Monday,
January 2nd,
1961
The time was 7:44 a.m.
The sun was shining, the Goldfinches (along with a number of other bird species) were chirping loudly, their pretty chorusing entirely out of tune, and the crisp scent of the remaining winter was on the wind. On the wide walkway stretching out in front of the Rydell High School, two women stepped briskly towards the flagpole, with one carrying the carefully-folded Rydell High School flag.
"Let's try this again." Principal McGee declared in a falsely chipper voice. "I'm sure the students will appreciate the welcome back."
What a bold-face liar I am.
Heaven only knew what the students of Rydell High (especially the seniors) were going to get up to for the remainder of the year.
Blanche was nodding happily, her eyes still sparkling and a bit distant; hooking the flag edges to the line, she began pulling, hoisting the flag up high, watching as it unfurled to show the high school's insignia and the words 'Class of 1961', the white letters, numbers, and emblem still stitched in sharp perfection against the red.
It was 7:46 a.m.
At thirteen seconds past, it was peaceful, the leaves skittering over the sidewalks, lovely.
At eighteen seconds past, the air was ripped apart (once again) by the squealing of car tires, bus tires, and a multitude of horns blaring, sharp and brassy; sitting on top of that was a roar that came from everywhere, a deep-throated thundering of approaching motorcycles, with their riders sitting straight and proud in the seats. Teenagers hung out from car, truck, and bus windows alike, some screaming out vulgarities, others yelling greetings at the tops of their lungs.
In the midst of this, a pale pink Studebaker careened around one of the arriving buses and slammed to a halt, parked entirely on the sidewalk.
"Jesus effin' Christ, Rhonda, when will you learn how to goddamn drive!" was heard plainly from the back seat.
"I'm workin' on it, shut the hell up, Sharon!"
Principal McGee stood stiffly, watching through narrowed eyes, her teeth gritting behind a frown: a battle-worn soldier facing an on-coming horde.
Behind her, Blanche was cowering, her hands over her ears, the flag all but forgotten and and waving lazily in the breeze. And here came more buses, hissing and shuddering to a stop, the doors opening in protest, the students of every year spilling forth, yelling, laughing; Blanche reached and grabbed Principal McGee's hand, tugging. "Miss McGee ... "
Shaking herself from the temporary paralysis, Principal McGee looked down at her, saying smartly, "The flag is up, let's go inside. We have announcements to give."
Around them, the chatter rose, another unstoppable wave. Talks of Christmas vacation and the ways it had been spent; talks of future prospects, such as full-ride scholarships to far off universities and playing pro; talks of no prospects at all, I'm still not interested in anything, man; talks of makeup routines, outfits, and newly discovered hair products; talks of musical contracts, band try-outs, and turning up on American Bandstand; talks of articles from Road & Track and the latest issue of Cosmopolitan and the Marilyn Monroe article within (Marilyn Monroe: The Sex Symbol vs. The Good Wife); talks of the feature, The Misfits, which was coming to theaters at the end of January, and was staring Miss Monroe and Clark Gable; talks among the freshmen, who were still comparing notes; talks of which couples got together over winter break, which couples had stopped being, who had kissed who, who had allegedly slept with who, and the dating potentials of the remainder of the school year.
The Cycle Lords appeared again, shouting profanities and waving their middle fingers, words and motions that four of the five T-Birds returned eagerly.
Watching them ride away, Michael noted that there were twelve of them now, and he muttered this at Stephanie when she appeared at his side, dressed in jeans, a faded purple shirt that had once been her mother's, and her Ladies jacket; he wanted to ask if she was wearing the sunflower necklace, but chickened out at the last breath. Sharon, Rhonda, Delores, and Paulette were right behind her, dressed up a little for the first day back, listening in on his statement.
"I also think that someone here at school is leaking information to them." he continued. "They knew things they wouldn't have otherwise when I ran into them back on December twentieth. My nickname, for example. And Davey's accident. I mentioned it to Danny, but there's not much he and Kenickie can do. Rizzo and Sandy asked them to stay out of it."
Stephanie arched her eyebrows in the direction of the disappearing Cycle Lords, her previous thought momentarily pushed aside.
The other three Ladies and Delores glanced at each other, as Ivaleigh came out of nowhere, crashing into Michael lightly, hugging him hello; she stopped just long enough to tell Stephanie, "Mornin', blondie, an' here's hopin' ya didn't believe a word of that bullshit Charlotte threw your way, cos that ain't how Michael does it, period, I offered up some fun t' him, repeatedly, the first day he was here, an' he turned me down, repeatedly, I know Charlotte pissed him off royally, paintin' him with the same light his old man stands in.", before starting to drag Michael away with an excited, "C'mon, I want ya t' meet Braxton!"
"Wait – hey, your – ? What?"
"My father is a world-wide, first class womanizer. His wife likes to have her fun, as well." Michael answered Sharon quietly, frowning, a look of severe disgust flashing over his face. "There's some seven or eight Carrington children all together, between the two of them and their escapades, myself, Genevieve, Bastian, and Damien included. And that's just the ones that are known of, from Albert's side. It's the biggest reason I'm so angry with Charlotte. She didn't just pull that statement she fed you out from her backside, Stephanie. She's always known how I despise the both of them, to the utmost degree."
Ivaleigh gave them a parting smile and pulled a solemn Michael away, to introduce him to a blond, green-eyed man who, Rhonda thought, couldn't seem to stand up straight, one arm in a sling, and his expression was ... haunted. Sad. Rigid. On the other side of him stood Lailea, Bastian, and Rafael, and while whatever the five of them were talking about was private, their expressions were cautious and careful.
Stephanie bit down on her tongue, more aggravated with herself than before; she had been planning to interrogate Michael more about why he was letting her off the hook so easily for accepting Charlotte's story without question. Now, though, her thoughts were spinning in an entirely different direction –
It's over, leave it.
What's your game, Carrington?
If he did have feelings for her – You saw his face at the meeting, giving the necklace back ... but still, he wasn't saying anything, still wasn't making a move.
If anything, he'd been more formally polite with her in the last few days than ever before.
So ignore it. He is.
Does he think I'm not worth it?
Or am I misreading cos he gave me a necklace and paid me a few compliments?
Why do I care?
The T-Birds appeared at their sides then (with Louis helping Davey pop wheelies, while Goose and Delores were bickering intently over who got to use the new skateboard that she had gotten for Christmas), and Sharon relayed to them what Michael had said, concerning the newest additions to the Cycle Lords and his surety that they were being spied on.
"So we confront the fuckers – " Johnny started, his lip curling.
"Yeah, twelve on three, that'll go well." Stephanie cut in dryly, her look mocking, even as she was grateful for the new diversion, while Delores gave Goose a kick on the leg, snapping at him, "It's mine, I don't care how cool you think it looks, keep your hands off!"
"We ain't lettin' 'em get away with this shit, Zinone! You got a better idea, let's hear it!"
"Keep your ass outta it? So you don't end up in a cage?" Stephanie offered coolly.
"C'mon, Johnny ... Let's just deal with Shakespeare and then we can handle them blue-balled Cyst Lords." Goose said.
Delores snorted, laughing, and Rhonda demanded, "Deal with Carrington, how?", her eyes narrowing.
"Don't worry 'bout it. Just know he's gonna get dealt with." Goose answered, a look of smug surety on his face.
Paulette stared at Johnny, apprehensive, while Stephanie's tongue touched her lip, and she looked nearly down her nose at him, disappointed and furious (and anxious for whatever reason that she didn't want to examine), but not really surprised. "What a bite in the ass all that jealousy's gotta be."
"Hey, I ain't jealous of that brown-nosed – " From Johnny.
"He needs to get put in his – " From Goose.
Rhonda had her eyebrows arched, an almost cold smirk gracing her mouth; she was fed up with Goose's antics, and eyed him and Johnny shrewdly, cutting in with, "If Carrington doesn't kick both your asses for whatever you're gonna do, I'll give you twenty-five bucks each. And Goose, I'm really 'bout ready to break up with you. I like you, but you're being too much of an ass about Carrington bein' in charge."
"Louis, you know what's going on?" Sharon demanded, but Louis could only shake his head, wondering why he hadn't been let in on whatever the plan was. "Probably just a joke, though."
"Nothin's ever just a joke with Johnny." Stephanie answered; looking towards Paulette, she continued with, "He's your problem, you be the one to stop him from gettin' in more deep shit. I'm goin' inside."
She walked away, and Delores kept up beside her on the skateboard, dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt; blowing a large bubble with her gum, she said, "Paulette got a job over at Rialto's in West Hills. Mom made her. She drivin' Paulette up the wall with all the waitressing advice. They got into it cos Paulette wanted to use the truck. Mom told her to find a dime and take the bus – "
"Hey, Dee!" two sophomore girls shouted simultaneously, waving hard, balancing on their own skateboards; Delores waved back, told Stephanie, "That's Willa and Queenie, see ya later.", and rolled away, as Paulette, Rhonda, and Sharon caught up, the T-Birds right behind.
"You at Rialto's?" Stephanie smirked, returning to walking up the steps into the school. "They musta been desperate."
"Oh, shut up. Mom said she'd send me to a oldies home if I didn't. The tips aren't bad, but I dunno how to feel 'bout the way some of the older broads look at me, and I've only been there three days. One of them looks like she let a five-year-old do her make-up. And one of the waiters suggested I flaunt my petite ass, if it gets more money my way. Pretty sure it's just cos he wants to stare at it."
"No, you ain't goin' by the advicements of a noddle dick, Paulette, the goods are for my eyes only." Johnny ordered, giving her a sly smile.
Sharon, Stephanie, and Rhonda made faces, while Paulette simpered, giving Johnny one of her sweetest gazes, while Louis asked of his three comrades as a whole, "So what's the story for whatever you're doin' with Shakespeare?"
"What's this about me?" Michael asked pleasantly, coming up to walk alongside them, with Ivaleigh, Lailea, and Rafael on his other side; books in hand, every expression was guarded, and Bastian was taking Braxton back to his hotel. "You're planning something to do with me?"
"Oh, yeah, we're throwin' you a birthday party." Johnny offered up, in a bad version of a brisk English accent. "Tea and crumpets and all."
Eyebrows arched, Michael was neither fooled nor impressed. "My birthday isn't until April, Johnny. And please stop trying to imitate my accent, it's disastrous." Speeding up a little, he went shoulder to shoulder with Stephanie, saying, "Good morning, miss. I wanted to ask, are you free later?"
Stephanie smirked. "Yeah, I'm free every day. It's in the Constitution."
Behind them, Ivaleigh, Lailea, and the other three Pink Ladies snorted, giggling; Michael paused half a step, before giving Stephanie an amused but mildly irritated look. You're so beautiful when you're being ornery. "And how long have you been holding on to that line?"
"Weeks." Stephanie couldn't quite suppress a second smirk, and Michael bit back a laugh. "But what do you want?"
"You ain't tryin' to get her on a date again, are ya?" Johnny called threateningly.
Michael paid him a look that lasted all of two seconds, then faced Stephanie again. "I'd like to tell you more of my side of things, since Charlotte has more or less dragged you into the middle of it. Will you have time for a late lunch at Cadillac Jack's after school?"
"So you are tryin' to get Stephanie on a date!" Goose called loudly, unable to wait for Johnny's signal, making sure that everyone in a seven-foot radius could hear. "The story from that Hayes chick goes that ya like the girls drunk and willin'. Guess she was right."
Every other T-Bird and Pink Lady stopped.
Jaws dropped left, right, and center, with many of the other high school students stopping, staring. Michael pivoted slowly to stare Goose in the face, stunned silent, while Ivaleigh's eyes narrowed to thin slits, her expression turning stone cold – it took only a heartbeat for her to begin cussing Goose out, smacking him across the face, her eyes blazing while she shouted.
"You listen t' me, McKenzie, cos I'm only gonna tell you this one time, you flea-ridden, ass-kissin', lyin' sack of horse shit, you open your mouth one more time 'bout my friend bein' a thing other than decent an' the tooth fairy's gonna make your cowardly white-trash ass goddamn rich, do you understand me?!"
She had one finger in (a pale) Goose's face, and he took a step back, glancing towards Johnny with a Now what do I do? expression.
"You're assuming I would allow myself to become drunk and willing." Stephanie snarled, her gaze like ice on fire. "Don't talk to me again unless I ask first and maybe I won't help Ivaleigh kick you in the balls."
"Goose, I want you to give me one good reason right now why I should keep dating you." Rhonda said grimly, her gaze cold, and Goose winced, while Michael took a few steps closer and gently pulled Ivaleigh out of the way.
"And let me guess ... this was your idea, wasn't it?" he said to Johnny, in his quiet, too-level tone, his expression calm but thoroughly pissed off. His eyes were vibrant with anger. "Of course it was. Goose is too much of a git to think for himself. He just follows you, the jailbird egotist on the power trip."
For the first time, he actually, and honestly, wanted to hit Johnny, no self-defense required.
"We're confused. Would you mind filling us in?" Eugene Fitzherbert asked warily, as Delores, Willa, and Queenie shouldered their ways a little closer.
"Michael's ex, Charlotte, showed up over break, makin' trouble cos Michael didn't wanna get back with her. Johnny an' Goose are still mad Johnny ain't leader any more, so they're tryin' t' start trouble, usin' Charlotte's words as ammo." Lailea explained, frowning.
"What words?" one of the juniors asked.
"Never mind which, they didn't work. Just like this won't work. And I've already decided on your penance, John, as I know you can't stand the thought of losing your jacket. For good. The same goes for Goose."
Goose's eyes widened. "Johnny, man – "
"Shut up."
"What'd you have in mind?" Sharon asked.
"Well ... seeing as how you love being center stage, all eyes on you, Johnny ... you, Goose, Davey, and Louis will be entering the talent show."
Jaws dropped again, and it was four seconds before the explosion.
"The hell we will – !"
"No damn way – !"
"Shakespeare, are you outta your mind – !"
"Asshole, do you have any idea what I'm capable of?!"
Stephanie could swear Michael's expression was almost gloating. I hope you know what you're doing.
"Your arms don't reach that far, Johnny. Take it or lose it."
"Fuck you." Johnny didn't quite dare attack, even while his fists were clenching and unclenching without rhythm, his fingers itching to be around Michael's throat.
"Give them til the end of Wednesday to think it over." Frenchy advised from off to the right, biting back laughter, her eyes dancing. Danny's never gonna believe this one!
A smirking Ivaleigh gripped Michael's arm, pulling him away again, with Rafael and Lailea right behind, and Michael muttered quietly to her, "I need you to introduce me to Pickard's Gang as soon as possible."
"We can go Friday night."
Meanwhile, three new students had arrived, all with flaming red hair and inconspicuous outfits, with two of them wearing perfume that spoke of the rich and the exclusive: Lark Renwick, Starling Trent, and Calloway Tannahill; and where Calloway hulked at six-foot-five, Lark and Starling were both lithe and agile, with calm expressions and clear eyes that missed nothing.
The morning announcements, at 8:19 a.m., included their quick introductions (after another go-round of Blanche Hodel hammering away at the chimes), as well as the date of the Valentine's Day Dance (Saturday, February 11th), which would be a Sadie Hawkins dance.
Leaning a little, Michael murmured at Stephanie, "Sadie Hawkins?", but it was Paulette who answered, in a cool voice, "It's when the girls ask the guys. It's a whole thing from the Li'l Abner comic strip. And why the hell do you always have to try and humiliate Johnny?!"
"It ain't somethin' he needs a lot of help with, Paulette." Stephanie fired back, giving Johnny a narrow-eyed look when he glared at her.
"All right, everyone, settle down. Bloodshed in my classroom is forbidden." Miss Mason called sternly, while Miss McGee went on with the dates for the Rydell High Spirit Week (March 27th to March 31st), which would be followed immediately by Spring Break (April 1st to April 9th).
"More information for Spirit Week will be given at the start of March. Please dress appropriately for Costume Day. Keep in mind that all swimwear, be it men's or women's, is prohibited, with the punishment being suspension. Let's have a lovely rest of the semester!"
It most certainly wasn't the first argument that the T-Birds had gotten into, or even the twentieth, but it was the first time they were divided: Louis wasn't up for entering, period, and Davey, while interested in the vinyl albums, was going to be confined to his wheelchair for at least another month.
"Why the hell didn't you wait on me to say go?" Johnny snarled at Goose, who looked dog-faced and hurt, sneaking glances repeatedly at Rhonda.
Stephanie wanted to kick them both.
"Not that it would've worked no matter when he opened his mouth." Rhonda said from across the lunch table. She'd told Goose before second period that they were on hiatus as a couple, and to grow up.
"Think of it this way, Johnny: If you win, you'll be King of the Luau!" Paulette chirped brightly, wondering if Johnny really would have gone through with telling the lie, if Goose hadn't started talking.
"Hey, who sits as queen if you chicks win?" Davey asked.
"Sharon. This is all her work." Stephanie promised.
"Steph, you're Head Lady." Sharon protested mildly.
"Don't care. If Captain Twist-tie here gets in and wins, I'm running for the hills. Paulette, you sit with him."
"Gladly."
"We ain't goin' in, Paulette."
"You really wanna hand your jacket away?" Stephanie asked derisively.
"And Carrington's your hero?" Johnny shot back, his mouth twisted in a bitter snarl. "You think he's hot shit? Workin' everyone here to do what he wants?"
"He ain't makin' anyone do nothin', Nogerelli." Ivaleigh snapped from one table over, where she was sitting with Lailea, Rafael, Julio, Enrique, Sofia, and Elena. "You made a choice t' try an' do somethin' stupid, an' now you got a choice on if ya wanna keep your jacket, or don't cha? That's it."
"Where is Carrington, anyway?" Stephanie asked.
"The bleachers. He's got a bit on his mind."
To hell with waiting until after school, she wanted to ask him now, why he was letting her off so easily.
"Hey!" she barked at him five minutes later, surprising him out of his reverie (of dancing with her somewhere); he blinked, staring at her, and she continued without missing a beat, dropping into a sit next to him. "Why're you bein' so nice to me about the Hayes broad?"
Given the chill in the air, they were two among a few who had chosen to dine outside (Daniella was, stubbornly, sitting by herself on the opposite side of the bleachers, and the three new arrivals – Lark, Calloway, and Starling – were sitting a few rows back from Michael), and for a moment, Michael imagined leaning in close and wrapping his arms around her, whispering everything to her, and she was smiling at him, welcoming; he shook his head a little, pushing back the fantasy, his gaze turning speculative. "Why would I be upset with you? She's the one who lied."
"And I believed her without checking with you."
"You know the truth now." Michael shrugged, the relief still lingering, both a bright fire and an icy sweetness, running wild through his veins. "You apologized. Let's move on."
"You're making it too easy." Stephanie accused. Why does it matter?
"Why should it be complicated? You're not guilty of – "
"Yeah, I am!" Stephanie yelled, wondering where the words had come from (Daniella looked their way, curious and straining her hearing to listen in).
Michael gazed at her for long moment, taking a breath. He chose his words carefully. "If you want to feel guilty, I suppose I can't stop you. But I'm not angry with you. Yes, I suppose you acted rashly, and yes, I suppose it would have been nice if you'd asked me. Matters didn't happen that way. You know the truth now, and you apologized. Let's move on."
Stephanie's expression told that she was marshalling another argument, and Michael asked, "Would you ... what? Prefer that I call you out on it? Perhaps, in front of everyone?" A thought struck him, and he asked in a low, careful voice, "Because that's something Johnny did?"
Stephanie inhaled sharply, the air whistling between her teeth; her eyes widened, then closed. "Should've remembered you ain't him." she muttered, her lips barely moving. "Nonna was right."
The urge to kiss her was one step from overwhelming, and Michael leaned a few inches closer, his eyes on her mouth, honey and white lightening, a different sort of want clawing at his senses, his sanity ...
Except, in that moment, she looked so wounded and frightened and angry.
We're on the edge of something.
He shoved the thought and feelings back with every ounce of control he could muster, then gripped her shoulder lightly, sitting back, fixing a vaguely worried expression on his face, smiling as she opened her eyes. "Steph, it's okay, really. Don't worry about it. And never mind Johnny. He seems still so full of his own selfishness and pride."
Stephanie very nearly laughed, flinging him an impressed look. "He also can't sing. Goose ain't much better. Caterwauling that'll make your ears bleed." she warned, as Michael let go of her shoulder, his hand tingling.
"Do you speak from personal experience?"
"Sadly." She looked shrewdly at him, belligerent. "You have feelings for me."
Michael blinked, a little blindsided; he gave a small sigh, glancing away and back at her. Hiding from her again.
"Tell me the truth!" She looked angry again.
"I ... " Michael bit his tongue. She won't say yes like this. A different tactic. "Whatever my truth may be isn't the point – "
"Then what is!" she yelled, her eyes shooting sparks.
"Your response, Stephanie." Michael answered sharply. "I don't want you saying yes to any question I might have just because you feel guilty. You don't owe me anything."
Stephanie bristled, snapping heatedly, "It wouldn't be for guilt! If I say yes, it's cos I want to!"
Michael looked her in the eyes, a strange excitement twisting in his gut. "Do you want to?"
His gaze was pure intensity –
The necklace? Or my heart? –
And Stephanie felt herself shy away again. I don't know how to ... and ... the ...
She pushed the thought back, as much as possible, and the thought pushed back. "No."
He's not honest, why should I be?
That's not all it is –
Something glinted in his eyes, and Stephanie was certain that she'd hurt him again. But all he said was, "Because the motorcycle is a must for you."
His words were a cold dose of logic.
Why are you so frustrating? Johnny was right about that much, you're chaos-inducing.
And wasn't she just enjoying every second of the show?
Stephanie's cheek twitched, and Michael sighed. "I'm not trying to guilt you, Stephanie. If I'm not enough for you like this, then there's no point in my pushing an issue with you. Yes, there's a crush, but I like that we're friends. I like knowing you." I'll just push it another way.
The bell signaling the end of lunch sounded, and Michael stood swiftly, taking his tray with him. "C'mon, back to the grindstone."
Stephanie followed close behind. "A crush?"
Michael looked at her, forcing a shrug. "Would you prefer I harass you over it, Miss I-Want-A-Cool-Rider?"
He was so calm and collected and What if he doesn't want to have feelings for me?
"No."
"Okay, then."
What's your game here, Carrington?
It was only after classes were done for the day that the three of them finally managed to catch Michael out of earshot, pulling up alongside his truck at the stoplight a block from the high school.
"What are you doing here?" Michael asked, eyeing each of them steadily, warily.
"Uncle Knox sent us." Lark answered. "Aside from the Hayes girl, he thinks that someone is leaking information to the mercenaries, and possibly Albert and Margaret. Bastian's mum is safe enough, but Heloise had to be relocated. The Storm siblings need to be moved."
Michael opened his mouth, then closed it, his gut clenching, twisting in wild unease. Shaking his head a little, he answered, "They'll fight you on it. Ivaleigh especially."
"And you as well, Carrington." Starling claimed.
The light turned green, and Michael considered pushing the gas pedal to the floorboard, let the tires squeal in protest as I run for my life.
"No."
"Michael – " Lark began.
"No." Michael took a deep breath, Stephanie's clear blue eyes and smile on his mind. He shook his head again, resolute and desperate, a massive thing in his chest roaring.
The horn of the car behind him sounded.
"Go call your uncle and tell him to think less logically, more compassionately. Ivaleigh has someone that she loves. So do I. Graduation is only a few months away. Neither of us is in the mood, or going to be in the mood, to up-end our lives for a mess we didn't ask to be a part of. And if information is being leaked, then it's not being done very well, or the mercenaries, and especially Zlobin and his voyska, would have been here by now."
"Hey, assholes, drive!"
"Quiet!" Calloway roared back.
"That's already been considered. It has us thinking that if talk is being given, the tongue isn't wagging so willingly or honestly. I'll talk with my uncle tonight, I'll see what can be done regarding yours and Ivaleigh's current statuses. But, no promises."
"Thank you."
More horns sounded, as Michael drove away, his mind scrambling for alternatives.
I am not leaving her.