REWIND FIFTEEN
"WHAT’S YOUR NAME? WHO’S YOUR DADDY?"

FEBRUARY 24th, 1981

We all came up with the idea, but Livvie and Debbie, the most daring of us, actually did the deed.

Debbie wanted to get back at the asshole for some time, and we were all appalled that he’d tried to ruin another girl’s reputation. Livvie even said, "I know she’s your ex-girlfriend, and I know the breakup hurt you, but Beth told me that Kelly was a sweetheart." So, we put our plan to action. We--including Stan and Michelle--brainstormed on what to do.

So, on this day, Debbie and Livvie made their way into one of the girls’ bathrooms at Cabot High, early in the morning before school started, with a permanent marker. Stan, Michelle, and I hovered outside the girls’ room, nonchalantly talking, to warn them if trouble came. Nobody came. They picked three stalls like the asshole did. On one, they wrote, "JIM SAMUEL HAS A TWO-INCH DICK!" On the second, they wrote, "JIM SAMUEL IS A LOUSY LAY!" And on the third, "FOR A TWO-MINUTE FUCK AND A CASE OF THE CLAP, CALL JIM SAMUEL!"

The two girls came out all jubilant. "Done!" Debbie enthused. We all high-fived. Then we separated to head to our lockers, and then our first classes.

At lunch, the five of us were sitting together. While we were eating and chatting, I saw Kelly headed over to us. She leaned over to me and whispered, "Are you the one that did it?"

"It was all of our idea. Livvie and Debbie actually did it," I told her.

"Thanks," she said, softly, to all of us, with a little grin. Then she was gone.

Of course, I got a phone call that night from Kara. Kelly had called her and told her all about it. She thought it was hilarious!

After Kara hung up, I got a call from Michelle. It sounded like something was bothering her. After the small talk, she asked about it.

"Do you still have feelings for Kelly?"

"Oh, I think I always will," I told her.

"Well, what if she wants you back?"

"Well, I’ve got Olivia now."

"I guess that’s what worries me," Michelle said. "I think Olivia’s really into you."

"Oh," I said, understanding. "Well, you have to understand my number one dating rule. Never break up with someone to go out with someone else. If the relationship is breaking up anyway, for internal reasons, that’s one thing. But to dump someone just because you’re attracted to someone else? That’s not kosher in my book."

"Really?"

"The way I see it is this: if you’re happy, you shouldn’t be looking. And if you’re not happy, why are you in the relationship in the first place?"

"I never thought of it that way," Michelle said thoughtfully, "but it makes a lot of sense."

"Yeah. And, furthermore, when it comes to Kelly in particular--well, yes, I’ll always have feelings for her. But considering how it ended, I’m not quite sure I trust her."

"Yeah."

"In either case, Livvie has nothing to worry about."

"Good!"

This was a Wednesday, in the middle of April vacation.

The previous two months had been fairly uneventful. We’d played another school dance, killing them again. Olivia and I had gotten closer and closer. I was surrounded by good friends.

My grades were excellent. In fact, if we graduated this minute, I’d be salutatorian. Heck, I’d been through high school before--and at a tougher school. I hoped I’d remember a few things.

There were two things that were interesting about my second-in-the-class standing. The first one was that the person ahead of me wasn’t Christine Seneca. She was only ranked eighth or so. The potential valedictorian was a girl I knew only slightly by the name of Laura Benning. She was ahead of me because of one A-minus I’d gotten first semester this year in pre-calculus.

The other one was the person directly behind me, the person ranked third. That was a certain sexy bass player. And, yes, she teased me all the time. "How about another A-minus so I can be salutatorian?" I told her to keep dreaming. I also told her that I was going to unplug her bass at the next gig!

All of this really wouldn’t be decided until next year, though--Advanced Placement classes Senior year tended to separate the contenders from the pretenders.

Did it matter to me? A little. I wouldn’t be crushed if I didn’t get it, but it would be nice.

The band was also going well. We’d played another dance and a couple of parties. We were really making a name for ourselves around the high school.

And then there was Olivia.

I was happy being with her--really happy. We got along great, my family and friends all liked her a lot, and we had fun together. And the sex was wonderful.

This day, April 15th, as I said, was in the middle of April vacation. Vacation weeks had turned out to be interesting--Olivia was at my house all the time. I understood why, and didn’t mind--and, besides which, I liked her being around all the time. My parents understood as well and liked her being there as well. We didn’t have sex at my house--I did have a ten-year-old sister, after all--but our relationship wasn’t just about sex. We had places to go to do that--the only time we ever spent at her house was when we were fooling around. And we still had her big ol’ boat of a car!

Anyhow, on this day, she came over early, about 10 AM. It was a lifting day for me, and I’d already done that. Livvie knew not to come over too early, since she had no desire to lift or run with me! Yep, I still did both--and, since I’d been sent back, the exercise had paid major dividends. Every time I took my shirt off, Livvie gasped--trust me, that’d never happened in the first life!

So, Livvie knew I’d get up, run or lift, and then get some breakfast. She knew by 10 I’d be all set, so that’s when she came over.

When she got here on this day, my dad was in work, my mother was in our backyard working on her garden, and my sister was out playing with Terri McKenna, who lived next door. Declan, my brother, was around. He gave me a lopsided grin when he saw Olivia and I greet each other with a big kiss.

Declan would be 13 in a month. He was in seventh grade. So, he was at that age where he was just starting to discover girls.

If things held to the first time, he was going to have as tough a time of it as I did. He was a nerd as well. Now, things got better for him in college--he was a hell of a lot luckier in college than I ever was--but in junior high and high school--he went to the Prep as well--he wasn’t any luckier than I had been. Though part of that was missed opportunities. We’d discussed that in adulthood. With the hindsight of growing up, he’d decided that his big high school crush, Maureen Feeney, most likely liked him back but he was too much of a dork at the time to do anything except moon over her. Hell, they worked together and half the place knew he liked her, and she was still extremely nice to him and talked to him all the time--at that age, that’s a big huge honkin’ sign. Of course, at that age, you never see those signs. Youth truly is wasted on the young.

He also found out in adulthood that our neighbor Lisa McKenna, Terri’s older sister--and the younger sister of Josephine, who I’d dated--would’ve slept with him, which was his longtime recurring wet dream. And I was the one that told him, because she told me she would’ve slept with him. Of course, she told me that after he’d gone to school in Baltimore and was living there, and she was on her way into the Air Force. In other words, too late for him to do anything about it!

That’s one thing I’ve noticed, the things you figure out when it’s too late. Me, too, though for me it was in college. Maggie Konolowicz must’ve thought I was the most clueless human in the history of humans, especially male-type humans. I did have a furious makeout session with her at her instigation, which most likely would’ve led to me losing my virginity if we hadn’t been interrupted and had someplace to be--but it was three weeks before I left that particular college never to return. And I’d known her since day one of freshman year. I could’ve been humping the daylights out of her for the whole two years I was there. Teenagers are stupid. And nerdy teenagers--trust me on this one--assume they’re going to get shot down, which makes us stupider.

I had realized how much I had changed by now being aware of all of this. Now, it might not look that way--because Kelly had approached me, not the other way around, and with Livvie I’d been tipped off by Debbie. But, there’s two things. First, the ‘old’ Eddie might not have even believed Debbie. And the second one was, this still all stemmed from Kara, who I did approach. If I didn’t have the guts to approach Kara, none of the rest of it would’ve happened. I had the confidence to ask her out, and the smarts to do it the right way this time--but my relationship with her, especially the first time, let me know I was on the right track. And my relationship with her worked because of the past memories.

And I knew I could pass on the past memories, in a roundabout way. Now, I had no desire, nor the time, to be the date consultant for all of Nerddom. However, if I could help Declan, my cool (as little brothers go) little brother have better luck with the girls, I’d be glad to.

So, when after he watched Livvie and I engage in a huge kiss, and then we sat on the couch in the den across from Dec, I understood that the next thing he said wasn’t just simple teasing. It was a real question.

"Olivia, what the hell do you see in him, anyway?"

"Well, let’s see," she grinned, "he’s smart. He’s wonderful to talk to--interesting, can hold up his end of a conversation like nobody else, and he’s a great listener. He’s sweet and treats me like a princess. He’s funny. And he’s, er, welll....." She blushed bright red.

"He’s what?" Declan asked innocently.

I had to laugh. "Livvie, Declan isn’t a little kid. And he’s not naive."

"OK," she said, still blushing. "The truth is, your brother’s fantastic in bed, OK?"

Now it was Declan’s turn to blush! "Yeah, well, but you didn’t know that before you went out with him, so that wouldn’t be a reason to go out with him."

"Well, you’re right in that you don’t want to go out with someone just because of that," Livvie agreed. "But, actually, I did know. Word gets around." Declan looked at her blankly. "Your brother doesn’t talk, because he’s a good guy--but some of his previous girlfriends did."

"I’m still missing something," Dec said.

"Well, at a Fourth of July party the first summer we went out, after eighth grade, Kara pretty much told all of her friends that I was Superstud," I admitted it.

"Oh, Jesus," Declan laughed. "Wait a minute--you slept with Kara way back then?"

"Yes."

"You weren’t much older than me!"

"True."

"I figured I’d be a virgin until I was thirty. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not headed there. How did you get Kara to sleep with you? Heck, how did you get her to go out with you?"

"Getting her to go out with me, well, that was because I made a decision. I stopped acting like an idiot every time I was around her. I’d see her a lot when running, and I just talked to her normally. Then, when I went to ask her out, I did it in person. Also, I had to kind of talk her into it--but I was calm and reasonable when I did it.

"As for sleeping with her?" I told him with a smile. "I don’t know. I didn’t push anything physical. That was all Kara. She said she wanted to have sex a week before we actually did. I turned her down because I didn’t have any rubbers. But she made all the decisions when it came to that. I don’t know why, to tell you the truth. Something about me attracted her to that. I do know she trusted me a lot, and that helped."

"That was part of it," Livvie said, "but I know something else."

"How do you know anything?" I asked her.

"Something Kara once told Beth, and Beth spilled the beans to me. And now that I’m going out with you, I know that Kara was right on." She turned to Declan with a big grin. "Your brother, you see, is a completely awesome kisser!"

OK, I know I was blushing at that! Declan was just grinning at both of us. "Wait a minute," I said, "Kara told Beth this?"

"Yeah. You know they were in home ec together that year," she said. I nodded. "After you slept with Kara for the first time, I know Beth was the one person you told." I nodded again. Livvie grinned at Declan. "Like I said, it was Kara that told the rest of the world. Anyhow, Beth asked Kara what made her decide she wanted to go that far with you at that age. You know Beth, she wasn’t critical or anything--but you know how she was. Sex at 13 was completely beyond her."

"Yeah," I agreed. "When I told her, she dropped her books all over the railroad tracks and stared at me in complete disbelief."

"I believe it," Livvie laughed. "Anyhow, when Beth asked Kara that, Kara told her that she knew she was going to sleep with you at the end of your first date, when you kissed her. She told Beth that that kiss made her completely wet! She also told Beth that the kisses after that just made it worse."

"Wow. I never knew this," I said.

"Yep. And I can agree with it." She looked at Declan again. "Declan, Eddie wasn’t my ‘first’--you know what I mean." Declan nodded. "But I have to tell you--kisses from him turn me on more than actual sex did with a couple of my past boyfriends."

Declan was still blushing, and he grinned again at Olivia. "But how did you get to be such a good kisser?" he asked me.

"I have no idea," I laughed. "It’s all instinct. Kara was the second person I ever kissed." Olivia looked at me questioningly. "Cyndi Gagnon," I told her. "Anyhow, Dec, it’s all instinct. And I didn’t know I was that good until right now."

"Yeah, and with my luck, I probably stink," Declan whined.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?" Livvie asked him.

"No."

Livvie shot me a look. I knew exactly what her eyes were saying. And I thought it might be good for Declan--so I nodded at Livvie.

"Declan. Would you like a lesson?" Livvie asked him. He just looked at her blankly. "Well, you could practice by kissing me."

"Really? I could?" Oh, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree! It was very amusing. Yes, he had a crush on Livvie--I’d known that for a while.

"Sure. Come on over on the couch next to me," Livvie said. I scooted over to make room for Declan. He shot me a questioning look, but I just waved to him to go ahead.

"Wait a minute," I said. I got up and looked out the window. "Just making sure Mom is occupied," I told them. "She’s knee-deep in tomato plants, so we’re all set."

"Good. Now. A few tips?" Livvie asked. Declan nodded. "OK. Not too hard and not too soft. Don’t take it over--I should feel you kissing me but you should also feel me kissing you back. And you don’t start with the tongue, you have to work up to that." Declan blushed again at that! "Ready?" Declan nodded shakily. I bet the poor kid’s hands were clammy as hell at this point. "OK," Livvie said, "put your hands on my shoulders. And then go for it."

He did--nervous as hell, no doubt, but he did it. So, there I was, watching my girlfriend kiss my little brother. Did it bother me? Make me jealous? Nah. My 13-year-old brother wasn’t any threat. And Livvie was just trying to boost his confidence.

But, shit, that was a looooong kiss. And I do believe I saw a bit of tongue at the end!

And, when Livvie finally pulled away, I must admit that it was rather amusing. She was flushed! And looking at Declan like he had three heads. "OK," she finally got out, "it runs in the family. Boy does it run in the family."

"You mean it was OK?" Declan asked, blushing beet red.

"Oh, it was more than OK," Livvie grinned. "You’ve got nothing to worry about. Wait until the girls figure it out. You’ll be fighting them off."

"Really? Wow! Thanks, Livvie."

"My pleasure," she grinned. At that, Declan scampered out of the room. I heard him head upstairs.

Livvie finally looked at me. I was grinning at her. "Sorry. I think I got carried away," she said sheepishly.

"No problem. You made his day. You do realize he’s now upstairs whacking off, right?"

"Oh, Jesus," she hissed. "He’s only 13? And that was his first kiss?"

"Not even 13. Next month. And yes."

"Unbelievable." She had a wry little grin. "He’s not in your league, of course, but it was a hell of a lot closer than I ever would’ve dreamed. I wasn’t kidding. It must run in the family."

"I’m glad you did it, and I’m glad he knows. I had to figure out a lot of this shit by myself, and Declan is on his way to being as much of a nerd as I was. At least he knows he’s got a secret weapon."

"Does he ever."

"And that will give him confidence."

"Which is what I was hoping. Since he’s your brother, I figured he wouldn’t be hopeless, at least, so I’d be able to say nice things without lying."

"You did that."

"Uh-huh," she grinned. She slid over to me on the couch and put her arms around me. "Your turn," she said. Our lips met. And it was a good one.

"Just trying to reassure yourself that I’m better than my little brother?" I joked.

"Oh, I knew that," she smiled, "no doubt. He’s good but not that good. No, it was that if I’m going to be horny, it’s going to be because of you."

"Uh-huh," I said with a laugh.

"Now. Weren’t we going to hang out with your friends up the street today?"

"Yes."

"Then let’s go," she said. "If we don’t go distract ourselves, I’m going to jump your bones. Probably just in time to get walked in on by your mother, or sister, or both."

"Good point," I chuckled. "Later for that."

"Oh, you betcha."

We were going to hang out up at the Neelands. The gang up the street had met Livvie once or twice, but only briefly.

While we walked up the street, hand-in-hand, I was thinking. Honestly, I was thinking--what had I just done?

Declan, in adulthood, when I got ‘sent back’, was very happily married. His wife, Libby, was a doll. They had two kids. They were living in California.

By giving him the confidence to possibly start his romantic and sexual life earlier than he had, would I have fucked that up?

And there was more. When he originally graduated from high school, he wanted to go to art college--specifically, Skidmore, in Saratoga Springs, NY. He got in, but didn’t get nearly enough financial aid. So, he went to Boston College. He hated it, and, after a year, transferred to an art college he could afford: the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore. He loved it there. By fixing ‘the Eye’, I’d made it so my family had a lot more money than they had the first time--so, he’ll probably be able to afford Skidmore. Would that change his life, irreparably? And for better or worse? I didn’t know. I did think I remembered that he really didn’t discover MICA until he was stuck at BC. All I remember from his senior year was Skidmore. I guess, if money looks like it isn’t going to be an object, I’ll just have to somehow suggest he put MICA on the list and let him decide. I’d been with him on the visit to Skidmore, though. It was a gorgeous place and art was very well supported there. He would’ve been happy there, too, I think.

See what I mean about the ethics of time travel?

Declan had grown up to be a happy adult. But he wasn’t a happy teenager the first time. Who knew what can of worms I’d just opened? Then again, I’d done that just by living my life. Since I was a complete washout with girls at this age the first time around, Declan didn’t have to live with the knowledge that his big brother was getting laid. He didn’t have a ‘big brother’s girlfriend’ type like Olivia to have a crush on. He had been too young, I think, to really know just what I was doing with Kara and Kelly--but he knew what I was doing with Olivia. Or, at least, had deeply suspected it--and Livvie, by telling him how good I was in bed, had just confirmed it. Just by being with Olivia I’d changed the way he thought.

And now I was giving myself a headache.

We got up to the Neelands just in time to save my sanity.

DeeDee and Lynne were outside on the picnic table in their back yard--it was a nice day--along with Dee’s friends Penny and Melissa, plus one more person. I was glad to see Dee and Lynne--was less than crazy about Penny and Melissa. But I’d deal with them.

The girls were a bit younger--Penny was 15, Michelle and Dee still 14. They were all freshmen at Cardinal Steen High School. Lynne was even younger still, she’d just turned 12. Now, Dee had known Penny and Michelle all through elementary school, at St. Joseph’s. But, of course, Dee had met new people at Cardinal Steen. That’s who the other girl was that was there with them, a new person Dee had met. Her name was Ashley Donegal.

I, of course, remembered her from the first life. In fact, she was the only one of that crowd that I still saw quite a bit in adulthood, as she came into the store where I worked all the time.

Ashley was a sweetheart, one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. I was glad to be reintroduced, so to speak, to her. But she did take a little getting used to. And since I hadn’t seen her since a few months before the rewind, I had to get used to her all over again.

It was her voice, you see. She whined. I mean, she really whined--her natural speaking voice was a whine, it wasn’t for effect. It reminded me of Penny Marshall on "Laverne and Shirley" when she’d go into ‘whining’ mode--except Ashley talked like that all the time. And it was actually worse at 14 than I remember it had been when she was an adult, which was the last time I’d seen her, remember. So, there I was, being reintroduced to the adolescent Ashley Donegal whine. I had to hold in the chuckle. It’s true, some things never change!

However, she was still sweet. So, I ‘got acquainted’ with Ashley all over again. We hit it off, as friends, just as we had the first time. As an added bonus this time around, she also hit it off immediately with Livvie. Which was amusing--because I’d been in Ashley’s house the first time around and I remembered what it looked like. Not quite as unbelievable as Win Craymore’s, but close. I could imagine Ash inviting Livvie to her house, and Livvie’s jaw dropping! Ash was as unpretentious as you could get--but her family did have money and lots of it.

Anyhow, Ash gravitated right to Livvie and I. That’s when I realized something. Ash didn’t much care for Penny. Now, seeing it through my wizened eyes, I remembered tension from the first time around--with poor Dee caught in the middle. But as for Ashley not liking Penny, that was just another thing to like about Ashley as far as I was concerned!

None of us had eaten lunch, so Olivia, Dee and her three friends, and I decided to trudge down to the McDonalds in Cabot Square. Not too long of a walk, though it wasn’t next door either. Lynne decided she didn’t want to walk, so she stayed home.

We started walking, and Livvie started teasing me. "Look at this, Eddie. You walking down the street with five girls. If anyone that knows you drives by, they’re gonna think you’ve got a harem!"

Everyone giggled at this--except for Penny, of course, who was scowling. "Speak for yourself! I’d never be any part of a harem of his!"

"Your loss," Livvie said sweetly. "Did I mention that he’s really, really good in bed?" I know I blushed at that one! Penny was still scowling. Everyone else was still giggling.

"Livvie, darling," I told her, "I’m good in bed one-on-one. Five at once would tax even my stellar abilities for sure. And probably kill me while I’m at it."

"Yeah, but what a way to go," Ashley interjected, reigniting the giggles.

"Ah, you’re just sick of him and trying to foist him off on one of us," Penny maintained.

"You should be so lucky," Livvie teased, keeping it up. "Seriously, I am by no means sick of him and I certainly don’t share. Which is becoming a problem. Especially at gigs. I have to make sure I latch myself onto him after every gig to ward off the rampaging hordes of groupie wannabes."

Dee, who knew about The Narcoleptics, giggled--but everyone else looked at Livvie quizically. "What are you talking about?" Penny said impatiently.

"Eddie is a member of the most popular rock group at Cabot High," Livvie informed her. "They only played their first gig in October, and they’re already getting asked to do all the dances and parties."

"Yeah, we’ve got a party Saturday night."

"Right," Livvie agreed. "And since Eddie’s one of the two lead singers, he’s really good, and the other lead singer is female--well, that means all the girls swarm all over him after every gig!"

"He’s good?" Penny snorted disbelievingly.

"He’s fantastic," Livvie said. "The whole band is. But the girls are starting to swarm. Over him and Stan, the lead guitar player. Michelle and I have to practically throw up a roadblock after the gigs!"

"Michelle is our bass player, and the other lead singer besides me," I told the rest of them. "She and Stan are going out. Of course, Livvie, in their case, it’s more that Stan has to keep the guys away from Michelle!"

"Too true," Livvie agreed with a laugh. "Of course, that could easily be solved if she wore some clothes to a gig once in a while."

"There is that," I chuckled. I told the rest of them, "Michelle Pepper, in school, is this demure, sweet little straight-A student. When we’re playing? She shows up in these skimpy little spaghetti-strap shirt things and tight miniskirts and the whole bit. It’s like she goes into a phone booth and changes into Sexy Rock Chick. Plus she’s gorgeous, and she’s stacked. I mean, trying to squeeze those boobs of hers into those little low-cut flimsy tops--man, it’s like Cleavage Fest ‘81 up there. And she’s pounding on the bass with the cleavage wiggiling and jiggiling and all. And there’s her boyfriend, standing next to her, watching her while he wails away at the guitar with this huge shit-eating grin on his face."

"It’s something to see, all right," Livvie grinned.

"But how do you feel that your boyfriend just admitted to noticing another girl’s boobs?" Penny said to Livvie, clearly baiting her.

Livvie knew better. "Hell, since I’ve seen her playing in those outfits--if he didn’t notice her boobs, he’d have to be completely blind!"

"Besides which," I added, "I’ve seen Livvie in a tight skimpy top. Screw that, I’ve seen Livvie completely naked. And Michelle doesn’t have much of anything on Livvie in the boob area."

"Oh, how sweet," Livvie cooed, cracking everyone up.

"So, there’s a girl in this band?" Ashley said.

"Three," I told her. "Four guys, three girls. There’s Michelle. Then there’s Karen, who’s one of our two keyboard players. She dates Dave, the drummer. The third girl is Debbie, who plays guitar and saxophone."

"Who does Debbie date?" Dee asked.

"Cabot High," Livvie and I both said in perfect unison. Then we cracked up.

"You’ve heard of a little black book?" Livvie asked. "Debbie’s got a big black book."

"It’s funny." I said. "Before we started this band, Deb was known as the school slut. She wasn’t, really, but she certainly wasn’t a virgin and she’d been with a couple of guys that had big mouths. And all the taunting and stuff really bothered her. But now she’s in this band, and she’s fantastic and plays multiple instruments. So she’s not being taunted about being the school slut anymore--people talk more about her saxophone playing. But now she almost is the school slut!"

"Oh, it’s funny. She picks up a different guy every gig," Livvie laughed.

"What I like about her is she’s attracted to nerds," I said.

"Of course you like that," Livvie teased--before Penny could more nastily, and Livvie knew it.

"Shaddap. Anyhow, I watched her after a gig a couple weeks ago. Walked right past all the muscle-bound jock types, and grabbed a nerd."

"Knowing Debbie, it was probably the best night of his life," Livvie laughed.

"I think I need to see this band," Ashley said.

"I know," Dee agreed.

"We’ll figure out a way," I told them.

Tonight was the Junior Prom.

Nope, we didn’t play it. They had a DJ. That was fine with us--we all wanted to go to the prom and dance.

We all sat together. Olivia and I, Stan and Michelle, Dave and Karen. Kenny brought Lisa, Win Craymore’s cousin that he’d met at Win’s party. Yup, they’d been going out since that night. Debbie came with John Roy, a guy I knew slightly.

We had a great time. It was funny--I guess I’d never really thought about it before, but our positions in the band reflected our personalities. By that, I mean front-liners and back-liners. The three that played instruments that had to be stuck in place, like drums and keyboards, were in the back line when we played--Dave, Karen, and Kenny. The other four of us were in front.

What I meant about that reflecting our personalities is that those of us in the front were by far more outgoing than the back-liners. Debbie was the most outgoing, followed by me, Stan, and Michelle. Kenny and Dave were quiet. Not shy, but quiet. Karen was shy--before the band started, almost painfully so. The band, plus her burgeoning relationship with Dave, had opened her up some--but she was still pretty shy.

This even extended to the dates those of us not dating someone in the band chose. Livvie had been isolated, some of it self-isolation, due to her poverty--but she wasn’t inherently shy. Since we’d been dating, she wasn’t shy at all. We didn’t know John, Debbie’s date, very well before the prom, but he turned out fit the pattern as well--in fact, he was very funny. Kenny’s girlfriend Lisa, on the other hand, was shyer than Karen. How those two got together at all is a mystery--since she pursued it that night at Win’s party, and Kenny had since told us even she couldn’t explain where she got the gumption. It was totally unlike her. Those two just had an unfathomable connection that Lisa had felt since the first minute she saw him--and Kenny had figured it out later that night.

That was the one bold move I think Lisa had ever made in her life. She came to most of the band practices and barely said a word to anyone outside of Kenny. Livvie, the other ‘band widow’, got her to talk a little bit. So did I, every so often. The rest of us? Not much at all. Especially Debbie. Lisa was, Kenny had told us, scared to death of Debbie. And to some extent Michelle as well. I guess confident outspoken girls just intimidated the shit out of her.

But we’d tried to get to know her, for Kenny’s sake. Kenny was a gold-plated Good Guy. So, if he was in love with this girl, then she was in. She was One Of Us. Even if she didn’t talk to most of us--but it would be easier if she did. She’d loosened up slightly--especially, as I said, to Livvie. And Livvie told me once that she thought Lisa got very, very lucky--because Livvie had figured out that Lisa was starved for connection, didn’t know how to go about it, and would probably do just about anything to get it. Especially a boy-girl connection. In other words, this girl was ripe to be taken advantage of, big time, if her longing had led her to an asshole. Livvie, unfortunately, knew how that went from personal experience. Fortunately for Lisa, her longing led her right off the bat to Kenny, who was anything but an asshole. As I said, Kenny was pretty quiet--but anything you needed to know about Kenny you could find out just by listening to him play the piano. Especially if he was just playing for himself--it really came out then--but you could hear it in the band, too, if you were listening for it. Kenny’s piano playing was soulful, heartfelt, and beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, he was technically proficient as well, very much so--the only better ‘technical’ musician in the band was Michelle--but it was more important that he had soul. He had buckets full of it. Somehow, shy isolated inexperienced Lisa figured this out the minute she saw him--which is like a miracle if you think about it.

So, that was the cast of characters for the prom. We got a limo--actually, we got two limos. With ten of us, we needed two. It divided up the way you’d figure it--Stan, Michelle, Debbie, John, Livvie and I in one limo, the other four in the other. Every parent wanted pictures. Even Livvie’s mother stayed sober enough to snap off a roll, amazingly enough.

Of course, the girls looked great. Of course, Livvie looked the best. Of course, I’m biased! But she really did look fantastic--she wore a lavender short-sleeved thing with a full skirt and a nice plunging neckline. Oh, and it was nice and tight right below the plunging neckline. Yes, I’m a pig--so sue me. Since the six of us in that limo were all comfortable with one another--well, except for John, but he caught up in no time--even Stan felt compelled to tell Livvie, "Nice dress. Shows off your boobs really well." Of course, he said this before Michelle got in the limo. Stan’s not stupid!

As for Michelle, she chose burgundy. Slinky burgundy, with spaghetti straps, and a straight skirt slit halfway up the side. Great makeup job and her long brown hair piled upon her head. In other words, she managed to find a dress that screamed "classy!" and "sexbomb!" at the same time. Typical Michelle!

As for Debbie, she went straight for sexbomb. Not that it wasn’t classy--most prom dresses get that, especially in 1981--but that wasn’t the overall effect. For one thing, the dress, a cream-colored thing, was strapless. How a girl with a set of 36D boobs managed to pull off a strapless gown just completely defied gravity. And, no, she wasn’t wearing a bra--she told me so. The gown had some support--but for those tits? Couldn’t have been much. And they still didn’t sag. She told me, "I’m not going to be able to get away with that when I’m thirty, not with these tits. So I might as well enjoy it while I can!"

And the gown being strapless created a hell of an effect. You see, Deb was tall--5’10" or so. With the heels she had on, she was almost as tall as I was. And she was long, all over--long legs, yes, and the straight skirt on the dress helped that out too. But she also had a long neck. Wearing a strapless gown with her hair, like Michelle’s, piled up on top of her head--she had a really long neck. Plus, she had a bit of ‘aristocratic’ to her features. She looked like a blonde Katharine Hepburn.

It was funny--the limo had picked up us guys first, then the girls one-by-one: Olivia, Michelle, and then Deb. And John had obviously enjoyed the sight of Livvie and Michelle--but when Deb walked out of her house, the poor guy was completely gobsmacked. Hell, I was more than happy with the gorgeous bundle of Olivia tucked in my arm, but I was gobsmacked! Even Stan took a good long look--and Michelle didn’t give him any shit, because she was looking in amazement herself!

I know a lot of it was that none of us had ever seen Deb dressed anything like that. Now, though I’d never seen Livvie or Michelle dressed in anything like a prom dress, I had seen them dressed nicely. Even what Michelle wore for gigs, it wasn’t as classy as the prom dress, but it was sexy and alluring and nice to look at. Some of Livvie’s outfits were like that--and Livvie had a definite yen for skirts. Deb didn’t dress that way, even for gigs. She was a jeans-and-tee-shirt kind of girl. Usually tight, yes, but still. So, I know that just seeing her in anything nice and dressy and sexy was a novelty. Boy, when she decides to go dressy and sexy, she goes all out.

Anyhow, after much ribbing in the limo, we made our way to the prom. We had a blast. The food was good and we all danced. We even swapped partners a bit--I had to dance with Deb and Michelle at least once, right? Then again, I’m a horrible dancer. Musicians don’t dance. Schroeder said that once to Lucy. Truer words were never spoken.

The real shock was when they announced the Prom King and Queen. I saw all the A-list jocks and cheerleaders and other Beautiful People waiting for one of their names to be announced. Sorry, Beautiful People--didn’t quite happen that way. If there was any proof needed that The Narcoleptics had completely taken over Cabot High, it was provided, in spades. The Prom King and Queen were Stan and Michelle. And nobody was more surprised than Stan and Michelle!

The party afterwards was at Deb’s house. Just the ten of us, nobody else. Deb’s parents were very cool. They were especially cool with Deb, because of her place in the family--she was the "surprise!" baby. What I mean by that was her brother and sister were 25 and 22 years old respectively. And Deb was 16. Her parents were not trying for Kid Number Three. Deb once told me that she was on the pill because, "I’m what happens when the rubber breaks." Not that her parents resented her or didn’t love her--not at all. Her parents were, as I said, great. But what had happened was, in Deb’s words, "Since my brother and sister are so much older and I was unexpected, my parents used up their quotient of Parental Authority Bullshit on the other two. I just get love and acceptance and guidance. They got sick of being strict. Especially with my brother. Believe it or not, I’m not the wild child in my family!"

"Parents tend to make all their mistakes on the oldest," I told her.

"You’re only saying that because you’re the oldest," she teased. Which was true!

Anyhow, because of all that, Deb’s parents were cool. They knew about her ‘lifestyle’ and only warned her to be careful. They counseled vehemently about hard drugs--evidently part of Deb’s older brother’s wild days was cocaine--but didn’t smack her around about pot or booze, as long as she wasn’t driving. They expected grades from a girl as smart as Deb--and they got them, Deb was an A-minus/B-plus student--and they expected an eventual college degree. And they were plainly thrilled she’d taken her music obsession to the point of being in a popular band. All-in-all, they were very non-judgmental.

So, they opened their house for our party. They even provided the beer--and took everyone’s keys at the front door. They’d even talked to some of the more skittish parents--which meant Karen and Lisa’s, mostly--and assured them that nothing untoward was going to go on. Which was a blatant lie, but it reassured the parents in question. They also reassured the parents that there was lots of places for kids to sleep, so they wouldn’t be driving home in the middle of the night. Of course, there wouldn’t have been enough places to sleep if everyone had slept separately. Which nobody did, of course! They had a huge house, but not that big. So, darn, I just had no choice but to flop down in a guestroom in the same bed with Olivia. Poor us, huh?

Of course, the fact that Livvie and I were sleeping together was no secret. Though Michelle’s parents were older, and a little old-fashioned, they were also not stupid, trusted their daughter, and liked Stan. Michelle told me she was sure that her parents knew what was going on but chose to ignore it--which was fine with her. And, as I said, Debbie’s parents knew all.

But Dave and Karen had to sneak around. Karen’s parents hadn’t figured it out, and Karen surely didn’t want to push it. They’d done it a number of times, but a bed was a nice change. And Kenny and Lisa? Well, they hadn’t snuck around--because they hadn’t. Done it, I mean. So, a room in a house without any parents around was a complete godsend for them--because, for them, it wasn’t just another time, it was their first time. They’d been talking about it, but, like most girls, Lisa was holding out for someplace other than a car. When Deb talked about her parents opening the house after-prom, they knew they had their chance. They were very happy in the morning!

Olivia and I weren’t taking any virginities, of course. But we still managed to have fun.

After drinking and dancing in Debbie’s living room, we all found our way to our bedrooms. "OK," Livvie said right off, "I have to get out of this dress!"

"Can I help?" I leered.

"You betcha. The zipper’s hard for me to reach." I gladly slipped her zipper down, and she stepped out of the dress. She was wearing nylons, high heels, panties, and a bra.

"God, you’re sexy."

"Am I?" she said, impishly blinking her eyes at me.

"Like you don’t know," I grinned at her, stripping off my tuxedo jacket.

"Well, I like hearing it," she grinned back. She sauntered over to me, and started undoing the buttons on my shirt. I reached around and undid her bra. When my shirt and her bra were off, she went for the button on my pants.

"Why don’t you let me do that," I said. "I don’t trust myself getting your pantyhose off without giving you a run in them."

"You think I trust myself to do that?" she laughed--but she let go of my pants and went for the hose. And, yes, she got them off without a run.

We were naked, just kind of fondling and rolling around on one another on the bed. Then she started tickling me.

I’m extremely ticklish. And not in an it-turns-me-on way, either. In fact, by the time I finally fought Livvie off, my dick was as limp as cooked spaghetti.

Which Livvie discovered when she reached down. "Hmm, what happened here? It was raring to go a couple minutes ago."

"Now you know not to tickle me," I grumbled.

"Oops. Sorry. Let me help you out with that," she said with a gleam in her eye. I was lying flat on the bed after the tickle attack, and she had ended up curled up beside me. She reached over and started running her hand up and down Mr. Happy. Mr. Happy quickly got happy again.

Livvie got up and straddled me, settling down on my thighs, still pulling on my dick "Well, I definitely didn’t kill him," she giggled, as my dick came completely erect again. "That’s a good thing." She got up off my thighs and scooched forward a bit. She raised herself up so that her pussy was directly over my dick.

"We’ve never done it this way," she said--meaning with her on top. "Wanna try it?"

"Sure," I said. "When you get settled down, it’ll give me a few things to play with," I smirked.

"Yes it will. That should be fun," she grinned back.

Livvie had gone on the pill a couple of months before, so we didn’t have to worry about rubbers (yay!). So, she didn’t have to interrupt her preparations to deal with that little nuisance. She lowered herself, very slightly, down towards me, and grabbed my dick. She rubbed my dick up and down her pussy, trying to lubricate it. And it wasn’t gonna take much--she was dripping. Tickling me might’ve killed my arousal, but it definitely had helped hers!

She took her time, grinning at me, making sure her juices coated my dick. Well, OK, that’s not all she was doing--I noticed she made sure my dick rubbed her clit a number of times! I just let her enjoy herself--because I sure was. After getting my dick nice and wet--and nudging her clit enough times to get nice and going--she moved to lower herself on to me. She was a bit awkward, though--like I said, we’d never done it this way before. She seemed to have a bit of trouble deciding exactly what angle to take. And, when she lowered herself onto me, she leaned back too far, and missed.

Missed her pussy, I mean. It didn’t miss altogether.

I knew immediately, the minute the head of my dick popped into her, that I wasn’t in her pussy. It was way too tight and not nearly wet enough--judging by the copious wetness she’d been able to spread on my dick, I should’ve been entering a swamp. And though Livvie’s pussy was nice and tight, it wasn’t this tight.

It wasn’t deliberate--she truly did miss--and I could tell that just by looking at her face. Her eyes were completely wide-open saucers in surprise, and she let out an audible gasp.

I twitched at the feeling. "Don’t move!" she hissed.

"I’m not," I said quietly.

"Don’t breathe!" she hissed.

I couldn’t help it. I chuckled. "Don’t breathe?" I said.

"I said don’t breathe! And for God’s sake don’t laugh!"

"Livvie, just get off," I said reasonably.

"NO!" Her hand came off the mattress--where it was helping to hold her up--and it made the universal stop sign. "Just don’t move. Give me a minute."

She was still staring at me wide-eyed, with the head of my dick nudged firmly in her ass. Then she moved--down. About a half-inch more of my dick slid into her ass. She groaned.

OK, that’s when I got the wide-eyed look of surprise!

"Are you going to go any second?" she asked.

"No. It’s almost too tight," I told her.

"Good," she grinned. And then she slid down another half inch.

It really felt weird. I wasn’t kidding, it was almost too tight, but she was loosening up a bit. It was way different than being in a pussy, that’s for sure. But I was concerned by the look of pain on her face.

"If it hurts, maybe we shouldn’t," I told her.

"You know that saying, there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain?" she said. "I think I’m sitting right on that line."

"That’s not all you’re sitting on," I teased.

She giggled, and then groaned. And then slid down another half-inch.

"God, this feels so funky," she hissed. "Have you ever done this?" she asked me.

"No," I said--and that was the truth. In fact, it was the truth even if you counted the first life--I’d never had my dick inside somebody’s ass ever. Did I say Livvie and I weren’t going to be swapping virginities? Whoops, wrong again. In fact, it was the only genuine virginity I had left. Well, unless I wanted to go bisexual and do it the other way around! In any case, this was a first.

I have to admit, thinking about it that way, it was exciting. Even if the feeling was a bit strange. While I was thinking about that, Livvie slid down a bit more. She was about halfway down. Which means, of course, that there wasn’t much to go, since half of not-much is still not-much.

For once, that might be a good thing. Which is what I said to Livvie. "You know, I’ve always been self-conscious about my lack of size down there, but for once I think it’s a good thing."

I’d never voiced my insecurities out loud, and especially not to Livvie. Even though she was preoccupied, what with squatting with half my dick up her ass and all, she hit my insecurities head-on. "Listen to me," she said, seriously, "I have not and never will have the slightest bit of a complaint. OK?" Then she let out a little grin. "Although I will admit, if you had one of those baseball bat porn star dicks, I don’t think we’d be doing this!"

"Uh-huh," I agreed.

She kept grinning at me for a second, then her face got a look of concentration again. She went to move down on me once more, probably trying to keep up her half-inch-at-a-time pace.

However, her legs gave out--and she plopped down on me, hard. Before either of us knew it, my dick was all the way in, and the globes of her ass were resting on my hip bones. And, boy, did she squeal!

"Shit," she hissed. "I didn’t mean to do that so quick!"

"I figured," I told her. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes and no," she said. "I mean, it does, but it’s not all pain." She managed a grin again combined with a slight grimace. "This is so damn nasty!"

"And that turns you on, doesn’t it?" I smiled.

"Oh, yeah! I need to sit here for a minute, though, to get used to it. Are you still OK?"

"For now," I said.

"Uh-huh," she laughed.

"I love you," I told her.

"Love you, too."

She started moving, very slowly, up and down on me. There was still a bit of a grimace at first--but she started to get used to it. And she started moving faster. Still not very fast, but she was clearly getting used to it. I curbed the urge to thrust up at her--and, believe me, I had it--and let her go at her own pace.

As for me, it was starting to feel very good. Her ass had loosened up just enough so that it wasn’t squeezing my dick so that half the circulation was cut off--but it was still the tightest place my dick had ever been in. So I was starting to get worked up.

But I needed more. Livvie was still moving rather slowly up and down my dick, and I could still see a bit of a grimace on her face. As I said, I didn’t want to start thrusting up at her while she was still being tentative. She did this--I wanted it to be good for both of us.

So, what I needed to do was take that line she was on, the one between pleasure and pain, and push it more towards the pleasure side.

Well, that was easy, right? My hands were free. And, with the way Livvie was sitting, her legs straddling my hips and leaning back a bit--so was her pussy. Including her clit.

I started slow--I put my hands on her hips, ostensibly to stabilize her movements. I didn’t keep both of them there for long, though--I moved one up to a boob in a couple seconds. That made her groan, and start moving a bit faster. After that, I waited a couple minutes and then moved my other hand to her pussy. I swiped my fingers up and down it a bit, and then headed for her clit.

Instant explosion! Her eyes popped wide open again, she practically whinnied, and she started bouncing her ass up and down my dick at a breakneck pace. With that, I felt more confident about thrusting up at her a bit. She just whined louder.

Of course, this had fully engaged me in the exercise, and I didn’t want to go off too quickly. Luckily, I didn’t have anything to worry about. Livvie must’ve been closer than I thought, because my hand on her clit sent her there in a hurry. I felt her ass clench hard on my dick, and the whine got low and long, and she shook on top of me. A couple more thrusts up into her ass and I went right with her.

Livvie flopped down on top of me, nuzzling my neck, as my dick slipped out of her ass. "Wow, that was fun!" she said after a few minutes.

"Did it hurt a lot?"

"Not a lot, and really only at first," she told me. "It actually felt really good at the end. And when you grabbed my clit--well, you’ve done that before, and having you in me back there just about doubled everything."

"Good."

"I’ll probably be sore as hell tomorrow, though," she said wryly.

"No doubt," I chuckled.

"Anyhow," she said, slipping into an adorable little-girl sing-song, "you think you can make your thingy all hard for me again before sleepy-time? My front door is still awfully empty."

I cracked up. "Sure, though I might need a little help."

"Oh, goody!"

"But don’t you think I should go grab a washcloth or something? He’s a little soiled, I do think."

"Good thinking," she grinned. "Let me go fetch one. I have a robe, so I can just slip that and a pair of panties on. There’s a bathroom down the hall."

"OK."

She threw her robe on, and sauntered out. She was quickly back and with a wet washcloth. "I’m glad I put the old panties back on. I was leaking all the way down to the bathroom," she giggled.

"Not now?"

"I, er, got on the toilet," she blushed.

"Probably a good move," I laughed. She grinned back, and started wiping my dick down with the washcloth.

While she did so, she said, softly, "You’re really self-conscious about your size?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "I’ve been in enough locker rooms."

"You want the truth?"

"Might as well," I said.

"OK. You’re not the biggest I’ve ever had, it’s true. You’re also not the smallest. Dennis Boulier, for example," she said disgustedly. "He was my first, so I didn’t know any better, but jeez. That wasn’t a dick, it was a pencil." I cracked up at that. "Now I know better. But the thing is, there’s more important things than size."

"Such as?" I asked.

"Attitude. Control. Shit, I’ve been to bed with four other guys before you. What we did tonight? It never would’ve happened with any of them--because they would’ve gone off before they had two inches in. That’s the control part. And, even if they got to the point where they were all the way in and I was bouncing up and down, they never would’ve even thought of grabbing my clit and helping me along. That’s the attitude part. And that’s before we get into your tongue. Have we ever had sex where I didn’t have at least one climax?"

"Not that I know of," I said.

"No, we haven’t. I don’t fake it," she smiled. "And there were plenty of times with my other boyfriends that I didn’t, you know. In fact, I can remember three whole orgasms before I started going out with you. Shit, with you, I can get more than that in one night sometimes. So don’t worry about your size. It hits all the right places," she grinned.

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "I worry about that, especially with you, because you’re the most experienced woman I’ve ever been with."

"Yep, and it was mostly bad before you. So there!" She grinned, and then she got serious. "Now you know how girls feel about boobs. And that might be worse, because only people that get to see you naked know your size. Girls can’t hide it."

"Oh, come on--you have nothing to worry about."

"Now," she said. "I was a bit of a late bloomer. I remember back in ninth grade. I didn’t have nothing. Nobody could tell because of the baggy clothes I wore, but I was really self-consious about it. And, yes, I’m not the only late bloomer--but I remember seeing girls like Michelle walk around back then, and I was jealous."

"Yeah, but I think you’ve got her beat now," I said.

"Maybe, but not Debbie."

"To me, you do," I said. She looked at me quizzically. "You have to understand how guys think, dear."

"And how is that, sweetie?" she smirked.

"The biggest boobs are always the ones we get to see naked." She cracked up. "It’s true. Clothed double-D’s can’t compete with naked B’s. If you’re willing to show ‘em, they go up four cup sizes."

"You’re incorrigible," she giggled.

Just then, we heard a high-pitched, "OOOOH! OOOOH! AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! EEEEEEEEE!!!!!" coming from the next room.

We looked at one another and cracked up. "Was that Michelle?" she asked.

"I think so," I said. "Sounded like her, and I do think they had that room."

"Well, I guess she can hit the high notes even off-stage!"

"Sounds like it," I laughed.

"Anyhow," she said, "Mister Just-the-right-size here is all cleaned off and getting happy." She rolled over so she was on her back. "Time to come in the front door!"

"I think I can handle that. You gonna try to hit some high notes?"

"I’ll stick to what I’m good at!"

"Which would be?"

She leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Clenching my pussy like a vice grip so I suck every drop of cum out of your dick."

If I wasn’t ready before that, I certainly was after!

The Fourth of July party that Sara and her family had thrown for quite a while had metamorphosized. It was now a block party.

They closed the street off. The whole street was invited--you just had to bring something. That went for people in the immediate neighborhood, too. They got police permits and the whole bit. One of the things they got a permit for for this year was music.

Live music. Guess who?

We were thrilled to do it--and we did it for free. Well, we got free food out of the deal! But that was our contribution--we supplied the music. Everybody was bringing something and nobody was getting paid. Well, that’s what we brought. Somebody else brought the potato salad--we brought the guitars.

We wanted to do it for a number of reasons. First, Sara was a friend--and I loved her mother right from that day when she’d supported me when Don Nixon whacked me around at the party there. Second, the crowd. Yes, there’d been some non-high-school students at things like Win Craymore’s party, but it was still mostly high schoolers. This wouldn’t be--it would be very mixed.

One of the benefits of that is that we’d finally get to play a gig in front of our parents. Sara’s Mom made sure to tell us that all the families of the band members were invited--and they didn’t have to bring anything, either, since we were bringing the guitars. We were all happy about that.

We practiced in the same place--Stan’s always-available garage. So Stan’s parents had heard us--his mother repeatedly, and his father a few times. But none of the other parents had seen or even heard us play. They were all up for it. Even my Dad allowed himself to be dragged along!

The other reason we were looking forward to it was set list. This wasn’t a dance, and it wasn’t a party. I don’t want to say we were background music--because, as it turns out, most of the people there were crowded around and listening while we played--but we weren’t playing for people to dance. So, we could play pretty much anything we wanted to.

We’d been trying to expand our set lists in practices anyhow. We tried new songs, old songs that were new to us, whatever. One thing we definitely tried to do is add to the number of Beatles and Springsteen songs we knew. We all loved both of them, we always played three or four songs by them each, and we didn’t want to play the same ones all the time. Oh, sure, we figured we’d always play Born To Run. We also figured we’d always play Day Tripper, and probably Ticket to Ride as well. But we could mix up the Beatles and Bruce in other sets.

And, for this gig, we realized, we could even learn Bruce songs that weren’t particularly danceable. He had a few. One of his ten-minute psuedo-rock-opera things, for instance.

You know, like Jungleland. There’s a good one. It changed tempo too often to be danceable. It was ten minutes long. We all loved it, though, especially Kenny, who really got to shine on the piano. And Debbie, who got to play a soulful three-minute sax solo. So, yeah, this would be a good kind of gig to whip out something like Jungleland.

Of course, my fellow bandmates just about thought to have me committed to the local looney bin when I suggested we open with it!

Somehow, I talked them into it. Don’t ask me how. As far as I know, even Bruce had never opened a show with Jungleland! It was, as Stan put it, "The ultimate in audacious insanity." But they finally agreed with me.

We had to be done playing by eight--that’s what the permit from the local cops specified. We were playing four sets, but we thought a couple of them might go a little long. So, we started at three. That gave us plenty of time to play our four sets plus breaks.

So, at three PM, in the midst of all the Fourth of July revelry, seven idiots stepped on stage--a stage set up in the middle of the street, on Sara’s front lawn--and opened the musical part of the festivities with.....Jungleland.

I never claimed to be completely sane!

Actually, it went over pretty well. It’s a good thing that Kenny can play his ass off on the piano--his flawless delivery of that long intro hooked a lot of people. Debbie wailed on sax, as usual, which helped. I managed to keep up with the vocals. And there were a sizeable amount of Springsteen fans there, judging by how many people sang along with the first "....down....in...Junglelaaaaand!"

After we got done with that one, to a mix of applause and stunned head-scratching, I stepped to the mic and said, "OK, that’s enough insanity. Everybody ready for summer?" And then we played the Beach Boys--Catch A Wave. Much more conventional!

I was shouting out names. In Jungleland, when Deb started her sax solo, I said, "Debbie Gomelski on the sax!" When Stan did the rip-roaring guitar solo, I yelled, "Stan Murvetsin!" Since Catch A Wave has an organ solo, I got to throw Karen out there.

She played that organ solo like I’d seen her before when she was really getting into it--full grin on her face, swaying at the organ. I knew that sight, I’d seen it. Apparently, other people never had.

Her parents. And her little brother.

We were all pointing out each other’s families before the gig, the ones we didn’t know. So I’d seen Karen’s parents and brother, I knew who they were. We were all cognizant of the families being there.

We figured there’d be some surprises for the parents. Some of these parents only knew one side of their teenaged children--and that wasn’t the rock-and-roll side. Stan’s parents knew. Mine did, as well. Debbie’s had a clue. But the rest were in for some surprises. Michelle went through quite a ‘what should I wear?’ quandary. She thought about wearing something more sedate than she usually did on stage, just because her parents were going to be there. What actually tipped her over was the fact that it was ninety degrees out. Even Debbie was wearing shorts, which was just about unheard of. So, Michelle went with the spaghetti-strap shirt and miniskirt ensemble. With sneakers instead of heels, and no fishnets, but still. We got on stage and her parents were slack-jawed.

"Never seen you in that, have they?" I asked her.

"I don’t think they even knew I owned it!" she laughed.

That wasn’t the final instance of complete parental surprise. So, the slack-jaw thing went to Karen’s parents as they saw her sway and grin while flying through the organ solo on Catch A Wave. Must’ve been the first time they ever saw their shy little daughter getting into it like that! Plus, she sang a little backup on that song--she was a decent, though not great, singer, and thought she was a lot worse than she really was. We had to twist her arm to sing, even a little backup part. But Catch A Wave has a lot of vocal parts, so we needed her. She did fine--but that must’ve stunned her parents even more.

The third song in the first set was always a Michelle Special, but one thing she decided she didn’t want to do was sing the lascivious Up The Neck as her first vocal performance in front of her parents! So we moved Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams into that spot. She nailed it, and her parents got all google-eyed again.

Then we played some more familiar first-set stuff. Here Comes My Girl. Allison. We did throw Goodbye Yellow Brick Road in there, which we’d just learned. Michelle did Because The Night, as usual. We kept Substitute in the set. We changed Beatles songs in the first set, and did Got To Get You Into My Life, with our two saxophonists and Kenny playing the trumpet part on his synthesizer. More surprises for Karen’s parents as she stepped up to the front of the stage to play sax!

Then, we decided to dedicate a song to the parents. Which song? Well, Surrender, by Cheap Trick, of course!

As I said, we tried to stay up-to-date. That didn’t always mean what was on the top of the charts. I mean, some of the stuff that hit the top of the charts in 1981--ugh. Morning Train? Stars on 45? No, thanks.

However, if you were alive in the spring and summer of 1981, there was one song that was completely ubiquitous. And, while this particular song wasn’t exactly Strawberry Fields Forever, it wasn’t bad, either. And we’d learned it in one afternoon when, during a break, Karen started playing the synth part that dominates the song. Karen knew that synth part cold--the rest of us fell in and learned it.

I’m talking about Bette Davis Eyes, by Kim Carnes. Hey, everybody would know it, and it was a decent song. Michelle worried about it--she didn’t have the same type of voice as Kim Carnes in the slightest. We just told her to sing it like Michelle. Nobody would care. And nobody did. Karen played that synth line flawlessly, which helped. Outside of Michelle’s less raspy voice, it sounded just like it.

We ended the first set with the usual--No Matter What, and Just What I Needed.

Between sets, all the families found us. Michelle’s parents were very proud, and more than a little bemused. Like I’d said before, they were older--mid-fifties or so. They’d had Michelle later in life after years of trying. I mean, I contrast that to my mother, who was 38--young enough to be slightly hip. Though she was old enough that her first love was stuff older than what we did--Elvis and the like--she knew and liked the sixties stuff. You gotta figure, if they were mid-fifties in 1981, they were already well into their thirties when The Beatles hit. Rock and Roll wasn’t their thing. But they were immensely proud of Michelle--they ‘got it’ enough to see how good she was. And they were more bemused than consternated by the get-up!

Karen’s parents--and her little brother, who was 12 or so--were just flabbergasted. The rest of the parents seemed very happy with the whole thing. Even my Dad liked it--and we didn’t even play any Frank Sinatra!

For the second set, we opened with Tom Petty’s The Waiting, which was just out. I adore that song. Our third song was another Elton John song we’d never done, Tiny Dancer. We did that for a specific reason--I’d found out it was Livvie’s favorite song of all time. We threw in Bowie’s Suffragette City, just for shits and giggles. And to give me an excuse to howl, "Awww, wham-bam-thank you ma’am!" on stage. We threw in Greg Kihn’s The Break-Up Song, which was on the charts. And the Springteen selection in the second set was Ramrod. More star turns for the girls on organ and sax!

We opened the third set with more Springsteen--Cadillac Ranch. That got everybody up and going. A few songs into the set, we hit ‘em with the most difficult song we’d ever attempted--God Only Knows by the Beach Boys. Debbie, bless her, had actually gone out and bought a French Horn and had learned the intro. After she played that, she went and played that ‘clip-clop’ percussion thing that ran through the song. That song is all keyboards and a splendiferous bass line--Kenny, Karen, and Michelle carried the day. And that’s a song I’ve always been able to sing.

After that, we did Baker Street, another song we couldn’t play at a dance-oriented gig. More saxophone wailing from Debbie.

We made further changes at the end of the set. We played Jessie’s Girl, which was climbing the charts. And I sang the whole thing pointing at Michelle and Stan! We played Kiss On My List by Hall and Oates, another hit from a few months before. And, in an effort to get more lead vocals from Michelle, we did Hit Me With Your Best Shot. To end the set, after ripping through Ticket To Ride, we played Rock Lobster. Stan did the Fred Schnieder vocals--don’t want to call it ‘singing’, exactly--and I played the lead guitar.

We decided to start the fourth set with Dear Prudence. After Up On The Roof, we played Heart’s Crazy On You. I am not a Heart fan, but Michelle liked singing it, and Debbie liked playing that tricky acoustic guitar intro. We threw Lola into the set. All Summer Long by the Beach Boys. Instead of opening my 12-string set with Tambourine Man, we switched Byrds and played Turn Turn Turn. Then, in the Rock Till You Drop, closing, we inserted a new song. After Brown Sugar and Born To Run, we played CCR’s Traveling Band. As usual, we closed with Rock and Roll High School into What I Like About You.

We went over really, really well. Even with the parents. And not just our parents--for instance, Sara’s parents barely stopped dancing! Even when we weren’t playing dance music! Who dances to Baker Street? Sara’s parent’s did. Unbelieveable.

Kara was there, too. It was summer vacation, after all, and she lived in the neighborhood. She brought her mother and even Mrs. Pocharsky was full of nothing but gushing praise for the band. That was cool.

So, a good time was had by all--and the legend (guffaw) of The Narcoleptics grew further!

I got my driver’s license! Whoopee!

Same day I got it the first time around--the very day I was eligible. This time around, it was actually a bit easier. The first time, I almost blew it with my feeble attempt at parallel parking--something I was never good at--but this time I wasn’t asked to. Yay!

And this time I’d had the money to buy myself a car. Nothing major. Most of my money was earmarked for college--or new equipment for the band! And I hadn’t gone nuts in using my foreknowledge for ill-gotten gains. But I was still working for Dad, so I didn’t need to dip into my savings for day-to-day stuff. So, I bought a second hand car.

It was a used Datsun, a station-wagon kind of thing. . Yep, this is before Datsun became Nissan. A station wagon? Why would any 16-year-old kid want a station wagon?

Well, duh. Lots of room for fucking! Even more when the back seat folded down. Livvie and I could stretch out back there with plenty of room. As we quickly proved mere hours after I’d gotten my license.

I almost felt like an adult again, now that I could legally drive. This was one thing I’d really been waiting for.

So, everything was great. I was going to be a senior in high school, and I was near the top of the class. I finally had wheels. The band was kicking ass. I had a good group of friends and a great girlfriend.

Things were obviously too perfect. Fate decided that it was time the roof fell in.

Oh, not on me. But when the roof falls in on someone close to you, you generally get caught up in the debris. And what dropped on my head this day was some pretty serious debris.

I got a call at about three in the afternoon. It was Olivia. And she sounded like she was holding back a hysterical screaming fit. "Eddie? Can you get over here? Now, please?"

I got over there. She was waiting for me. She looked horrible. She jumped in my car and hissed, "Get me the fuck out of here, please." After a bit of twenty questions and her hissed, clipped answers, I finally got out of her that she needed to talk. But not at her house.

We went to mine. She wanted this talk to be for an audience of one--me. And my parents didn’t generally let me take Livvie to my room. I did, after all, have a ten-year-old sister. Even though my room was up on the third floor, the parents didn’t want there to even be a whiff of that near Erin. But after hearing Livvie’s strangled, desperate, "I need to tell Eddie what happened to me today!" and seeing the look on her face--plus my assurances that all that was going to happen was talking--my mother told me to take her up to my room so we could talk in private.

I led her upstairs. There were no chairs in my bedroom--I sat on the bed when I was up there. So, we both sat on the bed. But, before she could start talking, the tears came out. Great big gobs of them, accompanied by frantic wailing. I just held her through it. I admit, I was worried senseless. She still hadn’t given me a hint as to what was wrong, and the last time I’d seen her this upset was, well, the day Beth died.

Finally, she calmed down and pulled herself out of my embrace. And she started talking. Luckily, nobody died. But a lot had happened to her today.

"About eleven o’clock this morning," she started, "there was a knock on the door. I answered it, and this guy I’d never seen before was standing there. He asked me if I was Olivia Drogins. I asked him who wanted to know. He said, I’m Olivia’s father.

"Now, I’ve seen pictures of my father and this guy didn’t look anything like him. Which is what I told him. He said, ‘If you’re talking about Joe Drogins, he’s not your father.’"

"I was already fed up with this jackass, and started to tell him so. But he stopped me and said, ‘Hear me out. Then call your mother and ask her if any of what I’m going to tell you is a lie.’ Well, OK. So I came out and sat on the porch with him--wasn’t going to invite him in, right?

"He tells me his name is Ben Gorman, and that he met my mother when he was a professor of English at Salem State. Evidently, after my mother had my two brothers she decided to go back to school. She’d met my fa--I mean, Joe Drogins in high school, and they got married right after. Then my brothers came along. I knew that much. But evidently the marriage wasn’t in great shape and Mom figured it would come to an end eventually--so she went back to school to prepare for that.

"She was in his English Composition class right away. And she met him a couple times after class to ask question. Then they went out for coffee a few times. They waited until she was done with that class, but afterwards...well, long story short, they had an affair."

"And you were the result?" I asked.

"Apparently," she sighed. "According to Ben, she wasn’t sleeping with Joe at all at that point. This gets convoluted. Apparently, the minute she found out she was pregnant, she dragged Joe to bed. That way she could pass me off as being ‘early’ or something--which is I guess what she did. But when Ben found out she was pregnant, he confronted her. And she admitted that it had to be his."

"Jesus," I hissed.

"Oh, this gets better," she snorted. "He offered to take responsibility. He offered to marry her if she dumped Joe. He offered the world. And she turned him down. Even after Joe left. And apparently Joe left, by the way, because he figured out that I wasn’t his."

"Oh, damn, Livvie. Look, are you sure this guy was telling you the truth?"

"I asked myself the same thing, throughout the whole story. Though I don’t particularly look like him, I favor my mother anyway. I don’t look anything like Joe. So, yeah, I was asking myself the same thing. Until Mom came home in the middle of it. And confirmed it."

"And she kept this from you?" I asked.

"Oh, she did more than that," Livvie said bitterly. "After two years of trying to get to see me, trying to get Mom to let him near me, he gave up. He took another position at Eastern Michigan University. But he still tried to get to me, especially after Joe left. Tried to get Mom to go out to Michigan with him and everything. She still wouldn’t." Livvie took a deep breath. "And the worst part of it was that he wanted to be my father. And she wouldn’t let him. He’s wanted to see me all this time. She kept him away." She was choking back the tears now. "I thought my father had abandoned me. And, all this time, my real father wanted to see me. And that bitch wouldn’t let him!"

She visibly collected herself. "There’s more. He sent money. Even though he had no obligation to, legally--Joe’s my father on my birth certificate--he did. Of course, I never saw a penny of it. Mom used it to finance her booze. When Ben saw what my clothes looked like--and when I told him that I’d bought the nice ones with babysitting money--he almost blew a gasket."

"How did your mother react when she came home?" I asked.

Livvie laughed, with no humor in it at all. "She turned white as a ghost. Serves her right."

"Why did he come now?"

"He’s married. Got a couple of kids, 8 and 10 or so. He told me that his wife knew about me from the start. I guessed she convinced him that I was old enough to handle it, and old enough so that he could get to me without Mom around. Apparently, he sat in front of my house from eight this morning, waiting for Mom to leave. And his wife also convinced him that it was now or never, because next year I’d be off to college and he wouldn’t be able to find me."

"I can see that. How do you feel?"

"I have no fucking idea," she snorted. "I mean, my whole life is a lie. My father isn’t my father. My real father wanted me. And my mother is a bigger slimeball than I ever realized."

"Did she have any defense for her actions?"

"Of course not. Mom? Mom takes care of Mom. I’ve always known that, I just didn’t know the lengths of it." She sighed. "And the horrible part is, I owe it to my brothers to tell them the whole bit. I know Mom won’t. I can only hope they don’t blame me."

"Why on earth?"

"Because Joe was their father, and he left because of me."

"He left because your mother is a lying cheat, Livvie. You were just a byproduct of that," I told her. "Your brothers have grown up a lot since they got out of your house. They won’t blame you."

"I hope not."

"So, I know this day has been very upsetting. But what did you think of him?"

"My father? It’s so very strange," she said, though she had a slight smile on her face when she said it. "How would you feel if you were 17 and some stranger popped up on your doorstep and said, ‘Hi, I’m Dad’?" She sighed. "He’s very nice, it seems. I liked him, I have to admit." Her slight smile got a wee big wider. "And when he found out about the money, he did an end-around on Mom. He told me that the checks would now be mailed to me, and made out to me. He even made me give him my bank account number--and told Mom that if he saw his checks deposited into any account besides that one, he’d have her arrested for theft and forgery."

"Bet your Mom loved that."

"Oh, she was puce," Livvie laughed. "He even made sure Mom’s name wasn’t on my account, which it’s not. So, at least I’ll have some money for my senior year in high school. Oh, he also said he has an account for me, which will pay for pretty much any college in the country I want to go to." She grinned at me--finally. "So, I won’t have to be waiting for scholarships to go to BC with you. And I won’t have to settle for Salem State."

"Are you going to stay in contact with him?"

"I think so," she said. "He’s in town for the rest of the week. I told him I’d spend some time with him, trying to get to know him and all. He asked me to go to dinner with him tomorrow night. I said only if I could bring my boyfriend. He was all for it. You OK with it?"

"Of course," I smiled at her. "I guess we have to meet, right?"

"Yep!" she said. "After he stuck up for me with Mom about the money and her treatment of me and all--I walked him out to his car. And I thanked him for sticking up for me. I told him the only person that ever does that is my boyfriend. So he asked me if you were going to feel usurped. I told him, no, looking out for me is a full-time job so you’d probably appreciate the help."

I laughed. "But after that," she continued, "he definitely wants to meet you."

"I’ll be glad to. How are you dealing with all this?"

"I dunno," she sighed. "I feel like I gained a father--but pretty much lost a mother. Or, I guess, realized that I never had her. Not in any meaningful way."

"Yeah," I sighed.

She slid over on the bed so that she was next to me, and snuggled into me. "Least I got you," she said.

"Always."

"You’re my rock, Eddie, you know that?"

"I try."

We snuggled together on my bed for a while, before we went downstairs. Didn’t want my mother to freak and all.

When I took her home, she was completely drained. She stll managed to give me a heart-stopping kiss. Then she went in to face her mother. I offered to go in with her, but she declined. She probably figured that I’d be way too tempted to blow up at the bitch, which I would.

What could I do? All I could do was hold her and let her talk and make sure she knew I was there. My girlfriend’s life had been turned upside down and there wasn’t a lot I could do.

But I worried. She had a lot to deal with.