Four: Won't Back Down!
* * *
Ah, any time of year in Glenoak. The trees are green, the flowers blooming, and rumors of that thing called winter are restricted to Buffalo, where all the naughty people are sent. Birds and bees are, according to the Glenoak School Board, doing positively disgusting things with each other that we will not mention here, and children are playing happily, not knowing that any one of them could fall victim to a trendy social problem at any time.
On Main Street in Glenoak people are parking their cars and going to the Promenade, where you just never know who you will meet. It could be love, even if it doesn't begin at the airport, and the movie theater is open for business so you can exchange saliva samples with your honey. Pete's Pizza continues to serve beer to those foolish enough to drink it, and the pool hall collects people of all ages, none of whom ever seem to have to wait for a table.
And there, just off the Promenade, is the famous Glenoak Dance Studio.
It's not an obvious place in Glenoak. If it were then it either would have been shut down by the righteous people of the town (women wear leotards in there, after all!) or it would have been the site of some romantic escapade involving the town's most important family. But not being obvious, it had somehow escaped the attention of the crowds outside.
Until today, that is.
Jill came in, unlocking the door and setting her gym bag by the counter. There would be a few classes today, but Linda was coming in for the later ones and the evening was free for popcorn and a rented movie at home. She liked movies, Jill did. Watching them, that is. She had always wondered how anyone could pay to see a movie and then spend the whole time kissing, instead of just kissing somewhere else for free. Oh, well.
She thought about kissing from time to time. It would be nice to find someone to kiss again. Tom had been a good kisser, but it just hadn't worked out with him. It hadn't been a bad breakup, but not a good one either.
You need to move on, Linda told her sometimes. There are plenty of good guys out there.
Name one, Jill would answer.
Linda never could.
Maybe it was something about this town. Glenoak was a nice town, especially since its one career criminal had, after some 20 years on the loose knocking over convenience stores, finally been gunned down in the midst of one of his horrific crimes. There was already talk of laying off half of the town's police force, since bored officers were fast becoming a nuisance as they trolled the Promenade looking for gossip and chatting away on their cell phones. The weather here was always nice too, and since that one girl who was so horribly disfigured by a minor acne problem had gone off to the early admissions program at Harvard, everyone young in Glenoak was attractive.
She should be able to meet a nice guy here, shouldn't she?
Jill shrugged, flipping the sign at the door to the studio to "open" and moving behind the counter to do some paperwork. Mrs. Baryshnikov, who owned the studio, wouldn't be in till later, since she typically spent her mornings in a quiet cafe somewhere with her Czarist friends plotting to overthrow the Soviet Union. Jill would take the 10am class, then leave for school when Linda got in at 11.
The bell hanging on the door rang as someone came in. Jill put on her best smile and looked up.
It was a middle aged woman and a girl, the girl carrying a gym bag. They walked with authority, the girl's eyes roaming over the studio, the woman's face drawn into a perpetual tension that belied years of worrying. Must be a mother, Jill thought. The girl looked familiar somehow.
"Good morning," Jill said to the woman. "Can I help you?"
"I'm here to enroll my daughter in dance classes," the woman said.
The girl looked up at Jill and smiled.
Jill's eyes went wide.
"Hi," the girl said.
"Oh my God," Jill stammered. "Get out."
The woman drew up imperiously. "What was that?" she demanded. "What did you say to us?"
Jill took a step back, looking out the window and praying that a policeman would be passing by. But there were none, despite the long line of patrol cars parked by the Promenade.
"Oh my God," she stammered again.
The mother glared at her. "Young lady, it is a sin to take the Lord's name in vain like that. Now, I am here to sign my daughter Ruthie up for dance classes, and you will sign her up, right now. Do you understand?"
Jill shook her head in horror. She remembered this girl now, the way she had promised a "good thing" if Jill would only come and meet her friend Ben, who had a great chest and who was a fireman. But Ben had turned out to be a freak and it was clear the whole thing was a setup, and Jill still remembered running away and then hiding in her house for two days with the shakes.
Weirdos.
And now the weirdos' mother was here.
"No, I'm sorry," Jill managed. "All our classes are full."
The woman's voice became a roar.
"Are you saying you won't let my daughter Ruthie take dance classes?"
Jill shook her head. Maybe if she pulled out the phone, dialed 911 quickly. But this thought vanished as the woman began beating on her chest like Tarzan.
"I am Annie Camden! I am the wife of a Minister! You want a piece of this? You will sign up my daughter Ruthie for dance classes RIGHT NOW or you will feel the wrath of the MOTHER!"
Jill staggered back under the woman's verbal assault. Trembling, she found the application and other paperwork, pushed them across the counter to Annie, whose rage had turned into a sudden, sweet smile.
"There, that's better." She took the pen Jill offered and began to fill in the forms. Ruthie smiled as she did, glancing over at Jill once in a while. Finally Annie finished and pushed the forms back across the counter.
"Will there be anything else?" Annie asked.
"Um, she'll need tights and a leotard and some dance shoes," Jill sputtered.
Ruthie shook her head. "I've already got my own dance clothes."
Annie nodded. "Excellent, then. How much do we owe you?"
Jill gave her the total, and Annie wrote out a check, pushing it across the counter.
"Can I see some ID?" Jill asked. "It's policy."
Annie roared, again beating her chest with her fists. "I am the wife of a MINISTER! NO ONE in this town needs to see my ID!"
#
Annie left, and she left Ruthie sitting in one of the chairs near the front of the studio, where she was when Jill returned from the bathroom in the back, having gone back there to drop several hits of aspirin for her new, throbbing migraine. She stopped short when she saw Ruthie.
"Hi," Ruthie said.
Aspirin was no match for this, and Jill's migraine instantly returned.
Jill looked around. "Where's your mother?"
"Oh, she's gone. We can start my lessons now."
Jill glanced at her watch. 9:30. The students usually didn't start showing up until about a quarter till ten, and it was an adult class. The class for kids was at 4:30.
"Uh, your class isn't till this afternoon," Jill said.
"That's all right," Ruthie said. "You can give me some personal tutoring. I've got this important project I'm working on. I brought a CD."
Jill groaned and wondered if the girl could hear her. Weirdos, that was what they were. She had heard the name "Camden" a few times up at Crawford, had heard how one son had gone there, nearly failed all his classes, and still had gotten into some prestigious medical school back east with a full scholarship. And there was this girl named Camden, too, who had missed so many classes that the University had begun putting her name and picture on milk cartons in the cafeteria. Since she was a theology student, the campus evangelical movement had begin to speculate that she had been taken up into heaven, and they prayed daily for her return.
Camdens. And here was one, the crazy little one who had offered Jill a "good thing" and then introduced her to that creepy guy on the Promenade. Sitting in the studio now, looking at her.
"A project?" Jill asked weakly.
"Yeah. Can I show you?"
Jill groaned again as the girl got up and went over to the boom-box they used for music. She jabbed at some of the buttons there and inserted the CD.
"Don't you need to get into some dance clothes?" Jill asked.
Ruthie laughed, stepped into the back with her bag to change. Jill watched her, then looked again at the front door. Please, she thought, can't even one cop come in here? Or maybe an armed robber?
Then she remembered that Glenoak's only armed robber was dead.
"Here I am."
Jill turned. Ruthie was wearing a short miniskirt with a camouflage pattern, a black t-shirt festooned with military insignia, a dog-tag necklace, several dozen bracelets, and white, sequined cowboy boots. Jill's jaw dropped.
"You like it?" Ruthie asked.
"Uh, those aren't really dance clothes ...." Jill managed.
"Sure they are. They're my outfit for the videotape we're making."
Jill's voice was weak now. "Videotape?"
"For the USO. It's going to be sent to all our military people, to improve morale. I just need to get my dance moves down right. Watch." Ruthie stepped up to the boom-box and jabbed "play".
Jill went stiff in horror as Tom Petty's voice echoed from the speakers.
"Well, I won't back down, no I won't back down ...."
And Ruthie, gyrating the hips she did not yet have, wiggling like the woman she was still years from becoming, began to dance across the floor of the Glenoak Dance Studio, singing along out of tune.
That was when Jill fainted dead away.
* * *
Author's note: The song and lyrics to "I Won't Back Down" belong to Tom Petty. I'm only using them because 7th Heaven chose that song in their disturbing portrayal of Ruthie acting erotic at the beginning of "The Known Soldier". I say this because there is just no way I could ever come up with something that twisted on my own.
* * *
Ah, any time of year in Glenoak. The trees are green, the flowers blooming, and rumors of that thing called winter are restricted to Buffalo, where all the naughty people are sent. Birds and bees are, according to the Glenoak School Board, doing positively disgusting things with each other that we will not mention here, and children are playing happily, not knowing that any one of them could fall victim to a trendy social problem at any time.
On Main Street in Glenoak people are parking their cars and going to the Promenade, where you just never know who you will meet. It could be love, even if it doesn't begin at the airport, and the movie theater is open for business so you can exchange saliva samples with your honey. Pete's Pizza continues to serve beer to those foolish enough to drink it, and the pool hall collects people of all ages, none of whom ever seem to have to wait for a table.
And there, just off the Promenade, is the famous Glenoak Dance Studio.
It's not an obvious place in Glenoak. If it were then it either would have been shut down by the righteous people of the town (women wear leotards in there, after all!) or it would have been the site of some romantic escapade involving the town's most important family. But not being obvious, it had somehow escaped the attention of the crowds outside.
Until today, that is.
Jill came in, unlocking the door and setting her gym bag by the counter. There would be a few classes today, but Linda was coming in for the later ones and the evening was free for popcorn and a rented movie at home. She liked movies, Jill did. Watching them, that is. She had always wondered how anyone could pay to see a movie and then spend the whole time kissing, instead of just kissing somewhere else for free. Oh, well.
She thought about kissing from time to time. It would be nice to find someone to kiss again. Tom had been a good kisser, but it just hadn't worked out with him. It hadn't been a bad breakup, but not a good one either.
You need to move on, Linda told her sometimes. There are plenty of good guys out there.
Name one, Jill would answer.
Linda never could.
Maybe it was something about this town. Glenoak was a nice town, especially since its one career criminal had, after some 20 years on the loose knocking over convenience stores, finally been gunned down in the midst of one of his horrific crimes. There was already talk of laying off half of the town's police force, since bored officers were fast becoming a nuisance as they trolled the Promenade looking for gossip and chatting away on their cell phones. The weather here was always nice too, and since that one girl who was so horribly disfigured by a minor acne problem had gone off to the early admissions program at Harvard, everyone young in Glenoak was attractive.
She should be able to meet a nice guy here, shouldn't she?
Jill shrugged, flipping the sign at the door to the studio to "open" and moving behind the counter to do some paperwork. Mrs. Baryshnikov, who owned the studio, wouldn't be in till later, since she typically spent her mornings in a quiet cafe somewhere with her Czarist friends plotting to overthrow the Soviet Union. Jill would take the 10am class, then leave for school when Linda got in at 11.
The bell hanging on the door rang as someone came in. Jill put on her best smile and looked up.
It was a middle aged woman and a girl, the girl carrying a gym bag. They walked with authority, the girl's eyes roaming over the studio, the woman's face drawn into a perpetual tension that belied years of worrying. Must be a mother, Jill thought. The girl looked familiar somehow.
"Good morning," Jill said to the woman. "Can I help you?"
"I'm here to enroll my daughter in dance classes," the woman said.
The girl looked up at Jill and smiled.
Jill's eyes went wide.
"Hi," the girl said.
"Oh my God," Jill stammered. "Get out."
The woman drew up imperiously. "What was that?" she demanded. "What did you say to us?"
Jill took a step back, looking out the window and praying that a policeman would be passing by. But there were none, despite the long line of patrol cars parked by the Promenade.
"Oh my God," she stammered again.
The mother glared at her. "Young lady, it is a sin to take the Lord's name in vain like that. Now, I am here to sign my daughter Ruthie up for dance classes, and you will sign her up, right now. Do you understand?"
Jill shook her head in horror. She remembered this girl now, the way she had promised a "good thing" if Jill would only come and meet her friend Ben, who had a great chest and who was a fireman. But Ben had turned out to be a freak and it was clear the whole thing was a setup, and Jill still remembered running away and then hiding in her house for two days with the shakes.
Weirdos.
And now the weirdos' mother was here.
"No, I'm sorry," Jill managed. "All our classes are full."
The woman's voice became a roar.
"Are you saying you won't let my daughter Ruthie take dance classes?"
Jill shook her head. Maybe if she pulled out the phone, dialed 911 quickly. But this thought vanished as the woman began beating on her chest like Tarzan.
"I am Annie Camden! I am the wife of a Minister! You want a piece of this? You will sign up my daughter Ruthie for dance classes RIGHT NOW or you will feel the wrath of the MOTHER!"
Jill staggered back under the woman's verbal assault. Trembling, she found the application and other paperwork, pushed them across the counter to Annie, whose rage had turned into a sudden, sweet smile.
"There, that's better." She took the pen Jill offered and began to fill in the forms. Ruthie smiled as she did, glancing over at Jill once in a while. Finally Annie finished and pushed the forms back across the counter.
"Will there be anything else?" Annie asked.
"Um, she'll need tights and a leotard and some dance shoes," Jill sputtered.
Ruthie shook her head. "I've already got my own dance clothes."
Annie nodded. "Excellent, then. How much do we owe you?"
Jill gave her the total, and Annie wrote out a check, pushing it across the counter.
"Can I see some ID?" Jill asked. "It's policy."
Annie roared, again beating her chest with her fists. "I am the wife of a MINISTER! NO ONE in this town needs to see my ID!"
#
Annie left, and she left Ruthie sitting in one of the chairs near the front of the studio, where she was when Jill returned from the bathroom in the back, having gone back there to drop several hits of aspirin for her new, throbbing migraine. She stopped short when she saw Ruthie.
"Hi," Ruthie said.
Aspirin was no match for this, and Jill's migraine instantly returned.
Jill looked around. "Where's your mother?"
"Oh, she's gone. We can start my lessons now."
Jill glanced at her watch. 9:30. The students usually didn't start showing up until about a quarter till ten, and it was an adult class. The class for kids was at 4:30.
"Uh, your class isn't till this afternoon," Jill said.
"That's all right," Ruthie said. "You can give me some personal tutoring. I've got this important project I'm working on. I brought a CD."
Jill groaned and wondered if the girl could hear her. Weirdos, that was what they were. She had heard the name "Camden" a few times up at Crawford, had heard how one son had gone there, nearly failed all his classes, and still had gotten into some prestigious medical school back east with a full scholarship. And there was this girl named Camden, too, who had missed so many classes that the University had begun putting her name and picture on milk cartons in the cafeteria. Since she was a theology student, the campus evangelical movement had begin to speculate that she had been taken up into heaven, and they prayed daily for her return.
Camdens. And here was one, the crazy little one who had offered Jill a "good thing" and then introduced her to that creepy guy on the Promenade. Sitting in the studio now, looking at her.
"A project?" Jill asked weakly.
"Yeah. Can I show you?"
Jill groaned again as the girl got up and went over to the boom-box they used for music. She jabbed at some of the buttons there and inserted the CD.
"Don't you need to get into some dance clothes?" Jill asked.
Ruthie laughed, stepped into the back with her bag to change. Jill watched her, then looked again at the front door. Please, she thought, can't even one cop come in here? Or maybe an armed robber?
Then she remembered that Glenoak's only armed robber was dead.
"Here I am."
Jill turned. Ruthie was wearing a short miniskirt with a camouflage pattern, a black t-shirt festooned with military insignia, a dog-tag necklace, several dozen bracelets, and white, sequined cowboy boots. Jill's jaw dropped.
"You like it?" Ruthie asked.
"Uh, those aren't really dance clothes ...." Jill managed.
"Sure they are. They're my outfit for the videotape we're making."
Jill's voice was weak now. "Videotape?"
"For the USO. It's going to be sent to all our military people, to improve morale. I just need to get my dance moves down right. Watch." Ruthie stepped up to the boom-box and jabbed "play".
Jill went stiff in horror as Tom Petty's voice echoed from the speakers.
"Well, I won't back down, no I won't back down ...."
And Ruthie, gyrating the hips she did not yet have, wiggling like the woman she was still years from becoming, began to dance across the floor of the Glenoak Dance Studio, singing along out of tune.
That was when Jill fainted dead away.
* * *
Author's note: The song and lyrics to "I Won't Back Down" belong to Tom Petty. I'm only using them because 7th Heaven chose that song in their disturbing portrayal of Ruthie acting erotic at the beginning of "The Known Soldier". I say this because there is just no way I could ever come up with something that twisted on my own.