"...So, who can tell me where the Barbary Wars were fought?" DeMartino asked a class that was mostly half-asleep. "Stacy!"
Stacy's head jerked up, eyes wide. "Uh...the Malibu Dream House?"
Ted noted his teacher's eye convulsion and made a small tally mark on a sheet of paper he'd set aside for the purpose of tracking them. While Mr. DeMartino explained the difference between nineteenth-century pirates and cheap plastic molded into the shape of a plummeting body image, Ted quickly counted and was surprised to find that today's number was far below the man's daily average.
At that moment, Principal Li walked into the classroom. Oh, Ted thought with relief. This should help him catch up.
"Good morning, students," Ms. Li said cheerfully. "I just stopped by to tell you that the school dance is in two weeks."
Stacy and a few of her friends began eagerly whispering to each other at the back of the room at this news. He caught a few snippets involving dress shopping and makeovers before turning his attention back to Ms. Li. "Security is going to be very tight," she was telling the class, "so I'm warning you not to even think about rigging a bucket of pig's blood to the rafters!" And with that, she left.
The girls at the back stopped their discussion and let out a simultaneous "Ewww!"
Pig's blood?! Ted straightened up in his seat. I had no idea school dances were so...eclectic in their activities! Here I'd assumed that school dances were just for, well, dancing, but it seems there's a primitive, even ritualistic aspect to it. Clearly I have a great deal yet to learn about being a teenager.
Ted put away his page, having lost interest in tracking Mr. DeMartino's eyeball bulges in favor of a new project. Ever since I first read the works of Jane Goodall I've dreamed of becoming an anthropologist. Perhaps this is my chance to study a hitherto-unknown adolescent ritual. I might even be able to publish a research paper on the topic!
The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. For once, his invisibility would be an asset instead of an annoyance; he could observe the dance without being noticed. It was a foolproof way to avoid interfering with the research subjects.
The only question is, am I supposed to bring my own pig's blood or will it be provided on-site?
Ted was on his way to his locker after class when he found his path blocked by an in-progress argument between Brittany and Kevin.
"You callous oaf!" Brittany shrieked, hitting Kevin.
"Ow!" Kevin said, wincing. "What?"
"Did you forget the last dance, when I caught you making out with Zoe?"
Ted, who had been about to edge past the quarreling couple, stopped at the promise of new information for his research. Making out? he wondered as the argument continued. What does that mean? I seem to lack even the basic vocabulary to study this event. Does it relate to dancing? Mating? Gum?
He almost considered trying the library, but then he remembered that the library's collection hadn't been updated for almost twenty years for mysterious budget reasons that the librarians refused to discuss aside from a muttered reference to dictators in pantsuits.
"It's over!" Brittany shouted, breaking Ted's concentration. "And this time I mean it!" She stormed off.
"Oh, yeah?" Kevin called out. "It's double over for me!" Then he, too, stomped off down the hall.
Ted started toward his locker again, but on his way he heard a nearby Daria Morgendorffer say, "Forget it. That species mates for life."
Of course! Ted thought with sudden understanding. In certain animal species, dancing is used as a mating ritual. Could it be that school dances serve the same purpose?
Still walking, Ted pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and began making some preliminary notes.
School dance = group attempt at sensual movement intended to entice a desired mate into copulation?
Ted chuckled to himself. But surely no official school function would allow such lasciviousness to take place, and I'm certain teenagers are much more civilized than hormone-driven wild animals.
A new opportunity for research appeared later that day after Language Arts class, when Mr. O'Neill announced, "Oh, um, class, before you go, we're still looking for someone to head the dance committee! Remember, to volunteer is to say 'I care.'"
Ted almost headed straight over to the teacher to sign up, but then he hesitated. If I help organize the dance, then I'll compromise the data and I won't have an accurate view of the event. Reluctantly he stepped back, allowing a group of girls to approach the teacher instead while he jotted a few thoughts in his notebook.
Unlike the spontaneous displays seen in the animal kingdom, mating dances for human teenagers are carefully planned in advance using highly structured methods involving committees. These are staffed by volunteers, presumably driven to help by the altruistic desire to help propagate the species.
For just a moment he considered the idea of asking the girls if he could join the committee as a non-participating member so that he could observe their work. Before he could ask them, though, one of the girls grabbed two of her friends and dragged them quietly out of the room, leaving the lone remaining girl on her own.
I must not be the only budding anthropologist who fears skewing the results. Following their example, Ted quickly slipped out of the room before his presence could become disruptive to the natives.
As he left school that afternoon, Ted saw Brittany and Kevin glaring at each other in the parking lot. He crept closer, trying to remain unseen as he pulled his notebook out. The perfect opportunity to examine my hypothesis regarding mating rituals!
While he watched, Brittany took the keys to her car out of her backpack and immediately dropped them. Eyes locked on Kevin, she slowly reached down and picked them up, then brought herself back up to a standing position so quickly that certain parts of her body bounced forcefully for several seconds afterward. Ted thought that this was a very inefficient way to pick up a dropped object, but Kevin's cheeks looked pink and he suddenly appeared very uncomfortable.
This must be another, separate ritual within the teenage mating dance, Ted suddenly realized. He pulled out his notebook and began taking detailed notes as Kevin took out his keys and dropped them as well.
The male participant mimics the behavior of the female, as what would initially look like a clumsy accident takes on a very nuanced and complex display.
Kevin, like Brittany, slowly reached down to the ground for his keys, and as he stretched out his hand for them Ted noticed that he was flexing his muscles hard--so hard, one might assume the keys had to weigh at least two hundred pounds to require such effort. Once the keys were back in his possession, Kevin stood up...whacking his head on his Jeep's side mirror as he did so.
When the male accidentally injures himself, presumably his chances of success decrease because--
Ted stopped writing when he noticed that Brittany was laughing uproariously. Hmm, he thought. On second thought, perhaps that was an intentional choice, calculated to induce an amused reaction in the female? Seeing the obviously pained expression on Kevin's face as he rubbed the back of his head, Ted winced sympathetically. The incident is clearly not humorous to both participants.
Kevin sneaked a glance toward Brittany to check her reaction. Brittany was now idly leaning against her car, and when she noticed Kevin was watching she languidly stretched until she was practically draped over the hood.
The female is either presenting...or has injured herself and is unable to remain upright.
Kevin seemed to take it as the former, and started to walk toward Brittany. Brittany, however, lifted her nose in the air, got abruptly into her car, and drove off with a squeal of her tires.
The male approaches but is rebuffed, and the female flees from his mating call.
Before she drove out of sight, Ted saw her hold up a hand and make a signal of some kind with one of her fingers. He wondered momentarily if it might be a sign that she was still interested, but Kevin's angry reaction suggested otherwise.
Kevin turned around and returned to his Jeep. He started to unlock the car door, but in his frustration he fumbled the keys and they landed at his feet. He picked them up, this time leaving out the flexed muscles but repeating the banged head. Ted, looking more carefully, noticed a slight head-shaped dent on the underside of the mirror. With a plaintive "Aw, man!" Kevin climbed into the car and drove away.
Ted put away his notebook, carefully thinking over what he had observed. I do hope a successful mating dance doesn't require too many repetitions like that. I'm not sure the poor young man would survive.
"But what about the baby?!" The shout jolted Ted out of his thoughts before school the next morning, and he looked up in time to see Kevin walking away from Daria and her friend.
"Oh, dear," he murmured, wondering if he already needed to revise his causal hypothesis regarding the mating and school dances. It seems that successful reproduction has been achieved even before the dance has occurred!
Kevin passed Ted at that moment, and Ted decided to try a slightly more direct route for information. "Excuse me?" he asked the boy. Kevin stopped and looked at him in confusion. "Yes," Ted said with a sigh. "We've interacted directly many times over the past few months, and yet I'm certain you have no idea who I am. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, may I ask you a few questions about you and Brittany?"
Clenching a fist, Kevin leaned toward Ted threateningly. Ted just smiled back, waiting for an answer. "You're not gonna ask Britt to go to the dance with you, are you?" Kevin growled. "Because if you do, uh, I'll...." Some flicker of self-preservation must have triggered a vague memory in Kevin's brain, because suddenly he backed off and held his hands protectively behind his back and out of grip contest range. "Uh, just don't," he said in a faintly warning tone.
"Oh, no," Ted assured him. "I won't ask her to the dance. It would skew the data, I'm sure!" He frowned. "But...wait. Are students expected to arrive at the event in pairs? If I come alone, will that create an anomaly?"
"Naw, people can go to dances alone," Kevin replied, shrugging. "I mean, some people. Not me, of course, but other people. Y'know, losers."
As Kevin sauntered away, Ted got out his notebook again and began frantically scribbling notes.
Mating ritual only successful if participants arrive at dance already in pairs? Failure to find a mate before the dance occurs causes one to "lose" at one's reproduction attempt? The utter complexity of human mating boggles the mind. How can we possibly have survived this long as a species?
Ted flipped the notebook shut and put it away with a sad sigh. I think I know less about school dances now than when I started. Not only that, but there is a strong possibility that I, as a "loser," will not even be allowed to attend.
At that point, the red-haired girl who'd signed up for the dance committee came out of Mr. O'Neill's classroom with a worried look on her face. She scanned the area with a frown of concentration, stopping when she spotted Ted. Instantly her face lit up with a grin that, if Ted didn't know better, would look insincere. "Hiiii!" she called out, bouncing over to him with a fluttery little wave.
"Um...hello," Ted replied, startled. Although he welcomed the rare attention from a fellow student, he was wary of getting too involved with his research subjects. What Would Jane Goodall Do?
"I'm Quinn," the girl said, leaning forward in a way that Ted had heard was considered "flirty." "Would you be interested in serving on a dance committee? Or even, you know, taking over?"
"Me?" Ted shook his head. "Oh, no. I couldn't possibly risk influencing the data."
"Uh...what?"
"But I'm glad you approached me! You see, I have a problem that I hope you can help me with. I lack a partner for the dance."
"Partner?" Quinn asked, puzzled. "Do you mean a date?"
"Is that the preferred term?" Ted asked, making a quick vocabulary note in his notebook. "Oooh, I have an idea. Maybe we could go to the dance together! As a date!"
Quinn's puzzled look shifted immediately to horror. "Date? Me? You?" She stared at him, and gradually she stopped moving, blinking, or even (Ted feared) breathing. After a few moments of standing frozen in place, the girl seemed to reawaken. She shook herself slightly and looked at Ted without a hint of recognition or a sign that she recalled what had just taken place. "Gotta go!" she said, turning quickly and walking away.
Ted, confused, made another note in his notebook: Overt talk of pairing off for the dance may cause temporary paralysis in the female of the species, as well as short term memory loss.
He decided it would be best to just risk ostracization by going alone to the dance. I would hate to be the cause of permanent damage to any of the female students.
The next day, Ted overheard talk about a party at Sandi Griffin's house. At first he was thrilled--like school dances, he had yet to experience a high school party firsthand and felt eager to expand his research to more uncharted territory. He had heard rumors about teen parties, most of them involving excessive qualities of alcoholic beverages and roving bands of people known as "crashers."
Then he learned that the party was on the same night as the school dance. Now I suppose I'll have to choose between the two, he thought unhappily. The work of a research anthropologist is never easy, I suppose.
While he was mulling over his dilemma, he passed by the gym and heard a strange noise. Curious, he poked his head through the door and gaped in astonishment.
As far as he could tell, several cans of paint had exploded simultaneously. He hadn't heard any loud noises recently, but he couldn't think of any other explanation for the floor-to-ceiling splatter of paint. Quickly looking around the room, he spotted a lone figure slumped over in a chair, unconscious.
Oh, dear!" Ted exclaimed, running over as he mentally went over what he knew about first aid. "Are you all right?" he asked the poor victim. "Can you hear me? Are you able to move?"
"Mmmmmrrrr?" The person stirred and sat up, and Ted recognized Daria's friend Jane. She blinked sleepily at him, then looked around the gym. Now wide awake, she jumped up and reached for a paintbrush. "Out!" she called over her shoulder at him. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to squeeze my massive artistic vision into the suffocating limitations of decorating for a school dance? No free previews!"
"Oh! It's for the dance!" Ted exclaimed, understanding now. Seeing that there had been no disaster and his presence was unwelcome, he hurried out and then reached for his notebook.
The setting of the mating dance is very important, requiring a grueling schedule of preparation. The end result appears to be a dizzying background intended to disorient the participants. This would presumably be assisted by the dazzlingly bright colors and lingering paint fumes.
The night of the party and the dance arrived, and Ted finally decided to observe both. While he wouldn't be able to spend as much time researching either rite of passage in depth, he decided that gathering even a small amount of data on both was preferable to missing either one.
That evening, Ted put the finishing touches on his outfit--a black tuxedo complete with a bowtie and cuff links. He fretted briefly in front of the mirror, wondering if perhaps he was dressed too informally, but he had been unable to find a tailcoat and cravat in time for the events. It will have to do, he sighed, hoping no one would think less of him for committing the fashion faux pas of wearing a waistcoat with a double-breasted jacket.
Finally satisfied with his appearance, Ted left his room and went downstairs. He stopped in the kitchen before he left, where his parents were putting together a salad. "Are you sure this kale is okay?" Grant asked, frowning at the leaves. "It looks kind of genetically modified."
"It better not be," Leslie grumbled as she poured some quinoa into the bowl. "I'm pretty sure the guy at the farmer's market is trying to scam us with nonorganic tomatoes, though. I tried calling the police about it, but can you believe they hung up on me?" She noticed Ted. "Why are you so dressed up?"
"I'm going out to conduct some field research," Ted explained.
Grant blinked at him. "In a tuxedo?"
"It's camouflage."
"Er...." His mother glanced nervously at his father, then back at Ted. "You're not going to try to blend in with a group of penguins, are you?"
Ted chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, no. No, definitely not. I collected more than enough information the last time, and I don't think the nice people at the zoo were very supportive of my research, anyway."
His parents looked relieved. "Well, have fun with whatever you're doing," his father told him before turning his concentration back to the questionable kale.
After promising not to stay out too late, Ted left the house and decided to investigate the party first. He began walking toward Sandi Griffin's house, but when he arrived a strange sight greeted him. Boys were leaving from every possible exit, then racing to their cars and driving away.
Ted checked his watch. "How odd!" he remarked. "The party only started fifteen minutes ago. Mating at parties must be incredibly efficient." He shrugged and changed direction to head for the school instead. "It's just as well, I suppose. Not one of those boys was wearing so much as a cummerbund!"
When he arrived at the dance, he was relieved to see that it, at least, was still going on. He entered the gym and quickly recognized the Jackson Pollock theme. He tore himself away from the visuals, however, reminding himself that he was there to observe the people and not the décor. He glanced around at the attendees, pulled his notebook out, and began taking notes.
Violent imagery and ear-shattering loud music serves as the backdrop to the ritual, where participants move erratically in close proximity to each other.
After a few moments of observation, he realized that they were dancing, or something similar to it. Ted began to wonder if he might disrupt the research process if he didn't start blending in by dancing as well, and began moving in time to the music. He had to go quite fast due to the nature of the music, but he was soon able to keep up with the pace.
At first he was distracted as he concentrated on his steps, and then he became carried away by the fun of dancing. When he looked around at last, he noticed that some of the other kids were shooting strange looks at him.
Ted, realizing that he was drawing too much attention to himself, stopped dancing and sidled quickly away. I can see their point, he thought. Now that I listen closer to the timing of the music, I should be doing the waltz rather than the foxtrot.
At that moment, the fast-paced song was replaced by something slow and maudlin, and most of the dancers paired off, put their arms around each other, and swayed rhythmically to the music. "Ewww!" came a nearby shriek. Ted looked around and saw Quinn Morgendorffer pushing two boys away. "Get your big, sweaty hands off of me! I don't slow dance until after the fifth date."
She stormed off and Ted followed her, hoping to learn more about the connection between dating and dancing. He got out his notebook as he hurried behind, jotting down some quick notes as he went.
Dancing not preliminary stage of mating
Slow dance > five dates
Six dates = successful mating?
He emerged in the school parking lot in time to see Brittany grab a boy and kiss him passionately. Ted looked back at his notes and scribbled even more furiously.
Dancing may not be necessary to the process at all; even proximity to dancing could be enough to trigger the early phases of the mating ritual. Alternate hypothesis: complex cultural norms dictate that, once a mate is chosen, relocation from the prearranged dancing area is necessary?
Even as he was writing, a boy that Ted took a minute to recognize as Kevin without his football uniform stomped over to them and grabbed the boy by the lapels. An instant later his fist connected with the boy's cheek and a full-fledged fight was in progress. Ted's pencil could barely keep up with the proceedings.
Competition between males can be fierce, even after the females have selected their partner.
Brittany squealed, and Ted thought she was upset until he realized that she was trying to hide a smile. Nearby, Quinn said something to a group of boys next to her, and they immediately began brawling as well. Quinn, like Brittany, appeared delighted. A crowd was beginning to gather.
The females encourage the violent behavior, presumably as a means to winnow out the stronger prospective partners from the weaker. People not involved in the mating ritual also gather to observe, either to learn new fighting techniques or because teenagers possess a remarkable blood lust.
Ted paused in his notetaking. I could be extrapolating too much from a relatively small data pool. I really need to find a way to replicate this particular experiment.
He turned away from the shouts and cheers of the students surrounding both fights and went back into the gym. Looking for a good candidate, he quickly spotted a pair of identical twins and smiled. Ready-made control and experimental groups. If I need to expand the scope of my research, they'll be the perfect way to account for genetic variation!
Without hesitating, he approached the two brothers. One of them was leering at an annoyed-looking blond girl and saying "Rrrrr!" Ted chose him for the experimental group, hauled back, and punched him in the face. The boy went down immediately with a pained shout.
Ted looked to the girl to see if she, too, reacted with delight. Aside from a very confused look, the girl didn't respond at all. "Er," Ted said, wondering what the appropriate follow-up might be, "would you like to mate?" Letting out an annoyed groan, the girl shoved past him and walked away.
Disappointed, Ted turned back to the boy to apologize. Before he could speak, the boy's brother groaned and shouted, "See, Brett? I told you to stop acting like Chuck! Everyone hates it." He gestured at Ted. "Everyone."
Brett stood up, rubbing his jaw. "Okay, point made." Without another glance at Ted, the two boys left the gym. Ted watched them go, disappointed by his failure to recreate the experiment. I must not have accounted for every variable, he decided. Or perhaps it was a mistake to get involved, considering I'm supposed to be an uninvolved observer. He pulled out his notebook again.
The connection between mating and violence is a complex one, and requires further investigation. It may be necessary to attend more mating-focused social events and punch more people before I fully understand the phenomenon.
Ted began to wander to different places around the gym, trying to observe as much as possible. As he passed the bleachers, he heard an odd sound and poked his head behind them...and then immediately scrambled away again in shock at the activities he'd glimpsed. That's technically relevant to my research, but.... He looked at his notebook, then shook his head and put it away. There is such a thing as too much information, even in anthropological research. He sighed. Time to go home.
Ted left the gym, standing aside as an ambulance screeched into the parking lot. As he walked home, he noticed that the weather had turned a bit chilly. As he passed Sandi Griffin's house, he was so busy mentally going over his data that he almost didn't notice three shivering teenage girls standing outside in their swimsuits.
Hmm. Ted absently pulled the notebook out one more time.
While the males seem to use aggression to gain a mate, the females use colorful and revealing costumes to attract attention. Although the skimpy nature of the outfits seems inconvenient in cold weather, it's possible that the display is intended to demonstrate hardiness and resistance to the elements.
He reached his house and walked inside. He found his parents slumped over together on the couch, clutching their stomachs and groaning. "I'm sure it was those so-called gluten-free croutons," Grant was telling Leslie.
"It couldn't have been," Leslie argued listlessly. "I didn't have any croutons and I feel terrible. My money's on artificial flavors in the salad dressing."
"Do you mean the balsamic vinaigrette in the fridge?" Ted asked. "Because it expired six months ago. Could that be the problem?"
Grant and Leslie exchanged worried looks. "Um...perhaps," Leslie admitted. "But I'm still going to have a serious talk with the farmer's market about the tomatoes."
"Don't forget about the kale," Grant added.
Leslie, clutching her stomach, lost her patience. "No, the kale was fine! You think everything has GMOs in it! You even thought our tap water was genetically modified!"
"And yet you keep drinking my Evian," Grant snapped at her.
Ted left his parents to their argument and headed up to his room. Sitting down at his desk, he pulled out his notes and began reading through them, trying to make sense of it all. Hours later, Ted was surrounded by crumpled sheets of paper containing charts, graphs, tentative hypotheses, and a half-finished doodle of a tuxedo-clad dancing chimpanzee. At last, though, he'd made a breakthrough.
Teenagers are completely insane.
Satisfied that he had accurately and concisely summarized the situation, Ted, closed his notebook and went to bed.