Free Missing the Big Picture by Luke Donovan Page A

Asian students looking at me. Instead of avoiding attention, that picture would catch anybody’s eye. Between work and clubs, I didn’t have much of a social life.
    I had a little crush on Zoey. She was cute, and if I could get over the voice, I think it would have been good. As springtime rolled around, I decided to ask her to the junior prom. I was too scared to ask her in person, so I decided to look up her address in the phone book and mail her a card asking her to go to the prom. The card that I picked out was probably a poor choice, though. The front said, “I was thinking of you,” and the inside said, “I got gas.” Then I wrote, “Will you go to the prom with me?” I had no game when it came to dating. She mailed me a note back saying she didn’t want to go. I didn’t end up going to junior prom, and when Randy and other people asked, I would simply say, “I can’t make it to prom this year—I have a fencing tournament.” I never did fence; I just thought it was a good excuse.
    My favorite class my junior year was a business class from a local community college called Organization and Management. The teacher, Mrs. Teague, was a Colonie High icon during the 1970s, ’80s, and ’90s. She was known for her laid-back persona and for being a grandmotherly figure. She always pronounced my name “Looseish” instead of “Lucas.” Once, when the class got off topic, one student said at twelve-thirty that marijuana was so easy to get, he could score some by two o’clock. Mrs. Teague responded, “Now, what if I wanted a hit man instead?” Mrs. Teague told every class a story about a girl who, instead of handing in her homework, handed in a suicide note. Mrs. Teague called the guidance counselor, who had the student’s phone number, and was able to talk to the student’s parents in time.
    Sometimes we had to give class presentations. Once we had to pick an advertisement and talk about it in front of the class. My ad, which I picked out of a library newspaper five minutes before class started, was for Macy’s. However, the word “Macy’s” was cut out of the ad, so I didn’t know what it was for thirty seconds before I had to give a presentation about it to the class. Luckily, Mrs. Teague said, “Well, he doesn’t have to even say it—that’s an ad for Macy’s.” I was lucky enough to fake my way the rest of my presentation. Another time I remember I had to give a presentation and I noticed that I had a hair hanging from my chin. While I was listening to everybody else’s presentations, I vehemently started pulling at my chin hair, which I did successfully again thirty seconds before my presentation started.
    My favorite part of the class was that it was very diverse, and everybody got along well. There were only fifteen students, three of whom were juniors. Another junior, Martin, was openly, flamboyantly gay—one of the few brave souls out at the time. In middle school, he received attention for tap dancing in spandex during talent shows. By the time he reached his junior year of high school, he was known for once saying to a gentleman outside of school, “If you got the length, I got the strength.” The other junior, Nora, was the class president and class heartthrob. She probably set a record for number of erections induced.
    As my junior year of high school came to a close, I started to get more depressed. Colonie was a big, suburban high school that had a lot to offer, especially socially. There were always parties on the weekends that would give the students something to talk about on Monday. Occasionally, somebody would get naked or go topless or a scandalous hookup would happen. However, it was the type of school at which even if somebody did something embarrassing, the person with the worst reputation would be the person who was never invited to the cool party.
    I was going to high school with kids who had spent all their lives feeling that the teenage years were supposed to be