A black 1970 Chevorlet car drove through a quiet suburban neighborhood. It was only eleven o'clock in the morning, but the afternoon sun was already blazing and the heat was the kind of heat that only a Texan summer could bring. The kind of heat that warmed the body without inducing too much sweat; the kind of heat that made it perfect for relaxing under the shade of a large walnut tree with Head East playing on the radio. Or the perfect heat for cruising down the highway and attending an Aerosmith concert, which is what David Wooderson planned to be doing before afternoon came. He drove his black Chevorlet lovingly, caressing the steering wheel with each left or right turn and feeling the soothing touch of the leather seat on the back of his neck. The car eventually pulled up to the curb next to a red brick home just like any other. Wooderson thought about giving the horn a honk but decided to wait for a minute. He didn't want to attract any parental figures inside the house. Speaking of that... He tossed away his cigarette. Needed to make a good impression if they did happen to come out. Thankfully, they did not. Instead, Wooderson's object of desire: a 17-year old girl by the name of Cynthia Dunn, came walking out from the front door. Wooderson observed how the dark red of the flower bed's roses clashed with the bright orange-red of Cynthia's hair as she strolled down the front walk, smiling in his direction. She was cute in a very natural sense, and to most guys his age that would mean she was not worth the time. But Wooderson had been with every blue-eyed, hot-legged woman there was to be with, and he now found a comfort and a feeling of originality by focusing his attention on Cynthia.

"Alright, alright, alright!" he said aloud (that phrase was habit; he'd picked it up after listening to a live recording of a Jim Morrison concert).

"Hey!" Cynthia greeted, showing a perfect set of white teeth in her beaming smile.

"How's it going, Red?" Wooderson replied, remaining cool at all times. "Ready for some rock 'n' roll?"

Cynthia opened the passenger door and climbed in, confirming, "Damn right!"

Wooderson grinned. "Alright, let's hit it!"

He gunned the engine and peeled out away from the curb, causing the timid Cynthia to lurch back a little in her seat. Wooderson noted this out of the corner of his eye with some amusement. He cleared his throat and eyed her through the inappropriately angled rear view mirror.

"We gotta pick up a couple more friends, if that's alright with you," he informed her. Cynthia nodded. She had assumed that they would. "Yeah, that's fine."

Wooderson gave her a suave look. "You're lucky, you know. I picked you up first, so you get to call shotgun, dig it?"

Cynthia smiled back. Apparently getting to ride shotgun was considered currency with Wooderson's crowd. "Yeah. Thanks."

It was about that same time in the morning, in a house not too different-looking and not far from Cynthia's, that Anthony Olson was awoken by the sharp ring of the telephone. He groaned and reached a pale arm out from under his sheets, his fingers probing for the phone. Finally locking onto the receiver, he grasped it and brought it back to his head.

"Hello?" he answered groggily.

"Tony?" a voice asked. "Oh." Tony recognized it immediately and sat up, rubbing his eyes. If Mike Newhouse was awake on a summer day, then it was late enough in the day that the rest of the world needed to get up.

"Hey. Mike," he replied. "How's, uh, how's it going?"

"It's going alright, man," Mike said. "Hey, so listen man, I was thinking we could play poker tonight, huh? You know, since we missed it last week for the party and all? You can come on over, and I know we won't have Cynthia or Pink with us, but we can get used to it, huh?"

Tony took his glasses off of his nightstand and slid them on, adjusting the receiver against his ear. It was true, they had missed their customary after-school poker game last week in favor of looking for fun with the rest of their high school (this was a rarity for them to do). And it was not that Tony didn't miss the poker game, it was just that...well, he didn't. He had met a girl for the first time and maybe the only time in his life that night, and she was his new priority. "Oh, yeah, uh… Listen, Mike, I've actually got a date," he informed his best friend. Even though he couldn't see Mike's surprised, blinking face, Tony knew it was there, on the other end of the line.

"You do? With who?" came the question.

"With, uh…with Sabrina," Tony explained. "You remember. The cute freshman chick."

"Oh, alright man," Mike said, sounding less distraught than Tony had expected. "Okay, well that's great."

"Yeah!" Tony agreed, maybe a little too enthusiastically. To make up for this, he asked, "You're all good and everything?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mike's voice assured. "I'll think of something to do."

"Okay, good, man," Tony said. "I'll see ya."

He hung up the phone and shrugged. Guess Mike will be fine. His antsy, analytical companion was often dependent upon he, Tony, being available to do whatever was necessary to avoid boredom. But surely he was mature enough to understand when girls were involved.

In the meantime, the black Chevorlet drove down the highway. Windows rolled down and radio blasting, Wooderson and Cynthia took in the gusts of hot yet refreshing wind. In the backseat now sat the popular quarterback Randall 'Pink' Floyd, his sexy girlfriend Simone Kerr, and the school's most notorious stoner, Ron Slater.

Simone suddenly could be heard over the noise saying, "Slater, man, you got a joint? I'm feelin' like gettin' high, man." Slater chuckled in anticipation. He hadn't been on a fresh high since an hour ago. Time to blaze up again. "Hey, always, man. Always," he assured Simone, bringing out a rolled joint.

A few moments later and the car was full of smoke. Pink and Simone coughed a little but Slater simply sniffed it in by the cloud. After sucking in another long breath, he handed it up to Wooderson's outreached hand. Wooderson held the joint up to his lips and took a puff, then held his hand out to Cynthia. Cynthia looked particularly uncomfortable. She stared at the joint with a sickened look on her face and held up a hand good-manneredly. "No thanks," she said, shaking her head. Wooderson didn't pull his hand away. "Hey, what's the matter? C'mon girl, it's just a little weed." Cynthia looked behind her seat at her three stoned classmates. She finally snatched the joint out of Wooderson's hand, took one puff, and handed it back begrudgingly. Wooderson then offered it back to Slater, who didn't spend a second thinking about saying 'no'.

It was only a few minutes later that they finally arrived at the site of the concert. The outdoor stadium could be seen and heard from where they were driving. Wooderson cracked a grin. "Alright, alright, alright."

The black Chevorlet pulled up next to an orange 1970 Pontiac convertible belonging to Kevin Pickford. Despite this, when the gang of Wooderson, Pink, Cynthia, Slater and Simone got out, Pickford was no where to be seen. Standing by the Pontiac with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth was Michelle, Pickford's one and only girlfriend.

"Hey, Michelle," Pink greeted.

Michelle nodded. "Hey, how's it going, man?"

Slater grinned and ran his fingers over his ears, brushing some unruly hair back. "Fixin' to be a lot better, man," he told her.

"Ah, where's Pickford?" Pink asked.

Michelle put a look of disgust on her usually attractive face. "Oh, he couldn't make it," she explained sorely. "Fucking parents grounded him for the party shit last week, you remember?"

Pink nodded. Pickford had been caught trying to put on a beer bust at his house before the night had really gotten good. "Oh, yeah. Sucks." "Yeah," Michelle agreed.

Wooderson spread his arms wide. "Well, alright, we gonna stand around or we gonna go groove to some tunes?"

Slater tossed away his joint and rubbed his palms together in anticipation. "Oh, we're grooving, man, we're grooving."

With that declaration, the group left their cars parked behind and made their way towards the gate. Wooderson apparently knew the man collecting tickets, and the group got in without even showing him theirs. Inside, the older man led the high school kids to the edge of the stage. "Front row seats, baby!" Wooderson announced. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna grab us some beers." "Hey, that's two for me, man!" Slater called. Wooderson huffed. "Only if you pay, man." Slater immediately took his order back. "Nah, forget it, man. Forget it."

Pink looked over at Cynthia, who still hadn't gotten the sickish look off her face since smoking the marijuana. "You uncomfortable?" Pink asked. Cynthia nodded, embarrassed. "A little, yeah." "Hey, just relax and have fun, alright?" Pink suggested. "That's all you gotta do."

"Yeah. Alright," Cynthia responded, mostly just to make Pink think the talk had helped. She knew he was doing his best, but she was not like him. He could shift like a jellyfish between social cliques. From her to Simone in the same minute. That was impossible for someone like her. She found herself wishing Mike and Tony were there, or maybe that she was with them. Her thoughts were interrupted when Wooderson came back with five beers in his arms. "Alright, drinks for everyone, baby!"

Slater grabbed his eagerly. "Alright, man!"

With that, the lights on the stage flicked on and the music began playing. The crowd cheered, and the kids with them. Even Cynthia found it in herself to applaud. Maybe Aerosmith was the cure.

In the meantime, Mike had indeed accepted the fact that Tony had a girlfriend; a probable girlfriend, at least. And he was not in the least bit upset about this, but the idea of Tony dating had struck up a new thought in Mike's mind. This thought both irritated and depressed him, as most of his observational thoughts tended to do. So in the hopes to find a cure of his own, he had gone walking down the streets of his neighborhood. Hands shoved in his pockets, feet shuffling along slowly so as to make the walk last longer. He also took up talking to himself as he went along. This habit might make him seem strange to the regular passerby, but he found that speaking his thoughts aloud usually got them to escape the recesses of his mind, allowing him to forget about them entirely.

"Everybody's getting dates," he said to himself. "Everybody's falling in love but you." He shook his head in self-pity. That wasn't necessarily true. He had been in love many times before, it was only that no one had ever been in love with him. "You. What are you doing? You're sitting on your ass not doing shit, that's what." And that much was true. He had long given up trying to realize any of his dreams. Now, he only stood back from the crowd and watched the world go round about him. His fight with the bully Clint Bruno had made him accept who he was, but it had not made him any happier. "You are in love," he admitted aloud. "She just doesn't love you. She doesn't see you in that light. Why would she? What girl, who has the option between a handsome, irresponsible college man and a nerdy best friend choose the best friend? Stupid fucking college graduate picking up on her."

Tony checked his watch. It had been two hours since he first picked up Sabrina Davis now. Given Tony was currently without a mode of transportation, they had walked over to the local Top Notch. After ordering, Tony had done his best to make small talk and he was fairly sure that Sabrina had done her best as well. But soon, it was all they could do just to sit awkwardly by, looking around the restaurant. Fixing their stares on anything but each other. Tony had begun to realize in the back of his mind what had happened. One night...one good night, had caused him to believe he had found a girl worth spending time with. He understood now that nobody had been thinking straight that night, including him. Coming to her defense against Darla Marks had only helped him feel like a superhero, flying in to save the damsel in distress. But now, he had to admit to himself his failure to properly comprehend the situation. It was time to put an end to this. And anyway...an incoming senior dating an incoming freshman? Who would have expected that to work?

Tony checked his watch again before asking Sabrina, "Time to leave?" Sabrina nodded, looking relieved. "I'd like to, yes."

Tony habitually picked up their trash and tossed it away as they headed out the door. Outside, the two of them bumped right into another would-be couple: Mitch Kramer and Julie Simms.

"Oh, hey, Sabrina!" Julie greeted, a very upbeat tone to her voice. Sabrina replied, "Hi, Julie."

Mitch gave Tony a cool nod. "What's up, man?" He's picking up too much from that football crowd, Tony thought to himself. But all he said aloud was, "Hey, man."

Julie jerked her thumb toward her red 1972 Ford. "We were just heading home. Anybody need a ride?"

Sabrina looked over to Tony expectantly. Tony nodded and waved goodbye. "Yeah, you can go. I feel like walking home."

Sabrina turned back to Julie with a smile. "Okay. Sure, I'll take a ride."

"Cool, let's go," Julie declared. Mitch gave Tony a friendly slap on the arm. "See ya around, man," he said nonchalantly. "Yeah." Tony turned and walked away immediately, not waiting for the Ford to pull away. He was grateful for Julie's sudden appearance. No uncomfortable goodbye or breakup-like conversation would ever have to take place between he and Sabrina now. They had gone their separate ways in peace. The whole bad scenario had turned out better than hoped.

Back at the concert, Simone had led Pink off into a far corner and started kissing him passionately. Pink at first accepted. Why not make out? But as had happened a lot lately, his heart was not in what he was doing. As Simone leaned in to smack her lips on his again, he suddenly turned his head away. She caught his neck instead, and continued, giggling. Eventually she went back for his lips, though, and then he really pulled away. "What?" she asked. "C'mon, silly. I'm hot for you." Pink backed out of her embrace completely, keeping his eyes on his shoes.

Simone folded her arms sternly. "Alright, what is it, huh? You don't like me anymore?" Pink shrugged. "I dunno." Simone looked him up and down with a frown. "Well c'mon, Randy! It's a simple question! Do you like me or not?"

Something in Pink suddenly snapped. His whole life was fake. A lie. His mind went to Mike. He knew that Mike Newhouse aspired to be just like Randall Floyd, but it appeared Randall Floyd ought to be more like Mike Newhouse. He was going to stand up for himself, too. "No. No, I guess I don't. Alright, I admit it. I've got no feelings for you at all," he told Simone. And then took it a step further, "In fact, I wish it were Jodi here instead of you." "Jodi?! Jodi Kramer?!" Simone screeched. "She's a slutty lesbian! You'd rather have that bitch than me?" As the argument progressed, Pink could only smile as he let out the real, complete truth for once in his life. "Yeah. Yeah, I would." With that declaration, he turned his back on the girl and started walking away. Simone wiped away tears. Not tears of sadness, but of frustration and embarrassment. Who was she to get dumped? And by the starting quarterback of all boys! She called after him angrily, "Oh, you just wait till school starts, Randall Floyd! You're gonna regret this! You know, I'm the best thing that ever happened to you, and you're gonna regret this!"

Pink tossed a careless wave to brush her off. My ass I'll regret this. He made his way through the raucous crowd and back down to the front row. "I'm leaving," he declared loudly. "Don't know about anybody else, but this thing's a drag for me." That was all he would say. He didn't want to get into a conversation about his fight with Simone. He knew what each individual there would say about it anyway.

Wooderson cocked his eyebrow. "Really, man?"

Pink nodded. "Yeah, really, man."

Cynthia took her chance. She had had enough of the concert. She was tired and she wanted to see some friendly faces. Some genuine, real friendly faces. "Yeah, I'd like to leave as well," she added. Wooderson shrugged in surprise but acceptance. If his date wanted to leave, he had to leave. "Alright, man. Guess we're heading out."

Slater pointed his finger accusingly at them. "Hey, man, you guys are fucking crazy, man! Leaving an Aerosmith concert like this, man. I'm hanging right here, man. Right here." Michelle hooked her arm around Slater. "Attaboy, Slater-son! Let's dance the night away!" she laughed through her dazed stupor.

The group, now short two members, headed to the Chevorlet, where Simone was already waiting. Neither she nor Pink said a word and climbed into the backseat together again. Wooderson drunkenly got behind the wheel and started it up. "Hey, easy on the leather, man!" he chuckled to no one in particular. Maybe if Cynthia had had a clearer head, her better judgment would have told her to get out of the car right then and there. But because she did not have a clearer head, she got in the passenger's seat. And she, like the other three people in the car, did not notice Wooderson drift into the wrong lane somewhere down the highway. Nor were they prepared for the large oak tree that suddenly appeared out of nowhere in their path...

Not very long afterward, Tony's walk down the road brought him directly into the path of Mike. Mike's head was staring downward, so Tony changed his course and shouted, "Hey, Mike!"

Mike looked up in surprise as Tony came jogging over. "Oh hey, Tony," he greeted. "What're you doing here? Where's your date?"

Tony looked over his shoulder and shrugged at the inquiry. "I dunno, man. Something just doesn't click with us, you know?" he tried to explain. "I mean, at Top Notch…" Mike interrupted by holding up his hands defensively. "Whoa, hey, it's alright, man. You don't have to explain it all to me. I get it. She wasn't the one, let's just move on from it, okay?"

Tony nodded gratefully. "Good. Thanks."

The two of them mutually marched down the sidewalk, Tony taking the same hands-in-pockets, shuffling-feet mode of Mike's, if he hadn't been doing that already.

"So, uh, how about going back to my place for poker now, huh?" Mike suggested.

"Yeah, alright. Sounds good," Tony answered.

Just as he was about to say something else, Mike halted in his tracks. Pausing to look curiously ahead, he asked aloud, "Oh, hold up. What is this?"

Tony followed Mike's gaze to see Wooderson's black Chevorlet smashed into a tree; broken, bent, and generally totaled from the headlong crash. Wooderson himself was standing by a payphone on the other side of the street. Parts of his sentences could be heard as he requested a tow truck. Pink, Cynthia and Simone had climbed out of the wreckage and were brushing themselves off, dizzily attempting to recover. Fortunately, all four people looked none the worse for wear. "Is that Cynthia?" Tony asked. The two of them hurriedly strolled over to the scene of the crash.

As they approached, Tony called out, "Cynthia! What happened?"

Cynthia turned around, holding one hand to her bruised temple. "Oh hey, guys. Thank God."

"You get in a wreck?" Mike said.

Cynthia nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what happened…everyone was a little drunk, I guess. We're lucky we got this far instead of crashing on the highway."

Tony gestured at Pink and Simone, who were arguing in thanks to the situation. "You've been out with them all night?"

Cynthia nodded again, this time a little sheepishly. "Yeah…"

She looked at the two guys apologetically. "Okay, you two were right," she admitted. "It was pretty stupid of me to get caught up with these people."

Mike shook his head. "No, no. Don't be ridiculous. Happens to everybody sometime." Tony agreed, "Right, Mike."

The three of them continued to stand there awkwardly, when suddenly Mike gave Tony a look. Tony frowned, knowing very well what Mike meant by giving him that look. "What, now?" he questioned. The look did not go away, and Mike continued to non-verbally request Tony's absence. Finally getting the hint, Tony nodded and clapped his hands together. "I'm...uh...I'm gonna go check on Randall," he excused, wheeling about on one heel and hurrying over to Pink. While his friend pretended to make some sort of conversation with the quarterback, Mike focused his attention again on Cynthia. Now, he dared to put his hand on her shoulder.

"So, you're okay and everything, right? No injuries, no damage to either your exterior or interior?" Mike verified. Cynthia shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I'm alright."

She suddenly gazed over at Wooderson. "What a jackass," she murmured in realization. "I should never have gone to this concert with him."

Mike waved her comment off. "Hey, there's no need to dwell in the past, you know? What's done is done. But you're right, you shouldn't be with a guy like that…" he saw the opening and against his better judgment, took it. "You, uh, you should be with me." Cynthia looked up in genuine surprise. "What?" Every one of Mike's instincts were screaming at him, telling him to back off. But he had already been through this fight last week; he was no coward anymore. "Well, I just mean from a realistic standpoint, right. I mean, we've known each other for a long time, you know I'll take better care of you than some stoner like him. And as far as my romantic feelings for you go…well…they're existent. They're very existent." Cynthia smiled sweetly. "Oh, Mike..."

Meanwhile, Pink left Tony and Simone discussing the aspects of the wreck and walked over to the payphone. Wooderson had just hung up. "Bummer about your car, man," Pink said, leaning against the post. Wooderson gave a careless shrug (careless, at least, on the outside). He looked at the black Chevorlet without regret in his eyes. "Ah, it was a piece of shit anyway, man. Got it out of a comic book ad… So, you gonna call the chick or what?"

Pink frowned. "What're you talking about?"

Wooderson gestured toward the payphone. "Jodi, man. Give her a ring."

Pink looked at the phone, then at Simone, then at the phone again, and back at Wooderson. "You think so?" Wooderson nodded. "Positive, man."

Pink grinned. The idea did seem rather appealing after the hell of a day he'd just had. "Alright. I'll go do that," he declared. Wooderson moved out of the way so Pink could pick up the receiver and drop in a quarter. "That's what I'm talking about, man," he said encouragingly. Pink dialed and waited for an answer. He suddenly put a hand up to the receiver to cover the speaker and asked Wooderson, "Should I tell her about today?" Wooderson looked at his friend and made eye contact. Simultaneously they answered, "Nah."

When Mike strolled back over to Tony, Cynthia was on his arm. Tony looked them both over with a growing grin. "Are you guys..." "Yeah," Mike said, barely able to contain a smile. It was the happiest Tony had seen his best friend in years. "Well, that's great! Good. I'm happy for both of you."

"Alright, it's a date," Pink said, hanging up the phone. He joined Wooderson in staring at the goings-on beside the wrecked Chevorlet. "Just keep livin', huh, man?" he asked. Wooderson nodded with a grin. "Just keep livin', man. L-I-V-I-N." Pink couldn't hold in a laugh at Wooderson's strange charm. Wooderson chuckled with him and clapped him on the back. "What a summer, huh?" Pink nodded. "What a summer, man."

As the evening sun sunk into the horizon and the black of night crept over the sky, Pink went off thinking about his date with Jodi. Mike walked Cynthia home. Tony got Simone's number. And Wooderson, well...he was thinking about one particular blue-eyed, hot-legged girl he hadn't yet been with. The blazing heat did not leave even as its source, the sun, faded away for the day. It continued to warm the kids still outside without inducing too much sweat. It made them think how nice it would be to lie under the shade of a walnut tree with Head East playing on the radio. Or maybe go for a night of cruising down the highway and attending a concert. Luckily, there was still a whole summer left to do it all and more.

...

Hello everyone, it's Movie Riggs here. This is my first fanfiction story that I've taken really seriously. I had a great time writing it and I hope you all had a great time reading it. I particularly like the way the different romance subplots have played out. All of them are predictions I had for how the movie would have continued for a long time. I liked focusing on less-explored characters like Mike and Tony as opposed to Pink and Mitch, this way there is more originality and more depth added to this universe. (For anyone wondering about the Darla subplot that I tried out, that was not in the original version of the story and it was something I wanted to try out. My peers outside of the site and I discussed it after I wrote it and ultimately it was decided that the subplot did not serve the story well. I edited it out). Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone for all their support, and hope you enjoyed the story! Riggs out.