I finally got up and put on my black Capri's and a tight, black shirt. I left the top two buttons undone; Andrea would certainly disapprove. I put on my red stilettos and a red neck scarf.

I brushed my auburn curls, which just reached my shoulders. My parents had enough trouble with my "ostentatious" dress sense; there was no way I was getting my hair cut short. In return, I wouldn't wear a flirty ponytail like Andrea. I wore my hair down nearly all of the time. I was secretly glad I wasn't allowed to get my hair cut like all those New York greaser girls my cousin Trish runs around with. Before I went to stay with Trish last year, I had been a reluctant Peggy-Sue. I didn't like the clothes but no one in Castle Rock knew any different.

When I came back from New York as a greaser some of the other girls became one as well. They went to some of the shops in the bigger towns near by. I was now semi-part of their group but being a greaser was a way of life. We done everything greasers should but to them that meant backstabbing was ok. To me it was loyalty to the gang, the family; but these girls weren't my gang. With friends like those who needs enemies?

I had other friends, girls from my neighbourhood who I had known all my life. They, being proper middle class girls, were Peggy-Sues. They often tried to "turn me back" but they weren't so bad.

I turned and watched Eyeball as he pulled on the faded, cuffed blue jeans and the faded white T-shirt he had wore the day before. I smiled as I admired his looks, his tousled brown hair and deep brown eyes. Everything about him was perfect. I hated the cuts and bruises that were ruining the perfection. He pulled on his denim jacket- to cover his badly bruised arms no doubt. He dressed kind of like the greasers too. I guessed all of the cobras did. Then again, they were lower class boys. And the Castle Rock rebels.

"Ready to meet the family?" I asked.

"I'm scared," he said mournfully, "You sure this Amy character won't be mean to me?"

I laughed. We went downstairs joking around and teasing each other.

"Morning!" Andrea said cheerfully as we entered the kitchen.

"Morning," we replied less enthusiastic. I'm not much of a morning person. I prefer the night. Eyeball? Well, he's nocturnal.

"Cassie? What's wrong with his face?" Amy asked. Eyeball looked down embarrassed. I searched for an answer.

"I fell." Eyeball said shortly.

"Oh." She turned back to me, "Who is he?"

"This is Eyeball. He's a friend of mine." I said.

"Eyeball's a funny name." She stated much to Eyeball's amusement. He laughed and scooped her up from where she was standing. Good thing she was really small. He let her rest on his hip saying, "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret Amy. My real name is Richard, but I'd be very embarrassed if people called me that."

"Could I call you Rich then? Cause Cassie's really called Cassandra." She whispered the last bit as though entrusting him with a great secret.

"Actually, at home they call me Richie."

This was news to me. Richie seemed like sort-of an affectionate name. I thought they would have simply called him Richard.

"My little sister Debbie even shouts at people for calling me Eyeball." He continued chuckling.

"What is Debbie like?" Amy asked inquisitively.

"She's three but she's real smart for her age. She has wavy, brown hair and bright, blue eyes, but she's real small and scrawny."

I could tell he was mad on this kid. He spoke about her like he could picture every tiny detail of her looks, as if she were right in front of him.

"I'm not looking forward to her growing up into a big girl though 'cause I'll have to chase any guy who even looks at her. She's gonna be a real knock out, I'll bet."

"I'm a big girl," Amy told him proudly, "I'm seven!"

"I have a brother called Emery who's a little younger than you. And then there's Sheldon, he's around ten I guess…"

"Andia! Andia!" Ashleen shouted tugging at Andrea's poodle skirt. "Andia, lift me!"

Andrea lifted her brushing Ashleen's dirty blonde hair off her face. She grabbed on tightly to Andrea's white shirt which, of course, was buttoned the full way. We all sat down around the table… and fell into an awkward silence.

A/N: I know Amy's seven & she's childish but I figure kids wudda bn treated more like children and wud have known less back in the 50s & my cousin's wee girl is eight & she gets on like that. &please! No flames for this chapter. Crap as it is. I'm not in the mood…