Stacy's Song (8 page)

***
*

Around six that evening, Michael phoned. He told me he was canceling practice but asked if I could come over anyway for a talk. His voice sounded ominous. It didn't take a genius to figure out his mother had already talked with him about my visit.

I took the bus at six-thirty and arrived at Michael's house a little before seven. I felt like a thundercloud was hanging over my head ready to burst. As soon as I went in, I knew it was going to be bad. The door was open and Michael was on the floor doing push-ups. He continued the exercise until he dropped from exhaustion. Then I let him know I was there.

He got up from the floor and came toward me, b
reathless and drenched in sweat
the T-shirt clinging to his muscular chest. “My mother phoned from work. She was upset. She had quite a bit to say. She told me how you came to see her. Did the two of you have an argument?”

“Not exactly. It was more in the nature of a disagreement.”

“Well
what was this disagreement about?”

I fidgeted my feet on the carpet. “About you.”

“I see.”

No
,
he didn't see, but I
wished he could. Wasn't that a big part of our problem?

“What made you do it?” He put his arms none too gently on my shoulders.

“I wanted to help. I happen to care about you.”

“I told you before
I don't want your pity!” He angrily pushed me away from him.

“Don't worry
,
you're not getting it!”

“Look
,
from now on
let's keep our relationship strictly business. O
kay? Nothing personal. No walks
,
no talks
,
no nothing! It was a mistake. I realize that. My fault. The only thing you and I can share is music. Got that?”

“Understood. Over and out. I wouldn't have it any other way,” I agreed, choked with anger. My face burned. I took a deep breath
and let it out slowly. “You know
,
Michael
,
there ar
e all kinds of ways to be blind
and right now
you're every one of them.” With that, I turned quickly and ran out
the front door. My chest heaved and
my heart burst with pain. I didn't let myself cry until I got home and could shut the door to my bedroom.

 

Our Labor Day performance at the swim club drew a lot of compliments—true they mostly came from my mother and father but
I could live with that. However
,
there were fewer people at the Labor Day celebration than July the 4th. I can't say why because Mr. Kemp always throws a terrific party that day. His workers barbecued hamburg
ers, chicken, hot dogs and ribs and
there was also corn on the cob, potato salad, cole slaw, soda for the kids, beer and mixed drinks for the adults. The staff had scheduled all sorts of activities, from egg tosses to ping pong tournaments. My brother Andy practiced shuffleboard for weeks so he would be ready for the father-son tournament, which offered a trophy to the winners.

Our band played well enough
but my heart wasn't in it. Ever since Michael and I agreed to have nothing b
ut a platonic work relationship I felt down. Of course
I realized I had to get over my feelings for him or just spend the
rest of my life being miserable
and I'm much too sensible for that. Like the song title says: Big girls don't cry. So Michael didn't want to get involved with me, tough nuts. I would just have to accept that. Nobody said it was going to be easy. But it wasn't a tragedy either. I'd just have to live with it.

**
*
*

School started that week. It was like being thrown into an icy shower after coasting along in a warm bath. It took some time for me to readjust. I was a junior now, finally an upperclassman, and that felt good but Physics was ev
en more difficult than Biology
and Algebra II didn't appear any easier than Algebra I had been. I tried my best to concentrate on my schoolwork.

Mr. Kemp closed the club for redecorating during the month of September but promised to have us back to play on Fridays for teen nights during the coming autumn m
onths. Michael wasn't satisfied;
he wanted us to find work for September.

A week into the school term
Jimmy actually found us a gig. “I got it all lined up,” he explained with pride at one of our practice se
ssions. “There's this nerdy kid
,
Denny Moore
,
who wants to have a party. He asked me in school about the band. I told him we were available if he h
ad some cash. The only catch is
he doesn't know if he can hire us because so far almost no one who's been invited to the party accepted.”

“That does present a problem,” I agreed. “Who's he been asking that doesn't want to go?”

“The popular kids,
jocks mostly.”

I thought for a moment. “Isn't he a real smart kid?”

“Yeah, he's a brain
iac
. He also wants to be popular. That's why he's throwing the party. He knows he can get the other nerds to show up but he wants the in-crowd too.”

“I think I might know a way to get them to come,” I told Jimmy. My own gray matter
was working
on overdrive.

“Good,” Michael said, “
Because
we could use the work. Liz priced equipment and we still don't have enough money. It's okay when we're at the club because Kemp is goo
d about letting us use his amps
but we've got to have our own quality stuff or no one will ever take us seriously.”

“I'll let you know if my idea works out,” I told him.

The first thing I planned to do was talk with Karen. Now that she was hanging out with Randy and his friends, popularity
was rubbing off on her like B
.
O.

“I need a favor,” I told her. “Denny Moore is inviting you and your new friends to a party he's giving. I want you to convince Randy and his buddies to go to it.”

Karen frowned at me. “I don't have that much influence.”

“Randy does. Can't you convince him? If you do this favor for me, I'll owe you one. Okay?”

“Denny acts like he's better than the rest of us because he's school smart. Nobody likes him except maybe his fellow nerds. Do you know what you're asking? He's such a...”

“Don't worry
it's not contagious,” I assured her.

“It just might be!” She puckered her lips as though she'd been sucking on a lemon.

“
Its only one party
,
Karen, but if you're
afraid
then don't. I wouldn't want to hurt your popularity.” I started to walk away. Karen stopped me.

“All right,
” she said, “but you owe me big
and don't forget it!”

*
*
**

I ran into Denny later in the cafeteria. In actuality, I saved him from a
burnout
that
was trying to extort lunch money from him. Sonny Webber had Denny pushed into a corner. Sonny had been in high school almost long enough to collect Social Security. He dressed like a tough
guy and made kids like Denny
nervous. I quickly moved between them, gambl
ing that he wouldn't hit a girl
,
at least not in public.

“Hey
,
Sonny
,
how's it going? Listen, I n
eed to borrow Denny for a while
so please excuse us.” With that
I took Denny's sweaty hand and pulled him away, not waiting for a comment from Webber. We walked quickly toward the other side of the cafeteria.

“Thanks,”
Denny said, removing his thick
black-rimmed glasses and wiping away the sweat that had gathered around his myopic eyes. His face was as pale as the belly of a dead fish.

“Do you still want to have that party?”

“Of course,” he said.

“And you'll hire our band?”

“Sure, but I have to have more people willing to come. It's got to be an event.”

“I've solved that problem for you,” I told him. I explained to him how Karen and Randy would come and would convince the others. Denny was ecstatic. He looked like a feline that had been rolling around in catnip.

“If you invite them; they will come.” I felt godlike for at least a moment.

***
*

We played the party
but I can't say
all had a good time
. Denny had a good-sized recreation room in the basement of his house, and some of the kids danc
ed to our music. But there was
little mingling. Karen and Randy's crowd hung out together. They ignored everyone else. Denny's friends stayed off to one side by themselves. Denny definitely didn't realize his goal of b
ecoming Mr. Popularity. In fact
the party broke up early. Karen shrugged at me as she and Randy le
ft with their friends. At least Denny was reasonably satisfied and best of all
we were paid.

We played only
one other gig that month but it was still a good one. Actually
,
it was Karen who got it. She heard from Greg La
wson, Student Council President
,
that a 1950's theme Sock Hop was planned for late September. Everything was organized except for getting the band. Karen suggested us. Thanks to her, we got that job as well.

The Sock Hop was held on September 2lst in the Wilson High gym. Since it was stag or drag there was a good turnout. And since the theme was the l950's, everyone came dressed in costume. It was a lot of fun. We had to practice in advance to get th
e old rock sounds right, but I
enjoyed it. My mother helped me fix up an outfit.
I put my hair up in a ponytail,
wore bobby sox and sneakers with a long full skirt.

Liz and Jimmy looked great, and Liz picked the
perfect outfit for Michael too, a b
lack shirt and tight-fitting bl
ack jeans. With his dark shades
he fit the bad-boy image. His looks were to die for.

As soon as we were set up, Michael gave us the thumbs up signal. “Ready, let's rock!”

And we did just that. We started with Let's Go to the Hop and then broke into Rock Around the
Clock
;
that
got everybody dancing. We played Elvis, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, did some slow romantic stuff for the couples, and finished up with Save the Last Dance for Me
. Everyone danced
,
even the chaperones.

Karen and Randy won the best costume contest. Karen had gone all out for this, down to locating a poodle skirt and saddle shoes. Greg Lawson and Cindy Ellis won the dance contest; they were beautiful to watch together. He was tall and handsome and she was so beautiful, a golden-haired prince and princess. They looked like they'd stepped out of a book of fairy tales or as though they ought to be on a billboard advertising some all-American breakfast cereal.

It proved to be an out
standing evening and the best part
was we knew
that our band provided it. There it
was a natural high that the four of us shared.

**
*
*

The following Monday, cheerleading tryouts were held after school. I promised Karen I would stay and watch.

“You'll do more than that,” Karen insisted. “You're trying out with me.”

“No way!” I told her.

“Listen, Lori Rosen broke her leg. She won't be able to cheer for a long time. Who knows when she'll be back? Ms. Gladstone needs two girls, not one. Don't you see? This is our dream come tr
ue. You have to try out with me
,
Stace.”

“I don't know,” I hesitated. “I don't think I'm good enough. I'm definitely not pretty enough.”

“Oh
,
Stace
,
you're always doing that,
putting yourself down. Come on
,
I won't take no for an an
swer. Besides
you owe me a favor, a big one, for getting Randy and his friends to go to that dork's party. Remember?”

So there I was, standing next to Karen in the gym, getting ready to try-out for varsity cheerleaders. Karen went first and she was so good.
I was nervous when my turn came
but I
did my best. After we finished
Ms. Gladst
one had us wait fifteen minutes and
it felt like forever. There were sixteen girls altogether. We waited in a tense silence. Ms. Gladstone and the two co-captains of the squad retired to the gym office to discuss our performances.

“
I
think I'm
going to be sick!” Karen exclaimed. “I feel like my stomach is the abysmal swamp and baby alligators are gliding around.” Karen always did have a way of overstating things. She probably should have reconsidered and made drama her activity of choice.

When they finally returned, Ms. Gladstone came forward. “Cindy, Dori, and myself want to thank all the girls that tried out today.
You were all terrific. It was
difficult for us to decide. But we have to ma
ke a choice. Therefore
,
Stacy
Nelson
will take a permanent place on our varsity squad. Karen Rainey will act as substitute until such time as Lori Rosen can rejoin us.”

Karen jumped up and down in excitement and then did a cartwheel. I think I just stood there staring at Ms. Gladstone. My mouth was gaping so wide I almost swallowed a bug.

Ms. Gladstone shook
my hand and then Karen's. “It's
good to have dedicated
enthusiastic girls like you on the squad.”

**
*
*

Cheerleading changed a lot of things for me. To start with, I was busier than ever. Sometimes, I fell asleep over my homework after practice. My mother often had to wake me up to eat dinner. She'd give me these little worried looks.

The senior cheerleade
rs tended to keep to themselves but one afternoon
Cindy asked us and the other juniors to join them for pizz
a at Sal's. Karen was delighted and so of course
we had to go. We were joined by a
number of the football players such as
Greg Lawson, Randy and their friends. They pulled several tables together and everyone talked about the football season that was already in progress.

“So you think we'll have a winning season?” Karen asked Greg.

He offered a no
nchalant shrug. “You never know but as quarterback and captain
I have to think so.”

“Well
the defense is ready to kill,” Randy asserted. I didn't say
much because to tell the truth
I've never been that
enthralled by football. However
,
to say as much around this crowd might get me lynched. So I listened. When everyone had finishe
d eating and the group broke up
,
I got my books together and started to leave with Karen. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. Gre
g Lawson smiled at me. At first
I thought it was some kind of mistake.

“Noticed you cheering at the last game.”

“Because I'm so much taller than the other girls?”

“No, ‘cause you were so much better.”

I blushed at the unexpected compliment.

“You're Stacy
,
aren't you? Some of us are going out to eat
out
on Saturday after the game. Think you'd like to come with us?”

I think I just stood there for a full minute gawking at him, practically drowning in the deep blue sea of his eyes. “Sure, that would be fine.” I'm certain I must have stuttered like a moron.

He gave me a wide smile with his dazzling, even teeth. I was practically blinded!

“Great
,
win or lose
we've got a date.”

Karen waited until we got outside and then she let out a rebel yell. “Stace, isn't it great? I told you it would happen. The dream is coming true for us!”

“It's real nice that Greg Lawson noticed me,” I agreed.

“Stace
,
he didn't just notice
you
he asked you out. The most popular boy at Wilson High asked you out. It's like…amazing.”

Strangely enough, I wasn't as excited. I was just surprised. “I thought he and Cindy were virtually ready to send out wedding invites.”

“Guess not. He's entitled to change his mind, isn't he?”

“She's a lot better looking than me. Let's be honest; there's no comparison.”

Karen gave me an annoyed look as we walked to the bus stop. “Don't think so much. It's not healthy. You'll strain your brain. You might become like Denny.”

“Wouldn't want to do that. Thanks for the good advice, Karen. It would be a shame to wear out my intelligence. But you have to admit, Cindy has a be
autiful face and a great figure
and sh
e's a senior like him. He's hot and here I am
too tall and scarecrow skinny.”

“Didn't I read somewhere that you can never be too rich or too thin?”

“Probably propaganda written by a wealthy anorexic.”

Karen sighed deeply. “I think it was the Duchess of Windsor. She lived to ninety, married royalty and was disgustingly rich.”

“I guess she must have known something,” I conceded.

“There isn't a girl in school who wouldn't beg to trade places with you right now. I have never seen such sexy eyes on any boy. And he's so tall! You can even wear high heels if you want when you go out with him. Just be grateful.”

So I followed Karen's advice, to be grateful, and not overheat my thinking processes. Anyway, my life was too hectic to explore Greg's motivation closely. My real problem was keeping up with schoolwork in view of all my extracurricular activities. I was swamped with work. After a while, I was almost able to stop thinking of Michael—almost, but not quite.

There were dances, parties and group dates. Becoming the girlfriend of Greg Lawson brought with it all sorts of social commitments, more than I bargained for. But popularity is a sweet thing and it's always easier to adjust to life becoming better than life getting worse. Other girls now treated me with a mixture of awe, admiration and jealousy. In the hallways, kids I didn't know said hello to me. I even found myself being nominated for Junior Class Treasurer. Of course, I had to get up on stage in the auditorium and make a stupid speech in front of the entire Junior Class, at which time I felt as if I was ready for the coronary care unit.

November l4th was a Friday. It was my sixteenth birthday. My mother and Karen got together several times. I was certain they were planning a party, but as they didn't say anything, I knew they were planning it as a surprise.

It happened to be the night we played at Club Paradise. I figured if they were throwing a party, it would probably be Saturday. Anyway, I forgot about it pretty much. Greg took me out for dinner before the gig. He brought me a corsage of pink tea roses and sugar cubes. I was touched by his gesture, even if it did seem a little corny and old-fashioned, like something my dad might do. We went to an elegant restaurant. There was candlelight, cream-colored linen and a table with a view of the lake. It was downright romantic. Greg held my hand, looked into my eyes, and I felt like a character in a movie. I could hardly taste my dinner.

“Like it here?”

“This is so wonderful,” I told him.

“I'm glad. I wanted it to be a special night for you, Stace. I guess you know I like you a lot. We've only been seeing each other for a little over a month,
but I feel like I know you
.” Greg looked uncomfortable and loosened the tie he was wearing for the occasion.

I squeezed his hand. “I feel the same way,” I told him.

That should hav
e broken the ice between us
but it turned out to be the high point of our conversation. This was the first time that Greg and I had been alone together. Always we hung out with other kid
s. We'd never been on an actual
grown-up date. It seemed like someth
ing was missing
as if Greg needed al
l those other people around him admiring him
or he just was
n't Greg Lawson anymore. Anyway
we did very little talking. We just didn't have much to say to each other. I tried not
to feel disappointed; after all
Greg
was treating me so great
,
just the opposite of Michael.

During dessert, I asked questions about football, and that at least got him talking. But somehow, the conversation seemed boring and trivial. I tried hard to make myself listen attentively yet I just wasn
't enthralled. In my mind's eye
I kept seeing Michael's face. If G
reg was aware of my distraction
he gave no indication.

As Greg drove to the club, I accused myself of stupidity. Any sane girl would have been out of her mind with joy to be out with a gorgeous, popular guy like Greg. So what if conversation with him wasn't exciting? Why would I prefer to be with Michael? Why would I think of Michael right now? If he were here he'd just be sarcastic and insulting. Yet deep in my heart I still cared about him. I shook my head. I must have been ready for the psycho ward!