REWIND
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"EVERY TIME I TRIED TO TELL YOU, THE WORDS JUST CAME OUT WRONG"

I don’t dream much.

Well, that’s probably not true. Everybody dreams. What I don’t do, often, is remember my dreams. It has to be a particularly vivid one. Plus, I generally have to wake up during or right after it to remember it. Since I sleep like a coma, that doesn’t happen often.

So, the ones I remember tend to be very, very vivid. Rather lifelike, which is disconcerting sometimes. There have been a few. In the first life, I had one that stuck with me for years--the main female character in my first novel came to me in a very vivid and very detailed dream. She sat down in front of me, and said, "Hi, I’m Sophia, and you’re going to write about me." And then told me all about herself. That’s a dream that I’ll never forget. I got four hundred thousand words out of that dream. So, yeah, it happens. But, for me to remember a dream that well, it has to be a pretty memorable dream.

Like, for instance, an argument with a ghost.

It was a couple days after my talk with Deb. I was still mulling the whole thing over. And, one night, when I went to sleep, my subconcious decided to send some help with the mulling.

I knew it was a dream, but, damn--there she was. Sitting on a bench in some undefined woodsy park.

"Hello, Beffy," my dream-self said.

"Hi, yourself," she smiled. "I hear you got a problem."

"You heard right." I sat down next to her.

"Eddie. She’s a wonderful girl, you know that? I think you could make her very happy."

"Well, maybe, but would I be happy?"

"Why wouldn’t you?"

I thought for a minute. "When I told you about the whole back-in-time thing, did I tell you I’d been married in my first life?"

"No! Really?"

"Yeah. She left me a few years before the send-back. Dumped me for another woman."

"Oh, jeez!"

"That wasn’t the real problem, though. Look, she was very high-maintenance."

"High-maintenance?"

"Needy. Demanding. Wanted someone to dote on her 24-7. She spent the first fifteen years of our relationship following me around like a puppy asking ‘Do you love me? Do you love me?’ And I couldn’t live up to that. Nobody could. Before the send-back, I heard she was having trouble with the woman she dumped me for--and for the same reason. She constantly needed reassurance." I snorted. "Of course, the problem was, whether or not she loved me was never even discussed. It was all about her."

"And you didn’t deal with that well."

"Not at all. Hey, I like alone time, you know? You know I like being in love, you saw it. But I like a balance. I can’t handle people that needy. Plus, any time I tried to assert even the tiniest sliver of my rights, I got called selfish. I couldn’t win. It was all about her."

"And you think Olivia is the same way."

"It’s crossed my mind."

"You’re wrong," Beth said. "Olivia needs love, yes. But it’s not the same. Look at it this way: what demands has Livvie made on you? The answer is none. She didn’t even tell you how she feels--Debbie figured it out and told you. Olivia hasn’t asked a thing of you. And she probably never will."

"Hmm," was all I said.

"I think there’s a difference," Beth went on. "She’s needy, but she’s not high-maintenance. She takes what you have to give. That’s probably not particularly good for her, if you think about it. But she’s so affection-starved that she’ll take little morsels, you know? She basks in your friendship, even though she wants more."

"Yeah, but I’m afraid of what happens if I give her more."

"You think she’ll morph into a clinging vine?"

"Well, yes," I laughed.

"I don’t see it. I just don’t, Eddie. Look, you know what her life is. She has nothing. She looks more needy to you than she really is because she’s coming from a place where there is no love. She doesn’t need you to be everything--she just needs you to be something. See the difference?"

"Hm. I see your point."

"Plus, if what Debbie told you is true--and I’m inclined to agree with her--then it won’t be as one-sided as your marriage apparently was. Olivia doesn’t just want you to validate herself. She wants you because she loves you."

"That’s true."

"You need love too. I saw it with Kara and Kelly. You’re a happier person when you’re in a relationship."

"Yeah."

"Outside of what you just said, how do you feel about Livvie?"

"I like her. I’ve always liked her. That was really my only reservation. Besides worrying about that, I like her a lot."

"And I hope I helped you out with your reservations."

"You did."

"So? Go for it!"

"You know what? I think I just might."

"Good!"

"You always know what to say to me. Even now." She laughed at that. "So, can I get away with hugging a ghost?"

"In a dream, you can!" So, I did.

Then I woke up.

I wasn’t as freaked about it as I might have been, actually. The dream, I mean.

It was very lifelike. That should’ve freaked me. I mean, there she was, in all her glory. It certainly looked like Beth. She said things that sounded like things that Beth would say. If they came dredged up from my subconscious, that was a neat trick.

But I just accepted it. I guess, when you’ve been thrown back in time thirty years, you stop looking for rational explanations for everything.

Besides which, I appreciated the advice.

So, on this day, a Saturday, I decided to do something about it. I called Olivia, and went over there. We were sitting on her front stoop, talking about nothing, when I just decided to hit her with it.

"So, Debbie said something interesting to me on the phone the other day."

"Really? What?"

"She’s convinced you’re madly in love with me."

You know, I’ve read the phrase "all the color drained from her face" before, but I don’t think I’d actually ever seen it happen. Not quite this vividly, anyhow. I mean, she went completely pale. And she stared at me with those big brown eyes, her bottom lip quivering.

"So. Is this true?" I asked.

She still stared at me. But, damn, I guess I should’ve been a little more subtle, because it looked like she was going to start crying any minute. We can’t have that, right? So, I didn’t say anything else.

I kissed her instead.

I think that’s the first time I’ve ever felt someone else heave a big sigh of relief! It wasn’t a big tongue-suck, just a little kiss, but it definitely worked.

I broke the kiss, but kept my face close to hers, and asked again. "Is it true?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good." I moved away from her and sat back on the stoop. "So, you wanna go to Max’s and get a burger? We could call this our first date, if you want. Of course, come to think about it, we’ve pretty much been ‘dating’ for a while now. But if you want to call this our first date, we can--just to make it official and all."

I think you could’ve heard the squeal of delight in Boston! And, the next thing I knew, I had a very happy female in my lap, kissing my neck.

"Oh, God," she said when she moved away from my neck. "Do you know how long I’ve been trying to tell you? Since Kara left. Definitely since Kara found her new guy. When you told me about that, I wanted to tell you. I just couldn’t."

"It’s OK."

"God, I never thought that you might, you know, feel, you know...."

"OK, let’s say this. I like you. I like you a lot. I’m willing to see where it goes from there. Fair enough?"

"Perfect."

Max’s was a decently easy bike drive, but a long walk, and we wanted to walk. So, we went to a sub shop that was closer, walking hand-in-hand.

"I’m surprised you never saw it," she giggled. "I thought I was being way too obvious."

"Well, that’s what Debbie said," I laughed. "Livvie, I’ll be honest. I guess I didn’t see it because I never thought about it. Debbie pointed out why--I had you interwtined in my mind with Beth. Which was stupid, but I wasn’t doing it consciously."

"Ah. That’s not what I thought it was, but it makes sense."

"What did you think it was?"

She looked down. "Nice guys don’t go out with me."

"They do now," I said firmly. Livvie lit up like a Christmas tree.

We got the subs and took them back to her house. We ate them out on the stoop.

When we were done, she said, "Come in. Nobody else is home." She quickly led me back to her bedroom. "I don’t spend any time in the rest of the house if I can help it." She closed the door.

"Won’t people be suspicious? If you get caught in the bedroom with a guy with the door closed?"

"My mother doesn’t dare say a word. I’ve had to listen to her getting laid for as long as I can remember," she snorted.

"I’m more worried about your brothers."

"They don’t live here anymore. My mother kicked them out. They’re out of school and working, so Mom said they can fend for themselves. They live downtown. And even if they stop by, just growl back at them. They back down easy."

"OK," I said. "So what do you want to do?"

She got shy. "I don’t know. What do you want to do?"

"I can think of a few things," I said with an exaggerated leer, which made her giggle. "But maybe we should take it slow."

"Really?" she said.

"Well, let’s do this, and see how it goes." I leaned over, and kissed her. She eagerly returned it. We ended up making out a bit. It was actually very nice--Olivia was a hell of a kisser.

We made out for a while, then she broke it. "We can go further than this, you know."

"Well, let’s take it one step at a time for now."

"OK," she said, but I saw a flicker of dismay cross her face. I figured I knew what that was about.

"Don’t for a minute think it’s that I don’t want you. I do. Believe me. I’m just not a jump-in-bed-right-away person. Not my style."

"OK," she said, and then giggled. "I’m so not used to that!"

"Hey, you were around when I was dating Chris, you heard Beth and I talk about it."

"Oh, yeah. Went way too fast. I see your point. Just remember, Eddie, there’s a slight difference. I’m no virgin."

"True. But I still would rather work my way up to it. I mean, isn’t this nice?" We were lying on her bed, wrapped up in one another. I was stroking her hair. "I think this is nice."

"This is very nice," she agreed. "So. The band all ready for Friday?"

"Getting there. We have one more practice tomorrow. We’re going to run through the whole set from beginning to end. Are you going Friday?"

"You kidding me? I wouldn’t miss it." She laughed. "It’s funny. The boyfriends I’ve had wouldn’t be caught dead at something like a school dance. So, the only times I’ve ever gone were alone. And I always sat there waiting for someone to ask me to dance--which never happened, of course." She grinned at me. "And, now, this time, I’ll actually have my boyfriend at the dance. And I still won’t get to dance!"

"Sorry, honey, you’re dating a musician. Better get used to it."

"I’m kidding. I think it’s great. I’d rather watch you guys play. I’ll just have to dance with myself."

"Ah, I’ll send Steve or somebody to get you out on the floor once or twice. Maria won’t mind. Or, I’ll have Peter dance with you when Kara wants to watch. They’re coming, you know."

"Peter is her new guy?"

"Yeah."

"You OK with that?"

"Sure. I told her to bring him. And that was before I had you. And now that I got you, what the hell do I care?" She sighed happily and snuggled deeper into my arms. "However, Kara and I will always, always, always be the closest of friends. Does that bother you?"

"No. It really doesn’t. I trust you." She looked down at her feet and said, "Someone I was close to once knew you like a book, remember that. I know what you’re all about. I don’t worry about that, at all."

She took a breath. "In a lot of ways, I knew you through her. Of course, I knew you, but I got more info, a lot more, from Beth. She thought you were the greatest, you know. ‘Best friend anyone could ever hope for. Nobody’s more loyal.’ Stuff like that. If you’re that loyal to your friends, I don’t ever worry about you being loyal to a girlfriend."

I was more than a little stunned by this. Not so much that Beth said it, but that Olivia was strong enough to talk about it. She went on, though. "I have to admit, knowing you through Beth--well, that’s probably why I kind of avoided you for a while, after, you know...."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

"And, just so you know, it was after I got over that--after I called you this summer, and started hanging around with you--that’s when I fell in love with you. Wasn’t because of Beth."

"OK."

"But because of Beth I trust you more than I might otherwise."

"That makes sense. You don’t trust particularly easily."

She laughed bitterly. "Would you, if you lived my life?"

"Probably not. I’m glad you trust me, though."

"I do." She sighed. "I’m glad about the dance, and you playing. That’s going to be fun. The next day isn’t going to be quite as fun."

"For either of us."

"I’d, well, I’d like it if we spent it together. That would make things easier."

"You got it."

After that, we just cuddled some more and made out a bit. It was great.

After I got home, I called Debbie. She was ecstatic. Happy for me, yes, but even more ecstatic that she was right!

Then, I called Kara. I knew I needed to tell her. After a bit of small talk, I got right to it.

"Kara, I started going out with Olivia today."

I could hear the smirk in her voice. "Saw that coming."

"Wow, did everyone see this coming except me?"

"Apparently. I think it’s great, you know. You two will be good for one another. And now I don’t have to worry about you."

"You never did, silly."

"A little. But now I don’t. I’m glad for you, Eddie."

The big debut.

The stage was all set up--in the gym at Cabot High--and we were waiting in a side room that had been put aside for us.

I think we were all slightly nervous--well, all except Stan. That’s just not his personality. First of all, he’s mister happy-go-lucky. Second of all, he’s confident in his abilities on the guitar. So, his whole attitude was, "Hey, we can play these songs. So let’s go do it. It’ll be fun." He was fine, he was trying to calm Michelle down. She was all right, but there were definite butterflies. So Stan was talking her through it.

And then there was Debbie.

There’s a difference between nervous--and staring into space, shaking. Which is what Debbie was doing. I guess that was one way to cure my mild nervousness--make me try to help her with her extreme nervousness.

I sat down next to her. "You OK?" I asked.

"I can’t do this," she hissed.

"Yes, Deb, you can."

"I can’t! What the hell was I thinking? I’m going to go out there? In front of people? Who are all going to be murmuring about the school slut? I can’t do this!"

"Yes you can. You think you’re the only one they’re going to be murmuring about? Lessee, on lead vocals, we got me, the school geek. On keyboards, we have Karen The Invisible Mouse. And then there’s our bass player. You think anyone at this school ever thought they’d see pristine, classy, straight-A student Michelle Pepper playing bass in a rock band dressed like that?"

Deb snorted out a laugh. "Oh, God." Michelle hadn’t gone for the leopard-print miniskirt--but she was wearing a miniskirt and it was tight. High heels, fishnet stockings, and this barely-there spaghetti-strap thing that showed beaucoup cleavage finished the ensemble. She was my best friend’s girlfriend and one of my best friends and part of me still wanted to jump her!

"And let’s not forget the third song of the set, and the first one she sings," I said. "And she insisted on that placement." The song was Up The Neck by the Pretenders, a rocker that just exudes sweaty sex.

"I know," Debbie laughed. "I can’t believe her. I cornered her when I saw how she was dressed, and asked her if she was unleashing her inner sexbomb now that she’s getting laid." I cracked up at that. "She just gave me this very knowing smile."

"So. The school geek is going to blow them away with his voice. The school sweetheart is unleashing her inner sexbomb. The only one that nobody’s going to be surprised to see up there is Stan. And you think they’re all gonna be talking about you?"

"They still will be," she said, getting glum again.

"Debbie. The first song we’re doubling the riff so we’ll cover for each other. But the second song is Prove It All Night. And you’re going to do what you do every day in practice--you’re going to pick up your sax and blow everybody away. OK? You know that song cold and it sounds great. And if everyone’s still calling you the school slut, you know what they’re going to be saying? ‘Wow! Who ever thought the school slut could play like that?’ Then you’re going to pick up the guitar and blow them away with that. Just remember that. You’re good. You’re damn good. That’s what you want them talking about, and you can absolutely do it."

"You think so?"

"I know so." I grabbed her around the shoulders and looked right into her eyes. "Listen to me, Deborah Romelski. You have talent. I almost wish you were in a band where you weren’t third option some of the time, but there’s still enough there. We’re playing four hours. You’re playing guitar, percussion, tenor sax, baritone sax--hell, you’re playing flute on one song. And you’re a great harmony singer and you get to do that, too. Debbie, you’re good. Damn good, and good at doing a lot of different things. Let’s go show ‘em."

She smiled at me for a minute, then kissed me on the cheek and said, "Thanks."

"You’re welcome, and anytime."

"Are we ready to rock and roll?" Stan yelled.

I couldn’t resist. "Well, your girlfriend certainly looks like she is, but you guys have to wait until after the gig."

"Oh, God, don’t say that," Stan said, "she keeps threatening to change her clothes."

"I wanted to shock people, but now I’m all self-conscious."

"Michelle, you look dynamite. If you weren’t my best friend’s girlfriend I’d be trying to pick you up." She giggled at that. "And you will definitely shock people. You look great. You look like a bass-playing rock chick. Go with it."

"I am. It’s too late to change anyway!" She giggled and looked at me. "Besides which, you won’t be noticing me in a minute anyway."

"Hm?"

"I looked out there a minute ago. Somebody went shopping," she giggled.

"Huh?"

"You’ll see."

I just looked at her. Then, it was almost time to go.

We went to the doorway entering the gym. We all waited there for a minute, waiting for the Student Council president to introduce us. While we were standing there, I saw what Michelle was talking about.

Olivia, as I’ve said, was poor--and her clothes often reflected that more than anything. But I knew she’d been doing some babysitting to get some spending money. Now I knew what she spent some of it on.

Look, my attraction to Olivia wasn’t physical. It was mental. Despite my reservations that I’d discussed with ‘Beth’ in my dream, I was very attracted to Olivia’s personality. She was sweeter than a glazed donut, for starters. She was smart. I found her vulnerability very appealing. She was a great conversationalist--and, even rarer, a superb listener. She was also trustworthy and loyal. So, that’s where the attraction came from.

Don’t get me wrong--she was damn cute. Especially in the eyes, and the smile, and her smile reached right into her eyes, something that always struck me. I was a complete sucker for that. But her body? Well, I rather suspected she had one, mind you, but I hadn’t seen much of it. The raggedy hand-me-downs she usually wore didn’t lend themselves to scoping out her assets.

Well, standing there waiting to go play, I got myself one hell of a scope.

It wasn’t as out-there as what Michelle had on, but it was close. Sneakers instead of high heels, and white knee-highs instead of the fishnets. The miniskirt wasn’t tight, but short it certainly was, and pleated. If she got off a good twirl on the dance floor, I’d be able to tell what color her panties were, let’s put it that way.

And the shirt was very close to Michelle’s--a skimpy, tight, spaghetti-strap thing. Lavender, to go with the purple miniskirt. The first thing I noticed about that, strangely enough, was that Olivia had really cute shoulders. Don’t ask me to explain that. She just did. I looked and said to myself, "I could get used to nibbling on those shoulders."

Then I looked down.

Oy.

You know, I certainly assumed Olivia had tits, her being a girl and all. But not like that.

Jesus.

Don’t ask me to tell you cup size, I have no freakin’ idea. All I know is, whatever the cup size was, she was spilling out of it. Impressively. I mean, we’re talking about cleavage. My oh my.

You know, there’s different ways to wear a guitar. Stan had his low-slung. I preferred mine on the high side, up over my stomach--it’s easier for me, especially with all the finger-picking and strumming I had to do. And, at that moment, it was a damn good thing. Because I would not want to have to go out there and start banging my guitar around down near crotch level. Not with the boner I had just sprouted!

I say again: Jesus.

Michelle caught me gazing at this. "Told you," she giggled. "Close your mouth, you’re letting the flies in." Before I could respond to that--my brain wasn’t working at that moment--the Student Council president announced us. Showtime. We headed for the stage.

But I made sure to pass Livvie on the way up there. "God, you look good enough to eat. If I didn’t have to go play rock and roll, I’d nibble from your head to your toes." I got a delighted giggle and a megawatt smile for my troubles for that one.

However, that was a project for another time. Now it was time to play. We got up there and strapped on the instruments--or sat behind them. We quickly made sure we were all still in tune.

And, yeah, the murmuring started. Towards Deb and me, sure. What’s the school slut/geek doing up there? That kind of thing. I just shot Deb a ‘trust me’ look.

Of course, they murmured about Deb and I, but when they got to Michelle--it was just sharp intakes of breath, mostly. With the odd longing sigh. I felt like making an announcement: "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the stars of our show: Michelle’s Boobies!"

I was getting giddy. The nervousness had come back. The butterflies in my stomach were doing a tango. I looked back at Dave, settling in behind his drum kit. I gave him the ‘let’s get on with it before I throw up’ look--he caught it. settled down, counted us in, and away we went. Deb and I hit the riff, the rest of the band kicked in, I stepped to the mike, and we were off. "Just a castaway, a pilot lost at sea, oh! Another lonely day, no one here but me, oh...."

It sounded good. Not great, but good. I stayed on tune and remembered the words, thank goodness. Our rhythm section, as always, kicked ass. Message In A Bottle was a good opening tune--nobody was screaming or anything, but people were bopping up and down to it.

Then we hit Prove It All Night, a song intended to raise the energy level. You don’t want to hit ‘em with that first off, but as a second song, it was perfect. And we really knew how to play that one. As I predicted, people’s eyes popped out of their heads when Deb hit the sax solo. Especially since, before and after she took that solo, she was strumming an acoustic guitar. Show that versatility, babe! Someone even yelled "YEAH!" in the middle of the solo--I could see Deb’s mouth curve into a bit of a smile even with a sax mouthpiece between her lips. Stan answered her with a screaming guitar solo of his own. People were already dancing and hooting.

Then it was time for Michelle the Sexbomb, and Up The Neck. I loved the Pretenders in the first life. The minute that album came out, over the summer, I played it for Michelle, hoping she’d like it and get some good tunes from it to sing. She loved it--though I never expected her to pick this song! The words are a bit cryptic, but the allusions and the atmosphere speak of sweaty, animalistic sex. Michelle’s voice is naturally sweeter than Chrissie Hynde’s, but she managed the appropriate sneer, as our triple-guitar attack screamed away.

I knew, right from the minute we got this gig, that certain band member’s lives were going to change, especially around school, if we played well enough. Three songs in, it was apparent that Michelle’s life was going to change drastically. Her image as the pristine A-student ‘good girl’ was gone, gone, gone. She’d long been the ‘catch’ of the school, but now she’d opened herself up to even more of that. I hoped she could handle it. Shit, considering all the guys looking at her with undisguised lust--I hoped Stan could handle it! At this point, he was clearly enjoying himself. He was looking at her with this huge grin on his face, wailing away at the guitar part, as she purred into the microphone. Hell, I knew why he was grinning. I thought it was great. But I didn’t have to fend off the line of lust-crazed suitors!

We concluded the Rock Your Ass Off opening with Tom Petty’s Here Comes My Girl, a fine tune that showed off our blend--guitars melding with piano and organ, Michelle’s harmonies going up on top of my lead.

We slowed it down then, throwing off a couple of slow songs for the canoodlers. We came out of that with Because The Night--which was just awesome. We cruised through it, everyone hitting every note perfectly, and Michelle was fantastic. We’d been doing just fine, but at that moment, we clicked. Totally. And Michelle was inspiring complete rapture out in the crowd. As we started the intro to the next song, I sidled up beside her and whispered, "You’re a hit." She looked stunned--delightedly so.

We did a couple more songs, including a nice bash through The Who’s Substitute. . Then I stepped to the mike and said, "I was going to dedicate this song to my girlfriend, Olivia, but I decided I didn’t want to be beaten to a bloody pulp tonight." Everyone looked at me quizically until the song started--Queen’s Fat Bottomed Girls. Livvie laughed harder than anyone.

We threw a couple more slow songs out, including You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling, which I had twisted Stan’s arm to do--we did it as a duet. He was fine. Debbie showed those flute-playing abilities on Ruby Tuesday. Then we ended the first set with a fine one-two punch: Badfinger’s No Matter What; and Just What I Needed by the Cars. Michelle told them we’d be right back after a short break. The cheering was music to our ears.

We got back to the little room, and just looked at one another. Finally Stan grinned, shook his head, and said, "Boys and girls, I think we might just have something here."

"No shit," I agreed.

"Hell, they even stopped looking at Michelle’s cleavage and started dancing," Kenny said with a chuckle.

"Which is like a miracle," I said.

"Jeez," Michelle groaned. "They weren’t staring that bad."

"Oh, yes they were," I laughed. "Stan, I hope you’ve got weapons to fend them off, buddy."

"Oh, he doesn’t have anything to worry about," Michelle purred. "Besides which, I’m up on stage. Your girlfriend is down there--within easy reach. I saw seven guys ask her to dance. And I don’t think they really meant ‘dance’!"

"And she turned them all down," I grinned.

"Did you have any idea?" Michelle asked.

"None at all. That little get-up was a surprise."

"At least I knew what Michelle had planned," Stan laughed.

"I didn’t mind at all. It was a great surprise," I said.

Just then, the scantily-clad girlfriend in question peeked her head through the doorway. "Hi. Can I come in?"

"Of course," I said. She walked over to me. "That’s some outfit," I told her.

"Glad you like," she laughed.

"They were teasing me about dressing up like bass-playing rock chick," Michelle said. "I think you’ve got Rock and Roll Groupie covered!"

"Only for one rock and roller," Livvie laughed.

"Good," I said. "I don’t share. And at least we’ve got one fan."

"Oh, you’ve got a lot more than that," Livvie said. "You guys were fantastic! You should hear what they’re saying out there. They think you’re great, and they can’t believe it!"

"Because of who’s in the band," I said.

"Right," Olivia agreed. "They’re not surprised about Stan, but the rest of you.... Of course, I heard a lot of people mooning over Michelle."

"Of course," I laughed, while Michelle just blushed.

"But they’re also stunned about what a good singer you are," she said to me. "And you?" she said, turning to Debbie. "Everybody’s flabbergasted. I heard one guy say, ‘Jeez, is there anything she can’t play?’ It’s really great."

"Wow," Debbie said.

"Told you," I laughed. Olivia looked at me. "Debbie was a little nervous beforehand," I told her. "I had to give her a pep talk."

"Good. You’re a hit," Olivia said. "You’re all a hit."

"Well," Stan said, looking at his watch, "time to go hit them again, then!"

We all started out of the room, chatting delightedly. I held back, though. I let the rest of them get a bit ahead of me, and grabbed Livvie.

"If you were trying to convince me not to go so slow, you succeeded."

"Oh, no, I wasn’t...." she sputtered.

"I know," I laughed.

"I just wanted to look nice. My clothes suck."

"You look way more than nice, Livvie. And I know you didn’t do it deliberately, but it worked. Because if I ever get you alone wearing that outfit, I’m going to very much enjoy taking it off."

"Oooooh!" she purred.

I leaned in and kissed her, a good one. Then I backed away, and said, "Gotta go play."

"I know," she said.

They all cheered when we climbed back on the stage, which was nice.

We started with I Got You by Split Enz, a nice mid-tempo thing to get them going. Then we immediately threw out a couple of slow songs. We actually did Keep On Loving You by REO Speedwagon. No, I’m not proud of that. But, hey, for slow dancing, it’s good.

We followed that up with Elton John’s Rocket Man, which went over really, really well. I enjoy singing it, and it sounded good. That was also a complete showcase for Kenny on the piano, and he played magnificently--he’d suggested that song, but I agreed. As I said, it went right over. I was surprised at the reception that one got.

Then it was back to rock and roll. Clapton’s version of I Shot The Sherrif, so Stan, a huge Clapton fan, could show off his chops. Two Hearts was in there. Queen’s Crazy Little Thing Called Love, which got a big cheer. Michelle did Brass In Pocket. Then back to some slow-dance songs, including Fleetwood Mac’s Sara. That’s not an easy song to play, and the reception, especially for Michelle’s vocal, was great.

The second set ended with a nice trio of rockers. First was the very first song we ever learned, Day Tripper. Then, we went with what Stan called the Innuendo Couplet. First was T-Rex’s Bang A Gong (Get It On). Everyone really liked that one, and we nailed it.

After that was over, Debbie--unexpectedly--walked over to her mike and said, "To end this set, we’d like to play my theme song." I was laughing so hard I could barely start playing the guitar intro. The song? Good Girls Don’t, by the Knack. You know, "Good girls don’t, but I do." That one. A song blatantly about teenaged sex. Debbie’s theme song. Evidently, she’d loosened up since the beginning of the show!

When we put Good Girls Don’t into the set, we knew it’d be a wee bit controversial, but we didn’t care. Especially since we didn’t play the ‘edited’ version. The last line of the middle section on the album version went "till she’s sitting on your face". For the single, they edited that to "till she puts you in your place." We happily sang the ‘sitting on your face’ version. And the kids loved it--everyone was dancing and cheering. I’m sure the teachers chaperoning the dance weren’t quite so enthusiastic!

After we got off stage--to raucous applause--I sidled up to Debbie. "Your theme song?"

"I just couldn’t resist!" she laughed.

The third set started with Michelle singing Carole King’s I Feel The Earth Move. We did Take It Easy by the Eagles, which went over very well--that’s a song I love singing, it’s right in my range and style. Takin’ It To The Streets by the Doobie Brothers--we had worked hard on that one, it’s kind of tricky. We pulled it off. This was the set with some of the lesser-known songs in it, like Nick Lowe’s Cruel To Be Kind. Oliver’s Army by Elvis Costello. We did The J. Geils Band’s Love Stinks, and I dedicated it to all the single people there, which got a nice laugh. We even did a song by, of all people, Olivia Newton-John. Michelle liked her, so we did A Little More Love.

Then we did one of my favorites, the song we’d worked on the most to try to get down. I Don’t Wanna Go Home by Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. That song needed Karen and Debbie on saxophones, and Kenny had to play the other horn parts plus the strings part on his sythesizers. But that song also has a prominent and necessary piano part. So I played it. It took me forever to learn it, especially with singing as well, and that song was supposed to be a showcase for my voice. I managed. I’m not much of a piano player but I managed.

We ended the third set with Ticket To Ride.

Kara came back stage in between sets. She told me she was having a blast. Introduced me to Peter, who seemed nice. She was plainly gaga over him--which was nice to see. Really. She was happy. "We’ve been dancing all night!" she told me.

"I’m not a very good dancer," Peter said with a laugh.

"Oh, you’re fine," Kara told him. "This is a great dance!"

"Glad you’re having a good time," I said.

She grinned and leaned into my ear. "Oh, and I talked with Olivia for a while," she whispered. "She’s looking goooood, stud." I just cracked up laughing.

Michelle led off our last set with Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams. Then we went right into a couple of slow songs. First was Up On The Roof, a song I adore singing. We slowed it down a touch from The Drifters’ version, and it worked. After that we did a little flashback from the day I sang and played in English class, Shower The People. Everybody was slow-dancing to that one. It was nice to see.

After the slow section, I stepped to the mike and said, "Fine. Debbie got her theme song. Time for mine." Debbie cracked up at that. The song? Tom Petty. "Even the loooo-sers get lucky sometimes!" Or lots of times, in my case, as I gazed out at Kara, then Olivia, then back at this fantastic band wailing away behind me. Even The Losers had been a talismanic song for me throughout my whole first life. Now, playing and singing it, with these people playing along, it transformed itself. And it was fantastic.

Next we hit Go Your Own Way. After that, a few more slow songs, including When A Man Loves A Woman; and Sara Smile by Hall and Oates.

Then it was time for me to get the 12-string out. This was my Guitar Hero moment, leading the band with the 12-string. We started with The Byrds’ arrangement of Mr. Tambourine Man, all ringing guitars and soaring harmony. Not really a song to dance to, but everyone liked it anyway. Then Michelle sang Then He Kissed Me and When You Walk In The Room. We ended 12-String Nirvana with the Beatles’ You Can’t Do That. Stan and Michelle shared the harmony for that one, and Michelle ran over to Stan’s mike, and they harmonized into one mike, just like McCartney and Harrison. It was great.

Now, it was time for The Big Finish. Our last four songs, meant to blow the doors off the joint. First up was Brown Sugar. God, I love that song. Debbie had a blast wailing away on sax for Brown Sugar, and the next song.

The next song? Born to Run, which we almost knew how to play. It was sloppy--but, hell, Springsteen once said it took the E Streeters 10 years to play that song properly, so we could live with sloppy. At least I could sing it. And I thought about putting Kara's name in it again, for old times' sake, but I didn't want the new guy to get jealous or anything!

During the first sax solo--that song has two, much to Debbie’s delight--while strumming away, I looked around at my bandmates. Kenny, professional as always, sitting straight up while he tripped through the piano arpeggios. Dave, alert, focused, bashing away at the drums. Karen leaned into her organ, swaying back and forth a bit as she held a chord.

Stan stood off to the side of the stage a bit, looking at us, face split by a wide grin as his hands worked away at the guitar. Between him and me stood Michelle, sweat beading up on her upper chest and on her forehead, eyes closed in concentration, as she plucked the bass strings. Then, on the other side of me, was Debbie, standing out on the lip of the stage, wailing away at the sax, a look of pure bliss on her face.

Damn. This was good. This was where I was meant to be. And I think that went for all of us. I just felt so good with my place in the world as I stepped back up to the mike: "Beyond the Palace, hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard....." We rode that wave right to the end of the song.

After we crashed that one to a close, Dave hit the drums, hard and fast. I stepped up to the mike and intoned, "Rock rock rock rock rock-n-roll High School...." Well, that was appropriate, wasn’t it? I was a Ramones fan, anyway. We blasted our way through that one, watching all the sweaty dancers bounce off one another.

The night ended with The Romantics: What I Like About You. The applause, when we were done, was deafening.

All I could think, with apologies to Sally Field, was, they like us! They really like us!

We got back to our waiting room and all collapsed in delerious exhaustion.

"Well, I do believe we’re going to get some more gigs out of this," Michelle said with a laugh.

"No doubt," Stan agreed. He looked at me. "And don’t you dare start in, Mister Let’s Be Perfect. I know you’re making a mental list of all the mistakes we made."

"Mistakes? I didn’t hear no mistakes," I said, surprising him.

"Well, there were a few," Stan conceded.

"I didn’t hear ‘em. If you wanna take over my role as the Band Curmudgeon, be my guest. I feel too good to give a shit." That cracked everyone up, Stan most of all.

After that, it was all just happy rehashing. Olivia came by and sat with us, happy that we’d had such a good time. After a while, we went to help Dave pack his drums up and get them in his father’s truck. By that time, my Mom was here--Olivia had gotten dropped off by one of her brothers, but Mom and I were taking her home. I gave her a big happy kiss when we dropped her off.

"It went well?" Mom asked on the way from Livvie’s house to ours.

"It went real well. We kicked ass, basically."

"Good," Mom laughed. "I noticed Olivia dressed up for the occasion," she said with a little grin in her voice.

"Noticed that, eh?" I laughed. "I know I certainly noticed it!"

"I think somebody’s very very glad you asked her out."

"I think you’re right."

The day after The Big Gig.

I was still euphoric when I woke up that morning. Well, mostly. Tempered by knowing what day it was.

It had been a year today.

Olivia wanted me to come over. Truthfully, I sure as hell didn’t want to be alone, either. I called around 10 just to make sure she was awake. I got dressed and got on my bike. Made it to her house around 11.

She stepped out of her door, dressed in the same outfit she’d had on last night.

I couldn’t help but laugh. "Did you sleep in that?"

"No," she laughed back. "I carefully hung it up when I got home. I just figured I should wear it when we’re, you know, spending time together. Instead of you having to gaze at it across a dance floor."

"I definitely approve," I said, climbing off my bike and going up to her, and wrapping her up in a hug and kiss. We sat on the front stoop.

"What did you want to do today?" I asked her.

"A couple of things. You did promise to remove these clothes the next time I wore them, right?" I just looked at her. "Oh, I’m kidding. I know you want to go slow. Anyhow....." her voice dropped, "I think we need to go to the cemetary. I don’t want to go alone."

"Yeah."

She got out her bike, and we rode the mile or so to the cemetary. We stood in front of Beth’s grave for a while, holding hands. It wasn’t exactly warm out, being November in Massachusetts, but it was warm enough. We stood there for a while, lost in our own thoughts, not saying anything. After a while, Olivia said, "OK. We can go now."

Getting back on our bikes, I said, "Back to your house?"

"I’m hungry. Let’s go to Max’s," she said. So we did. We ate our burgers and chatted happily with Tony and Max, but we were both a bit subdued. Then we went back to her house.

She parked her bike, and I tied mine up. Then she led me into her house, then into her room. We sat side-by-side on her bed.

"You OK?" I asked.

"Yeah. Well, as OK as I’m gonna get, anyway," she said. "But, well, would you mind holding me?"

Would I mind? I just reached for her and wrapped her up in my arms. She didn’t cry, at all, but she was clearly feeling the effects of the day. I ended up laying on her bed, with her on top of me, my arms around her. After a bit of that, I leaned over and kissed that cute shoulder of hers. She giggled. "You know, when I saw you in this get-up last night, that’s the first thing I noticed. These completely adorable shoulders of yours."

"Shoulders? You noticed shoulders?"

"Well, that was the first thing. I guarantee you I noticed other things."

"Oh, really? What else did you notice?"

My hand reached up and lightly brushed her breast. "I definitely noticed these."

"I was hoping you would," she sighed.

"Before last night, I didn’t even know you had any."

"I know. You know half my clothes, especially the shirts, came from my brothers? Of course they’re baggy and unattractive. I was determined to go buy something for myself. And I wanted to show you. If it weren’t for you I probably would’ve gotten something far more sedate. But I wanted to show you." She took a deep breath. "I know there’s good reasons to go slow. But I was afraid I didn’t turn you on."

"Ah, Livvie." I was still lightly fondling her breast. "Really, I’m more turned-on by what’s upstairs, generally."

"Yeah, right."

"Really. Look, do I turn you on?"

"Oh, yes," she hissed, which was nice to know!

"It can’t be all physical. I’m not that good-looking."

"Well, you are good-looking, but you’re right, it’s not all physical. But I’m a girl. Girls and guys are different in that way."

"Bullshit. It’s different for people. There are girls that do go just for looks. And there’s guys that don’t."

"Maybe."

"Anyhow, I get turned on more by personality and brains. But, hell, I’ll admit it--when I saw you standing there last night, I got a woodie."

"You did?" she said, clearly delighted.

"Yeah. This going slow thing really bothers you, doesn’t it?"

"Well, I’m horny. And you playing with my boob does not help," she giggled. I just grinned at her. And I didn’t stop playing with her boob, either. "It’s been a while for me. And I was afraid I didn’t turn you on. But, well, it’s more than that.

"Look, I was attracted to you for all the right reasons. But, after I decided I was attracted to you, the other thing started creeping in. Look, you know I’m not a virgin. But, well, it hasn’t been much to write home about, you know?" She looked away from me. "I know how you treat girls, and I just had this feeling that with you, well, it’d be a lot better. And that’s not the main reason I was attracted to you, but it’s part of it."

I mulled that over--for about six seconds. Then I didn’t say a word. I just spun her around to me, and kissed her.

Long and deep. Oh, and I increased pressure on her boob while I was doing it.

She broke the kiss and said, "Oh, God, Eddie, if you still want to go slow, this has to stop now."

"Fuck going slow," I said, and leaned into her again, stifling her emerging giggle. She let me kiss her for a while, but then backed off.

"I feel like I’m pushing you into this," she said. "Because of what I said."

I just looked at her for a couple seconds. Then I growled at her, and reached for the hem of that skimpy shirt, and yanked it over her head in one motion. Then, before she could say a word, I reached behind her and unsnapped her bra.

"Does this look like I’m being pushed?"

"No," she giggled.

"Good. God, Olivia, you are something else," I said, gazing down at her big, firm boobs. They were even more impressive than I’d imagined. "I did tell you I planned to take this outfit off."

"You did," she agreed happily.

"And now it’s half-off. So, before I continue, I’ve got to do this," I said, and immediately leaned down and took one of her nipples into my mouth. She hissed, then sighed happily, lying back on the bed, her hands running through my hair.

"Oooh, that feels so good," she sighed. I kept it up, and not for a short time, either. She was completely enjoying it. I switched to the other one--equal time, and all that, since they were both magnificent--but, when I did, I let my hand slip down to her leg, right above the hemline of her skirt. Since that skirt was damn short, my hand was damn close.

And I felt her hitch. She was enjoying the attention to her boob, yes, but I felt her try to shift her pelvis down a bit, trying to close that one-inch gap between my hand and paydirt.

All right, I admit it. I find unabashed enthusiasm for sex a huge turn-on. Probably why I said ‘fuck going slow’--to her, and to myself. It don’t take too many hints to get me going. Girls that want it, and aren’t shy about it? The biggest turn-on there is. Livvie hitching her hips to try to get closer to my hand--that just about sent me into overdrive.

Not completely. I did move my hand, yes--but slowly. I still felt a little hitch from her, but not as much, as I made it clear that I was moving the hand. Her hands were roaming through my hair--I wore it pretty long, as I did in high school the first time around, and it was thick. Livvie’s hands were furiously making little nests in it. I didn’t mind.

I was still nibbling on her boob, as my hand got where it was going. And I found a delightful wet spot right on her panties. I lazily dragged my hand up the panties--she whinnied at that. Then I stopped, pulled my hand away, put the other one up her skirt, and tugged on her panties. They were off in a flash, and I returned my hand to paydirt. She was really wet. I did the upwards motion again, now on an uncovered pussy. Big whinnie!

I did that for a bit, enjoying all the heavy breathing, then I started to kiss my way from her boob down her stomach. I felt her glup, as I got down to where her skirt was. I jumped over it and pushed it up, out of the way, and started kissing my way up her inner thigh--making her giggle. Up the thigh I went, slowly, then took a left turn onto paydirt.

I didn’t know if she’d ever had this done to her before--not that I really cared in any case--and she didn’t seem shocked I was headed there. But, as she’d said, her previous sex life was nothing to write home about. I planned to make this one a subject for a four-page diary entry. And this is what I was best at.

It was funny. Livvie wasn’t vocal, not if you mean actually words or moans or anything. What it was, was her breathing. Ragged didn’t even begin to describe it. Whinnies, deep sighs, hiccups of air, little hisses, suttering "huh! huh! huh! huh! huh!" outbursts, the whole bit. I was half tempted to stop what I was doing and make sure she wasn’t developing asthma or something!

Of course, I didn’t do that--I kept at it. After a few leisurely passes up and down her pussy lips, I headed for that nice erect clittie of hers. As clitties go, hers was pretty prominent. I liked that--easier for me to wrap my lips and tongue around. I did just that, as I slipped a finger, then two, into her opening.

That’s when the ragged breathing shifted into something that sounded like a damn hurricane! Jesus. I’d never heard anyone wheeze and gasp like that. The finish line didn’t take long at all--and when she hit it, her thighs clamped hard around my head, and she just whined. Long and hard. I loved it!

After she came down--and relaxed her thighs so I could get my head out of there!--I sat up and quickly stripped off my clothes. I reached for my wallet--yup, I’d never broken that habit. I even changed them every month or so so they wouldn’t decay. I took one out, ripped the foil off, and slipped it on. As I hovered over Livvie, she finally opened her eyes.

She blinked, to focus, and finally realized I was hovering over her, naked as a jaybird, grinning down at her. She looked down, and saw where Mr. Happy was--up and ready, down near her crotch, helmeted and ready to go. She looked back up at me, spread her legs as wide as they could go, and hissed, "Oh, God, YES! NOW!"

Like I said--a complete sucker for unbridled enthusiasm. I slid into her in one stroke. As I hit bottom, she gave me one of those hiss/gulp/moan things.

She was the most experienced lover I’d ever been with--well, Kara the second time, but that was the second time. Kara and I were very familiar with each other’s bodies by then. But this was the first time I was with a girl for our first time that I wasn’t her first or, in Annabelle’s case, her second. I’ll be honest, there was a slight worry. Yes, I know what Livvie had said about her other times, but still. This was a worry that was inherent to me--something I’d been worried about in the first life, frankly, especially after my marriage broke up.

I’m not big. Not at all. Maybe close to average length, definitely less-than-average girth. George Carlin used to make jokes about being a Pencil-Dicked Irishman--I knew what he was talking about. If you’re a Size Queen, I am most definitely not your man. And I was, as lots of guys are, self-conscious about it.

I do have other advantages. The tongue, for one. I’d already proven that one. And, in the old life, I’d developed a very good amount of stamina--and, in this life, I was getting there. The body was still not-quite-sixteen, but I’d gotten better at mind-over-matter. I wasn’t going to blow in three minutes. And I know what I’m doing, I know how to get the clittie involved in the action, I know how to build things up. I’d developed all that as a compensation for my lack of size, and it mostly worked. I was still shooting for that four-page diary entry. But, still--sinking into the experienced Olivia, I’ll admit it--I couldn’t help but think, "Shit, I hope she feels this!"

Judging from the rapidly expelled gusts of breath--she felt it. As did I, big-time, which is always a good sign. I hit bottom and ground myself into her--she definitely felt that!

I started moving, slowly at first, with the clittie-grinding as I bottomed out. I kept my eyes open--I was enjoying watching. And listening, all those wheezes and gasps and stuff.

I sped up, just a bit. The wheezing got louder. Livvie’s eyes were closed tight. I leaned over and whispered, "Livvie, open your eyes." They popped open, wide as can be, as her mouth opened and closed with her ragged breathing. It really was damn cute, especially with her eyes wide open and staring right into mine.

I picked up my pace a bit. "You OK?" I asked.

"Uh HUH!" she hissed.

"You close?"

"Y-yes."

I looked into her eyes, and went for broke. It didn’t take long. And it was fun watching her hiss and gasp, as she kept her eyes wide open. Until it hit. Her eyes clenched up at that. It was still fun to watch. I stopped moving as I felt her spasm beneath me.

Her eyes flew open as she came down. "Wow!" she gasped. Then she realized. "Uh, you didn’t?"

"Not yet," I smiled at her. "I generally don’t go all that quickly."

"Really?" she gasped, huge smile on her face.

"Really," I laughed, and started moving slowly in and out of her again. Her eyes opened wide again, and she hissed, "Ooooh!"

I couldn’t help but chuckle. "God, Livvie, you’re fun."

"I am?" she gasped.

"You sure are," I said, and leaned over and kissed her nose. "Ready to go again?"

"Uh huh!" I grinned at her, and picked up the pace. This time, I went right with her.

We cuddled for a while, and then we were both thirsty, so we got dressed and went rummaging for something to drink. We took the Cokes out on her stoop.

This was, honestly, the part I was worried about. You know, the ol’ fear of a clinging vine again. I figured if I was going to get that, it’d be postcoital.

It didn’t happen. She was very happy and very appreciatve, and cuddly--but without being clingy. You know, we’d had sex with each other for the first time, and it was great sex, so of course she was cuddly and happy. That was normal. They way she acted out on her stoop--completely normal.

That’s when I finally got it.

Livvie was damaged, yes. She was damaged by her family, by her isolation, by the death of the only true friend she’d ever had, by her previous boyfriends. She was sixteen years old, and she’d lived through a whole lot of shit in 16 years. Damaged she surely was.

The thing is--she knew it. And didn’t like it at all. She didn’t want to be damaged. She wanted out of all of it.

I should’ve seen it, frankly. She’d started coming around to band practice, I now realized, to see me--but that wasn’t all of it. She talked and joked with the rest of the band. She’d struck up a great friendship with Debbie. She was trying to make friends, trying to have a life, trying to be normal. Her home life was unfixable, but she was doggedly trying to fix the rest of it. Even the outfit was a manifesation of that.

And, of course, normal meant a normal boyfriend. Well, she thought I was normal--I knew better! But, really, compared to the losers she’d dated before, I was normal.

It was like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders.

This was hammered home again when I told her that I had to leave. There was no angst or anything. She smiled, kissed me, and said, "Thanks. It was really fantastic, you know."

"For me, too," I told her.

"Call me tomorrow?" she asked.

"Tomorrow night. I’m going to hang out with the gang up the street during the day. That OK?"

"Of course," she smiled, and kissed me again. I got on my bike and headed home.

Normal. Blessedly normal.

And then--the end of normal.

Oh, not with Olivia. Though it was a bit of a change, as I hadn’t had a girlfriend that I was in school with since Kelly, and that was a year and a half before. So, it was normal--but not for me, not lately--to find Olivia waiting for me when I got off the bus, hers having beaten mine there by a couple of minutes. Her smiling happily and kissing me, that was normal. Walking to her locker and then mine, and her kissing me again as we separated for classes--normal. Meeting again in the lunchroom--you get the idea.

Honestly, I loved it. Not having those casual kisses in the hallway in front of a locker, that was the worst part of having a girlfriend that was an hour away. My relationship with Kara, for a high school kid, that was not normal. This was. It was great.

The non-normal part--that had nothing to do with Olivia.

It had to do with the fact that I, and six other people, had suddenly become the kings and queens of the school.

It was absolutely stunning. I knew we’d gone over well, but not to this extent. Shit, I had trouble getting from class to class with all the well-wishing and back-slapping and "You guys were great!" and "You can really sing!" and all of it. It was stunning. I met up with Livvie in the lunchroom, and we got in line together to get our food--and, even in line, I kept getting comments and well-wishers. After the umpteenth occurance of this, Livvie, grinning, looked up and me and said, "My God, I’m going out with a rock star!"

"Let’s not get carried away."

"I’m not. The rest of the school is!" she laughed.

"Good point," I laughed back. We got our food and met the gang at our table, and I found out it wasn’t just me.

"Do you believe this?" Stan said. "Evidently, I’m now a guitar god."

"You are a guitar god," I teased him.

"And you’re the singing god," Karen teased.

"Her, too," I said, pointing to Michelle.

"I think she’s just a goddess in general," Stan laughed.

"Oh, God. I’m getting all these looks," Michelle said. "I should’ve dressed like this," she said, looking down at her usual polo-shirt-and-chinos attire. "I feel like everyone’s undressing me with their eyes!"

"I do that all the time anyway," Stan quipped.

"So do I," I said with a wicked grin, earning a bark of laughter from Michelle, and a punch in the arm from Olivia! "Just kidding, sweetie. Well, mostly." Olivia tried to glare at me, but couldn’t hold back the grin. "Anyway, your image would’ve been changed just from the playing and singing, Michelle. The outfit was just an added bonus."

"Yeah," Kenny agreed. "You’re a star, Sarge. Go with it."

"Oh, if I must," Michelle laughed.

"How about you?" I asked Debbie.

"I’ve been asked out three times," she said with a smirk. "I even accepted one of them. But what’s stunned me is the girls."

"Girls?"

"Girls coming up to me, telling me how much they liked us, how good I was. Look, except for this little gang here, the girls in this school do not talk to me. They avoid me. It’s like my sluttiness will rub off or something." She took a breath. "But, today, they are. Talking to me, I mean. And saying nice things. I will admit it, I’m more than a little bit flabbergasted."

"Told you," I grinned at her.

"Yes, you did," she laughed. "Remind me to listen to you more often!"

"Oh, you guys haven’t heard the biggest stunner," Dave put in.

"Huh?" I said.

"I got approached after English class by none other than Winston Craymore." Win Craymore was one of The Elite at Cabot High. Good looking, rich, played football, the whole bit. I’d never had a problem with him--he wasn’t an asshole or anything--he just didn’t associate much with mere mortals.

"What the hell did Win want?" Michelle asked.

"He wants us to play at his Christmas party," Dave grinned. "They have a shindig every year up at the Craymore Estate or whatever he calls it. They usually hire a DJ, but Win said that we’d liven up the place more. Oh, and he offered us twice as much dough as we got for the dance."

"Wow, did you accept?" Michelle said.

"I told him I had to talk it over with you guys, but I didn’t think it would be a problem."

"Not at all," I said. "Right?" The rest of the band all nodded agreement.

"Wow. I can’t believe I’m actually going to be walking through the doors of Win Claymore’s mansion," Debbie said.

"Well, yeah, as the hired help," Stan laughed.

"Hm. Think I should play in a skimpy French Maid outfit?" Michelle said. We all cracked up at that.

So, no, this wasn’t normal at all.

I decided I’d take it!