I lived with my grandparents my senior year of high school and attended Shawnee Mission East. This is where I changed the sign out front three times, and then they left it blank the rest of the year. One day during second hour study hall, a friend and I drove around in his Ford Escort and drank a twelve pack of Heineken. We didn't do this every day, but pretty frequently. Then I had a watercolor class, they offered watercolors as an elective but the materials were crappy and the paper warped, it was kind of a pointless exercise. The teacher had a little radio, and I took it outside and popped in a Dead show and started painting, and another teacher got irritated by the noise and came and took the radio.
All well and good, until after lunch, in chemistry class, my counselor shows up and pulls me out into the hall. She smelled the beer on my breath, even though it was hours later, and she called my grandmother and my little old grandmother had to come and pick me up. She didn't say a word on the way home, or ever, about it. She worshiped the ground I walked on.
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