Chapter 133: Celebrity, One More Time

Thursday, May 17, 1984

Jas flew out of her house (nearly literally) and into the car the instant I pulled up to the curb. She was on my side, hugging and kissing me, before I could even put the car into park.

Paige, from the back seat, said, “What got into you?”

Angie hadn’t had a chance to tell her yet, but had made sure I picked up Paige first, just so Paige would see Jas’s reaction. Angie was giggling behind her hand at all of this, of course.

Jas snorted. “It’s not what got into me, it’s who Steve got into.”

I blushed at that. At the same time, Paige’s eyes went wide, and she stared at me via the rearview mirror.

“You ... are you serious?”

I nodded, while Jas said, “The walls are thin enough that I’m serious!”

“Oh. My. God!” Paige said. “I did not see that coming!”

“Neither did I,” Jas said, “but I really wanted to. Each time!”

Angie snorted, and Paige groaned.

“Slut!” Paige said, giggling. “I mean you! Not Jess!”

“Takes one to know one,” Angie said, giggling and elbowing Paige.

“Never said I wasn’t!” Paige said. “So, at the risk of being totally crass ... how was it?”

“Amazing,” I said.

“That’s what I expected,” Paige said.

“Because it was Jess,” I said. “Jess, who I’ve known for years, dated for years, who’s close friends with all of us including my totally amazing girlfriend-and-more...”

That got Jas blushing.

“Not because she’s Jess, iconic and unobtainable sex goddess,” I said.

Paige blinked. “See, this is where being New Paige is weird, because ... I completely agree! Old Paige would’ve been all ‘Fuck that, she’s ridiculously hot, that’s all I need.’”

“New Paige is better,” Angie said, grinning and hugging her.

“New Paige is way better,” Paige said, nodding. “Mostly because Old Paige can still be there, just ... focused. I can be all of me.”

“Yeah,” Angie said. “One of the many reasons why I love you.”

“And one of the many reasons why I love you, ” Paige said.

“So...?” Jas said. “I think we can share this. I mean, since I did.”

“Of course,” I said. “Just us. Technically, I think Cammie would be fine, but...”

“But she doesn’t need to know,” Paige said.

“Exactly,” Jas said, nodding.

“So...” Paige said. “Any chance we can ... you know...”

“Oink!” Jas said.

“Never said I wasn’t!” Paige said.

“Actually ... maybe?” I said.

“Seriously? Don’t get my hopes up!” Paige said.

Simultaneously, Jas said, “Wait! What?”

“She’s ... considering. Nothing definite either way.”

Angie just grinned.

Paige looked at Angie, then said, “You knew!” and started tickling Angie.

Angie shoved at Paige’s hands. “Yes, brat, I knew! I was going to tell you!”

“We’ll just wait and see, I guess,” Jas said.

“She’s going to talk to you. I mean, both all of you, and also each of you, individually, so it might come up there, or not.”

“That makes sense,” Jas said. “Damn! You know this is hilarious, right?”

I nodded. “Thanks to a little miscommunication a couple of summers ago.”

Jas huffed. “A big miscommunication! I screwed that one up. Still ... all better.”

“Totally all better,” I said, squeezing Jasmine’s leg.

She blinked, then said, “Wait! I need to belt in. We’re going to be late!”

“Not late, but ... yeah, we should go,” I said.

Jasmine scooted over and put on her seat belt.

“Drive, James!” Angie said from the back seat.

Jas and Paige stared at her.

“Didn’t I tell you that my chauffeur shall be named James?” she said.

“I ... maybe?” Paige said, with Jas nodding along.

“If he’s not, he’s not hired,” Angie said, sticking her nose in the air.

“Well, then!” Paige said. “James it is!”

“Keeps me from having that job long-term,” I said.

“You’ll be way too busy. No relaxing chauffeur gig for you!” Angie said, giggling.

When we got to school (still about fifteen minutes before we had to be to class — or to AP or CLEP exams, for most of us), Jess found us almost immediately.

She gave Jas a big hug first, and they whispered back and forth for a minute, both all smiles. That, right there, made me happy. Jas and I could have lovers who were just ‘ours,’ but when they were our friends, this was the ideal — everyone in the know, everyone happy.

After they broke their hug, Jess moved over to me and hugged me tightly, arms around my neck, looking up. She just looked for a second, then bounced up and kissed me.

A serious kiss, too. One that got a ‘Break it up!’ from Ms. Chesney.

“Sorry, Ms. Chesney!” Jess called, not looking in the least sorry.

Ms. Chesney just shook her head, then actually smirked at us a bit.

That ‘Most PDA warnings in history’ award was going to be mine! Even if it didn’t exist, I could pretend that it existed.

Jess grinned. “That will launch a thousand rumors.”

Looking around, I could see that she was right. We had at least a dozen girls, and quite a few guys, stopped in their tracks, watching us. It’s not like Jess and I hadn’t been connected for a while, but emphatic kisses in the parking lot were definitely unusual, particularly with a sizable audience.

I grinned back, and said, “Something we worked very hard to avoid, once upon a time.”

“I know, right!” she said, giggling. “Times change. A week and a half from graduation, fuck it! I love you, and I’m fine showing that. No one’s going to get bent out of shape that I won’t date them now. I’m off the clock.”

I chuckled and hugged her. “Works for me, but you knew that.”

She nodded. “That was ... amazing! I’m already eager for another date.”

“After finals?” I said.

“Most likely somewhere over the summer. I still need to kick ass on finals, and this weekend is busy. Then we’re taking a week-long family trip starting with the Sunday after graduation. By the time I’m back, you’ll be gone, or so I hear.”

“As you wish,” I said. “We’ll definitely figure something out.”

She giggled and gave me a look. “Gotta scoot!” she said, breaking the hug. “See you soon! Love you, friend!”

She hadn’t been quiet enough to keep that from those watching, so I returned it at the same volume, saying, “Love you, friend!” right back.

As she left, the audience started to depart, too, and I could see plenty of conversations start. This would be all over the place by lunch.

Fortunately, I’d done the ‘celebrity’ thing a few times now. I could handle it.

Hopefully.

Jas decided that she wasn’t going to leave it at that, and gave me a kiss that outdid Jessica’s.

“Break it up!” Ms. Chesney called, but I could hear a slight chuckle in her voice.

I did, but then gave her a wink. Daring, I know — one does not wink at principals, as a rule, particularly when nominally being disciplined — but it worked. Ms. Chesney just shook her head and smiled back at me.

Principal Riggs stopped me just outside Mr. Hannity’s room, where I’d be taking the Computer Science AP exam.

“Got a minute?” he said. “Don knows you might be a little late.”

“Of course,” I said.

We stepped back to the locker area, getting out of the flow of traffic.

“There are two reporters from the Chronicle here,” he said. “They’re ostensibly doing a story about Memorial’s multiple successes this year, so they want to speak to at least some of the State Champions and runners-up. You’re obviously on that list. We’ve already cleared it with your mother, who left it to your judgment. Same for Angie. Helen also cleared the use of any photos the school has. The Chronicle people specifically mentioned Student Council, too, so you’re doubly on their radar. A bunch of the usual suspects get double billing. Jess Lively gets triple, for cheerleading, her championship, and Student Council. My concern — obviously — is to avoid anyone saying something dumb.”

“Accentuate the positive, avoid the negative?” I said.

He chuckled. “Definitely! That’s easy to do, for you, I think. They’re going to find some people who are disgruntled, of course. There are always some. I mostly wanted to give you a heads-up, both because they’ll pull you out of class this afternoon for an interview and because you know a lot of others in the same boat. Obviously, you’re experienced at this, but there are some kids who would joke around and create a perfect ‘gotcha’ quote.”

“I’ve seen people do that. A friend of mine once referred to a group of people I was involved with as a ‘family’ and followed it up with ‘dysfunctional.’ Guess what everyone remembered?”

Admittedly, that happened in 1998, and would never happen this time, but Principal Riggs didn’t need to know that.

Thank God he didn’t need to know that!

He chuckled. “Exactly, and that’s exactly the concern. I could see a good quarter of the kids in Drama or the tennis guys using the phrase ‘dysfunctional family,’ for instance. It sounds funny, and in context it is, but it reads very differently.”

“I’ll get the word out, especially at lunch. Everyone I talk to will be discreet, at least if I can help it.”

“Thanks! I’ve got more kids to track down and try to keep from saying something dumb. Good luck with your test!”

“Thanks!”

This exam felt like cheating, in a way. Perhaps it was. I’d legitimately learned everything that I answered on it, but much of it I’d learned in years to come. Some of the material I knew now I hadn’t known until graduate school the first time.

I intentionally tanked a few questions, just to avoid a ridiculous score, but I was still going to do very well.

The exam amused me when I got to one particular question. It’s a classic CS problem, that of traversing a binary tree. The thing is, I’d never been taught how to do that in my first life, and it hadn’t come up in my self-taught education, either.

Nor had it for Dave Mayrink, who’d taken the exam today, too (but wouldn’t this time). Dave had solved it by a brute-force method of building a stack.

I’d stared at it, considered that, and then had a flash of inspiration, leading me to independently reinvent the long-before-invented technique of recursion. It was one of the true ‘Eureka!’ moments of my first life, and one I’d been proud of for decades.

I felt very good about answering that question. I’d truly earned that answer.

The good part about my ‘extra’ skills was that my doing well hurt no one else. This wasn’t a competition. I could be as good as I was (though, again, I tamped it down just a bit) and it would be fine. All this would do would get me out of a couple of freshman Computer Science classes that I had no business being in anyway.

I told everyone about the Chronicle story at lunch. Many of my friends had already been contacted, which was hardly a surprise. Of those I regularly ate lunch with, Jas, Angie, Paige, Cammie, and Amit were champions or runners-up, while Connie was the likely valedictorian. I tracked down Jess, Jaya, Calvin, and Megan as well. All of them knew about it.

We agreed to pass along the word and to reinforce the idea of keeping answers brief, focused, and positive. Rambling and going off-topic are some of the most likely ways of making trouble for yourself in an interview.

At the same time, the rumors were clearly flying. I seemed to be the subject of numerous conversations and had lots of people — especially girls — eying me. That was probably doubly so, because the Chronicle reporters were also part of the rumor mill. Two for the price of one!

Since I was done with AP and CLEP tests, I had a normal afternoon schedule. I got a note just as I ended Computer Math asking me to go to the library instead of Drama (making it clear Steffie would know that I would be late). It wasn’t like I had anything of substance to miss in Drama, anyway (not that I’d have lost anything by skipping Computer Math, either), so it made sense to me.

When I got to the library, I was met at the door by Ms. Chesney. She actually smirked at me, before saying, “You’re meeting Theresa Hatton from the Chronicle. She’s sitting upstairs on the left.”

“Thanks, Ms. Chesney,” I said.

“Don’t brag about all of the kisses,” she said.

“I would never have brought that up,” I said.

She grinned, and I headed upstairs. I hadn’t expected that from Ms. Chesney, but ... well, I was nearly out of here. Probably I wasn’t going to really stick my foot in anything at this point.

When I headed upstairs, I spotted a woman in a dark pantsuit, briefcase open, notepad handy. At a guess, she was in her late twenties. Fairly attractive, too.

“Ms. Hatton?” I said, heading over.

At her nod, I said, “Steve Marshall. A pleasure to meet you,” and offered my hand.

She rose and shook hands.

“A pleasure as well. I think you’re the first student I’ve interviewed who’s been interviewed by national publications.”

I shrugged. “It was a surprise for me, too.”

“Sit, please!”

I did, and she did, too, crossing her legs.

“Would you mind if I record this?” she said, showing me a little microcassette recorder that could be a twin of mine.

“That’s fine,” I said. It was, too. She could legally record me even if I said no, and my hope was that I wouldn’t say anything I’d regret being on tape. Of course, a lot of people hope that and fall short, but I do have some practice at self-editing.