Fast Times at Ridgemont High - A True Story

The Rat Finds Out

It was just a feeling that Mark Ratner got. There had been a bunch of them all sitting around at a cookout down on Richards Bay. It was a group that was forming—Stacy, Linda, Damone, Ratner, Doug Stallworth, Randy Eddo, and Laurie Beckman. They had been having a good time, but there were little hints that The Rat didn’t quite understand.

Damone got up to leave. “I gotta get to work on some chemistry,” he said. “Come on, Mark.”

The Rat got up to leave with Damone. He heard an odd conversation behind him.

“That Damone sure works hard,” cracked Randy Eddo.

“He gets to play a little, too,” said Linda. “Doesn’t he, Stacy.”

There were knowing giggles. Giggles that made Mark Ratner think. When he reached the car, he mentioned it to Damone.

“Hey, is there anything between you and Stacy?”

Damone shook his head. “No.”

“Really?”

“No. Not really.”

“What do you mean, not really?”

“Let me tell you something, Mark.” Damone sighed. “Sometimes girls just go haywire. I went over to Stacy’s house to go swimming once—I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you ever since, ’cause you’re my bud—and we started messing around and . . .” Damone shrugged. “Something happened. It’s nothing serious, and it’s all over.”

The Rat said nothing.

“I don’t like her as a girlfriend,” said Damone.

The Rat said nothing.

“I don’t even like her as a friend that much. She’s pretty aggressive.”

The Rat started shaking his head. “No, Damone. I don’t understand.”

“She wasn’t really your girlfriend,” mumbled Damone.

“Hey, FUCK YOU, Damone. There are a lot of girls out there, and you mess around with Stacy. I can’t believe you. What have you got to PROVE?”

“I’m sorry,” said Damone.

“Jesus.”

“I always stick up for you,” said The Rat. “I always stick up for you. Whenever people say, ‘Aw that Damone is a loudmouth’—and they say that a lot—I say, ‘You just don’t know Damone.’ When someone says you’re an idiot, I tell them they just don’t know you. Well, you know, Damone, maybe they DO know you pretty GOOD. And I’m just finding out . . .”

“Fine,” said Damone. “Get lost.”

Ratner walked away and vowed never to speak to Mike Damone again. It didn’t make sense to him. For all the time The Rat had spent talking and dying over girls, he would never consider ruining his friendship with Damone over any one of them. Friendship—wasn’t that what it was all about? Apparently not to Damone.

Ratner kept to himself at school for the next several weeks. His first social appearance since the Damone incident was a dance for Marine World workers held at a local hotel. The Rat wore his green army-fatigue jacket and sat in a corner.

Two Marine World co-workers stood at another part of the dance. “Where’s Mark Ratner?” asked one.

“He’s over there,” said the other, “looking like he’s going through Vietnam flashback or something.”