, excited with herself, “Flip it over”
Complying Chase flipped the fortune over “Unless you go to the STD fair.’”
Beaming with pride Amelia said, “I wrote that.”
“Congratu—horrible,” Chase said.
Her pride hurt a little Amelia let out, “See you later.”
In the study room later that afternoon, Wilson Firestone was practically vibrating in his chair.
“Chase, you and I are friends, right?”
“Okay,” Chase said, wary.
“You may have noticed a recent change in my demeanor.”
“I haven’t.”
“Well, I have a new girlfriend,” Wilson announced, leaning in. “She is super-smart, if you know what I mean.”
“Sadley, I always know what you mean,” Chase muttered.
“Can’t wait for you to meet her. You know, when you catch a big fish, you wanna stuff her and put her on the mantle. How about tonight?”
“I doubt it,” Chase said.
At that moment, Tyrone and Elvis walked in. Tyrone looked like he had just run a marathon through a swamp of sadness.
“Tyrone and I played basketball,” Elvis said cheerfully. “It’s fun.”
“Don’t gloat!” Tyrone barked. “It’s impossible to guard you. Your eyes are too gentle and mysterious.”
“Hey, guys,” Wilson interrupted. “Chase and I are double-dating tonight with my new girlfriend.”
“Ooh!” Sharon chirped, walking in with Christina and Amelia.
“You got that from ‘I doubt it’?” Chase thought out loud.
“Wilson has got a girlfriend?” Amelia wondered outloud.
Christina asked. “That’s great. What does she do?”
“She’s an escort,” Wilson said proudly.
The room went silent.
“Oh,” Sharon said, her smile vanishing.
“Some mysteries solve themselves.” Chase added.
“No, no, no,” Wilson insisted. “That’s just her profession. She doesn’t escort me. No, no. I met her in my Marketing class. And I’m taking Doreen to Amelia’s mixer tonight.”
“You mean the STD-Con,” Amelia corrected. “Catch knowledge.”
“Taking a call girl to an STD-Con?” Tyrone smirked. “There’s a joke here.”
Wilson turned to Chase. “So, Chase, dust off that black book and rustle up a honey, huh?”
“Is there a pill that makes the word ‘no’ clearer?” Chase asked.
“Well, it is pretty short notice,” Wilson teased. “Probably couldn’t get a date anyway.”
The rest of the table said ‘ooooh’ in a mocking tone turning towards Chase.
Chase bristled. “I’m sure you’re right.”
The table again went ‘ooooh’ but this time turning toward Wilson.
“Maybe it has something to do with crabs,” Tyron continued in his own conversation. “They’re like a food but also a disease?”
“ I wonder, Chase, for all your feather-flashing, when was the last time you actually scored?” Wilson said, mockingly.
“I don’t know the precise date, Wilson, because I’m not you. So there’s no receipt.”
“Ooh,” Chase subtly said, expecting the rest of the group to join in.
“Oh, come on,” Chase scoffed.
“You Shouldn’t take pot shots at some woman because you can’t get a date.” Sharon added.
“I can get dates any time I want.”
Christina then flashed a knowing smile at Chase.
“What is this some kinda Joke?” Chase asked exasperated.
“Nope, but this is.” Tyrone said triumphantly. “Don’t eat the crab dip, yeah yeah yeah”
The group looked at each other confused at Tyrone’s interpretation of a joke.
Back in the main hall, Dean Starmer caught up with Amelia.
“You hear that, Amelia? That’s the sound of STDs screaming, ‘No, stop being so aware of us.’ And it’s all thanks to you.”
“I was voted ‘most likely to succeed’ at my rehab clinic,” Amelia said, glowing.
“Well, in recognition of all your hard work, I have decided that you should conduct the condom demonstration,” the Dean said. “You’re gonna be center stage showing everyone how to put a condom on a, uh… well, what my dad called a Bill Clinton.”
Amelia’s smile froze. “Um, I don’t know if I’m the right person.”
“Don’t worry,” the Dean assured her. “Not a real one. No, it’s an anatomically correct model, you know. But trust me, eyes closed, you can’t tell the difference.”
He walked away, leaving Amelia staring into the middle distance with a look of pure, unadulterated panic.
Outside the library, Christina found Chase leaning against a pillar, his phone glued to his ear.
“Hey, it’s Chase Wright,” he was saying. “Well, I wanted to see what you were doing tonight… Do I know your name? What kind of question is that? Of course I know… Well, if I answer now, you’ll never learn a valuable lesson about trust…Sarah?”
The line went dead. “Crap.”
“Wilson really got to you, huh?” Christina asked, leaning against the pillar next to him.
“It has been a dry spell,” Chase admitted. “But it’s been a while since I’ve tried. So I’m trying.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Christina said, snatching his phone. “This is a lot of outgoing calls. ‘Car Wash Brunette.’ ‘Tube Top Death Finger Concert.’ ‘Juror Number 7.’ That sounds above board.” She paused. “At least you have ‘Mommy’ in here.”
“That’s not my mom,” Chase said defensively.
“Dude, not cool,” Christina cringed.
“You saying ‘dude’ is not cool.
“What are you doing?” Chase said as she fumbled with her own phone.
Chase’s phone started ringing, Christina noticed what she was listed as. “‘Hot Blonde Computer Class’?”
“You’re welcome.” Chase said without skipping a beat.
“This is the phone book of a man-child,” Christina said, handing it back. “The women literally have no identities. It’s pretty shallow.”
“You’re right,” Chase said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen it before now.”
“I’m gonna go study with Sharon,” Christina said, turning to leave.
“Well, I’ll be here,” Chase called after her, “rethinking my way of life.
“Call ‘Mommy.’” Chase commanded his phone.
Inside the study room, Amelia was pacing.
“Guys, I have a problem,” she blurted out to Christina and Sharon. “The Dean wants me to demonstrate proper use of a condom at the stupid fair, by putting one on a mannequin’s stupid thingamabob. It’s a big honor but I’m gonna screw it up.”
“Well, it’s easy enough to practice,” Sharon said. “Christina, do you have a banana?”
“This is an anatomically correct model I’ll be handling,” Amelia hissed. “Real whatchamacallits are nothing like bananas. Are they?” She paused, her eyes darting between them.
Christina, with a blend of humor and genuine concern, “Have you never seen one?”
“Shh!” Amelia whispered.
“Amelia, being a virgin in this day and age is something to be proud of. You’re like a unicorn.” Sharon added.
“I’m not a unicorn! I had relations with my high school boyfriend. We did it to his copy of Lady Gaga’s Born This Way on the floor of his walk-in closet. But he wouldn’t let me look at it. He cried after and during. I think he’s gay now.”
Christina whispered back, “ I think he was gay then.”
Sharon blinked. “So you never seen one when you were growing up? Like, you know, on the Internet, in a picture, or Harvey Keitel’s?”
“I’ve caught glimpses but I’ve never got a real good look at one,” Amelia confessed. “What I need to do is practice on the actual model. But the Dean has it locked in his office.”
“Okay, that’s easy,” Christina said. “We’ll go to him, ask him if we—”
“No!” Amelia cried. “This is really embarrassing. I don’t want anyone to know. I just wanna figure out how to do it and get it over with. The Dean is counting on me, and I want him to know that I’m someone he can trust.”
The air in the study room went silent, as Amelia contemplated a plan.
“We have to break into his office.” Amelia burst out.
Sharon smiled. “I actually have no problem with that.”
“I think I could do that.” Christina added.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, replaced by the neon glow of the “burning pelvis” laser dancing across the Orangeside quad. Chase smoothed his hair one last time before approaching the entrance of the STD-Con. He felt like a man going into battle—a battle where the primary weapon was feigned indifference.
“Oh, hello, Chase,” Wilson called out. He was standing near a giant inflatable microbe, looking smug. “I was just going into the fair to wait for my smoking-hot date.”
“That’s nice,” Chase replied, his voice a cool monotone.
“How about you?” Wilson asked, leaning in with a theatrical squint. “Were you ever able to, you know, come up with a date?”
“No, no,” Chase lied smoothly. “Because I didn’t try. Because taking a date to an STD-Con would be lame.”
Wilson patted his arm with agonizing condescension. “Don’t worry about it, kid. You’re going through a dry spell. From my experience, they don’t last any more than twelve, thirteen years.”
As Wilson wandered off, Dean Starmer stood in front of a spinning wheel that wouldn’t look out of place on Price is Right. Looking at the spinning board Dean started saying “No gonorrhea, please, please, please,” he muttered to himself. The wheel stopped on gonorrhea “Ow! It burns! That’s gonna hurt. Gross.”
Chase ignored the Dean’s colorful monologue and focused on the prize: Sabrina. She was standing by the information booth, looking bored. Chase remembered the Dean’s earlier intel.
“Is it me,” Chase began, leaning against the booth, “or are horses the most beautiful creatures? They’re so majestic.”
Sabrina’s eyes lit up instantly. “Totally!”
“Just this morning,” Chase continued, laying it on thick, “when I was shaving and listening to the new Kanye, I was thinking how I wanna squeeze in a gallop this weekend.”
“Do you own a horse?” she gasped.
Chase looked off into the distance, profound and mysterious. “Can you ever really own a horse?”
Thirty seconds later, Wilson returned. “Wilson,” Chase said, a predatory smile on his face. “This is Sabrina. Thirty seconds after you walked away, I asked her to be my date and she said yes.”
Wilson blinked, stunned. “You must have a great personality.”
“Thank you.”
A middle aged woman suddenly saddled up next to Wilson, with pride in his voice he said, “This is Doreen.”
Not far from them was Cabar picking through a bowl of condoms placed on the table. Dean Starmer walked proud of his idea and explained, “I even had the words ‘Orangeside College’ printed on the shaft part of them.”
Cabar laughed to himself.
While Chase was celebrating his hollow victory, Tyrone and Elvis were engaged in their own war. They were at an arcade-like area with prizes provided for winning game. Tyrone’s face was filled with rage; Elvis was as calm as a summer pond.
“Argh! I can’t believe you beat me again,” Tyrone shouted, punching the air after another losing a 3-point shot game.
“Do you want my stuffed animal?” Elvis offered, gesturing to a plush syphilis microbe he’d won earlier.
“Gah! We’re arm wrestling,” Tyrone demanded.
“Ohh, Like Stallone in Over the Top.”
“I don’t know the rules,” Elvis said. “Don’t I need a semi-truck and a son?”
“The rules are: ‘You suck.’ Let’s go.” Tyrone slammed his elbow down.
Elvis said, “I wanna wait for a more inspiring song. This score isn’t right.” He waited for the beat of a nearby techno track to drop. “There we go!”
They arm-wrestled, with Elvis giving little room for failure, but selling the struggle enough for Tyrone to believe it.
Moments later, Elvis slammed Tyrone’s hand on the table, a decisive victory. Tyrone let out a howl. “Oh, my God! You broke my hand, you bastard!”
Across campus, the halls of the administration building were dark and silent. Three shadows crept toward the Dean’s office.
The snuck into the office under the cover of darkness. Christina went to the door, but it was locked, and the switch-blade she brought with her would do little to help with it. “I can’t do anything with this.”
Sharon noticed a hole where the doorknob should be. “No, let me see that,” she whispered, elbowing Christina aside.
“Oh, I can see through the door,” Sharon hissed. “Oh, yeah, there she blows.”
“I wanna see, I wanna see!” Christina squeaked.
“Shh!” Sharon quickly moved and let Christina pass. “Okay, go, go, go.”
Amelia reminded everyone, “ I’m the one that needs to see.”
Amelia leaned down and looked through the hole in the door.
“Oh, boy,” Amelia whispered, her voice a mix of horror and fascination. “Oh, I had it wrong. Is that considered… large?”
Sharon giggled to herself. “Oh, no.”
Christina nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
The moment was shattered by a sudden, harsh beam of light.
“What in the reverse Porky’s is going on here?” Officer Ramirez’s voice boomed from the doorway.
Back at the con, the “double date” was in full swing. Wilson was beamed with pride as Doreen sat beside him.
“You know, Doreen speaks six languages,” Wilson bragged to Chase. “You should hear her order wine in French. Hey, honey, say ‘cabernet sauvigonenon.’”
Doreen looked at Chase with an apologetic, weary smile. “Wilson, you’re embarrassing me.”
“You know a lot about wine?” Chase asked, trying to be polite.
“Well, I did have a client who owned a vineyard in Napa,” Doreen said. “He was into S&M and Merlot, so we called it S&M&M.”
Wilson didn’t even blink. “Honey, you’re boring the crap out of Chase.
Unable to control the tone of her voice, Sabrina said, ”Be right back, I have to make tinkles.”
“Well then,” Chase said, rising, “I’m gonna go get us another round.”
With Wilson and Sabrina gone, Chase was left with Doreen.
“You know, you are not what I expected,” Chase said, leaning on the table. “You’re smart, you’re classy… you’re not wearing go-go boots.”
“They’re in the shop,” Doreen replied dryly. “You know, despite what people think, I actually spend most of my time talking. As men get older, they wanna spend time with someone they can have a real conversation with.”
“That is going to suck,” Chase muttered.
“‘Going to,’ Chase?” Doreen raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Sabrina’s cute, but she thinks that Monty Python is the evil snake from Harry Potter.”
“Trust me, I know girls I can converse with who are way more annoying. I will take ‘tinkles’ over ‘we need to talk’ every time.” Chase replied.
Sabrina returned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Hey, babe! Ready to show me that Acura?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Chase said, though Doreen’s words were already beginning to itch at the back of his brain.
Chase leaned over and with a genuine tone, “Dorreen, it was really nice to meet you.”
Doreen caught his eye as he stood to leave. “You can do better,” she said quietly.
Chase paused, then followed Sabrina into the night.
In the dead center of the STD-Con the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat..
“I had no idea alcohol would make people horny,” Dean Starmer lamented, rubbing his temples. “It just makes me sleepy.”
“Dean?” Officer Ramirez said, stepping into the room with a grim expression. “We have a 597 currently going on in your office.”
“A 597? There’s a cock fight happening in my office!”
The Dean rushed in, followed by the officer and a woman with a clipboard. He stopped dead when he saw the three women huddled near the “anatomically correct” model. Amelia looked like she wanted to evaporate.
“Okay,” Starmer said, shielding his eyes. “I’m just gonna turn him around and we’re gonna cover him up. Ladies, I am shocked at the reverse Porky’s that has happened here.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Christina said, her voice defensive. “Amelia needed to look at the model of the pen—”
“Okay! The P-word has entered into play,” the Dean squealed. “That’s exactly why I wanted Mrs. Wondolf, our school counselor, here to ensure we discuss these sensitive topics in a legally appropriate manner.”
Wondolf, a woman whose calm was so professional it was unsettling, stepped forward. “I think everyone should say ‘penis’ so we can take away the negative power of the word, yeah? So, everybody. Penis.”
“Penis,” Christina said. “Penis,” Sharon muttered, crossing her arms.
Officer Ramirez eyes locked onto Amelia. “She didn’t say it.”
Still upset, Dean Starmer asked, “ Now, why did you break in to see the penis?”
“Wow, I really do feel more comfortable saying that now, Gayle,” Dean Starmer noted, nodding to himself.
“I just wanna focus on the girl who won’t say ‘penis,’” Gayle pressed. “This is a judgment-free zone, Amelia. Express yourself.”
Amelia’s face went from pale to a deep, vibrating crimson. She stood up, her jaw set. “You know what? I don’t want to express myself. I don’t wanna sit in a room full of people and say the P-word. I like being repressed! I am totally comfortable being uncomfortable with my sexuality! And maybe, just maybe, if everyone were a little more like me, we wouldn’t have to have an STD-Con!”
She turned on her heel and stormed out.
“You go, girl,” Christina said proudly.”
Sharon cheered, “That’s my pumpkin.”
Amelia stuck her head back in for one final parting shot. “By the way, now that I’ve gotten a good look at one, I don’t see what all the fuss was about. A giant thumb in a turtleneck. Whoop-dee-doo!”
In the plush leather interior of the Acura, Chase was discovering that Doreen was right: conversation mattered.
“You have a really awesome body,” Sabrina said, her voice a breathy whisper as she leaned over the center console. “You probably hear that all the time.”
“Not as much as I should,” Chase replied, trying to lean into the moment. He moved to kiss her, but she pulled back with a giggle.
“Professor…”
Chase stopped. “What? I’m not a professor.”
“But you’re at Orangeside and you’re old,” she chirped.
Chase’s soul felt like it was withering. “I’m a student.”
“Yikers,” she said.
“Yeah,” Chase sighed, pulling away completely. “It’s pretty much yikers for me, too.”
“Well,” Sabrina said, unaware of the tectonic shift in his mood, “I guess I can make an exception, Professor.”
Chase looked at her—at the vacant stare and the absolute lack of any shared wavelength. “You know, I can’t do this.”
“What? But this is your car!”
“Keep it,” Chase muttered, opening his door.
Just outside of the cafeteria, Tyrone and Elvis were finishing a foot race. Tyrone ‘won’ the race, exhausted and panting for breath. Meanwhile, Elvis was almost keeping up with him, while barely showing any signs of physical strain.
“I WON!” Tyrone struggled to scream out as they made it to the cafeteria entrance. “How do you like those apples.”
Elvis offered a deadpan reply, “I don’t like those apples at all. It must’ve been a fluke I won those other games.”
Tyrone then victoriously yelled out, “TYRONE!”
Back at the fair, the “Orangeside!” condoms were being used for everything except their intended purpose.
“Condom water balloon fight!” someone screamed.
The Dean watched as a student walked by, water leaking from the condom. “What the hell? Dude, these are leaking.” The student yelled, surprised.
“Ho-ho-ho!” Cabar laughed. “That’s why you don’t print things on condoms. Everyone’s getting preggers and it’s all your fault!”
The Dean’s eyes went wide. He ran out to the outside entrance to the cafeteria, Tyrone standing nearby. “Tyrone! All the condoms are faulty. As the best athlete on campus, I need you to run to my office and make an announcement before everyone leaves!”
Tyrone looked at Elvis, who was standing perfectly still beside him. “Dean, I am not the best athlete on campus. Elvis is.”
Elvis blinked.
“I know you let me win the race, Elvis.”
“But you didn’t say anything,” Elvis said, his voice thick with emotion.
“That’s because I wanted it to be true,” Tyrone replied.
“You’re a really good friend.”
“No, Elvis,” Tyrone whispered. “You are.”
“For the love of God, run!” the Dean screamed.
Elvis took off like a bullet.
Chase found Wilson sitting alone at a table, nursing a lukewarm drink.
“Back already?” Wilson asked. “Detail time?”
“I stopped,” Chase admitted, sliding into the chair next to him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I mean, she’s hot. I think this place is sapping my life force.”
“Oh, it’s not Orangeside, Chase,” Wilson said, looking uncharacteristically wise. “It’s you. You’re becoming more mature. A man reaches a point in his life where he stops looking for a place to hang his underwear and starts looking for a place to hang his hat.”
Chase stared at him. “I’m sorry. I was waiting for that to become inappropriate or racist.”
“What happened to Doreen?” Chase asked.
“Oh, uh… she said if I wanted to continue, I would have to pay.”
“Oh, man,” Chase said, wincing. “That is rough.”
“No,” Wilson said firmly. “It was a wake-up call. Doreen is a very special lady. I did not treat her right. I have stuff to work on, you know?”
“You’ll get there,” Chase said. “We’re both gonna get there. Here’s to being better men.”
They clinked glasses.
“So,” Wilson said, leaning in. “Can I borrow two hundred bucks?”
Chase sighed and reached for his wallet. “Tell Doreen I say hi.”
“For two-twenty, I can get—”
“I’ll give you two-fifty if you don’t finish telling me.”
As Wilson scurried off, Chase pulled out his phone. He scrolled to “Hot Blonde CompSci Class.” He hit edit and slowly typed out the name: Christina Puhr.
Suddenly, the PA system crackled to life.
“Attention, Orangeside students,” Elvis’s voice echoed across the quad. “Don’t use the condoms. If you’re going to have sex tonight… don’t use condoms.”
Chase leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips as the frantic chaos of the school erupted around him.