As the other Monkees were working on their routines for the contest, Franky and Davy were walking down the street, talking about Davy's favorite subject: girls.

"How did you decide to ask Ruth to this dance, Davy?" Franky asked.

"I don't know," Davy said, shrugging. "Asking girls out comes naturally to me."

"That's because you're so good looking. Maybe if I were better looking, I'd be able to ask Aimee to the dance."

"What do you mean if you were bettah looking?! I 'appen to think you're very attractive!"

"Yeah, but I don't want to go to the dance with you, Davy!"

"Yeah, I know, you'd rathah go with Aimee."

"Yeah, but I really don't think she'd go with me. And I seriously doubt she'll want to enter the contest."

"Don't worry so much about Aimee! I'm sure she'd be willing to entah the dance contest!"

"What are you two talkin' about?" Mike asked, as Davy and Franky walked into the Pad.

"The dance contest," Davy said. "Franky's still working up the nerve to ask Aimee."

"You'd be better off with someone else," Judy said. "I know the Armbrusters, and Aimee isn't too much into rock music."

"I was afraid of that," Franky said.

"Well, she might change her mind if you wow her with your dance routine," Mike said.

"That's another problem," Franky said. "I've got a song, but I don't have a routine."

"Maybe I can help you out with that," Davy said.

Davy took the record, and put it on the player.

"Just follow my lead," he said, and he started to do some of the Mashed Potato.

"Hey, that isn't bad," Judy said.

However, Franky tried to follow Davy's lead, but he just couldn't get the hang of Davy's style. He sighed, and flopped down on the couch.

"Forget it," he said. "You can have the song, Davy."

"You sure?" Davy said. "Petah thought it would be perfect for you to dance to."

"No, you're dancing better to it than I could," Franky said.

"If you're sure, mate," Davy said.

"I'm sure," Franky replied. Davy nodded, and went to call Ruth, telling her he had a song, and to discuss what a good time was to work on their routine.

Later, Peter and Franky got out Monroe's student directory again, and began flipping through the pages. Franky had decided to take Judy's advice and skip asking Aimee to the dance for the time being.

"Well, let's get it started," Franky said, opening the directory.

"What about Abby Addison?" Peter asked. Franky picked up the phone, and dialed.

"Hi, Abby?" he asked. "This is Franky McAlister. Listen, about the dance contest . . . . oh. Okay. Bye."

"What did she say?" Peter asked.

"She said she's got a date," Franky said. "Well, let's keep going."

For two hours, Peter and Franky went through the entire directory, but most of the girls either already had dates, or didn't want to go to the dance in the first place.

"Okay, bye," Franky sighed, hanging up with another girl. "That takes care of Zuzu Zyphylmeyer."

"Look, why don't you just ask Aimee?" Micky asked, walking over.

"Because she's not gonna go for a rock and roll contest," Franky protested.

"Why not?" Micky asked. "We've played several dances at your school, and I've seen her dance to our music!"

"Well . . . ." Franky shrugged.

"Ask her already!" Micky shouted, giving the thirteen-year-old a swat upside the head.

"Okay, okay, I'll ask her," Franky said, and he picked up the phone. He dialed Aimee's number and waited. It rang about five times before someone picked it up.

"Hello, Aimee?" Franky asked. "Oh, hi. Is Aimee there? No, huh? The library? Okay, thanks."

"Well?" Micky asked.

"Her kid sister," Franky groaned. "She said Aimee was at the library. And there are like ten in the city."

"Why didn't you ask which one she went to?" Peter asked.

"Her sister's only seven," Franky said. "I doubt she'd know."

"Oh for crying out . . ." Micky began, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Franky, you're driving me nuts!"

"I'll just wait until tomorrow. And I hate to break this to you, Micky, but you are nuts."

Micky let that remark slide. He just shook his head, and he went to go work on his dance routine.

Monday rolled around. The dance contest was that Saturday. The minute school let out, Franky went down to the community center to see what was going on. The Monkees were helping Jerry go through the songs that were on the sign up sheet.

"I hope you have all these songs, Jerry," Micky said.

"That's like asking a bird if it has wings," Franky commented.

"You said it, my man," Jerry said. "What brings you down here?"

"I just wanted your advice Jerry," Franky said. "Davy said you're a chick magnet."

"Really?" Jerry asked.

"Yeah," Franky said. "He said you take one look at a girl, and you're drawn to her, just like a magnet, and you can't be pulled away, no matter what."

"He did, huh?" Jerry asked, looking over at Davy. Davy just smiled sheepishly.

"A-heh, heh, heh," he laughed, nervously.

"Okay, Frank," Jerry said. "What do you need to know?"

"How do you ask a girl out?" Franky asked.

"A classmate of yours?"

"Yeah."

"How old is she?"

"We're both thirteen."

"Have you ever talked to this girl before? I mean, is she one of those girls you've seen in classes and admired from afar, or do you know her?"

"Yeah, I know her. I've talked to her. We're friends, but . . . . well, you know what I mean?"

"Okay then. This is what I suggest. I suggest you walk up to her, and say, want to enter to the dance contest with me on Saturday?"

"But what if she doesn't dig the whole rock and roll scene?"

"She likes you, doesn't she?"

"I think so."

"Then you shouldn't have a problem."

Franky nodded. He wasn't sure he believed Jerry on that one.

"You know, he's right, shotgun," Mike said. "The best way to ask a girl you like out is to just come right out and say wanna go out."

"But what if she says no?" Franky asked.

"Then she's not the right girl for you," Davy said. "You've got to remembah there ah plenty of fish in the sea."

"Yeah, you can't spend your whole life wondering if just one girl will go out with you," Micky said. "Especially if you don't even ask her, first!"

"You'll never know unless you try," Peter said.

Franky nodded again, and left the community center. He thought about what the Monkees and Jerry said, and decided to just do it. He walked straight to Aimee's apartment building and knocked on the door. Her mother answered it.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Um, h-hello," he said, a bit nervously. "My name's Franky McAlister. Is Aimee home?"

"Yes, she is," Mrs. Armbruster said. "I'll get her for you. Aimee! Someone's here to see you!"

"Hi, Franky," Aimee said, once she came to the door.

"Hi, Aimee," Franky said. "Uhh, are you . . . . are you doing anything Saturday night?"

"Well, I was thinking about going to that dance at the community center."

"Oh. Uhh, anybody ask you to that?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes. See, this boy in my social studies class asked me if I wanted to go and . . . . ."

"Oh. Okay. Uhh, I'll see you later, Aimee."

"But Franky, wait a minute!"

Too late. Franky was long gone before Aimee could explain that she hadn't said yes to the boy who asked her out. He went back to the Pad. Micky and Peter were working on their routines.

"I hope you're not trying to steal my moves," Peter said.

"Would I do something like that to my best friend?" Micky asked. "You know me better than that, Pete."

"It's just as well. Valerie and I are gonna kick your behinds at the contest."

"We'll see who's behinds get kicked. Marsha and I are gonna dance circles around you."

"You wish."

"Hi, guys," Franky said.

"Oh, hi, Franky," Micky said. "What happened?"

"Did you ask Aimee to the dance?" Peter asked.

"Well, I tried," Franky said, shrugging.

"Oh no, don't tell me," Micky said. "Let me guess. You choked."

"No," Franky sighed. "She's going with someone else."

"Oh man, that's a drag," Micky said, sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, Franky," Peter said, putting his arm around his nephew's shoulder. "You can still come to the dance, you know."

"Yeah," Franky said, "but I can't enter the contest."

Franky heaved a sigh, and went to the downstairs bedroom. Micky and Peter looked at each other. They didn't know what to say.