barracuda

I was pretty intimidated when I started high school. Surrounded by a lot of rich and beautiful girls, I was neither. I went to St. Dominic Academy, which was also known as St. Do-My-Dick Academy by our brother school, St. Peter's Prep (Preparation H). SDA was an all-girls Catholic school. My favorite class, (as it always was and has been) was English. I loved to write essays and stories. Our English teacher, Miss Kelly, was well-intentioned but weird. She was one of those teachers that really wanted to be hip, so she made disparaging comments about the "establishment" and encouraged us to rebel against authority. I liked her because she was passionate about books, and she liked the stories I wrote.

Miss Kelly was the moderator of the forensics team, and she was always looking for new members. She approached me after class one day and asked if I would consider joining the debate team. I immediately declined, feeling the pit of fear in my stomach. I wasn't afraid to speak in public; I was cowered by the thought of having to argue against sophisticated loafer-and-blazer types who did the New York Times crossword puzzle with their lawyer and CEO parents. (The only newspapers in our home were the Post and the New York Daily News. My mom was good with the word jumble).

Miss Kelly persisted. She stopped me after every class and wrote notes on all my papers and tests "Join Debate!!!" She finally roped me into attending a forensics meeting so I could observe a practice debate. I only went to placate her. Two juniors were debating the topic of abortion, a topic I was passionate about. (Little did I know that topic would never be allowed in an actual debate. Most of the schools in our league were Catholic, and therefore unable to fathom a reason to debate the topic). The debate itself was really intriguing. Each debater got a chance to read a prepared speech, one pro-life, one pro-choice. They then challenged one another on their views, and read their conclusions. I was enthralled. It all seemed very civilized and orderly, much like writing a persuasive paper. Miss Kelly caught my eye during the debate and knew she had me hooked.

All of the girls on forensics were cool. We were all sort of outcasts, not knowing where we belonged in the social stratosphere of St. Dom's. We found ourselves and each other at forensics, where we were free and actually encouraged to be dorks. We recited Shakespeare and played literature games at the meets (if you could have sex with any character in literature, who would it be and why?) We had nicknames for all of the other debaters. Nancy Regan was 15 but looked 40, dressed for every meet in red, white and blue. Pants nervously picked at the front of his pants during every debate. Fish, well, looked like a fish. I was the barracuda. This name was bestowed upon me by the boys at Preparation H. (I was unsure what a barracuda was. I thought it was some sort of fish, but then I couldn't understand the appropriateness of the nickname. When Miss Kelly explained that it was a compliment because the boys actually feared me, I swelled with pride).

I debated and beat them all. Make no mistake, they were all smarter that I was. I just happened to be a better liar. When they asked me for proof of a statement I had made, I calmly and quickly pulled supporting data out of my ass, like so: "The support for that assertion can be found in a July 14, 1989 New York Times article entitled "Legal Precedents Protecting Flag Burning Under the First Amendment", which stated...." I had an answer for everything. I just pretended that I was confident and strong and correct, and I projected that. The more debates I won, the better I felt about myself. I was less shy and more willing to meet new people. I felt myself becoming the person I knew was locked away somewhere.

During one meet, I was standing outside a classroom preparing for my next debate. I was approached by a handsome boy named Vito, and he started a conversation with me. I felt butterflies as we talked about school and friends, everything besides debate. (One of the bonuses of forensics was meeting and talking to boys. Going to an all-girl school, you didn't have to worry about wearing make-up every day. The disadvantage was, however, not having any boys to wear make-up for!)

During meets, we were constantly on the look-out for potential prom dates.

I was beginning to think Vito had potential. He actually seemed to be flirting with me, although I wasn't sure because no boy had ever flirted with me before. After about ten minutes, during which I was sure we were in love, the judge for my debate opened the door and said, "Noreen, Vito, are we all ready?" Vito looked at me and winked. He held the door open for me as my face reddened with embarrassed nerves. As I walked past him, he whispered, "I've always wanted to debate the barracuda". He had set me up, flirting with me to throw me off. I should have been furious, but I thought it was hysterical. I lost the debate pretty much as soon as it started. Every time Vito had his back to the judge, he would wink and smile at me, and I would collapse into giggles. I wasn't able to make any eye contact during my speech, and I couldn't put together any coherent arguments during rebuttals. I kept fantasizing about what would happen after the debate: where Vito would take me for dinner, what dress would offset my eyes at the prom, what college we would both attend. I was willing to sacrifice a victory to ensure our future happiness.
Vito was friendly but aloof after the debate. He wished me luck for the day, and hoped we had a chance to debate again. I looked wistfully after him as he walked down the corridor, my prom corsage wilting in my imagination. I placed third in the competition. Nancy Regan came in second. As Vito walked back to his friends with the first place trophy hoisted high above his head, he gave me one last boyish wink. My heart fluttered with the hope that my prom fantasy might still have a chance.