Before Nancy, before Tracy...there was me. And this is my story.

Los Angeles, 1981

The rain wouldn't stop. In fact, it had been raining for weeks. It was one of those months where the whole of Los Angeles was afraid of going outdoors for fear of sacrificing their perfect hair to the all-powerful humidity.

I had moved to LA six months before, looking for fame. I know, original, right? I had dreams of becoming a big name. I had no agent and barely any money, but I was determined-really determined. I was going to leave a mark on this world. Yes, I was going to be the next Marilyn Monroe, or so I told myself. (I later came to the cruel realization that I just wasn't sexy enough).

Back to the rain. I remember it was a Tuesday and I had just left an audition that I had totally bombed. All I wanted to do was get back to my apartment and eat an entire roll of tollhouse cookie dough. But of course, the rain had other plans. It was raining hard, I mean REALLY hard. Like, can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face hard. Well, I guess my luck wasn't all bad that day, because I saw a lighted sign for a fast food chicken joint to my right. Longing for dryness, I made a run for it. I knew I could at least wait out the worst of the storm inside. I burst through the doors (probably with more vigor than necessary-hey, I was freaking wet and cold) and immediately formed a puddle around my feet. Looking up, everyone in the restaurant had turned their eyes at me. I made an awkward smile, addressing all of their too-nosey-for-their-own-good faces. I figured I should order something before I completely soaked the corner booth I had my eye on. I mean, they wouldn't kick out a paying customer, right? Even if she was ruining the upholstery.

"A small coke, please." I was starving, but I was also an out-of-work actress. "That's all," I added before I changed my mind.

I pursed my lips around the straw and booked it to the corner booth, trying to remain as invisible as possible. I had just settled in when I spied a phone booth in the corner. *cue Hallelujah Chorus*

Perfect! I thought. I'll call a cab and get out of here. I could hear my latest $1.50 romance novel that I had left on my nightstand calling my name. Hey, don't judge me. Every girl needs a cheap romance novel to keep her company every now and then. There was a kid using the phone, so I sipped my coke on my damp seat and waited for my turn.

Well, ten minutes went by and the kid hadn't made a move to come out yet. I could feel my underwear beginning to adhere itself to my body and, frankly, I was getting pretty darn tired of waiting. I mean, who could a freaking 12 year old be talking to on the phone for that long?! I was grown woman with important things waiting for me (yes, I do mean the cookie dough and the romance novel). Slurping up the last of my soda, I got up and marched over to the phone booth.

The kid had his elbow propped up on the side of the booth and was cupping his chin with his hand. He was just standing there, his back to me, staring out the window into the downpour outside. He didn't even appear to be speaking into the receiver. I saw that he had brought with him an address book and notepad, both of which were lying open next to the phone and filled with sloppy, boyish handwriting. There was also a plate of mostly-eaten chicken and a soda sitting in there.

What the...what is this kid freaking doing? I thought. Losing my patience all together, I knocked against the glass door.