This is my second story (Fourth if you include one sequel and a song fic, but I'm not.) Since I felt like writing about someone other than Riley for a change. I'm still updating my other story, though. Don't get the wrong idea. I also decided to put alot more work into trying to make my new OC less like myself. Although she does have the same birthday as me.


I'm nothing special, in fact I'm a bit of a bore
If I tell a joke, you've probably heard it before
But I have a talent, a wonderful thing
'cause everyone listens when I start to sing
I'm so grateful and proud
All I want is to sing it out loud

So I say
Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing
Thanks for all the joy they're bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a dance, what are we?
So I say thank you for the music
For giving it to me

Mother says I was a dancer before I could walk
She says I began to sing long before I could talk
And I've often wondered, how did it all start?
Who found out that nothing can capture a heart
Like a melody can?
Well, whoever it was, I'm a fan

So I say
Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing
Thanks for all the joy they're bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a dance, what are we?
So I say thank you for the music
For giving it to me

I've been so lucky, I am the girl with golden hair
I wanna sing it out to everybody
What a joy, what a life, what a chance!

- Thank You For The Music - ABBA

February 2, 1967

"Mom," I whined, "I don't feel good."

"Sweetie, you've been waiting for a month for this chance," Mom's face turned to sudden concern, "Are you really sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No, Mom," I sighed, "I just suddenly don't want to go."

"Why, Mimi?" Mom used my grandfather's nickname for me. If I wasn't already sick, I was then, because I hate the name Mimi when anyone called me that other than grampy, and my grampy had died a few weeks earlier. I really missed him. I always will. Mom might have sensed this, because she continued quietly, "Naomi, why don't you want to go sing at that church?"

I sat down on the couch and leaned over so that my chin was resting on my knees. I've always been good at lying, but I could never hold back tears once they came...and they came easily.

"Naomi..."I wiped my eyes, hoping she hadn't seen me, "It's far from where Travis got hurt. You know that."

"Yeah, Mom," I jumped up, and walked to the other side of the room, hoping she couldn't hear the quiver in my voice, "It's far. Like, a mile. I checked." I added, at the gaping expression on her face.

"Naomi, you're being foolish. If you don't go sing, you'll be upset for a long time. You know that."

I did know that. Singing was everything to me. I wanted to sing opera when I was older. Move to London, and sing opera.I could play the guitar really well, but I wouldn't need that. Just singingsounded great to me. The only problem was, Tulsa was pretty far from London. Especially when you don't know if your family can afford to send you. My family isn't poor or anything, but Mom and Dad can't just send me wherever they want. I already knew I could go to college, that was one luxury we weren't too worried about, with my grades. But we didn't live in the very best part of the city. We lived right in central Tulsa, a little to the south. I was pretty glad we didn't live either to the west or the east, because then I would be classified (or stereotyped) as a greaser or a Soc...andI had no time for that. I really didn't. As an only child, I knew how protective my parents were and didn't want to worry them by getting in trouble. In my opinion, one of the best ways to stay out of trouble was to stay out of everything. So naturally, when I got a chance to sing at a church - and not just any church, a big one... A lot of people went there, since it was the only one in it's area- I really wanted to go.

Then, just today, I found a map on the counter. I thought it was kinda weird, since we weren't leaving Tulsa. Mom had lived here as long as I had, and I knew my way pretty good, so shouldn't she? Then I realized she had circled the church. Splat in the middle of eastern Tulsa. Count me out. I didn't hate greasers or hoods...I was dead terrified of them. My cousin Travis had been over there once, and he got beaten up really badly. They probably wouldn't hurt a girl, but still...I could never seem to reason with myself when I was scared.

But now, thoughts of my London dream were coming back, and I realized I needed all the experience I could get.

"Okay, Mom, I'll come." I smoothed out my dress, and ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror once more before I left. My hair was a little out of place. Good thing I'd come in to check. I combed it very carefully. My hair is light blonde, and down to my shoulders, but very curly. Every curl is about the size of a dollar coin. I had to comb it a certain way, otherwise it would just poof.

My eyes were glowing yellow. Normally my eyes are a yellow-amber, but when I get really high in an emotion- whether I'm really happy, really scared, really mad, or really sad...my eyes just go yellow. Golden Spectacles, my mom says.

I straightened my dress once again. It was a light yellow, and it matched my hair (and my eyes, right now.) Mom said I looked like a beautiful ray of sunlight. I thought I looked like a banana with black shoes.

Mom was right about one thing. That church was pretty big. Not quite as big as I imagined it, but I would settle for this. I was sitting with the choir, watching the pews fill up. The choir was smiling kindly at me, and no one had commented yet on 'that peculiar color of your eyes!' so I assumed that as I calmed down, my eyes had gone back to their usual amber.

I studyed my hands. They were pale, but that was normal for February. I did tan quite dark in the summer, though.I was still nervous about singing, but nerves always pushed me to do my best. I humed a scale as quietly as I could, and jumped as the service began. I took the time to scan over the congregation for my mom. She was four from the back on my left side.Suddenly, something caught my eye in the back pew. Ugh. It was group of hoods. So much for my eyes staying amber. I knew they were yellow now.

Service went along quickly, up until I had to sing. It was my nerves that made it seem fast.

"Now, we have a special young lady here to sing for us today." The reverend smiled kindly to me. He was a plump little man, with a bald head and rosy cheeks, "Ms. Naomi Sterling has been singing since she was young, and she hopes to sing opera in London some day." I smiled to myself at how good it sounded coming from someone else, "If you'd like to follow along in your hymn books, it's page 172."

I took my cue and rose to the microphone. The piano introduction was long, so I smiled around at people. My older cousin Adelle used to have a voice coach who told her to always smile and look friendly. She taugh Adelle alot about stage presence. Dad always said I had a natural stage presence. My gaze drifted back to Mom, who smiled encouragingly at me. I saw a sudden movement behind her.

Ugh. It was those hoods again. One of them was pretending to follow the music on the hymn book with his finger with a mock serious look on his face. I don't know if he sensed that I was looking at him or something, but he looked up right then. Right at me. I stopped smiling. I look daggers at him. He laughed. That made me mad. He just lookeddownkept pretending to follow along. I looked back at my mom, and she smiled again...feverishly, this time. I think she was worried about the people laughing behind her.

I saw everything happen in slow motion. One of the greasers in the back threw a paper wad (probably from a bible) at the other guy, and he pretended to throw the hymn book. It slipped out of his hands and hit the wall, and then fell down. He obviously didn't mean to, I'd give him that. But it was such a loud noise that everyone looked. The organist stopped playing. Two of the guys...the two on the inner most side...looked like they might die. Truth be told, they all looked embarrased. Except this one guy. He wasn't even the one who dropped the hymn book, but he seemed pretty proud of it. He just grinned this wide, crazy...demented, even...looking grin...and waved his arm wildly.

A few people muttered. I laughed. It wasn't even a laugh, it was more of a giggle. But unfortuantely, I was at the microphone. So naturally, everyone heard me. The guy looked up at me, and gave me the thumbs up. My eyes began to turn yellow, but I didn't flinch. I still dont know if my eyes were yellow from anger that he thought I was on his side, or happiness that I had somehow - even if it was only for a second - gained the acceptence of someone who I thought was a completely different species.

At the end of the service, people were coming up to me and telling me how they enjoyed my singing. I smiled and thanked them, but really, once you've had so many compliments, 'I loved your singing' starts to get monotonous. I was about to turn and leave with my mother when I heard a voice behind me.

"Uh...Naomi?"

I turned around. My eyes turned yellow faster than I could ever remember then doing so. It was once of the hoods from the back of the church. I wanted to yell...to scream at him for interupting my performance, but he wasn't the one who dropped the hymn book, my mother was right behind me, and somehow I wouldn't right screaming like that in a church, so I didn't. Instead I forced a painful smile. he really looked sorry, and if he tried to start trouble, I was a few inches taller than him. Maybe I could take him. Whowas I kidding? I knew I couldn't. I was pretty small myself, only 5'5" and fifteen years old. He was about a year or so younger than me.

"Yes?"

"Uh...I'm sorry we made you stop your performance."

"It's okay," I replied painfully, "I wasn't singing yet."

"I don't think we'll be back anytime soon anyway."

"That's too bad."

It was quiet for a second. I didn't want to say anything. I know it was mean, but I didn't really think it was too bad. Did they do this at every service? How long had they been going here if they had?

"I'll have to go. I want to get out of here without too many people seeing us."

I pretended to laugh a bit.

"Some funny friend you got there."

"Yeah, he's a riot," he said wryly, "If he hadn't have waved, it wouldn't have been so bad."

"Mimi," Mom said, "Come on. We have to get home."

"Mom," I said softly, "No one calls me Mimi."

"Dad did, sweetie." she whispered.

"Only Grampy can call me Mimi."

Mom was quiet. Maybe she'd stop trying to fill Grampy's void now. Dont get me wrong...I love my parents alot, but they can't be parents and grandparents at the same time.

"Maybe I'll see you here down the road sometime," I said, turning back to the kid, "You know, after this has all blown over."

"Maybe. Bye, Naomi."

"Let's go, Naomi."

"Coming, Mom, slow down!"

The drive home was very quiet until my mom spoke up about ten minutes from home.

"You don't associate with anyone like those boys in the church, you know that, Naomi?"

"I know, Mom. I don't want to."

"I just wanted to make sure."

I did, however, return to the church to sing again a few times in the next couple months, but those hoods never came back. Even though I was furious with them at one point for having ruined my performance, I started to wish they would come back.

I also started to wonder about my mother. True, I was obsessed with getting to London someday, but she seemed just as excited about it asI was. This made me worry about what might happen if I ever changed my mind about the whole thing.