Waterbury Hills, CA, was the epicenter of the Hippies' movement of the 1960s and 70s. Now in 1990, things were a bit more mainstream, but still left of center compared to the rest of America. The locals held onto their very liberal outlook on life, and the transplanted residents generally found their way to Waterbury Hills intentionally.
Indeed, realtors regularly warned out-of-town transferees to carefully study the culture of the city and to decide if the very relaxed approach to life is a good match. “Let the buyer beware,” was the realtors’ unspoken mantra.
Sue Ellen and Roger Bastion thought that they knew what they and their teenaged children were getting into. At thirty-eight years old, Sue Ellen was hired on as the Chief of Nursing at the Waterbury Hills Hospital, and Roger, forty, was a business development consultant who spent most of the week on the road. He could live anywhere as long as there was an airport nearby.
Coming from Indiana, they felt like they could finally breathe and not be suffocated by the prudishness and closed-mindedness of their home state. They loved the beaches and the outdoors lifestyle of California. Had they been born earlier, they may well have been pot-smoking hippies who rarely wore shoes and said “groovy.” But they were corporate, even if only during the workday.
Sue Ellen and Roger had two children. Kelly was a freshman at Arizona State University and came home only during breaks. She was eighteen and very aggressive and serious about college. She wanted to finish college in three and a half years (or sooner) and go on to grad school or law school. Although cute and petite at five feet two and one hundred twenty pounds, she didn’t have time for boyfriends or other distractions.
Her brother, Kyle, was almost the opposite of her. He was a typical sixteen-year-old boy without a clue about college, career, or tomorrow. He was a happy-go-lucky adolescent who makes friends easily and charmed everyone with his unusually good looks and broad smile. Kyle ran, swims, plays tennis, and does yoga—all of which kept his athletic frame well proportioned and toned. His blond hair and new perpetual tan made him look more like a native than a transplant to Waterbury Hills. As self-assured as he may have appeared, Kyle was still sixteen with all the normal insecurities and awkwardness of adolescence as he entered his sophomore year of high school.
The Bastion family moved into their new community in July. Kelly met a few people her age, but then was quickly off to the start the new school year in Tempe. Kyle met a few acquaintances and made one good friend in the neighborhood, Jon, who, like Kyle, was also a sophomore and a cross-country runner.
School started at the end of August, but sports teams started two weeks prior. Jon helped Kyle get signed up for the team and showed him around the school. The school was smaller than Kyle’s old school in Indiana, and it had more of a family feeling. And it definitely reflected the open environment of Waterbury Hills.
----------------
“Great job everyone!” shouted Coach Barb.
“Absolutely terrific you guys!” cheered Coach Tim. “You look like the beginning of a state championship team if I ever saw one!
Waterbury Hills being Waterbury Hills meant that everyone used the coach’s first name with “Coach.” The team was of course coed and had a good mix of about sixty male and female runners. Coach Barb was a former champion cross country runner six years ago in college. She is still an avid marathon runner and triathlete.
Coach Tim was slightly older than Coach Barb and an ex-marine. He was a physical fitness fanatic, though he wasn’t a huge cross country athlete in school like Coach Barb. Competitive swimming was his sport. At thirty-eight, Coach Tim was big on discipline, while Coach Barb was more approachable and developed relationships with the runners.
It was a little hot for running with the afternoon temperatures hitting eighty-eight degrees.
“OK team, hit the showers and don’t leave until I come around to collect your permission forms and physicals,” Coach Barb announced.
Jon and Kyle headed to the locker rooms and peeled off their sweaty shirts. They could hear the guys in the open gang shower and the cool mist spilling out from the showers felt good on their overheated bodies. The boys pulled off their shoes and set them on top of the locker to dry off. Their socks were drenched with sweat and were pulled inside out as they came off their feet.
Kyle was used to showering with other guys from his last school. However, they were much more modest in Indiana. There the boys would wrap themselves in a towel and then pull their shorts down and walk to the individual shower stall. The only time they might be exposed to other boys, was if they quickly took their towel off to pull their underwear up. And you never, never, looked at anyone else who was naked. Some joked that the “towel dance” was the official state dance in Indiana!
Standing in his running shorts, Kyle asked Jon, “Where are the towels? I didn’t see them when we came in.”
Jon pulled his shorts down and threw them in his locker. Standing completely naked and facing Kyle, Jon said, “The coach hands them to us when we come out of the shower. Come on, let’s go!”
