The next morning, students were met with yet another curious sight. The steel letters were still gone from the green brick vanguard, but this was something else. Charles Jefferson’s Mustang had been wrecked and welded to the front flagpole. Spray-painted on the side: LINCOLN SURF NAZIS.
Homecoming
The next morning Charles Jefferson was insane. Beyond insane. By afternoon he was still wandering around lunch court speaking in half-sentences. “Someone will die . . . I had to fill out forms . . . I will find out who . . . someone will die.”
It was Homecoming Week. Ridgemont tradition held that the school spent this week getting psyched for the game against their rival, Lincoln High. In past years the students had viewed Homecoming Week as just another high school custom established by adults. This year was different. No one had counted on the kind of incentive that came when Charles Jefferson saw his smashed Mustang. By late afternoon he had joined the Ridgemont football squad. For Ridgemont, this was more activity during football season than they’d seen in twenty years.
It took exactly two days for Kenneth Quan, the A.S.B. president, who had campaigned on the slogan Bring Back Crazy Ridgemont Spirit, to figure out a way to take advantage of it. Quan proposed a closed student council meeting in which he would discuss the details of his special plan for Homecoming Week—a little thing called TOLO.
Leave it to Quan. TOLO began as a tease campaign in the school newspaper. “TOLO is coming.” Then signs went up around school. “Watch out for TOLO.” “TOLO is almost here.”
Rumors flew as to what TOLO actually was. TOLO was a big local band that would play at lunch. Or maybe TOLO was a secret bomb to unleash on the Lincoln Surf Nazis. Bootleg TOLO signs went up: “TOLO has been kidnapped.” “TOLO changed his mind.”
Then, finally, a mandatory assembly was called. There were some brief preliminary announcements about the mural being painted on the auditorium walls (From Chaplin to Travolta), then Quan took the podium for the big announcement.
Kenneth Quan was frenzied. Kenneth Quan was always frenzied. Campaigning for A.S.B. president at the end of last year, he had given about a million speeches about the importance of spirit and enthusiasm. Quan, the former boyfriend of Cindy Carr, gave you the impression that air raids were not out of the question when it came to school spirit.
“I have detected this year,” said Quan, speaking from the school podium in a high pitch, “a lot of students who want to see some spirit here at Ridgemont High. A lot of people are really anxious to get in there and do something for the school. But maybe they feel restrained, or that they aren’t cool enough. Maybe they are afraid they might draw attention to themselves.”
“Well, the A.S.B. has responded this year by decreeing next week TOLO.”
Boos. Hisses.
“Many people have asked, ‘Just what is TOLO?’ ” Quan gestured wildly with both hands. “TOLO . . . stands for Totally Outrageous. We’re all going to act Totally Outrageous. And starting this Monday, it’s TOLO Week!”
Quan had a whole schedule printed up in the next morning’s bulletin. The idea was that you geared up all week for the big homecoming game, the game where Charles Jefferson would attempt to avenge his Mustang. Quan had even made a program of dress, so that everyone could show total spirit during TOLO Week:
Monday—Tourist Day
Tuesday—Li’l Abner Day
Wednesday—Hollywood Day
Thursday—Red and Yellow Day
Friday—Punk or Disco Day
There were other activities during TOLO Week. Pie fights (in which twenty-five cents bought you a smock and small tin filled with whipped cream). Water balloon fights. A band at lunch. Quan had gotten it all approved by Principal Gray, to promote spirit on the week leading up to homecoming.
The hardcore surfers stood around the parking lot and grumbled all week. An amazing thing was happening to their school. The students were actually going along with TOLO. By Friday things had worked up to such a pitch, that most students, even the same people who swore they would never go along with pep and spirit and all that garbage, were dressed up like punks and gold-chained disco lizards.
Friday was also election day for Homecoming King and Queen.
Outside the gym, where voting took place at lunch time, the pie fight spilled out of its special ring. Jeff Spicoli told everyone he was going to nail Mr. Hand with a pie. He went out of the preordained pie-fight circle and went to stand by Hand, who was talking to another student. Everyone began to gather, waiting for the moment Spicoli would smash Hand with a pie.
Spicoli moved in slowly for the kill, holding the pie behind his back. He prepared for the perfect angle of attack. But something went wrong. Too many people knew. Another student got impatient and nailed someone else on the edge of the pie-fight circle. A small melee broke out. Pies everywhere. It was a TOLO free-for-all, and Hand strode out of lunch court in disgust before a drop of whipped cream could touch him.
The trash would sit for days afterward. “The A.S.B. thinks they run this school,” said the head janitor, Art Hertz. “Let them clean it up.”
In the gymnasium, voting was going on for Homecoming King and Queen. The winners would be announced during half time at the Lincoln game. The king and queen were to be crowned in the middle of the field, in front of the wildly cheering spectators, and then driven around the running track in a limousine.
On the ballot that Friday were eight nominees, four specimens each sex of quintessential maturity and adulthood:
—There was Cindy Carr, who would probably win Homecoming Queen because she had worked so hard for it in her two years at Ridgemont. She smiled at any- and everyone, and knew all their names.
—Then there was Betsy Rollins, who had come back from vacation this year with a nose job. And a new hairdo. Everything about her was now voluptuous and perfect. A late but strong challenger.
—Kip Davis was not to be discounted. She was the ultimate sun-kissed blonde, straight out of a Beach Boys song. That in itself carried a block vote, but Kip had also personally gone with half the senior class. Kip was the spoiler candidate of this race.
—But who could forget Sue Bailey, the black girl who dated only white boys. She had made a lot of friends this year, attracted a lot of attention, and had come on strong in the final moments.
The field for Homecoming King was even wider:
—Best bet was A.S.B. President Kenneth Quan. He was so full of spirit you almost couldn’t give it to anybody else. Every day, every lunch period, he was out there pressing the flesh, listening to students and appearing presidential.
—If sosh-dom was a small body of water, Chris Brody was the Pacific Ocean. He was a curly headed kid, always drying his squeaky-clean, lemon-tinted hair. He would walk down a hallway, chest puffed out, waiting for any girl he could bear hug until she screamed. Then he would ask her to loan him a dollar.
—Vincent Mathias . . . who knew how he had ended up on the list? He was a low-level football player, pompous as hell by reputation. He was always talking about how secret the Raiders’ plays were, then explaining exactly what they were and how they worked for him. He was always talking about getting out of school, but was the type who would never graduate.
—Gregg Adams had a shot. As Ridgemont’s biggest drama star and, of course, current boyfriend of Cindy Carr, he was a high-profile character. He emceed all the school events. He was at every football game. The guy really believed in living high school to the max.
After considering all the options, Jeff Spicoli voted for himself.