Fall 1988
Shela...Shela...she like a hurricane
Shela...Shela...she like a ball and chain
The great lost Aerosmith tune that only rockers know would echo in Nick's chamber whenever her name came up in Mythology class.
He'd taken the class even after Irene briefly freaked out thinking it was a religion thing, no, it's to help you think. Well, okay then. It's offered to the upper two classes only.
She - Sheila, spelled differently than the song - is a senior, just another girl at first who he'd never known about until this class.
She never looks his way but is a pro at being Sheila, her job is to talk to other girls about the things most important to birds of a feather.
She's not a brunette or blond but in between, sandy blond, light brown, always combed and freshly cut, her makeup perfect, she blends in except for some reason. Sheila. Eyes are dark, at least from passing glances. His, not hers.
She doesn't usually wear jeans but those other kinds of pants, with the gathers, always coordinated, as if professionally. Maybe that's another part of her job is to be well put together.
She is mild yet attentive, doesn't draw attention to herself, not intentionally, except for his.
She is a senior and therefore in a different plane of existence – not that Nick hasn’t been around older gals, but it’s in her court to pull him into her world.
She is not thin but not chunky, about five foot six. Sheila.
She is probably really close to her mother.
She might play sports but who knows, of course, that would mean she’d have to be well put together in whatever uniform or gear. Sheila.
Over the decades the movie industry has noted that the classical Greek trials and tribulations lend themselves to features, and teachers, so here and there they spend a couple hours a week watching videos, the lights are down, Nick's mind finds itself on a really soft bed with a really soft Sheila, lying on their sides, he's sliding off her gathered pants and whatever lies beneath is at the ready, Sheila, in a quiet, receptive state, C-cup bosoms in a C-cup bra, and once the set-up is all set up his mind wonders how this could ever come to be.
The problem with physical relations is it generally requires social interaction which in turn requires social ambition. These kinds of notions always start at Point B with the Point A and all in between left as an exercise for the reader, as math texts like to say.
This is near the point in the semester that Nick realizes that mythology class is a lot of memorization of names and facts, despite having the coolest teacher in the building, he finishes with a C and life goes on as Sheila fades into the haze.