Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CROWNING A KING

All of Point Place High had packed into Viking Stadium. Jackie dashed to the sidelines with the rest of the cheer squad, and her heart thundered with the crowd as she and her teammates began their opening routine. Their voices chanted in unison. Their pikes and toe-touches were high and in sync, and they performed their flying stunts with precision, smiling the whole time. The homecoming pep rally was a time to show off, and Jackie gave all she had. Just because her own spirit was bleeding didn't mean she'd wound the school's.

Coach Ferguson took his place at the center of the field, behind a microphone stand. He grabbed the mic, which was wired to the stadium's PA system, and announced each member of the football team by name. Charlie Peterson, Ron Turner, Jake Bradley—they all jogged out to the crowd's adoring cheers. Jackie did her part, waving her green-and-white pom-poms, but her gaze swept over the bleachers.

She used to search for her friends during rallies and games, but Donna went to a different school now. Fez treated her nicely only when he wanted something. Eric hissed at her in the school halls and made devil horns above his head. And Steven said no more than, "What's up?" before walking away. Granted, he'd done it each day this week, and she never responded. But saying the truth would put him in a position intolerable to both of them.

"Hello, Point Place High!" Principal Pridewell said into the microphone. Coach Ferguson had relinquished it and stood back with the football team. "I've got two envelopes here with the names of this year's homecoming queen and king."

The crowd roared white noise, and the shrieks of the cheer squad stung Jackie's eardrums.

"Being crowned homecoming royalty isn't just a privilege. It's a responsibility," Principal Pridewell said, and his speech rambled on so long the football team started to chant, "En-vel-opes! En-vel-opes!"

Valerie gestured for the cheer squad to join in. It did, including Jackie, and the rest of the stadium caught on. The chant of, "En-vel-opes! En-vel-opes!" grew so loud it must have created a shockwave. Principal Pridewell stumbled back from the microphone stand, but he raised the envelopes in the air.

The crowd shouted and whistled its approval, and he opened the first envelope. "This year's homecoming queen is..." he said into the microphone, "Valerie Clayton!"

Valerie screamed, dropped her pom-poms, and cartwheeled to Principal Pridewell. No surprise in that outcome. Her campaign for homecoming queen had begun the day after last year's homecoming pep rally.

"And this year's homecoming king is..." Principal Pridewell tore open the second envelope, "Michael Kelso?"

Viking Stadium vibrated with cheers and laughter, but Jackie's fingers lost all feeling. Her pom-poms fell to the field, and the football team huddled around Jake Bradley like he needed protection.

Michael barreled down the bleachers with his arms raised in victory. His shirt rose off his stomach, exposing his belly button, and he joined Valerie at the center of the field. Jackie looked at the cheer squad, but neither Julie, nor Leslie, nor any of the other cheerleaders acted confused or shocked.

Michael as homecoming king made no sense. He didn't have the required popularity, athleticism, or GPA, and beauty alone wasn't enough to earn him that title. Valerie must have rigged the election. She'd been dating him since Saturday, and every day at lunch she bragged about him. Jackie had endured a whole school week of gut-twisting boasts with a smile.

Arm-in-arm, Valerie and Michael did the Homecoming Strut around the stadium. Principal Pridewell went into the second half of his speech, and Jackie snatched her pom-poms from the ground.

"I have Michael on a leash so tight," Valerie had said during yesterday's lunch period, "he won't even breathe in another girl's direction."

If she truly believed that, she was a fool, but Jackie hadn't said so aloud. Instead, she talked about Mark: "His parents pressured him not to show at our homecoming. They're loyal Snapping Turtles, and he couldn't break their hearts."

Leslie had patted Jackie's hand in sympathy. Valerie acted sympathetic, too, influencing the cheer squad's lunch conversation. It turned to famous star-crossed lovers, and Jackie's reputation was safe for another week. More importantly, a fuse had been lit. The resulting spark would cause the inevitable explosion of her "relationship" with Mark, and she'd be free of the lie.

On the football field sidelines, Julie led the cheer squad in a celebratory routine. Valerie and Michael were closer to them now, and Jackie performed the motions with as much enthusiasm as she could fake.

"Hey, Jackie," Michael said on his way past her. "You break up with Mark yet—"

"Michael!" Valerie yanked him forward, and it was a good thing she did. If she hadn't, Jackie would've smashed her right pom-pom into his jaw. His question was beyond insulting. Either he'd asked from a sense of ownership over her, or he despised her so much that he wanted her to be alone. Steven's signals might've been jumbled, but Michael's were a sewer full of crap.

"What was that about?" Leslie said next to her. "I didn't hear."

Jackie thrust her arms into a high V. "Michael's just excited to be the king of something other than the idiots for once."

Leslie nodded as if Jackie's explanation were solid, and everyone on the cheer squad moved their arms into a broken T. They transitioned into a right bow-and-arrow, a broken T again, and to a left bow-and-arrow. The routine was easy, and the afternoon air was crisp. It should've kept Jackie cool, but sweat erupted on her skin.

Michael's fixation on her wasn't weakening. He'd cheated on her when they were together, chased her when they weren't, and she had no power to make him let her go.

Chatter and sloppy joe sauce engulfed the Formans' kitchen table. Hyde tried to eat his Manwich carefully, but ground beef dribbled from the bun. He usually ate lunch at Fatso Burger on Saturdays, thanks to his shift at the Fotohut, but Leo had switched him to the late shift today. Leo couldn't work it himself because of the Grateful Dead concert in Madison tonight.

The change in routine was welcome, though. The Formans' back-and-forth with Donna kept Hyde from focusing on much else.

"Quartz Falls sounds like it'll be really fun," Donna said. "I can't believe I won't get to go. Last year's upperclassmen trip totally sucked because we were broken up."

Forman swallowed a big bite of Manwich. "You know what really sucks—"

"Eric," Red said across from him, "stop saying the word suck."

"Sorry. You know what really stinks?"

Hyde waved his hand in front of his nose. "You, after biking twenty miles to pick Donna up from her school."

"Still?" Mrs. Forman was sitting beside Forman, and she tapped his plate. "I bought you extra deodorant and left it in the basement bathroom."

"Getting my car back would be better," Forman said. "It's been over two weeks, not that my dad has any sympathy—"

"That's right. I don't." Red bit into his Manwich. Some of the sauce onto splattered onto his chin, and he wiped it off with a napkin.

Donna gestured at Forman. "You were saying?"

"Quartz Falls. Right. We'll be sleeping in tents, and I was hoping, you know..." Forman grinned at her, and she slapped his arm. "No, I didn't mean—well, okay, I mean that, too. But I wanted to show off my skills as a Cub Scout. These hands can set up a tent in under ten minutes."

Red's eyebrows rose. "You can pitch a tent? I don't buy it."

"Of course he can, Red," Mrs. Forman said. "I've seen him pitch a tent dozens of times—"

Laughter burst from Hyde's mouth, along with part of his Manwich. The Formans stared at him like they had no idea what was so funny. Donna covered her eyes and shook her head, and Forman's cheeks flushed.

"Set up a tent," Forman said. "She's seen me set up a tent."

His correction had no effect. Hyde couldn't stop laughing, and he excused himself from the table.

Twenty minutes later, he was in the backyard with Donna and the Formans. Forman knelt in the grass, sweaty but not smelly. A hammer lay beside him, and he checked the poles and stakes of his canvas tent. They didn't budge.

"See, Dad?" Forman got to his feet and brushed dirt and grass from his jeans. "Told you I could it."

Red circled the tent. He pushed on its taught walls, slid his palm over the secured guy-line, and tried to wiggle the support poles. "Who would've thought?" he said. "You managed not to foul it up."

"I knew he wouldn't." Mrs. Forman grasped Forman's shoulders and leaned her forehead against his. "My little snicklefritz earned the most achievement beads of his Cub Scout troop."

"Thank you, Mommy—Mom." Forman withdrew from her. "Mother."

"You can shoot a rifle," Red said, "set up a tent. … Maybe you'll survive out in the world after all." He pulled the Vista Cruiser's keys from his jeans pocket. "And maybe you're responsible enough to have your car back."

Forman's eyes widened. "Wait, really?"

Red clutched the keys in his fist. "This is provisional. If your grades slip—or if you lie to your mother and me again—the car's mine. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Forman said, and Red passed him the keys.

A gust of wind blew through the backyard. Donna touched the tent canvas as it rippled, but the polls stayed put. "If I were going with you guys," she said, "I'd take my dad's tent. The ones the school rented for us last year had holes in them and no rain flies."

Red scoffed. "Did Bob's National Guard training even teach him how to set up a pup tent?"

"Yeah." Her eyebrows rose with the corners of her mouth. "But he can afford to rent a truck camper when he wants to 'rough it,' so he does."

"Can he rent me one for next week?" Forman said

"He could, but he won't." She moved in for a kiss. Forman puckered his lips, and Hyde averted his gaze. He'd watched them suck face plenty in the basement. He didn't need to watch it outside, too.

"Donna, man," he said when they finished, "could I borrow your tent?"

"Sure," she said. "I've got no use for it next weekend."

She leaned against the Formans' maple tree. Its leaves were turning red, and as Hyde crouched to pick up a fallen one, the backyard's front gate squeaked open. He couldn't tell who'd come by. The Formans' legs blocked his eyeline.

He stood up, expecting to see Bob or Kelso, and his breath stalled in his throat.

Jackie lingered by the fence, hair wreathed in sunlight, but her shoulders were stooped. Her fingers tugged at the hem of her sweater, and she kept a decent amount of distance between herself and everyone else. Hyde's own body responded with a slight jerk, but he stayed put. Like him, she was a master of concealing her pain. Where he went blank, she put on a show of pride. Today, though, she lacked any pretense. Her internal wounds stained his chest, partly because he'd caused a good portion of the damage.

"Well, hello, Jackie!" Mrs. Forman said. "How nice to see—

Forman interrupted her with a theatrical groan. "Why? This day was going so well. I pitched a tent. I got back the Vista Cruiser, but no. God can't just let me have a win."

"Eric, we talked about this." Donna grabbed his hand, yanked him toward the maple, and whispered something in his ear.

"You're right," he said afterward. "It's not God. It's the devil who sent Jackie here. Her sulfurous footsteps are leaving holes in my backyard!"

"My backyard," Red said. "Do you want to lose your car permanently?"

Forman swallowed, and his hand plunged into his jeans pocket. He had to be squeezing the Cruiser's keys. "No, sir."

"Then quit insulting the Burkhart girl. She may be loud, but she can also fix a U-joint. Do you even know what a U-joint is?"

"No, sir."

"Right. So shut it."

"Thank you, Mr. Forman," Jackie said, and her eyes flicked to Hyde. He was twirling the leaf between his fingers, but he stopped as a message to her—that she mattered to him. She probably wouldn't get it. It was too subtle a sign.

All week in school, he'd made sure to ask how she was. She never answered, but that was less important than him asking. She needed to know, despite rejecting his friendship, that he hadn't gone anywhere. But declaring his feelings openly wouldn't happen, especially not in the Formans' backyard. Whatever happened between them had to be private.

His fist closed over the leaf as her gaze left him. She looked at Donna, jutted her chin toward the Pinciottis' backyard, and went to the driveway.

Donna followed, and Forman shouted, "But it's Saturday! It's prime Eric-and-Donna time!"

Red heaved out a breath, but Mrs. Forman intercepted. She laced her fingers around his arm, pulled him past the tent, and said to Forman, "Honey, don't use your squeaky voice. You're a senior in high school now. Have some decorum."

"Decorum?" Red said to her with a laugh, and they stepped onto the driveway.

She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. "Eric left his vocabulary book lying around. I wanted to try out a new word..."

Their voices faded as they reached the house. They entered through the patio door, and once it slid shut, Forman kicked a stone in the grass.

"What crawled up your ass?" Hyde said.

"Goddamn Jackie." Forman began dismantling the tent. "First she monopolizes Kelso's time and treats Fez like her personal butler. She won't leave you alone, and then she sets Donna up with Casey Kelso." He wriggled one of the tent stakes and pried it out of the dirt. "Donna and I got back together less than a month ago. I bet you Jackie's trying to convince her to break it off."

"What, your dick?"

"That, too."

Hyde opened his fist. The leaf inside was crumpled and ripped in places. It hadn't started out that way. His touch had wrecked it.

"She won't be happy until she's taken everything from me," Forman said, and his statement vibrated in Hyde's skull.

"Forman, relax. Just 'cause Jackie's way hotter than you doesn't mean Donna's gonna fuck her."

"Okay—" Forman was crouched in the grass. He yanked out another tent stake, but the move threw him off balance. His legs slipped out from under him, and he fell onto his ass. "Since when do you think Jackie's hot?"

Hyde ran his knuckles along his jawline. His beard chafed the skin of his fingers, but the physical pain couldn't ward off his memory. A minute before he and Jackie had kissed on the hood of her car. That was when he'd realized the change. His whole body had begun to pulse, simply by sitting next to her.

"Jackie's a chick," he said as Forman removed a third tent stake. "By default, she's hotter than you."

"Oh."

"Big Rhonda's hotter than you."

"Um..."

"So's droopy-eyed Karen—"

"Got it," Forman said. "Thanks."

He reached for another tent stake, but Hyde blocked it with his boot. "And the next time you see Jackie," Hyde said, "don't act like she's freakin' Laurie. Kelso's obsessed with getting tail. His time would've been 'monopolized,' whether he'd dated Jackie or any other girl. Fez was trying to get into Jackie's pants. That's the only reason he kissed her butt—"

Forman moved toward a different tent stake, but Hyde got there first and stepped on it. "Forman, listen to me, man. Only reason Donna didn't break up with you sooner is 'cause of me and Jackie."

"What?" Forman peered up at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You piss Donna off, and she comes to us. We back you up, give her some perspective, and she forgives you. Yeah, Jackiebacked you up, too." Hyde took his boot off the tent stake, but Forman didn't go for it. His fingers were busy tearing blades of grass. "I know," Hyde said, "'cause Donna used to tell me about it. Jackie's not out to get you, all right?"

Forman stared at the grass on his palm. "But Casey..."

"Donna was miserable without her ma, without you, and Jackie tried to make her feel better. End of story."

Hyde headed for the driveway. He'd said too much and not enough, and his lunch turned to stone in his stomach. Jackie had come by, and he'd done nothing but quit twirling a leaf.