Chapter 1

Fate is a blind and fickle force that, often as not, rips through our lives like a tornado rips through a Kansas town. It leaves immense change in its path, yet, only feet or yards away, nothing is touched and life goes on as before.

George Kennedy, and his little sister Amy were in the path of fate on Friday night, the thirteenth of July. The same twist of fate would also directly affect Samantha Rollins, and her little brother Phillip.

And, though no one knew it on that fateful night, other people’s lives would also be changed, some more, some less by what Fate dealt the kids that Friday, the Thirteenth.

It all started when George, who had been dating Samantha for about six months, began negotiating with her just when it was that he was going to be able to slide his aching, ready-to-blow penis into what he believed would be her warm, wet, receptive pussy. He was convinced that, if they truly loved each other (and they said it all the time, so it must be true, right?) then it was time to move up from the hot and heavy petting they indulged in quite frequently.

True, he spurted quite regularly as her hand stroked him, but he wanted to squirt in her pussy, instead of in her hand.

Sam, for her part, wasn’t so sure about that. She wasn’t on the pill, and she had actually read the literature they passed out in sex-ed that explained very carefully how NONE of the common methods of birth control were a hundred percent effective.

Now, she loved babies. She loved to hold them, and play with them, and even loved to change their diapers. She loved to play peek-a-boo, and count their fingers and toes. She loved to talk to them and sing to them and pat their little backs to get them to burp.

But she didn’t want to have one swelling her belly. Not yet anyway. Still, feeling George’s fingers slipping in and out of her wet pussy just about drove her crazy, especially since he hadn’t quite figured out how to bring her off and she was too embarrassed about it to tell him what he was doing wrong.

Phyllis, Sam’s mother, who had gotten pregnant with Sam when she was only seventeen herself, recognized the signs of imminent sexual activity between the horny couple but, being Catholic, she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, provide any birth control. The answer then, was to ensure that nothing COULD happen on their dates. She decided to have a conference with Margaret, George’s mother, who also noticed the crusty evidence of looming problems when she washed her son’s underwear.

Fate began to build up a head of steam when the two women decided that not only should George and Sam be limited to double dating if they were going to be away from adult ‘supervision’, but the other couple should be comprised of their siblings.

After all, what could they do while their younger brother and sister were there to see?

Phillip and Amy both thought the idea was the stupidest thing they’d ever heard of. Both were fifteen and neither was interested in being told not only where they would go on a Friday night, but even who they would go there with.

They were vaguely acquainted with each other from school, but were in different social groups, and this only served to make them even less interested in taking part in what they both saw, for all intents and purposes, as a blind date.

George and Sam didn’t like it either, but they didn’t want to have to stay home, where they couldn’t do anything without an adult peeking in on them every five minutes.

So it was that the four of them ended up on their way to the drive-in out by the county land fill, in the four year old station wagon that George’s dad had kept around for the kids to learn to drive.

He’d assumed that such an uncool car would make them not want to drive it very much.

Fate lifted it’s grizzled head and sniffed. The odor of teenage hormones was on the air, and fate grinned. It loved that scent.

When they got to the drive-in George went to the back row and pulled in backwards, with the rear of the car facing the big screen. Philip and Amy, who had been sitting as far apart as possible in the back seat, looked at each other and then at the driver, not understanding what was happening. They learned as soon as George turned around and brusquely said “Get out for a minute.”

Ralph Kennedy, owner of the station wagon holding his son and daughter, and their respective dates, had completely forgotten that the back seat of the wagon could be folded down and that, with a few blankets, the uncool car could be made into an Oh-so-cool bed.

When George finished making the back of the wagon into a big bed, all four teens could see that if they all lay down side by side they could watch the movie out of the open back of the car.

Or ... whatever.

It was also plain that it would be crowded with all four of them in there. Depending on how you felt it could also be called “cozy”.

Amy said defiantly “I’m not lying down in there!”

Phillip was stung. Even though Amy wasn’t his dream girl, she didn’t have to make it sound like he had a disease or something.

“Me either!” he said forcefully.

Sam smiled. “Well, then, that leaves more room for us.” She turned and kissed her boyfriend, a long, hot kiss. Then she looked at her brother. “Be back when the movie’s over, and don’t let anything happen to her,” she ordered.

Now it was Amy who was incensed. “I don’t need him! I can take care of myself quite nicely.” She stuck her nose in the air.

George stared at his sister. “Don’t screw this up for us, Amy. You do and I’ll make your life miserable.”

Amy stomped her foot, turned and stalked off into the darkness. Phillip, an odd look on his face stared after her, then jerked and hurried to catch up.

Before they were out of sight, George and Samantha dove into the back of the wagon. Before Phillip caught up with Amy George had his hand in Sam’s shirt, her bra pushed up, and was fondling her sensitive naked breasts as he kissed her again. He rolled toward her, pushing his stiff penis against her leg through the cloth of his jeans.

Sam moaned. What he was doing felt so good. She knew she should slow him down but ... she didn’t want to.

Phillip caught up with Amy just as she stepped onto the sandy gravel of what was laughingly called the playground. There were some big steel pipe A frames, with chained swings hanging from them. There were four teeter-totters, one of which had the seat broken off on one end. Then there was the obligatory merry-go-round, a flat steel platform, made of thick sheet metal with a diamond pattern stamped in it for grip, with U shaped pipes welded on in various places so you had something to hold on to when it spun. There were two picnic tables. They were full of youngish adults drinking beer and yelling out a running commentary on the movie, which was about sentient trees that tore the heads off of teenagers unwary enough to enter the forest, and then stuffed those heads into knot holes, where they were ‘assimilated’.

Amy sighed. There were three movies tonight. It was “Friday Fright Night” and, besides the carnivorous trees, there would be invisible invaders from the Moon later on, followed by Son of Grandfather of Werewolf or something like that.

She wanted to scream. She had a brand new Nancy Drew book and she had planned on reading it tonight.

Not that she’d admit she still read Nancy Drew. But the stories were so much fun to read, and then daydream about being there ... doing the things Nancy and her friends did ... going the places she went.

Now she had to be here with that boy ... the one who hung around with all those kids who did all the acting in the school plays, and sang in all the concerts. How did you talk to a boy who wore makeup sometimes? He had to be strange.

On impulse she turned, looking for him. She jumped as she realized he was only a foot or so away from her ... just standing there ... looking at her. He’d followed her all the way to the front of the drive-in and hadn’t said a single word. Yes, he had to be strange.

Phillip watched Amy as she stomped through the huge parking lot that was the drive-in theater. She weaved between cars, never looking left or right, never peeking in the cars to see what people were doing, or what they looked like. Had he not been following her he would have done that. People were interesting, and he’d heard stories about some of the things people did while they were at the drive-in.

He found himself watching Amy’s hips. They went sort of up and down, one up and the other down, and then vice versa. Her shorts were white, so he could see them well, and they were tight, full to bursting with her buttocks. He hadn’t thought she’d wear shorts. She hung with the popular girls at school, who wore angora sweaters, and poodle skirts and saddle oxfords on their feet. Her shorts were sexy, and he hadn’t thought she’d wear something like that in public. Idly he wondered what she’d look like in one of those new swimsuits some girls were wearing ... the ones that looked like a bra and panties to him. She would be the kind of girl who went to sock hops, and danced all the new dances ... things called ‘The Hoochy Coo’ and ‘The Jerk’ ... things he had no idea how to do. He could dance, but only in a classical sense, waltzes and the kind of dance that one did in musicals. The last school play had been “The King And I” and he had danced with one of the girls in that play, pressed against her, whirling and whirling. He wondered how Amy would feel pressed against him like that.

Quite suddenly she whirled and looked startled as she stared at him in the dim light reflected by the big screen.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, stepping back a step.

He looked around. She was talking to him. It was the first thing she’d said to him the whole night.

“Well, I’m standing around on the playground of the Big Chief drive-in theater, while my sister and your brother are probably necking in the back of that car.”

It was such an obvious thing to say that she was disarmed a little.

She leaned forward, trying to see where his eyes were.

“You were standing awfully close to me,” she said, with a little less heat.

“Oh,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I guess I was just standing. I didn’t know you had rules about how close somebody can stand.”

He was already sorry the conversation had started. But he was stuck with her. A picture popped into his mind of the two of them, years later, grown as old as his parents, still squabbling, still tagging along with their older siblings. It seemed funny to him for some reason and he laughed out loud.

Amy had turned away from him, but now she whirled back around.

“What?” she said in a voice he couldn’t quite classify. It didn’t sound angry, or embarrassed. But it wasn’t just a simple question either. She almost sounded worried. “What are you laughing at?” she said when he didn’t answer her first question. Now she sounded impatient.

“Nothing,” he said. That usually worked with his parents.

It didn’t with her. “That’s not true!” she barked. “You were laughing. You were laughing at me weren’t you!” It wasn’t a question. She was getting up a head of steam now, and he could tell she was going to go on for a while if she had her way. She wanted to be pissed off, and she was going to use any excuse to fuel that desire.

“Stop!” he barked back. He said it loudly enough that it shocked her into silence. She was breathing fast, and her white blouse rose and fell in the twilight of the screen reflection. He liked looking at her chest ... rising and falling. “Look, I know you don’t want to be here with me. I don’t want to be here with you either. But we are here, and we have to stay here, so the least we can do is try not to be pissed off at each other all night, OK?”

Amy’s eyes had gotten more easy to see in the dark as she showed more and more white.

“You don’t want to be here with me?” she said in a voice that every male recognizes by the time he’s ten years old. It’s that voice that means you have offended the girl, and she can’t believe it, and she’s trying to get you to admit it, so she can scream at you.

He tried to cut that off. “Come on Amy, are you telling me you really looked forward to being on this “date” with me tonight? Am I your ‘type’ Amy?” He was trying to turn it back on her.

“Of course not,” she sniffed. “but that doesn’t explain why you wouldn’t want to go out with me.”

Phillip sighed. Maybe he should think about trying to be homosexual. Girls were just too much trouble.

“That statement is a perfect example of why I might want to take out a different type of girl. It’s fine for you to think I’m a dork or something, and below your standards, but if somebody thinks that way about you it suddenly isn’t OK anymore. Don’t you see the irony in that?”

Amy was puzzled. Who was this strange boy? He didn’t treat her like she was a girl. All the boys treated her like she was a girl. They looked at her breasts, and tried to look up her skirt, and swaggered around trying to smoke cigarettes and impress ... her.

Except this one didn’t.

She had known he would be different, but this was so different she didn’t know how to act. She’d tried getting him to apologize, and ‘owe’ her, but that hadn’t worked. Then he turned around and said something that made all too much sense and pricked her conscience.

“I didn’t say you were a dork,” she said defensively.

“You didn’t have to. We all know what you popular kids think of us.”

“That’s not fair!” She stomped her foot again. “What’s wrong with wanting to be popular, and have fun?”

“Nothing,” he said. “But do you have to hurt people’s feelings to have fun?”