Just a little word of advice: If you're going to read this, it would help to know stuff about the 80s, so I recommend a website to help you get started. (This will really help.) It's called i80s, though you can use other websites or Google.

You can start wherever you want, whether it be the music or the slang, or the fashion, etc. Help yourself.

Daria

Saturday, September 3rd, 12:35 p.m. 1983

"Let's book," Aly says, as we run away from her house. She pats her big brown/pink hair again to make sure the mesh hair tie is there.

"Yeah." I smooth my gasoline pants. They're a bit wrinkled. Then again, I've had them for two years. I always wore them with a laced crop top or an izod shirt or what I was wearing them with now: a polo shirt. A pink one. "Don't wanna run into those barf bags."

"I know!" Aly rolls her eyes. She always does when someone brings one of them up: Cass Williams, Marco Ramsay, Jack McKinley, or Randall Cromarty. "They're the worst."

I just nod. "Let's go to the river."

"Bow River?" Aly raises an eyebrow.

"You know," I say. "The park."

"Oh yeah." Aly looks over her shoulder. "We should head to the bridge after that. Or the pool."

"How do we go to a pool without bathing suits?" I ask. Knowing Aly, she would pretty much smack her head.

Which she did.

"Crap. I'll-" Aly starts to turn, but I grab her arm.

"We'll go tomorrow," I suggest. "At least then the second last day of summer won't be horrible."

Aly stops and looks at me. "Good point," she says. We start walking down the street as Queen plays from one of the windows. Can't remember which song it is.

"You're lucky your birthday is in January," I say. Aly rolls her eyes again. "Barf me out."

She obviously doesn't want to be reminded that her birthday is in January while mine is the day before school starts. September 5th. Then the next day school starts.

Bogus, I know.

Aly and I are standing on the bridge nearby the park. "I still wish we could go to the pool," Aly says, as she climbs over the railings that are supposed to keep people from falling into the river. No one's around, so we're not in deep shit. For now.

"Can't do much about it," I say leaning on the railings. Aly sits in front of them, her skirt spread out. She really doesn't have room to tuck the skirt under. I climb over the railings and sit next to her. "I'd like to go, too."

We sit there quietly for a couple of minutes. "I can't wait till the next episode of the Dukes comes out," Aly says, sighing.

"Same," I mutter.

"Got it!" somebody says. Aly puts her hands on her head. Her black mesh tie is gone.

"Oh no," Aly mutters. "It's him." She climbs over the railings while I turn around.

Yeah. It's him. Who wouldn't know the butt ugly skater haircut and the earing on his left ear. Of course, he had to wear his AC/DC sleeveless shirt. Yeah, that makes him recognizable enough.

Jack McKinley has come.