Rock and Roll High School: Growing Up in Hollywood During the Decade of Decadence

by Marisa Tellez

  I decided to let Lucy and Christy’s sabotage of Ryan slide for the time being. I wasn’t about to fight with them and jeopardize us coming back for the 2nd day of the festival. After meeting Candy, we strolled around for a bit and made our way to the stage where Guns N’ Roses and Poison were supposed to play. When we got near the stage, a security guard told us we had just missed Guns N’ Roses. I was pissed. He said there was a water leak near the stage during the Guns set, so as not to risk anyone getting electrocuted, their set had been cut short. I asked when Poison would be on, and he said they cancelled.

  Lucy and I continued to be on our best behavior for the rest of the afternoon. And since the day went off without a hitch, my dad agreed to take us the next day to see Jane’s Addiction and Gene Loves Jezebel.

  On day 2 of the festival, we caught Gene Loves Jezebel’s set and grabbed a bite to eat. Unfortunately, we ended up missing Jane’s Addiction. We were missing all the bands we wanted to see, and I was pissed. We strolled around for a little while longer, eating delicious international foods and catching a song or two from random bands playing on the various stages. Since the only bands we really cared to see had already played, we decided to head home early.

  When we got home, my mom was watching TV in the living room, so we joined her. She was watching a news report about a small riot that had erupted at the L.A. Street Scene shortly after we left the day before.

  “Man, we miss all the fun!” I said with my arms crossed. I was so glad my parents didn’t find out about the riot earlier. There’s no way in hell my dad would’ve taken us back to the festival for the 2nd day if he’d known that had happened. It was also reported that in addition to the small riot from the day before, a few stabbings and at least one shooting had taken place within the last hour.

  A short time later, it was publicly announced that the L.A. Street Scene would be no more. After nine years of having the festival, the violence that ensued over those two days had ruined the fun for all of us. I also found out that Poison didn’t cancel their set after all. They went on to play shortly after the water spillage/electrical issue got cleaned up. I was pissed.

  About a week or so later, I started the 8th grade at Muscatel Junior High, and it was a really weird time for me. For some reason, I had a wild hair up my ass and wasn’t getting along with Sadie and the rest of the girls. I would get in random spats with them over stupid shit. It was always me against one of them, they never argued with each other. Everything they did was getting on my last nerve. So after another stupid fight, I abruptly left them and began hanging out with my friend Vickie and her friends, Nancy and Drita, who were all fellow 8th graders.

  Drita, Nancy, and Vickie were the most popular girls in school, which was certainly a far social leap from my Buckie Beaver days.

  Vickie’s hair was a weird shade of orange. This was due to weeks of her spraying a hair color lightener called Sun-In in her long wavy locks. She was supposed to be a freshman in high school but flunked and was held back a year. Drita and Nancy had long, curly black hair. They were best friends who constantly smacked bubblegum and wore way too much makeup. They were total wannabe cholas, especially Drita, who was basically the ringleader of that little group. Nancy was always nice to me, but as for Drita, well, she was civil to me. She wasn’t a total bitch, but she wasn’t very friendly to me either. I always got a vibe off her like she felt I wasn’t worthy to be hanging around in her circle.

  I was a bit shell shocked during the first few days of hanging out with the popular girls because I wasn’t used to getting so much attention from the other kids in school. Although I was missing Sadie and the rest of the girls, I was most definitely enjoying the perks of my new social standing.

  During lunch one day, Vickie, Drita, Nancy, and myself had just gotten our food in the cafeteria and were looking for a place to sit. Drita noticed an empty table next to the biggest nerds in Grade 8, so we headed in that direction. We all put our trays down on the table except for Drita. She walked over to the table of nerds and leaned over the shoulder of a bookworm named Jennifer.

  “I don’t appreciate you making me look dumb in class today. If you pull that shit again, I’ll beat your ass, got it?” Drita said in her ear.

  Jennifer said nothing. She just sat there stiff as a board with her eyes bugged out through her horn-rimmed glasses.

  The incident Drita was referring to happened earlier that day in English class. Drita messed up an answer when our teacher called on her, so Jennifer immediately raised her hand to give the correct answer. I don’t think she did it to make Drita look dumb, she was just one of those nerdy kids who knew the answers to everything.

  I felt so bad for Jennifer as she sat there frozen. She looked like she was going to drop dead of a heart attack. Drita was being such a bitch over something so stupid. But that’s what she was, a pompous bitch with an unbelievable sense of entitlement. I needed to find a way to save Jennifer without getting my own ass kicked, so I nonchalantly told Drita that Jennifer wasn’t worth the time. Luckily, Drita agreed and decided to back off. She took a seat at our table and laughed. Vickie and Nancy joined in while I stayed quiet as a mouse. Needless to say, the whole incident left a really bad taste in my mouth.

  When I got home from school that afternoon, I began reevaluating who my friends were. I really liked Vickie, but as a group coupled with Nancy and Drita, not so much. I didn’t really find interest in the things they liked, and the things they laughed about, I didn’t find funny. Having Drita walk around the school on her high horse was one thing. But threatening Jennifer for no good reason was the deal breaker for me. As someone who had been bullied first hand for years, I knew those were people I didn’t want to be associated with.

  A few days after the Jennifer incident, I called Carla. She asked how things were going, and I said I wasn’t too happy hanging out with Vickie, Drita, and Nancy. That’s when she told me she missed me, that all the girls missed me. I told her I missed them too. After a few minutes of catching up on our latest happenings, she invited me to sit with her and the girls during lunch at school the next day. I happily accepted.

  When I had lunch with Carla, Sadie, and Tasha the next afternoon, it felt like I had never left them. We picked up on each others little jokes and things seemed to be back in sync with no bickering what so ever. I finally felt like I could breathe again and just be me.

  Although I retained my friendship with Vickie, I never went back to hanging out with her, Drita, and Nancy again.

  A few weeks later, Drita came to school with a black eye and her tail between her legs. The rumor around school was she had been badmouthing a REAL chola named Leticia, who was a sophomore at Rosemead High. Leticia “allegedly” beat the stuffing out of her at Rosemead Park, while Vickie and Nancy stood by and did nothing to help Drita. I certainly don’t advocate violence, but Leticia must have beaten the bitch right out of Drita because her attitude dropped drastically after that fight. She never quite walked with the same egotistical swagger for the rest of the school year.

  Joining forces again with the girls couldn’t have come at a better time because I was in desperate need of help with Brandon. I hadn’t really talked to him since he left to Rosemead High, so I wanted to call him and make sure he didn’t forget about me during our separation. The issue was that I had never called him on the phone before. I didn’t have a reason to since we always saw each other at school everyday. But after a few motivating words from the girls, which was them telling me to stop being such a big chicken, I finally got the balls to call him.

  During my conversation with Brandon, he mentioned he had just bought a VHS tape of Mötley Crüe’s documentary, Uncensored. He hadn’t seen it yet, so he invited me over to watch it. I calmly told him that sounded cool, and we made plans for me to go over his house the following week after school. The moment we hung up, I immediately party lined Carla and Sadie. I was jumping up and down, squealing like a pig as I told them the news. Then the reality hit me th
at I was actually going to his house. That’s when my joy turned to absolute terror.

  I was only 12 and never kissed a boy before. I hadn’t even experienced a simple peck. Most girls my age had made out with at least one boy, if not more. What if he tried to kiss me? I didn’t know how to French kiss. Would I not use enough tongue? Or would I use too much tongue and end up swallowing his face?

  The next day at school, Carla mentioned she had stumbled across her stepfather’s porn stash and suggested I watch it to get some pointers for my pseudo date with Brandon.

  “Are you crazy? I don’t want to have sex!” I said to Carla, totally mortified.

  “I know you’re not having sex, but you can watch the making out at least,” she said.

  “Is there making out in porn?” I asked cluelessly.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen one before either,” she said.

  So we made plans to ditch school the following day with Sadie and Tasha to check out the porn tapes. It was my first ditch day ever.

  When our classes broke for lunch the next day, we scattered across the schoolyard like a bunch of roaches. We felt it was less conspicuous sneaking out of school individually, as opposed to a group. Everyone made it off campus without getting caught, and we met up at Carla’s house about a block away.

  Carla’s mom and stepdad both worked during the day, so that gave us free reign of the house. We immediately raided the kitchen, making popcorn and other snacks as if we were about to watch a normal movie. The four of us gathered in the living room with our freshly made treats as Carla ran to a small closet in the hallway and pulled out a VHS tape. She came back to the living room and popped the tape into her VCR. Within mere moments, I was totally creeped out.

  The movie was bad 70’s porn with the typical role-play of a male teacher and a schoolgirl. It started with them making out, then progressed to them stripping each other’s clothes off and exposing their wild pubic hair. There it was, plain as day on the snowy VHS tape that Carla had to keep adjusting the tracking on, my first penis and set of balls. Damn they were huge! The teacher began to spray shaving cream on the girls’ crotch and pulled out a razor. We all looked at each other completely confused.

  “Is that what sex is? You dress up in weird costumes and shave each other? I had no idea it was such a production,” I said utterly perplexed.

  I sensed the girls were just as grossed out as I was because no one was saying a word. I asked Carla to shut the tape off just as the teacher started to shave the girl down. The little bit of making out I did see, didn’t look like anything I could or wanted to learn from anyway. So we threw in a tape of Sixteen Candles and tried to enjoy the rest of our afternoon.

  The following week, I showed up to Brandon’s house on a random day after school. He greeted me at the door in a pair of jeans, some white and black-checkered vans, and a white Ocean Pacific t-shirt. I walked into his living room to find it really was JUST us two. I was excited, yet terrified.

  I sat down on the sofa and noticed bowls of chips and nuts sitting on a coffee table in front of me. He asked me if I wanted a soda and a sandwich. I declined on the latter because bread is the kiss of death when you have braces. You can’t bite into it because it gets stuck everywhere. If you have to eat it, the best thing to do is tear it into small pieces and throw it in the back of your throat.

  Brandon came back to the living room with a sandwich in hand and soda’s for both of us. He popped in a VHS tape of Mötley Crüe’s Uncensored and took a seat in a reclining chair next to me, not on the sofa I was sitting on.

  Oh. So we really were just going to watch the Mötley tape. Not that I was expecting him to dress like a teacher and attempt to shave my private parts, but I thought he would at least try to sit next to me and give me a smooch.

  I was so nervous that I started stuffing my face with nuts and chips as he told me about a band called The Cult, who he was a huge fan of.

  We ended up talking through most of the Mötley video. He told me about a new skateboard he had just bought and what life was like in high school as opposed to junior high. But as he babbled on, I wondered in the back of my mind when or if he was going to make a move on me.

  When the video ended, we had a moment of awkward silence. We stared at each other, waiting for the other to say something. I got so nervous that I stupidly told him I had to go even though that was the LAST thing I wanted to do. He walked over to me, thanked me for coming over and smiled. Our faces were mere inches away from each other. I thought for sure he was going to kiss me, so I began to close my eyes.

  “Did you get taller over the summer?” he asked.

  I quickly opened my eyes.

  “Yeah, damn that puberty,” I said mildly disappointed.

  I was so pissed at myself for saying I had to leave. I wanted another shot at hanging out with Brandon, but I was too embarrassed to ask. After a few more moments of awkward silence, he chimed in.

  “Are you going to summer school at Rosemead after you graduate Muscatel?” he asked.

  “I sure am. Are you?” I asked.

  “Yeah, probably. I guess I’ll see you then!”

  Ugh. Brutal.

  But I’ve never been one to give up on something I want though. I may have failed at Janson but at least I made some headway at Muscatel by creating a friendship between the two of us. So once I got to Rosemead High, I was determined to win the affections of Brandon.

  Meanwhile, I was eagerly anticipating a major turning point in my life. I squealed with pre-teen delight as I counted down the days until my 13th birthday! I wondered if there would be any sudden changes after turning 13. Would I wake up one morning looking like Dolly Parton? Get my first pimple? Suffer a bad case of teen angst that I heard so much about? I didn’t feel angry…

  On the same note, Carla, Sadie, and Tasha had started surfing the crimson wave over the last few months. I was the only one in our little group who had yet to suffer the curse. So until I joined the land of cramps and water retention with the rest of my girlfriends, I would have to find something else to occupy my time. And thanks to Sadie, making my official debut on The Sunset Strip was just the distraction I needed.

  Tony, one of Sadie’s older brothers, happened to play bass in a band called Sapphire. She mentioned they had just booked their first show at The Whisky A Go Go, so of course I squealed at the opportunity to make my way back to Hollywood!

  By the grace of god, my parents allowed me to go to the show. I'm sure the thought of a 13-year-old girl going to a rock club in Hollywood sounds scandalous, but it was more like a glorified family field trip. The only reason they let me go was because both of Sadie’s parents and all her siblings would be there too.

  I could barely contain myself the day of Tony’s show. I ran home from school, grabbed Mötley’s new album, Theatre of Pain to listen to, and barricaded the bathroom. I didn’t want anyone bothering me while I got ready.

  I emerged an hour later, dressed and ready to go. My hair was stiff as a board, yet I still felt I needed more hair spray. I grabbed the white and pink can of Aqua Net Extra Super Hold, held my breath, and sprayed a flammable halo around my head.

  If you used the pink and silver can of Aqua Net, you were incapable of having a normal hairstyle. So to go along with my ridiculous hair, I had an equally ridiculous outfit to match. I wore a black shredded tank top, flat suede boots with a chain around each ankle, and leopard printed stretch pants with a headband to match.

  Once I finished getting ready, the only thing left to do was wait for my ride. I paced back and forth in my bedroom waiting for Sadie to pick me up. I was so amped about going to the show that I’d bum rush my bedroom window every time I heard a car come down my street.

  About a half hour later, a clunky, silver pickup truck blaring “Highway to Hell” raced up my driveway. I grabbed my purse and ran out the door.

  Sadie’s oldest brother Tom was driving. They had a few siblings in the front seat, so Sadie and I hopped into the b
ack camper shell. We hadn’t been sitting more than a few seconds when Tom tore out of my driveway like an ambulance driver, which caused Sadie and I to tumble across the bed of the truck like pieces of fruit.

  We raced down the 10 freeway and hit traffic near downtown L.A. thank god, because it was the only thing that got Tom to slow down. I peeked my dizzy head up, looked at the downtown skyline, and saw a freeway sign that read “101 Hollywood”. I got a little chill of excitement, quickly pulled a small can of Aqua Net out from my purse, and started touching up my hair.

  Twenty minutes later, Tom pulled into the back parking lot of The Whisky. Sadie and I happily ditched her siblings and stumbled down the slanted parking lot. I immediately noticed a big chested blonde. She was wearing a black bustier, tight leopard mini skirt, and black heels. She emerged from a black corvette nearby, and I looked at her in awe, hoping that my gangly frame would mold out to look like hers someday. I wondered how big my boobs were going to get and if I’d ever grow out of my training bra. Sadie and I followed the voluptuous girl to the front door of The Whisky where she strolled right in. I walked up to the doorman and handed him my ticket.

  “Put out both your hands,” he said.

  I put out my hands and smiled at him, wondering what he was going to give me.

  “Palms down,” he said sternly.

  He grabbed a black marker out of his back pocket, pulled the cap off with his teeth, and drew a big black “X” on the back of each of my hands. And just like that, within a few minutes of being in the Hollywood scene, I had been marked with the ultimate scarlet letter. Those “X's” were hostile and totally uncool. Actually, looking back on it now, the outfit I had on was way worse. But hey, I was only 13 and didn’t know any better.