Remember your senior year of highschool, and how at the end of the year, you’d have to do a “senior project” of sorts?
My senior project was a senior scrapbook.
A collection of memories from birth, to our senior year of highschool.
We were given the entire 2nd semester to work on it, but as a total A.D.D. slacker, I put it off to the absolute last minute.
I started spending all of my free time slapping things together.
I didn’t even care what pictures I used.
Usually, I was pretty vain when it came to pictures of myself, but I just went through old photo albums, selecting pics from each year that seemed to fit.
Trying to finish the writing and pick and paste the pictures was getting to be too much.
Since I made it clear I didn’t care, my mom made my 12 year old little sister help me pick out and paste the pictures.
She ended up asking me for approval for EVERY. Single. Picture.
Her interruptions got really annoying, as she was asking my opinion constantly, which kind of defeated the purpose of having her help.
At one point, I snapped at her.
“I TOLD YOU I DON’T CARE! Just pick whatever fits!” I snapped.
My sister huffed, but went to the albums and started angrily flipping pages.
If I were smart, I would have apologized.
If I were smart, I would have cared about what pictures were chosen.
If I were smart, I would have done it myself.
So, while I typed my written part out, my little sister pasted the selected photos into the appropriate catagorized pages.
It was the last night before it was due.
As I printed off pages, I even opted to let my sister slide them into the clear, laminated pages in the binder.
The next morning, I grabbed the scrapbook and headed to school.
When English class started, the entire class passed around their scrapbooks.
We were instructed to put a blank page next to each page in our scrapbook for classmates to comment if they felt like it.
My classmates and I passed the books around, flipping through and commenting on pictures.
For the most part, we all just kind of flipped through, settled on a page to comment on, wrote something generic, then passed it on as we recieved the next.
At one point, I found myself without a book, as I’d flipped through the last one too fast.
I looked around as I waited for a book to be passed to me.
My classmate, Eva suddenly gasped and looked up at me.
She looked back down at the scrapbook with a shocked look on her face.
She slowly smiled and started giggling.
She scribbled something, then nudged and passed it to Christina.
She pointed to the page, and just like Eva, Christina gasped with a look of shock, then looked up at me, smiled, blushed and laughed.
She too scribbled something and passed it.
As my book went from person to person, the reactions were either shock or laughter, and they weren’t even turning pages.
Even guys laughed and shook their heads.
Girls that had already had my book, got up to point and laugh with the other girls as they got my book.
After about half an hour or so, all the books had made it back to their respective student.
All except mine.
Every girl in class, and a few guys were still pointing and laughing, looking up at me, following my book around the room.
Finally, the last girl in class, Hannah, a mousy girl with big glasses got my book.
The girl who passed it to her pointed to a picture as she set it on her desk.
“Oh! Oh my gosh!” She gasped.
She looked up at me and blushed.
She scribbled something then shut my book, shaking her head.
She got up and walked over to me, clutching my scrapbook to her chest.
“Um, Miles, here’s your scrapbook. Hmhm!” She chuckled nervously.
“Why did you put that picture in there?” She asked.
“Wha-?” I asked.
“The one at the back. Hmhm!” She chuckled.
Several girls had come over to my desk as I turned to the back of my scrapbook.
They giggled as I flipped the pages.
I noticed that almost none of the other pages had comments.
Then, I saw it.
My heart stopped.
The girls all cooed and giggled.
The title across the top of the page read “Flexing For The Mirror”
The picture had been taken in secret from a cracked bathroom door.
In the picture, I was either 12 or 13, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, flexing my ropey, teen arms.
As if that wasn’t embarassing enough, I also happened to be completely naked, having obviously just gotten out of the shower!
My bare butt was on full display, but what most of the comments my classmates had written were about was what was clearly visible in the bathroom mirror.
My limp little penis hung over my tight little hairless balls!
It hit me that my sister had snuck this picture in, knowing I wouldn’t check!
My heart pounded in my ears as I looked around.
All the girls were pointing at the page and laughing!
I slammed the scrapbook shut, threw it in my bag and ran out of the classroom!
In my haste, I made a HUGE mistake.
Thanks to all the handling of THAT particular page in my scrapbook, the picture had come loose.
When I slammed the scrapbook shut, that particular picture had flitted to the floor.
But I just ran to the bathroom.
Safely in a locked stall, I flipped open the scrapbook to the page.
And began reading the comments.
There was one from every girl in class!
“Nice ‘muscle’
”“Cute butt!”
“Wow! Great shot!”
“Awww! Such a cute little cock!”
“Is it still that cute?”
“Wtf, dude?!”
“Who would have guessed you had such a cute butt?”
“Yummy!”
“So tiny!”
“Awww! So cute!”
“I wanna smack it!”
My eyes drifted over the picture, or rather, the dried glue stain from where the picture HAD been!
My heart sank.
I checked my bag, then retraced my steps out of the bathroom, all the way back to the classroom.
All eyes were on me as I traced back to my desk.
The picture was just- gone!
I sat down, putting the book back on my desk, trying to hide my panic.
“Whatcha looking for?” Hannah asked.
She sat down next to me.
“Um, that, uh, picture. From the back of my scrapbook.” I whispered.
“Which picture?” She asked innocently.
I just looked at her.
She held in a laugh as she adjusted her glasses.
“I’m sorry! Haha! What about your nudie pic?” She teased as she picked up my scrapbook and flipped to the back.
“Oh!” She gasped, turning the page back and forth, examining it. “Where’d it go?” She asked.
“I don’t know!” I gasped. “I didn’t even know it was in there!”
My voice cracked with nerves.
I figured it must have fallen out when I shut it!
“I’ll um, I’ll ask around.” Hannah stood and started walking around. “Hannah! Wait!” I just looked around.
Almost everyone was staring at me and talking to one another.
I flipped through my scrapbook again, seeing if I may have missed it.
No luck.
I looked at Hannah.
She was indeed going around asking about the picture.
Mostly to the girls.
My friend, Jonathan, sat down next to me.
“Dude! What the hell?! Why would you put that picture in there?” He asked, shaking his head.
“I didn’t!” I gasped, putting my head in my hands.
He noticed the page with the missing picture.
“At least you took ot out.” He shrugged.
“I didn’t!” I said.
I told him about it disappearing.
Jonathan didn’t press.
He just got up and started asking around.
After a few nerve wracking moments of stares and giggles, Hannah and Jonathan sat back down next to me.
“No one has it.” Jonathan shrugged.
Hannah cleared her throat.
“I know who has it.” She said.
“Who?!” I gasped, looking around.
“It’s safe. They took it so you wouldn’t get in trouble.” Hannah nodded at the teacher.
“Okay great. Who has it?” I asked.
We all looked again at our teacher.
“Ms Druthers?!” I gasped.
“Huh? No! Hmhm!” Hannah shook her head.
“Who then?!” I looked around.
“I, actually- can’t tell you.” She smirked shyly.
“Why?!” I gasped.
“It’s safe. Don’t worry.” She tried to reassure me.
A few more of my female classmates came over and asked to see the picture again, but I told them it was gone.
When I got home, I had no choice but to tell my parents what my sister had done.
She got in BIG trouble, and my parents were pissed.
For the rest of my senior year, I never found out who took the picture.
Outside of my English class, no one ever said anything.
But eventually, every girl in my english class asked me about the photo.
Each one was disappointed that it hadn’t been found, yet intrigued that it had gone missing.
He should apologize to her for his behavior and thank her for doing the work he should have done.
I know I would be embarrassed if it happened to me. Nice little story.