Chapter 4

Time continued to go on, as it does. I was pleased to see that it passed at an adult's pace instead of a child's or a teenager's. I went to bed each day and I woke up each day still in my new life. Gradually I became convinced that I was there to stay, that I wouldn't suddenly wake up again back in 1999. This was an idea that used to terrify me once I became used to being back in my teens.

Of course there were things I missed. Modern music for one. I longed painfully sometimes to hear a little alternative rock or modern heavy metal instead of what I considered to be golden oldies. I missed some of the conveniences I'd become accustomed to in the nineties that weren't commonplace in the early eighties. Video recorders and rented movies were a prime example. My parents would not own a VCR until late in 1984. Even then video stores would not begin to crop up until early in 1985. But most of all I missed Becky. There were times I cried in my bed at night as I lay sleepless, feeling condemned to the knowledge I would never see her again, never hold her again.

As I'd vowed after Richie Fairview put his buckknife into my side, I was careful what I did. I went to school each day but I did not torment any more bullies. Of course if they had decided to come looking for trouble with me I would have returned it to them in spades but none of them did. My encounters with Richie forever sealed my reputation as someone you did not fuck with. The bullies had much easier targets than I to occupy their time.

I tormented no more teachers as I had my history and A&P instructors. I replied politely to their questions when I was asked with whatever answer they were looking for. I brought up no controversial subjects to them. I did my homework each day the moment I got home from school (except on those days that Anita had something for me to do; something that began to happen with increasing frequency). As the school year wound on and as winter became spring my grades improved greatly all across the board, dramatically some would even say, unbelievably a few uneasy teachers even noted. By the time the school year ended my grades were straight A's and my overall average had moved up considerably.

I similarly took no further chances with my skin. As a paramedic I used to shake my head sadly at how stupid teenagers were, assuming their own immortality. After Richie I realized that I'd been even worse than they were. At least normal teenagers will acknowledge the possibility that they can die, even if they think it won't happen to them. But I had assumed that I couldn't die, that I was safe until 32. That, despite eight years of scraping up the broken remains of idiotic teenagers off the streets of Spokane. I still shudder when I think of how easily I'd climbed into the car with Mike that night of the kegger, of how easily he might have drunkenly driven over the edge of the levee, dumping us both into the Spokane River. How ironic that would have been, for me to come back and save Tracy from that fate only to suffer it myself, to put my parents through the same grief with a different child.

I avoided riding in cars with teenagers when I could. When I couldn't, I snapped on my seatbelt and pulled it tight. Most of the time it was the first time the seatbelt in question had ever been fastened. I could tell that the driver's and other passengers of these vehicles wanted to deride me, call me a pussy, and apply the other forms of peer pressure that teens use for their bizarre purposes. But they never did. Again, Richie Fairview kept them from speaking their minds. Occasionally someone would ask however, why I was doing it.

"Well suppose we crash?" I'd ask.

"We ain't gonna crash," was the inevitable reply.

"Probably not," I'd say. "But it's possible, isn't it?"

"I guess," they'd say with a shrug.

"Well," I'd theorize, "if we do get into an accident, I won't get hurt as bad if I have this seatbelt on. It doesn't inconvenience me in any way to have it on. It doesn't hurt, it doesn't restrict my movement, so why shouldn't I have it on?"

They usually had no answer for that and would let the subject drop there. But they never put on their own seatbelts in response. They didn't want to be called a pussy when I'd gone.

One thing I absolutely refused to do was to get into a vehicle with someone who'd been drinking and/or getting stoned. And since I didn't enjoy walking home from places like the falls, I just avoided going with anyone where that was a possibility.

This policy led to problems between Mike and I, and we already had more than our share of problems. Our relationship had changed since my return and Mike didn't care too much for it. I was no longer his trusty sidekick, willing to go along with everything he wanted to do. I no longer smoked pot with him on the way to school because I wanted my head clear for classes. He tried every form of peer pressure he could think of to get me to change my mind but when I continually refused he blew up at me one day and stormed off. He didn't speak to me or walk to school with me for three days and surprisingly, though it had been a childish outburst over a ridiculous subject, I was very upset by the episode.

I cared for Mike and I desperately wanted to pull him off of the path he was on. My conviction to do this became even stronger after the Richie Fairview incident. He had jumped in, without the slightest hesitation and grabbed hold of the hulking asshole, pulling him off of me. He had done that despite the fact that he'd been terrified of Fairview and that Fairview was holding a knife at the time. He had cast aside his self-protection instinct to come to my assistance and I could not forget that. Maybe if he hadn't done that, maybe if he'd simply stood there during the attack unable to move, I could have simply let the friendship die and let him go about his life. But he hadn't. He'd jumped in there without a second thought. Goddamit I owed him something. I had to try!

As was his nature, he offered me no apology for his outburst. He simply showed up at my door for the walk to school the following Monday and acted as if nothing had happened. He pulled out a joint as we went along but did not offer any to me. I suppose that was as close to saying sorry as he could come.

So I continued to walk to school with him each day even though I didn't really have to. Cindy, who had her own car and who took Tracy to school each day, had offered to give me a ride if I wanted. Her invitation did not include Mike, who she couldn't stand, and so I declined it.

After school I would go over to Mike's sometimes or he would come over to my house and then, if I'd finished my homework, I would smoke some pot with him. I learned to drop myself down to the level of a sixteen-year-old during these times and even managed to have a good time. I did not, however, go out on weekends with him anymore, always pleading other plans, which was usually true. I'd found some interesting ways to spend my weekends that did not involve putting my life at risk with intoxicated drivers. Anita figured heavily in these plans most of the time. So did Cindy.

Mike always seemed upset that I wouldn't go out with him on the weekends but didn't make a big deal of it. A status quo developed in our relationship, one that was due to break before long.

In April of that year Mike's dad, a mechanic, fixed up a two hundred dollar Volkswagen Bug and gave it to Mike to drive full-time. I remembered the car well. It was a 68, the heater didn't work, the upholstery was ripped and shredded, and the engine would constantly require attention from his dad. Mike and I had had some good times in that car during my first trip through. We would go to keggers, to parties, just out cruising. We would use the car to cut school with, driving to the river to go fishing.

Though I had no plans to do most of the stuff we used to do in the car, I figured that simply driving a few miles to school would be safe enough. I was wrong.

Mike's driving in that Bug used to scare me even before being recycled. It absolutely terrified me afterwards. It only took me one trip with him to realize I was never going to set foot in it again. He picked me up for school the first day he had it and as soon as we were out of sight of my house, he pulled out a joint and lit it up.

"You sure you should be doing that while you're driving?" I asked nervously.

"Doing what?" he replied with genuine confusion.

I pulled my seatbelt tighter and braced myself.

In the course of the short drive to school he weaved recklessly in and out of the morning traffic. He rode up on the rear of vehicles when he had no room to weave, getting so close to them that, had they stopped, he would not have had time to even apply his brakes, let alone stop in time. He ran through one red light and three stop signs, giving only a careless glance as he did so. He smoked on his joint the entire time. By the time we pulled into the school parking lot I was trembling with fear.

"You okay, dude?" he asked, looking at me with his stoned expression.

"Yeah," I said, feeling like I should kiss the ground.

"Hey," he said, "how about we cut out after my lunch? We now have freedom."

"Uh... no," I said, shaking my head. "I got a test today in English."

He gave me a sour expression, one that I was getting used to from him.

"All right," he said indignantly. "But you might have to walk home. I'm not gonna stay here all day just because you wanna go to your classes."

"That's cool," I told him levelly. "I can get a ride home from Cindy and Tracy."

"Oh," he said weakly. "Whatever." He went storming off.

I sighed, watching him go. I could not, would not get in that car with him again. So what was I going to do now?

As he'd promised, Mike and his car were long gone when school ended that day. I found Tracy and Cindy without much searching and they gave me a ride. Cindy elected to stay for a while once we got home. She asked me if I'd acquired any new albums since her last visit.

Since our first encounter I'd screwed Cindy ten or so times, always to our mutual satisfaction. We were never publicly seen together and both of us knew the rules of the relationship. It was a sexual relationship only. Our euphemism for it was looking at albums in honor of our first time.

Even though I'd purchased nothing new since my return, I told Cindy I had bought something the other day.

"Well let's go take a look at it," she smiled, standing up.

"Sure." I smiled back, following her.

Tracy watched us go, shaking her head.

Cindy and Tracy drove off to the mall later that day. After they were gone I picked up the phone and gave Mike a call. I wanted to get together with him and have a talk, to try to get him to see my point of view a little. I had a speech all set up in my mind.

"What's up?" he asked bluntly when he came to the phone. I could already hear hostility in his tone.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a little bit?" I asked. "Or maybe I could come over to your place."

"I got things to do," he said. "Did you get a ride home today?"

"Yeah," I answered. "Cindy gave me..."

"Cool," he interrupted. "Do you want a ride tomorrow, or is she going to take you then too?"

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to..."

"You want a ride or not, dude?" he demanded, an unmistakable ultimatum in his tone. "It don't matter to me."

"No," I said. "Cindy will give me a ride. But..."

"Whatever," he said. A second later the phone clicked in my ear.

I debated calling him back but didn't. I knew it would do no good. Though I still maintained some hope for Mike, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd failed.

The school year continued to roll on. I caught rides in the morning and in the afternoon with Cindy and Tracy in Cindy's Chevy Caprice that her daddy had bought for her when she got her driver's license. Two or three times a week Cindy would develop a burning desire to go check out some of my albums. I never turned down the opportunity to show them to her.

Mike kept his distance from me. He didn't call me anymore, he didn't come over. Before two weeks went by I would see him driving around a couple of freshmen in his Bug; kids he'd always made fun of before. Whenever I saw him he wouldn't even wave at me, wouldn't acknowledge my presence in any way. I would feel sadness whenever I saw him.

I began making a habit of eating lunch with Nina Blackmore through that year. It was less than a week before I stopped doing it out of simple pity or simple repentance for past sins or for simple attempts to change the future personality of a future bitch. I began eating lunch with her because I really enjoyed talking to her. I began to look forward to lunch each day so we could have another stimulating conversation on literature, life views, or some other topic. She was intelligent and pleasant once you broke through the years of torment she'd endured. I guess Life has a way of forcing certain people to grow up faster than nature intended. The way her eyes lit up when she saw me approaching her in the lunchroom always let me know that she was glad to see me too.

By the time Mike abruptly ended our friendship Nina and I were quite close and able to confide pretty well in each other. As I entered the lunchroom the day after my telephone conversation she immediately noticed my upset expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked, giving me her shy smile.

"Oh," I said, sitting down and opening my lunch bag, "you know my friend Mike that I've told you about?"

"Yeah," she said. "The guy who likes to smoke pot all the time."

"Right," I agreed. "Well yesterday..."

I poured out the whole story to her, omitting of course the part about how I'd once been a 32 year old and couldn't relate to a sixteen year old very well anymore. She listened without interruption and then, when I was finished, looked at me thoughtfully.

"You seem like you're blaming yourself for this," she said.

I shrugged. "We've been friends for a long time. Maybe I'm being a little hard on him. Is it that much for him to ask for me to drive to school with him each day?"

"If you're putting your life at risk it is," she answered. "It sounds to me like he is the one to blame for this, not you. He is the one willing to end a friendship over something so stupid as who you drive to school with and whether or not you smoke pot with him."

"Yeah, I know," I agreed. "But we've been friends a long time. I can't help but feel I've let him down or something."

"If you've been friends a long time," she said, "don't you think he'll eventually grow up a little and realize how stupid he's been? He'll come around."

"It might be too late by then," I blurted.

She looked at me puzzled. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, just ignore me," I told her. "I can be awfully bleak sometimes."

I left the lunchroom that day feeling better about the situation. Though nothing had changed I always felt better after I'd talked to Nina.

I also got into the habit of checking the business section of the newspaper each day. I would look through the stock market report, memorizing and tracking various stocks. It became such a routine at the breakfast table each morning that Dad quickly stopped asking me why I was doing it. In my former life I'd followed stocks only as they related to my 401k plan. Now I was trying to get a grip on the market, to begin the process of understanding it and eventually mastering it. If I could master it I knew, I could master everything.

Summer break began. When I brought my report card to my mother I actually feared she was going to faint as she stared at it.

"Straight A's, Billy?" she asked, looking at it in disbelief. "You?"

"I guess I just started to take all that stuff you're always sayin' about how education is the most important thing, seriously, Mom," I responded.

An extended version of The Look followed this.

"Do you think you can make your tacos tonight?" I asked next.

"Sure," she said numbly.

The summer went by quickly in a haze of hot days and sexual activity. Although Mike no longer hung out with me I found new companionship with Cindy and Tracy. My relationship with my sister had improved to the point where she was confiding secrets in me. She began telling me her hopes and dreams; that she wanted to go to law school, that she wanted to marry a nice man and have children, that she wanted a nice house and a nice car. These were things I'd never known about her since her life had been cut short before we'd gotten out of the teenage rivalry stage.

She also no longer seemed to have a problem being seen with me. Maybe something I'd said, something I'd done had given her a little kick in the head, but she treated me that summer as a friend and companion, taking me with her when she went to parties, either with Cindy or with one of her other friends.

She'd also developed a similar aversion to being in a car with an intoxicated driver; an aversion she'd managed to share with Cindy. Whenever we went out one of the girls would stay sober enough to pilot the car safely home. They developed a designated driver rule long before that buzzword caught on. I always suspected my little speech to Tracy that one night had a lot to do with it.

It was from Cindy and Tracy's ranks of friends that I chose my sexual companions. They were both part of the popular crowd, members of the elite, and in my previous life I would have been intimidated as hell to be at a party with them. But now things were different. I could not bring myself to be intimidated by teenagers, but oh how I lusted after them. I rarely left a party without using one or more of the condoms I carried with me at all times. I got to sleep with girl after girl from my fantasies and it was usually they who would approach me thanks to an underground reputation I had developed among the females.

The guys at these parties, who were for the most part older than I, either seniors or college freshmen, were oblivious to what I was doing. Despite my reputation with Fairview they considered me harmless, even as I was taking their girlfriends out for a little walk while they were playing a game of quarters or having someone pour beer down their throat with a beer bong. They wondered what I was doing there of course. I was inevitably the youngest male in attendance and none of them ever chose to converse with me. That was fine with me. As long as they saw me as no threat when they spotted me talking amongst the girls or having a private conversation with one of their girlfriends.

Tracy told me once that many of them thought I was gay. They didn't tease me about it because of Richie Fairview but that seemed to explain why I chose to hang out with the girls instead of trying to come over and talk football or cars. I never tried to convince them otherwise although the queer logic of this amused me to no end. A guy wants to hang out with girls so he must be gay.

I had careful rules about my relationships during that summer. I generally didn't sleep with anyone more than once and I made it clear that I desired no sort of commitment or ongoing relationship. I was in it for the sex and the sex only. Most of them understood this. They were in it for the sex too and happy that I was happy to keep my mouth open while it was on their pussy and closed afterword. I had two exceptions to this rule however: Cindy and Anita. I continued to sleep with both of them on a regular basis. It was nice. They both understood the rules, especially Anita who had no desire to have anyone find out she was boffing a teenaged boy. They were also both on birth control so I didn't have to wear a condom with them. It was nice to sink bare flesh into bare flesh for a change of pace.

Except for the rift with Mike and except for the absence of my discussions with Nina, which I missed, it was quite a pleasant summer. The best one I'd ever remembered to that point.

I got my learner's permit that August when I turned fifteen and a half. Dad then 'taught' me to drive.

"You've caught on to this remarkably quick," he said, looking at me with something close to suspicion the first day. "Tracy hasn't been letting you drive, has she?"

"No, Dad," I assured him, expertly changing lanes, feeling ecstatic to be behind the wheel after, how long? More than six months? "I guess I just have a knack for it."

"Some knack," he said. "I guess we won't have to go out all that often, will we?"

September brought the start of my junior year and Tracy's senior year. I had a whole new slew of classes and subjects that I'd chosen a few weeks before. I was particularly pleased to find that I no longer had to take PE. My first period class was Introduction to Molecular Biology. Mrs. Crookshank taught it and it was a subject I knew little about. I'd taken it so I could relieve some of the boredom of school by learning something new. I walked into class the first day and Mrs. Crookshank greeted me stiffly.

"Billy," she said. "It's nice to see you again this year."

"Nice to see you too," I answered.

"Do you like to read about molecular biology too?" she asked me next.

There was a hint of teasing sarcasm in her face. "No, Mrs. Crookshank," I said. "I'm an MB virgin."

Before she had a chance to reply I turned to find a seat. I saw that Nina was in the class. She was sitting in the front row and all of the desks around her were empty. She gave me a weak smile, perhaps wondering if I was going to speak to her or not after the summer.

"Hi, Nina," I greeted, walking over and taking the seat next to hers. "How was your summer?"

It turned out Nina was also in my third period class; Geometry. I sat next to her there also. When the lunch bell rang we walked together to the cafeteria. We found our normal seats and began to talk as we ate. After only a few minutes it was if we'd only done this yesterday.

"So you still want to be a doctor?" I asked her as we waded through the cafeteria's version of stroganoff.

"Oh yes." She nodded. "That's why I'm taking molecular biology. You have to be heavy in the science classes to get in. Especially if you want to get a scholarship."

"Where is it you want to go?" I asked her.

"Anywhere they'll take me," she said. "But I'd prefer the University of Washington at Seattle. It's a top rated school but close enough so I could commute home on vacations. If I get a good car that is. My parents don't have that much money."

"Mine either," I agreed. "I keep trying to get my old man to invest in the stock market but he won't do it. I don't think he trusts my predictions of good stocks."

"Do you still want to study business?"

"I don't really want to," I said. "But I think that I should. I think that's where my fortune lies."

She giggled, an action she would have been incapable of a year before. "Still gonna make that fortune huh?"

"I think I'll have a good head for investment," I predicted.

We ate in silence for a moment and then I asked, "Do you follow all that molecular biology crap? I mean today was only the intro but it seemed pretty deep to me. Quite a change from A&P."

"Yeah," she said. "I've read up on it a little over the summer. Trying to get myself a little edge you know? But you know what confused me?"

"What?"

"The geometry. It sounded like he was talking in Latin."

"He was," I affirmed. "But I think I got that handled. It's mostly just memorizing formulas it looks like. The actual math part is the algebra we learned last year. If you can memorize the formula, you got it nailed."

"You must have a head for numbers," she told me, taking another bite.

"I never did before," I muttered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing," I answered, an idea suddenly striking me. "Listen, maybe we can help each other out. Why don't we get together and study a couple times a week? You can help me with the biology and I can help you with the geometry?"

She looked up at me, speechless, her face reddening.

"You okay?" I asked, wondering what I'd said to embarrass her.

"You want to... study with me?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "Why not? We can either do it at your house or mine. You don't live too far from me, do you?"

"No." She shook her head. She gulped. "Are you sure we should do that?"

"Study together?" I asked, confused. "Of course I do. What's wrong with that?"

She looked at me hard for the longest time, various expressions crossing her face-fear, doubt, elation, disappointment, determination. "Nothing," she said finally. "When can we start?"

"I don't know," I said, still confused. "How about whenever we get stuck on something. It's probably gonna be often the way I see it."

Her face cleared a little bit and she seemed more composed. She giggled a little and shook her head.

"What's wrong?" I asked, nearing exasperation.

"Nothing." She chuckled. "Just thinking weird thoughts."

"I get those a lot too," I told her, still wondering what had gone through her head.

I saw Mike in the halls of course but he didn't talk to me, didn't approach me. His locker was no longer next to mine. It seemed he had a new group of friends to hang out with, the freshmen kids from last year. They all looked as if they worshipped him. I sadly guessed that that was what he needed. I also knew he would drop out by the end of this year and I was powerless to stop it. I tried to approach him a few times and he simply walked away.

Nina and I started studying together on a regular basis and our friendly relationship deepened to the point that we became intimate friends, able to judge each other's moods with a glance, able to say nearly anything to each other. I became closer to her than I ever would have thought possible. I was closer to her than I'd ever been to Mike. After all, Nina didn't always try to top whatever story I told or try to convince me about all of the mythical dick she was getting. She didn't try to get me to smoke cigarettes or cut school or get stoned. There was also no underlying sexual tension with her as there was with most of the other girls I knew. We just enjoyed being together, talking together.

She met Tracy and my parents on her first day studying at my house. It was somewhat awkward since Nina was very shy before new people and my parents were very curious about this girl I chose to have meet them. Though I was boffing nearly everything I could get my dick into at that point, I'd never introduced anyone to them. I thought it kind of ironic that the one they were meeting was the one I had not had any sex with. Nina uttered monosyllable replies to Dad and Mom's inquiries about where she lived, what she planned to do, etc, and finally they left us alone. Tracy had only uttered a polite greeting and had retreated to her room.

After she'd left, and after I'd answered my parent's interrogation and explained that we were only studying together, that we were only friends, and that they should not start compiling a wedding list, I went upstairs to put my books away.

Tracy was doing some studying of her own, this time to the accompaniment of some heavy metal. She looked up as I passed and called me into the room.

"What's up?" I asked her.

"Have you no shame at all?" she demanded of me.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's bad enough that you're screwing all of my friends but isn't that enough? Have you gotten bored with that and decided to start knocking off the shy egghead girls too? You are serious scum."

"I'm not screwing Nina," I said, looking at my sister aghast. "We were just studying. She's my friend."

"You don't have any girl friends," she accused. "You have fuck partners. Are you seriously telling me that you invited that poor girl over here to study? You didn't take her upstairs for a little private session before we all got home?"

"No," I yelled, shaking my head. "My god, am I that bad?"

"Are you that bad?" she laughed. "Do you know how many relationships you've broken up in the last few months? Do you know that more than four of my friends have dumped their boyfriends after they fucked you?"

"No," I said, and then, "Really?"

"Really." She nodded. "It was kind of cute at first, how all these girls were trying to maneuver to you, to get you to notice them. But you're getting out of hand. I've got girls coming up to me and pretending to be my friend just so I'll introduce them to you. Of course I have to keep it quiet they all say. I just wanna meet him, talk to him a little. Did you know that they all talk about you in the locker room and in the bathroom? Do you know what they say about you?"

"What?" I asked.

"They talk about you the way your friends talk about chicks like Steph. You're a male slut, Billy. They describe what you do to them and how well you do it using the most disgusting terms I've ever heard. They've even asked me if I've done you. Me! Your fucking sister!"

"I'm sorry, Tracy, I never..."