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     ## ##  ###    I S S U E   # 0 9 8        0 7 - 1 5 - 0 0   ###  ####   
    ###  # ###                                                   #######    
    ####  ###                    "I, Ione"                         ###       
     #######                      by Ione                                   
      ####                                                                  

        "I, Ione leave... Thank God!"  There it sat in the middle of "I leave
 my pom-poms to Christie and my locker to Jane!"  No one really noticed, but
 then again no one really noticed me, or so I thought.  I walked off the
 football field in 1995 cap and gown in tote and never looked back.  12 years
 of torture finally behind me.  Everyone else stood around in his or her
 little group hugging and crying.  Talking of trips to the beach, one last
 summer and being friends forever.  As they all drove off to project
 graduation honking their horns.  I walked home, and never looked back.  My
 graduation party consisted of 3 friends from out of town, my parents and a
 few relatives.  It was just fantastic.  On June 22 each year I'd take a
 moment and think, I wonder what happened to those 300 people who lived a
 life with me for 12 years.  Immediately I'd stop myself, because after all,
 no one thought about me.

        Until April 2000, I received a Green, White and Gold envelope bearing
 the infamous Tiger seal with the message "Where are you now?  The class of
 1995 cordially invites you to your 5 year high school reunion!"  A biography
 form was included and a post it note from our class president stuck on top.
 Jeanette (the president) and I fell next to each other in alphabetical order
 for 7 years.  I had 3 classes with her a year, our lockers were next to each
 other, and we were assigned seats next to each other more times than I can
 count.  We spoke once because she was crying, and not just like a little
 teenaged angst cry.  She was out right sobbing in the middle of math.
 Anyway, I said are you ok? She replied yes, so I handed her some tissues and
 that was the end of our profound conversation.  Five years later she wrote
 on her little purple post it, "I know you wont come, but just tell me where
 are you?  PS Thanks for the tissues."  Well of course I couldn't ignore this
 brilliant outreach from the homecoming queen, I mean this is the thing
 sitcoms and Molly Ringwald movies are made of!

        I figured I would fill out my biography, and throw in a picture and
 not go.  Unfortunately there were no outwardly ridiculous questions that I
 could come up with sarcastic answers for.  I cruised
 www.fatchicksinpartyhats.com for the perfect photo to include.  I was
 nearing the end of the questionnaire when I began to rethink my approach.

 Graduation Name:        Ione Kezia Bailey
 Current Name:           Ione Love Hewitt
 Age:                    Age is an Illusion
 Marital Status:         Polygamous
 Clubs/Activities:       The Breakfast Club, Cheerleader 1,2,3,4
 Occupation:             Phone Psychic
 Hobbies:                Grave robbing, torture, voodoo

 Most memorable Senior Will Quote:

        Senior will quote... Well honestly I had what I felt was the most
 memorable senior will, even though no one noticed it.  I decided, maybe for
 once it wouldn't completely suck to show everyone who I really am.  So, I
 wrote.

 Graduation Name:        Ione Kezia Bailey
 Current Name:           same
 City, State:            New York, NY
 Age:                    23
 Marital Status:         Single
 Clubs/Activities:       Art Club
 Occupation:             Mural Painter (I paint murals in hotels/houses I
                         work with various interior designers.)
 Hobbies:                yoga, and running

 Most memorable Senior Will Quote:  I, Ione leave, Thank God!

        There it was the real me for all to see.  I included a completely
 fabulous picture of me and some dear friends at a recent gallery show and
 off into the mail the information went.

        Two weeks later I received my invitation.  My high school gym, in the
 great Garden State drinking Coors Light with all the other Springsteen
 heads.  Oh I couldn't wait, hanging out with all my old friends thinking
 about all the great times we had.  Laughing at old jokes and singing old
 songs.  Wait no; piss on that.  What was I getting myself into?

        The day came, I put on a dress I've had for a few years, combed my
 hair and struck out over the bridge.  I briefly stopped at my parent's house
 to pet the dog.  Then it was time.  I walked up to that building a good hour
 after the time suggested on the invitation.  Everything was same, the gum on
 the walls and the peeling green paint on the lockers.  In front of the gym
 there was a check-in table.  Behind it sat a very pregnant Jeanette.  I
 handed her my invitation and she looked shocked.  "Oh, you showed," she said
 and then continued, "We had this bet, if you would respond or show, and
 about what you're doing, I knew the tissues thing would get your attention."

        I tried to be a good sport, "So, who won?"

        "I did sort of, I won't part of it, because I said you would respond.
 Kim won the other part because you'd have a job, I really thought you would
 be homeless," she stated with a totally straight face.

        "I don't know who Kim is," I replied as I put my shawl back on and
 headed towards the door.

        At first I was furious.  A nasty remark from a girl I have never done
 anything to.  Completely unwarranted.  Suddenly I was 14 with my straight
 hair and my Doc Martens in a world of Bon Jovi and Cavariccis.

        Then I realized when all is said and done, I'm way cooler than all of
 them and they just can't deal with it.  I have a cool job, I live in the
 city, and my social life is like something they only watch on HBO.  I guess
 my mom was right all those years.  They're just jealous.  5 years from now
 when I start to wonder what happened to all those sweet people, I'll bag the
 reunion and spend the $4 on the yearbook.

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 # (c)2000 aNAda e'zine                               aNAda098 .*.  by Ione #
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