Chapter 26: Moving Forward

October 20, 1980

I had trouble waking up. I was tired and sore. Imagine that. We skipped running. I zipped through the bathroom to give Angie more time.

Angie got up while I was dressing. I got out of my bedroom and had breakfast going by the time she turned up. I’d prepared her favorite school-day breakfast — granola, skim milk, and half a grapefruit. She smiled. “Thanks!”

Mom came in. “Hey, how was your study group? Ready for that big test?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure of that.”

Angie nodded. “We studied hard. It was a great session. We’re in good shape.”

“Good. I’m happy to see you both working so hard and getting along so well.”

“Thanks, Mom!” we said together.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Your father told me to tell you they’ll turn on the second phone line tomorrow. They’ll check the lines, but that’s it. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yes, Mom, that’s all we need. Thanks!”

Angie grinned. “Phone. Yay!”

We rolled up to school a few minutes later than usual.

“Ugh! Why didn’t we make Mom take us?!”

“Because we didn’t have an excuse for being tired and sore, Ang?”

“Oh. Yeah. That.”

Girlfriend radar went off. I braced myself as the tornado slammed into me, kissing like her life depended on me. “Hiiiiiiii!”

“Hi, yourself, love.”

She giggled. “‘Hi, yourself’? So romantic!”

“I love you, very much, Miss Matthews.”

“Better. I’ll let you live.”

I set her down. “I need just a minute. Maybe less.”

“Um ... OK?”

I walked over to Dan, opened my backpack, and passed him a box. He grinned.

“I checked this morning. All good.”

“Thanks, Steve. This was a great idea.”

I went back over to Candice as Dan went to Angie. Candice’s eye flicked to the box. “Whatcha got?”

I opened it as I heard “Oh!” from Angie. Inside was a single yellow rose.

“Ooh!” She blushed a bit, giving me a wide grin.

I handed it to her. “You can wear it as you wish, but it’s set so you can clip it into your hair.”

“Oh yes! Would you do it?”

I arranged her hair and clipped it just above her ear.

She preened, then turned, spying Angie. “Oh, okay. I see!”

Angie’s rose was pink. She was inspecting Dan’s tonsils. Thoroughly.

Candice wrapped her arms around my neck and looked into my eyes. “I apologize for griping that you weren’t being romantic. I never expected this. What do I say if anyone asks what it’s for?”

“Tell them it’s because your boyfriend loves you.”

She grinned. “I am going to have fight girls off of you, Mister.”

From Angie, we heard, “Tell them it’s because you’re a hussy, hussy!”

Candice blushed again, a little, and giggled. “Takes one to know one!”

“Yeah, you know it! Proud hussies with flowers in our hair - Unite!”

I took Candice’s books and we headed off to English, holding hands.

By lunch I’d heard from almost everyone in the study group (not to mention a lot of others). The consensus from the guys was ‘Stop! You’re making us all look bad!’ Fortunately they were joking. I think. Most of the girls had slightly dreamy looks. Outside the study group, of course, no one had an idea why this was a special occasion. Inside, no one said anything, but knew what’d happened.

Candice, and therefore me as well, received a couple compliments from teachers. And a joking scolding from Ms. Emmonds, who complained that flowers were not appropriate for biology lab. She let it stay, though.

Mrs. Higgins even thought it was nice. I was pretty sure she’d never like me, but, oh well. I wouldn’t like her either.

That night, I sat down and took stock of things. Just after what was, for me, a major life event seemed a good time to do just that. First questions: was I... me?

I was different. No question there. But who was I? Fifty-five-year-old ‘old me’? Fourteen-year-old ‘new me’? Both? Neither?

I wrote off ‘neither’, first. I then discarded both of the first two. That left ‘both’, which is more-or-less what I’d decided a while back. But was I losing my old self? Giving in too easily to just being my new self? Was that even a reasonable question?

I’d made some goals for myself over the past couple of months. Become friends with Angie — done. Improve my romantic life — done. Improve my friendships — done, as far as that can be ‘done’. Improve my body — always a work in progress, but also ‘done’. Improve in school — done. Keep from being discovered — so far, so good. Stay true to myself — I was doing fine there. Well, that, or I was lying to myself.

The first two weren’t just ‘done’, but well beyond my expectations. Angie and I were beyond ‘friends’. Best friends, maybe, but that’s a vague word. Soulmates? That sounded romantic, and we weren’t exactly romantic. But it also fit.

And, social life? An intimate relationship with a girl at fourteen? Me? Mind-blowing.

Great, wonderful, and ... where should I go from here? I didn’t want to just be fourteen-year-old me growing up again. There should be more. And what did more mean? The first game I knew to bet on was the Super Bowl. I needed to figure out a way to place a bet on that. That’d give me a shot at making a lot of money quickly. Money is a wonderful tool to open doors.

So: new goals. Start a list of the things I knew of this time and find a secret hiding place. Make some money and grow it. Find a way to invest. Then decide what to do with it once I have it. Keep building friendships; good friends are gold. Figure out what to do with this life — computers again, or something else? If something else, what? That’s what high school is for, isn’t it? But I’d try to do better, try to find a direction sooner. Another goal: try new things, and try ‘old’ things sooner. I already had that planned with Debate. And, obviously, relationships and sex.

I was sticking to my belief that I had to be ethical with my foreknowledge. Betting on sports or on the stock market would be fine. But I wasn’t ok with using other people’s words or ideas. I still wasn’t sure how far that went, though. Taken too literally, it might put me in an overly restrictive box.

My last goal was to not lose sight of the big question: why? Was there a reason I’d come back? Should I be trying to change something? Do something? Fix something? If so, what? How? Why hadn’t I been told? If not, then ... was just having a better life ‘enough’? And how in the world could I answer those questions?

Maybe I should be a philosopher. It didn’t look like I could ask anyone else.

October 21, 1980

After Sunday, study group was going to be — drumroll, please! — anticlimactic.

Emily and Sarah had the guest room. I’m sure they and their guys enjoyed their naps. The rest of us studied. We weren’t lying to Mom. Fine, we were misdirecting — but we had some big tests coming up. The second six-week grading period ended on an appropriately scary day — Halloween.

We’d finished our costume plans. I’d gotten hold of the pieces for good Luke and Leia costumes. I hadn’t thought about it then, but the symbolism of putting Candice in a white satin costume that showed almost no skin while remaining sexy melted her heart, not that it needed much melting. I knew Angie would never worry about that little flap of skin, but Candice? It’d been a big deal to her — until it wasn’t. Making sure she knew she was my princess, and that I thought she was perfect as she was now, seemed perfect.

Angie and Dan brought pieces for the lioness and tamer costumes. Dan cut a thrift store whip into pieces. They cut out the wicker seat of an old chair and made a space for Dan’s neck so that it looked like someone had shoved his head through it. Finally, they cut strategically located ‘claw marks’ into a khaki shirt and pants. His costume was out of dress code — but no one would care.

Mark, Morty, and Emily bought nice costumes. Mel’s was the knockout. She was damn close to dressing as a man, but still really cute. Mrs. Higgins was going to blow a gasket. But there was no rule about girls dressing as male characters.

The same was true for Connie in her doctor’s lab coat with stethoscope, name hand-embroidered on the pocket (Angie’s Home Ec sewing skills to the rescue) and Jimmy in his nurse outfit (Nurse Jimmy embroidered on the pocket of his scrubs). Perfectly fine, but Mrs. Higgins wouldn’t appreciate it. In 2020, no one blinked at a male nurse, but in 1980 that was still the stuff of jokes.