I really wanted to make Naomi like The Eagles, since I like them, but most of the songs I know didn't come out until the seventies. I settled for Neil Diamond... "Love you so much can't count all the ways, I'd die for you girl, and all they can say is 'He's not your kind' "

Love that song.

Anywho...


There was something about that recordI couldn't touch base on. It was one song that really got me - Solitary Man. I understood the lyrics, about a guy who's been cheated on and dumped and he's waiting for the right person to come along who won't treat him badly, and there was decent music in the background, but there was something about it that made me keep listening to it. Something good about it. I actually liked it.

August 23 1967

My mom and dad were both away, and I decided to pull out my guitar -I hadn't played in a week or more - and try to play along. It was hard, since I barely ever played by ear, butI got the first verse down by the time my mom came back. She asked to hear what I was playing, and I played a quick tune I remembered from my second year of lessons.

August 29 1967

I had finally finished learning to play Solitary Man on my guitar. I played it over and over again until it was inside my head. Just as I was finishing playing it the fifth or six time, I noticed I was humming along. It sounded good. For the first time, I thought about singing different styles of music. This wasn't opera or anything, but I liked it. I played the introduction on my guitar - this time, I didn't play the record - and started to sing along slower than normal, so I could remember the words.

"Melinda was mine, til the time, that I found her, holding Jim, Loving him,"

My fingers skipped a chord, but I kept going on,

"Then Sue came along, Loved me strong, that's what I thought, Me and Sue, But that died too,"

I thought I heard a faint scraping, outside my house. Funny how when you're concentrating on something hard enough, every sound seems to be so loud - even the ones that aren't there,

"Dont know that I will, but until I can find me, a girl who'll stay, and won't play games behind me, I'll be what I am, A-"

"Naomi?"

I whipped around. Mom was standing there, her work coat draped over her shoulder, and grocery bags in her hands.

"Hi, Mom," I set my guitar down, and walked over to the door, "Here." I took a grocery bag from her hand and walked into the kitchen.

"Naomi, what were you singing?"

"A song I know."

"It's a pretty song." I breathed out heavily with relief. I though for sure that she'd be mad or something, but I didn't know why, "Where'd you learn it?"

"I have the record."

"Where did you get the record?"

"I-" I was about to say, 'I was down in eastern Tulsa in that record shop, and someone I met in there told me I should try it.' Yeah, that'd blow over well. "Daphne gave it to me for a birthday present. You know, just teasing me a bit for always liking to sing opera music, butI actually like it."

"That was nice of her." Mom smiled and set a carton of milk in the refridgerator, "When I was a kid, we'd listen toGrandpaplay on the piano downstairs. Now you kids are giving records to each other for your birthdays."

I smiled. Like I said - I'm an accomplished liar. Only to my parents, though. Most of the time.

Then she said what I had been trying to dance around.

"What store did she get it from?"

"Uh...that store down the street from Ashley's, I think." I prayed she wouldn't know that store had closed a month earlier.

"That one doesn't operate anymore, honey." I heard her voice from the cupboard where she was putting away a box of crackers.

"Oh. Maybe that one over in western Tulsa, what's it called again?"

"Dear, that's I bought most of my records. They don't sell the kind of music you were playing in there."

"I don't know where she bought it then, Mom."

"I think she got it from that store down where those hoodlums hang out, Nay, and-" She looked up the sink, which she had been filling with soapy water, "I'm not trying to upset you, Naomi." I looked down, letting a dozen loose blonde curls fall in front of my yellow eyes, "But a nice girl shouldn't be down with that type."

"Some of them are nice people, Mom." my vioce faltered, "They aren't all hoodlums."

"Okay, Naomi, these kids over on that side. I don't know what you kids call them, but-"

"Mom, anyone who lives on the east side is called a greaser, but that doesn't make them a hood."

"They're all bad influences, Naomi."

"No, Mom they aren't." My voice was rising, but this time,I didn't feel like I was going to cry, "I was at the record store over on the east side, and one of the kids told me I should try this record."

"Naomi, you can't keep changing your style of music if you want a career at this point in your life-"

"I have lots of time, Mom! I can listen to the music I want, and I can be friends with who I want, even if they might not be right up to
your standards."

Mom was silent. I hadn't said anything that bad, even.

"Naomi Alexandra," she said quietly, "I forbid you to ever associate with anyone from that side of town."

"Mom, you're a narrow-minded, possessive bitch." I ran upstairs, because now I felt like crying.


September 12 1967

"You're actually going to talk to them?" Ashley was biting her already too-short nails.

"Uh, yeah, what else would I do? Stand there and mime?"

"I mean, what if someone sees us?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet." I admitted. I was really just looking for some way to get out of the house. I knew I'd over reacted with Mom. She hadn't said anything offensive to me. I had been scared she was going to say something bad about my friends letting me go to the east side...or them influencing me to go over there...I'd apologized, and she hadn't said anything. Iwish Grampy were here, because I could have talked to him about it, and he could have talked to her. I'd already told Hannah about it when she called from her new house, but no one took Grampy's place - not even Hannah.

"Where to now?"

"I guess we can go to the record store. I mean, that's where I saw that kid last time, and it's the only place I know my way to around here."

"You know your way?"

"Not even."

"Great. This is just perfect. Do you know the direction we came from?"

"Uh...no?"

"What do we do then, Naomi?" Ashley was talking fast but quiet, a sign that meant she was starting to panic.

"Ask directions." I started to walk towards a group of guys all huddled in a tight circle. They were all looking at something, apparently, and I wasn't sure I wanted to disturb them. But then, I wanted to get home as much as Ashley did.

"Are you crazy?" Ashley ran along beside me to keep up with my pace, which wasn't hard for her since she's alot taller than me and has longer legs.

"Apparently."

I was about twenty feet away now...fifteen...ten...five...

"Excuse me?"

One of the guys - he had dead looking eyes and a suspicious looking scar on his jaw - turned and looked at me. He just stared...I'd swear he was a corpse if he wasn't breathing so heavily, probably from smoking so much - and then he looked back into the circle. Just ignored me.

I looked desperately at Ashley, and she looked as frustrated as I did.

"Hey!" I barked, and all the guys turned and looked at me. They all had dead looking eyes, and bruises or cuts, or scars on their faces...I still don't know why I didn't run away screaming, because I think if they had wanted to kill us right then they could have. Especially since the object they were all admiring was a knife. It was held by a guy with black hair, black eyes, and pale skin - like Daphne, except this guy did look ghastly. He was a head taller than anyone else.

"What?" He spat in a low, scornful voice.

"What way's the record store?" I said in the samevoice- I don't know how I held it - like I was pissed off at them all but I had to talk to them.

He looked at me. I almost thought I saw his eyes flicker, if only for a second. He just looked angry. He narrowed his eyes and held his switchblade tightly in his hand, walking slowly towards us.

Oh Man, I thought, He's gonna kill us...

I reached for Ashley's hand to pull her away incase we had to run, because, by the look on her face, the only thing going through her head was sheer terror. It was one of the only things going through my head, too, and I didn't blame myself.

It was only a matter or who would have to move first - us or them.