Don't want a four leaf clover, don't want an old horse shoe.

I want your kiss, cause I just can't miss with a good luck charm like you.

- Elvis Presley

November 28, 1961

I figure Poindexter musta split for good. Nobody's seen him for over a week, I mean, where else could he be?

I don't really blame him. This scene just keeps turnin' more sour everywhere I look. I'm gettin' the royal shaft here!

Accordin' to Mason (seriously, I don't know why this cat keeps talkin' to me, I almost never talk back), in the past few days the electricity's gone out in the auditorium right in the middle of Casper's crummy production of My Fair Lady; and then while the audience is pourin' out, the water pipes all bust at the exact same time all over the west side of the school. Now, for some reason I just don't get, that two-bit play seems to be big stuff around these parts… school tradition or some such thing. I think besides homecoming, prom, the big games, and graduation, it's the biggest part of the school year. And with the team down from the bleachers thing, well… It ain't good.

I guess that explains why as soon as I step foot in the lunchroom… man, if looks could kill, I'd be dead a million times over. You'd think I'd just killed the mascot the way they looked at me.

You know what? I wasn't even here the past few days!

was stuck at home with a cold in my room, with my record player and bored out of my mind. Bored to tears. You know, I almost wish I were there when all this junk went down, at least break the boredom in my stupid room.

Or just to do it out of spite. Either one's cool with me.

I mean, what am I, the new scapegoat? Just because the nerd skipped town, everyone's gotta find a new guy to take junk out on? Do I got black cats following me when I'm not lookin' or what? Do they think I just snuck in and screwed up their stuff for kicks?

Everyone knows I ain't got no skills when it comes to sneakin' around. I mean, I'm noisy. I run into stuff, I knock stuff over, like I said before, that's usually how I get caught. You gotta move slow when you sneak around and slow just ain't my thing.

Oh! I almost forgot.

Yesterday, while I was strolling around town, I caught up with the sweet thing I met on Parkway the other night. By caught up with, I mean spied on until she noticed me spyin'. And by noticed me spyin', I mean the pyramid of canned peaches I was hiding behind collapsed.

Real smooth, Johnny. Real smooth.

I'm not gonna bore you with small talk and my really stupid attempt at playin' it cool (despite all the peaches). To cut a long (and sort of embarrassing) conversation short, I'm gonna meet up with Kitty on Friday, since her brother's gonna be outta the house that night and her old man'll still be out doin'…whatever work her ol' man does. I didn't ask, since I didn't really care.

Also, I noticed something before the peaches came crashin' down. Kitten looked kinda steamed. All the time, she's lookin' like something got under her skin, like somethin's wiggin' her out. Like the next guy who looks at her the wrong way is gonna loose an arm.

I should probably be worried about that.

But I'm not.

To be honest (and don't tell her I told you this), she looks cute when she's angry.

November 29, 1961

Crud.

The place that sells the paint I was gonna use to spice up the bike? It closed early, and wouldn't you know it, the guy who owns the place is goin' out of town for who knows how long. Geez.

I already got the finishing touches on the bike done a couple of days ago, when I was still gettin' over the last of my cold before I went back to school, but the paint job is still real shoddy.

I got some of the rust off, but its shoddy lookin' all the same.

And I know it's just a paint job, and it's not that big a deal, but I really, really want it to look good. I already screwed up my first impression with her almost running her over, and I really don't have that much bread on me to show a real good time, but the least I can do is take her around on a bike that looks good.

Oh, well.

You know, I'm lookin' kinda raggedy myself, now that I think about it.

…I wonder if I should shave?

November 30, 1961

Yikes!

It's freezing out there! It's unreal. The white stuff's just pouring outta the sky and it doesn't look like it's gonna stop anytime soon It's not like a blizzard or anything like that, just steady snow.

I hear we might even get freezing rain later on. I hope not tonight, I'd hate to make Kitty ride with me when it's freezing rain slammin' down on her.

My old man thinks I'm gonna break my neck on frozen roads with a bike like this. (Obviously, Pops hasn't seen me on a bike lately.) Even if we don't get no freezing rain, we're still gonna get snow, that's for sure.

Hm. I think I'm gonna take her one of mom's old scarves. The purplish one. I mean, not like she's gonna use it, she's 'cross the country.

Most guys brings their girls presents for dates, right? I know most give flowers or candy or roller-skates or stuff, but I'm sort of short on bread right now (spent most of it on the bike) so I'm just gonna have to work with what I got. Besides, candy's no good for ya anyways. Rots your teeth.

Still, though… I kinda wish I could bring something a little better.

I'll check back later on tonight, when I get back.

See you.

November 31, 1961

Oh, boy. What a night.

Say, here's an interesting fact: split-level houses ain't easy to get into.

It's true, most places around my way don't have houses with more than one floor, and they're only around on the other side of Amity Park, for guys who can afford it.

Guess whose family can afford it?

If you can't, you haven't been paying much attention.

I mean, sure, you could always use a ladder or somethin' to get to the top floor, but the thing is with ladders, they're big. And tall. And heavy. Too big and tall and heavy to be dragging behind me on a motorcycle, and even if I could drag the thing to her house, there'd be nowhere for my girl to sit.

Even so, when I was standin' out there on the snow lookin' up at Kitty's place, I sure wished I had one and feelin' pretty stupid for not planning this out better. I mean, even if I knew what window was hers, I didn't know how to get up there. There wasn't no tree or nothing to climb on except a gutter pipe, and I don't think that thing coulda held a bird nest without falling apart.

In the end, I decided to just chunk rocks at the only lit window in the place, hopin' it was hers. I sorta…threw too hard. Got her attention, though

Kitty sticks her head out the broken glass and glares down at me, hissing at me to keep it down. (I'm not exaggerating here, or using fancy description to impress you here, it really was a hiss. Like a cat.)

I shrug and tell her I just wanted to get her attention. She wants to know why I didn't just knock. So I tell her knocking's for chumps. She rolls her eyes and tells me not to bust anymore windows and she'll be down in a minute.

Pfft. Like that's anything to go by. From personal experience, "a minute" can range anywhere from an actual minute to two hours, depending on the girl. (This particular girl, by the way took exactly five and a half minutes, if my watch is right)

But you know what? It was worth it.

She shows up in the doorway, and it's just…wow.

That's just… all I can really say about it. Just…wow. I… wish I had a better to say it. It's was like… It was almost like my heart exploded. Yeah, I know how dumb that sounds, but that's as close to a description as I'm gonna get, I think.

Now that I think back on it, she really didn't look all that different from how she normally did, except for the change in clothes, but I know it wasn't that. I really don't know.

We're getting off track here.

Anyway, she steps out in this cute little getup, in this skirt that's all legs and stockings and heels, and she wore that little red jacket around her shoulders like she always does, but this time the color seemed brighter somehow. Actually, she just seemed a lot brighter on a whole, you know? Like she just owned the world, but wasn't all that impressed with it. I dunno.

I guess I must have been staring, because she cocks an eyebrow at me and is all, "What?"

"Um," is what I say back because I can't remember what I'm supposed to say in this situation. If I don't say anything, she'll be offended; if I just say she looks nice, she'll think I'm lyin'; and if I tell her the truth, well… girls usually don't like the truth.

I say to her, sounding way smoother than I'm feelin', "Uh, hey there, Kitten. It's kinda cold out tonight for a skirt that little, doncha think?"

She shrugs, "Maybe I just wanted to get your attention."

So then, I just smile at her, "Maybe it worked. But maybe you're still gonna be pretty cold. And just maybe, I'm thinking' you could use this", and then I pull the scarf out of my pocket.

Hey, did I mention before that Kitty's got a great smile? Because she does. So, when she smiles at me as she wrapped around the scarf, I'm feelin' pretty grateful.

I took her to the midnight show, because theaters are always the best that time of night. Movies just seem a lot better when you're all by yourself in a dark room alone with the screen, you dig?

On this occasion, though, there was this group of yo-yos up front that wouldn't shut up. Kept making smart remarks every five seconds and tossin' popcorn all over the place. Punks.

It's weird, though. About halfway through the movie, when the astronaut's brain is getting eaten, this one guy, the real loud cat, he gets real sick from his lobby snacks and runs out in a flash, and then a second after that nearly all the chairs upfront broke all at once. When I caught a look at 'em when they were goin' out, they looked real pale. Wigged, too. Like they'd seen a ghost or something.

Hey, whatever, I sure wasn't complaining.

Our flick I think was called The Horrible Robot Brains From Planet 9; not a bad film, considerin' there's worse out there. But to be perfectly honest, it's wasn't really the flick I was watchin'. If you catch my drift.

Best part of the night?

Around the part where Johnson gets himself eaten by the robot brains, Kitty leans in on my side, wraps her hand around mine and squeezes.

No, no, wait, the best part's later on, when I start flyin' down the Apparition Avenue, with the wind howling around us and she's gripping me for dear life and I'm laughing like some sorta crazy guy.

No, no. Hold on.

I got it this time.

The absolute, sure fire, just beyond boss part of tonight was when we get at Kitty's place, near the soda shop, and I look back to see her leanin' up on my back, like she aint' got a care in the world. She looked more relaxed then I've ever seen her. Curled up all soft and sweet like that, her nickname really suits her, you know? And then I cut the motor, I hear this low hum, and I'm lookin' around to see what it is, if maybe something's up with the bike, but then I understand it's Kitty. She's…sort of making this humming sound. Real low, and real soft, but in that cold night it's ringin' clear as crystal.

I just can't help grinning as I realize my Kitten's purring.

Yeah.

Best part, for sure.

December 4, 1961

Yeah, yeah, I know. It's been a while since I checked it. I been busy lately.

…Okay, so I haven't. I just lost the book. There, you want a medal or something?

I think maybe I oughta lay low concerning my girl. I mean, folks are already giving me the stink eye, and I don't think Kitty needs that kind of grief. I think the kid's already got enough to handle already without me gumming up the works. And I think people are beginning to catch on about us.

See, for the past few days, we've been meeting around the parking lot, since nobody hangs around there no more since the light post thing, when we can find a minute and talk about stuff. Nothin' too big or small, just normal, ordinary stuff. School and pictures and stuff. She says that Sketch, the skinny little spaz that hangs around with Wolf, he was the one who first came up with the name "Amity Angels". At first, Wolfgang was actually gonna call it "Wolf's Gang." That had me in stitches for about ten minutes.

But anyway, as I was sayin' before, I should probably lay low for now. Wolf's been looking at me a little more nasty than normal, and it don't take a rocket scientist to figure out why.

I ran into Sketch a few hours ago. He's leanin' on a lamppost in his ratty brown jacket, smelling like formaldehyde (musta been in the biology room, I hear something happened with the dissection frogs). And as I'm walkin' by he smirks at me. Not bein' the type of guy who just lets wise guys smirk at him, I turn and ask Sketch if he's got some type of problem.

Sketch smirks wider and says, "I ain't gotta problem, Johnny. It looks to me like you're lookin' for one, though. If I ain't mistaken."

"Yeah? Well, you been mistaken a lot, so I hear."

"Then maybe you need to clean out your ears," he says. Then, he goes on, "I've heard interesting stuff lately, Johnny-boy. Mike tells me he's been seein' things around town, or if you wanna be more specific-like, around the movie house."

"Yeah, and?"

"And he says you haven't been traveling' alone no more. I've been thinking' about you, Johnny 13. I've been wonderin' about the bad luck you been having lately. Say, did you know black cats are bad luck? Maybe that's it. Maybe, I'm thinking, a cat's crossed your path."

I ask him again, more serious this time, what it is Sketch wants. He passes a glance to my bike, then to me, then back to my bike.

I did the mature thing and socked him in the jaw.

December 6, 1961

Ha-HA! Check it out, man!

Guess who just got a new paint job? C'mon, guess!

The bike looks exactly like I pictured, better, even. Smooth, cool, shining black and silver chrome gleamin' like the edge of a knife in the garage. I added this boss little flash of green on the edge. A nice little number thirteen. Nothin' as flashy as the Wolf's wheels, but still bright enough to get a little attention. Like a signature, you know? Just so everyone's clear about who owns this beauty.

Man you'd never recognize this beautiful machine, the shape it was in before. Didn't I tell you I'd turn this rusted old clunker into a real prize? Didn't I tell you? I was right, wasn't I? Terror on two wheels, a menace of a motorcycle, that's what she is. Ah man, it even sounds better when I rev this thing up. She growls so loud, buddy, it could tear down the walls two towns over.

Even those creepy shadows can't bring this bike down. As a mater of fact, if anything, they sorta make it look cooler. Darker. More threatening, like they're gonna reach out and cream any chump dumb enough to go up against it.

You ain't gonna find a better bike in all of Amity — no, in the country — no, in the world!

The only thing she needs now is a name. Something that fits it, but also fits me, the rider. What that name is, I don't really know, but hey, it'll come to me soon enough.

Right now, this thing's just begging to burn rubber.

December 8, 1961

Something I think I forgot to mention about Wolf: his mood changes on a dime. Not even a dime, a dust speck. One minute he's talking sports with you, nice and calm, and the next he's slamming a guitar against your skull. I know. I've seen it. I wonder if he even plays that thing or if he just keeps the Stratocaster around just for bustin' heads.

And he's sorta paranoid. Sorta real paranoid. A paranoid guy's a spooked guy, and a scare can make a cat take up drastic measures, no stuff they wouldn't usually do. It makes 'em unpredictable and Wolf's unpredictable as it is.

Like I said before, Wolf's no genius, and I could probably outsmart him without a lotta trouble, I know I can definitely outride him, but outfight him? Forget it. I ain't chicken, but I ain't stupid neither. That's like a mouse fighting a lion. (Or Poindexter fighting, well, anybody.)

Considering how shaky my luck's been lately, I don't really like unpredictability like Wolfgang's got. No way, man.

So, when he comes up to me in the hall, demanding to know what I think I'm doing messing around with his kid sister, I just give him my most innocent look. When he tells me he's got sources that tell him they've seen his sister with me I shrug at the guy and tell him I don't know nothing' about nothin'. I tell him Sketch is a sketchy guy, that's how he got his name, after all. I remind him Sketch has a rep for stretching the truth, and when was the last time he told a straight story?

Then the red starts to disappear from his face as Wolf starts to think on this. Seeing that he's startin' to buy it, I keep goin' on, sayin' I'd never, ever dream of going after his sister, or Sketch either, knowing who they're associated with. I tell him the last thing I wanna do is cross paths with the Amity Angels. I say Sketch musta walked into a door or something, the klutz he is, and just thought it was me, what with my bad luck and all. Maybe he just wanted to avoid embarrassment. Maybe Sketch just got confused, that's how he is sometimes.

It worked. Wolf eased off a bit and lumbered off to get hold of Sketch again, to check his sources.

You can bet I made sure to get myself real gone before he got a chance to realize I played him.

December 10, 1961

Kitten surprised me today.

A couple of hours back, bout sundown, I'm just sittin' around in the living room watching Ed Sullivan(we finally got the tube fixed) and I hear this rapping on the window. So, I go to check it out, and there's Kitty with her umbrella in the drizzle staring right back at me. And I'm just confused here, and a little worried, wondering if maybe something happened or I forgot something I was supposed to remember, even though I'm pretty sure we didn't have nothin arranged for tonight, but I can be a pretty forgetful guy, and girls, well, they remember everything.

I'm not in trouble, though. When I let her in, it turns out she stopped by to hang.

Can you imagine?

She comes all the way across town, just to hang with a jinx. Yeah, I can't believe it either.

I tell her she didn't have to do all that, strolling all the way up here, that it really isn't all that safe, what with the rain and cold and all. That I don't want to screw things up for her on my account. I tell her Sketch has been talking lately. That Wolfgang's on to me.

Kitty just tells me she'll do what she wants, I'm wigging out for no reason about the cold, and nobody believes Sketch cuz he's a spaz.

When I ask again about Wolf, she pulls up real close, reaches out behind my neck and purrs all sweet-like in my ear, "Yeah? What about him?"

. That seemed like more than a good enough answer to me. (Really, that purring thing kills me every time. It's unbelievable, man)

So, the two of us just lie there on the couch for a while, watching the tube in the dark. I don't how people can stand to watch in the light, to tell you the truth, it's much better without it. This way, it's more like catching a flick, only this time it's better because the room's smaller, and the seat's bigger. Big enough for my Kitty to curl right up next to me.

Then, after a while, she looks up at me in a weird sort of way. I ask her what's up.

Kitty sits back up on the couch and she asks me if I love her.

And you know what? That's a real dangerous question.

That question's exactly how I blew my thing with Judy a few months back, answering that question, not really meaning what I said, and having it come back to bite me in the end. But, I wanna say I that I do. I really, really, want to, but I don't really wanna lie, neither. I think she's too good for it.

So, I don't answer right away. Instead, I just go, "Well, do you love me?" Because if she answers, then I'm clear to answer back.

"I asked you first," she says.

Drat.

I think on the question a little more, and then I ask her if she wants a real answer, or just a nice sounding answer.

She gives me this real suspicious look, "What're you playing at, Johnny?"

"I'm not playin' at nothin', baby. I'm just asking an honest question here, that's all."

So, still looking a little suspicious, she slowly answers, "Real answer."

So, I sit up, lean back on the couch and say, "I dunno. That's the real answer. I just don't know. How am I supposed to know, anyway? I mean, I've never been in love before. I…just don't know. But I want to. I think I'd like to find out."

Kitty looks at me for a second, and I'm more than a little worried. I wonder if maybe I should have just gone ahead and given her the fake answer anyway. I think maybe I've gone and screwed up the good thing I got.

But then she says to me, "You know? I think I'd like to find out too."

December 10, 1961

Yeah, yeah, I know I usually don't make two entries a night, but something else just popped into my head,

People teach you things, but as far I'm concerned, it's your steadies that teach the most. Or, if ya wanna get more specific about things, your ex steadies that teach you the most.

For the record, Kitty's not my first girl by any means, but she is the first steady I've had in a while. Like, almost a year. Ever since the whole bad luck thing started not many want anything to do with me. Hey, their loss, huh?

But even though I've been with a lotta chicks, I've only had about four real steadies: Min, Alice, Judy, and Verna. In the end, I found out Min was a mooch, Alice smothered, Judy was good at catching people in their lies, and Verna liked Wilson from shop class a lot more than she liked me.

And they all taught me something or other about how a relationship works, and I guess, about how life works, I guess. And I guess they turned out to be pretty good lessons, when you get right down to it. I mean, you don't learn unless you fumble, you know?

But the problem with is, you don't learn from just steadies. You only learn from ex steadies.

And I really don't want to learn anything from Kitty.

December 13, 1961

They finally found Poindexter.

Um…

You know how I was talking about looking all over the school for the nerd, because I was supposed to hold up my end of the bargain about the bike? And you know how I said I looked outside his locker and inside of it?

It turns out they actually moved his locker three rows down.

I was looking in the wrong one.