Dad gave me a hug something he rarely did. He was not big on showing affection and definitely not in public. But I guess this was a special occasion for him too. “It’s nice to see you with Greg. You’re showing good taste in friends.” His approval was evident.
My dad and Greg began talking about football and I think I yawned. Pretty soon, my mother joined us. She had a radiant look on her face and I could tell she was feeling happy. “So it was a surprise?” she asked.
“Yes. I never had an inkling.”
“You knew we wouldn’t forget your birthday didn’t you?” When she smiled small lines formed around her eyes that showed her warmth and character.
“I know you love me. I figured you planned to celebrate over the weekend.”
“It was actually Karen’s idea to have the party here. She thought you’d like it.”
“I do.” I went over to Karen and Randy and thanked them for the great party. Karen glowed with pleasure. “I’m having a wonderful time,” I said. “Thanks, Karen. You’re a true friend.”
Andy came over and plopped down between Karen and Randy. “Did you know that an ostrich’s eye is bigger than its brain?”
Randy ruffled my brother’s hair. “Yeah, sport? I know some people like that.”
“Starfish got no brains at all.”
“I know some people like that, too.”
“Do they play football?” my brother asked.
Karen and I laughed.
“Your brother’s got a fresh mouth,” Randy said with a deep frown.
“Andrew, go bother someone else,” I said.
“I like Karen,” he said. “She’s pretty.”
“Now there we agree,” Randy said.
Seeing he’d won us over again, my little brother was determined to hold up his end of the conversation. He’s more of a performer than me and loves an audience. “I read that a cockroach can live nine days without its head before it starves to death.”
“Ugh! That’s gross,” Karen said.
“Find someone else to share these morsels of information with,” I told my brother in no uncertain terms.
“Okay,” he said, giving me some attitude but moving on.
“Sorry,” I said.
“It’s all right,” Randy said, “the squirt was just trying to impress us.”
I rejoined my parents and Greg.
My father turned toward me. “Stacy, did you know Greg is planning to go to Princeton?”
“Hoping to go there is more like it, sir. My dad went there. I hope to follow in his footsteps. I’ve got decent grades and I am captain of the football and baseball teams, but even so it won’t be easy. You never know with the Ivy League colleges just who or what they’re looking for. Anyway I’m applying to a lot of different schools just in case.”
“They’d be fools not to snap you up, son.” No, it wasn’t my imagination; my father was salivating over Greg.
I saw Michael signal Liz and Jimmy to return to the bandstand, and I went to join them.
Michael immediately sensed my presence. “You don’t have to play anymore with us tonight.”
“That’s all right. I’m part of the group.”
“No, not tonight. This is your party, your friends and your family. Just go and enjoy yourself.” He took me forcefully with his strong hands and pushed me toward the steps of the stage.
“Michael!” I felt keenly hurt.
“We’ll do without you tonight. Now get out of here!”
I was so angry at him I felt like punching him.
“What’s the matter?” my father asked, looking in Michael’s direction.
“Nothing.”
“You do look upset,” Greg agreed.
Michael started playing something with a hard fast beat.
“Let’s just dance,” I told Greg.
“Sure,” he agreed.
It was a special evening all right but Michael sure had a way of spoiling it!
Chapter Seven
A few days later, Greg asked me to be his date for the Thanksgiving Dance. That was a no brainer. I accepted of course. The dance was a big deal for us since it represented the end of the football season. The team had been doing well. In fact, if we won the next two games there was some talk of going on to a state championship. At school everybody was upbeat. We were thinking football. It made us all feel like winners.
I hardly even paid any attention to the report card that was sent home. But my father paid a lot of attention to it.
“You’re doing below average work in several courses. This is the worst report card you’ve ever had. How could you let this happen?” His spine stiffened as he stared at me. “Don’t you do your homework?”
“As much as I have time for, Dad. But I’ve been busy, real busy. There just doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day.”
“Well, you better make extra hours.” His stern eyes pinned me with their intensity. “Good grades are important. I expect school work will be your number one priority.”
I nodded; I never argued with my father when he was in that kind of mood.
“You could drop that band of yours for starters. I believe that blind boy is a very negative influence on you.”
I stared at my father in surprise. “I love playing in the band, Dad.”
“We’ll see,” he said in a way that made me uneasy. A chill slithered down my spine.
While I was still smarting from my report card, problems developed with Michael. We’d managed to rub along well enough in our working relationship but suddenly he wanted me to devote even more time to practice.
The day after report cards came out Michael announced that we had an important gig. “We’re going to play at the Thanksgiving Dance,” he told us. “The student council at Wilson had such good feedback about the job we did at the Sock Hop that they want us back to play for the big Thanksgiving Dance.”
“Fine by me,” Jimmy said.
“What do you think, Stacy?” Michael waited for a response.
I hesitated. “It’s great but I can’t play.”
“What?” Michael’s dark brows knitted together.
“I can’t.” I had no desire to elaborate, but he wouldn’t let me off that easily.
“Why can’t you play?”
“Because, if you must know, I’ve already accepted an invitation from Greg to be his date for the dance.”
“Tell him you can’t go.” Michael’s dark glasses confronted and intimidated me.
I wasn’t about to let him push me around. “I will not! How dare you even suggest it?”
Liz stepped between us. “Look, for one evening we can get someone else to play guitar.”
“What about the vocals?” Michael barely controlled his anger, but I was just as furious.
I had a right to my own life. I was getting sick and tired of being bossed around.
“You and I can manage the singing. Maybe Stacy will come up and join us for a few numbers.”
“Of course I will.”
“Hey, don’t do us any favors,” Michael countered. His strong hands pressed down hard against the top of the piano.
“You’re impossible!” I shouted at him and hurried out, afraid I’d lose it and say something much worse if I stayed any longer.
****
The following week, Liz joined me in the cafeteria for lunch. At least Liz and I could be friends in spite of Michael. “Did you get your dress yet for the Thanksgiving Dance?” Liz asked.
“I haven’t had time to look around. I have to shop this weekend.”
“Me too. It’s only a week away and they expect us to dress up.”
“You’re kidding,” I said.
“Honor bright,” Liz responded. “They’re awfully conservative around here. The guys are expected to wear tuxes, or at the very least dark suits, and they expect me to wear an appropriate dress.”
“Who says?”
“The main man.” Mr. Reymer, our principal, was even more of a dictator t
han my dad or Michael. “He’s so old and stodgy.”
“Imagine if you showed up dressed like most professional performers.”
“Right,” Liz agreed. “Maybe I should do my clothes shopping at the hardware store.”
We giggled together. I kind of snorted.
“I think you’d look great with purple hair and a black leather jacket.”
“Black lipstick might be a nice touch. Maybe I could press on some fake tattoos. Can you see me with a nose ring? How about some piercings? Can you imagine Reymer’s expression?” We shared a laugh.
Liz and I met up to shop for dresses on Saturday. Our excursion made me realize Liz and I had different attitudes regarding money. Liz insisted we go to her mother’s shop where she could get a discount. The first thing she looked at was the price tag. She refused to even try on the better dresses, making do with one that had been marked way down. I’m not what you’d call extravagant but my parents always made me feel I needn’t worry about spending a little extra if there was something I truly wanted. The way Liz shopped brought home to me how hard things were financially for her family.
“It’s going to be better when we can keep the money from our performances,” Liz said. “Now that school is on I can’t work as many hours here at the store.”
After Liz chose her dress, I asked her to shop with me in another store. I didn’t see Mrs. Norris, but I didn’t want to run into Liz’s mother if I could help it. I think Liz understood because she was quite willing to stay with me and let me choose where we went next. I didn’t relax until I had escaped from the store. My humiliation seemed to hang in the air. I’d been dumb and dumber confronting Michael’s mother the way I did. How I wished I could change the past! But it was too late for that. I just planned not to do anything that rash again and keep my big fat mouth shut.
I visited several stores before locating a dress that fit me properly. They don’t have giraffes in mind when they tailor dresses. Anyway, I finally found a pastel blue with a square cut neckline that flattered my shape, making me look more curvy than I was.
“You’ve got a perfect model’s figure,” Liz said as I paid for the dress.
I looked at her in surprise. “Me? I’ve got a terrible shape.”
“No, you don’t. Besides models are supposed to be tall and slim. You look positively elegant in that dress.”
“Glad you think so,” I said.
She gave me a warm smile. “Don’t ever put yourself down. Others can do it so much better.”
We walked through the mall and decided on burgers at the food court. We both chose cokes and shared an order of fries.
“Do we have enough money yet for the band equipment?”
Liz nodded her head, munching thoughtfully. “Just about. Michael wants you to come along with Jimmy and me when we pick out the amps and keyboard for him.”
“Isn’t he coming too? He should choose the synthesizer for himself.”
“I know,” Liz agreed, “but he won’t leave the house to go to a store. He thinks people will stare at him.”
“Yet it doesn’t bother him to perform on stage. I don’t understand.”
Liz’s gray eyes had an owlish quality. “When Michael’s performing he’s in his own world. He doesn’t even think about his blindness then. Without his music, I don’t know what would happen to him.” Liz licked her lips. “Promise me that no matter what happens or how he behaves you won’t give up on him.”
I didn’t answer her right away. “Sorry, but I can’t make a promise like that. It’s not fair for you to ask. You know I care about Michael but I don’t think that’s enough.”
“He cares about you too,” Liz said with an earnest expression. “He just keeps all his feelings bottled up inside. Since the accident he’s closed himself off. Music is his only link to the outside world—music and you.”
I wished she wouldn’t do that to me. I hated it. It was as if she wanted to make me responsible for Michael. At that moment I resented Liz. I felt she was trying to manipulate me.
****
Because of what Liz had said I insisted Michael let me sing with him at the Thanksgiving dance. They got another boy to play bass guitar. I thought he played well.
I joined the group for at least one vocal in every set. Mostly they played instrumentals anyway because everyone wanted to dance. I enjoyed getting up and singing with the band. Funny, I’m shy about speaking in front of a class, and yet I never feel as good as when I’m performing music for an audience. For me that was the high point of the evening.
Greg was very understanding. The nicest thing about him was his easy ways. He was never demanding of my time and was just as content to be with his guy friends talking sports as he was dancing with me. We had a good time at the dance.
After the dance, Greg and I went out with Randy, Karen and the rest of Greg’s football buddies. We ended up at Club Paradise because there just weren’t any other places open in our town by midnight. Although the team had lost the Thanksgiving game to our arch-rival Southvale and wouldn’t be going on to the state finals, spirits were still high. Greg took the loss in stride and the rest of his friends seemed to follow his lead.
“There’s always another season,” he said. “As for me I intend to rock them during baseball. We’ll be champions yet!” He raised a root beer toast.
Mr. Kemp had a good band playing, not as good as ours of course, but they had a nice sound. Randy told a bunch of bad jokes and Karen was polite enough to laugh. Then again Karen was big-time happy these days. It looked like Lori Rosen wasn’t returning to the cheering squad until at least March.
Karen’s dream had become a reality; the most popular kids in school accepted both Karen and me. The only person I didn’t get along with was Cindy Ellis and that wasn’t my fault. Unfortunately I made the mistake of being in the rest room the same time as her. I was applying lipstick when I caught her looking at me in the mirror as she combed her long golden hair. If looks could kill I would have been impaled, burned alive, mutilated, and otherwise made a perfect victim in a Stephen King novel.
I determined that I wouldn’t shrink away and act like a coward. “Something bothering you?” I said.
Her pretty pink mouth turned into a pout. “You think you’ve got Greg but you don’t. No more than I did. He’ll drop you just the way he did me.”
“Look, I had nothing to do with your break-up.”
She finished combing her perfect blond hair and placed the comb back in her evening bag. “No, I guess you didn’t. The thing is he’ll get tired of you soon enough. You’re nothing special. Maybe he’ll even come back to me. But if he does I’ll make him pay before I forgive him.” I envisioned her interrogating suspects with a whip in some dank prison. I felt a chill slither down my spine.
“What makes you think Greg and I aren’t crazy about each other?”
“You forget, I know him—better than you think. I know how shallow, superficial and self-absorbed he is. The all-American boy athlete has no substance. You might be wild about Greg but he’ll never care that much about you. He’s not capable of it.”
“If you feel that way why would you want him back?”
“Did I say I was any different? Besides it’s an interesting challenge.”
I shook my head and left her standing there admiring her beautiful façade in the mirror, considering her next conquest.
As it turned out, I never did go shopping with Liz and Jimmy for the band equipment. After the Thanksgiving Dance, they had enough money to pay for everything. The fee for the dance had put the total over the top. I was glad, but my time factor was tighter than ever.
I was having trouble, especially with physics. No matter how hard I studied, I couldn’t achieve the grades I needed. The best I seemed able to swing on the tests was a “C.” That didn’t cut it with my dad. Often I took a short nap after dinner. Then I set the alarm and studied from eleven to two or three in the morning making sure I did all my homework. The trouble was
, then I was too tired to concentrate fully on what the teachers were explaining in class. I caught myself nodding off from time to time. It was a vicious cycle that I didn’t know how to break out of.
On top of that Michael wanted a great deal from me in the way of rehearsal time. He wouldn’t lighten up in his demands.
“Liz has signed us up for a band competition. If we can win over the other groups we can get some important recognition. It’s time we tested ourselves, to see how we measure up. But we’ve got to practice. We need a professional sound. We can’t afford to be sloppy.” Michael was a hard taskmaster, a demanding perfectionist. He and my dad might not have liked each other, but they had more in common then either of them realized.
One evening I found myself yawning and goofing up on a few notes. My eyelids kept closing. “I have to quit early,” I told him.
“Are things getting too hard for the rah-rah girl? Why don’t you give us a cheer with your pom-poms?”
I so disliked him when he talked that way. “You’re an inhuman beast, unfeeling pond scum slime. I hate you!”
“Good, put those emotions into your playing,” he responded.
I practically threw the guitar in his face. “You’re torturing me.” I left without looking back.
The next afternoon, Liz phoned and tried to smooth things over.
“I’m sick of it,” I told her. “He’s never satisfied! He wants more than I can give.”
“He demands the most of himself,” she reminded me.
“I wish you’d stop making apologies for him.”
“Stace, I wouldn’t if he could do it for himself. Please, please don’t give up on us.”
“All right. I’ll practice, but there are limits.”
“I’ll tell him,” she promised.
One evening when Greg dropped by I told him about the demands Michael was putting on my time.
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