A/N: "Back in Shape" lyrics written by Barry Harman for Jem episode #22, "Intrigue at the Indy 500" (original air date, Feb 1, 1987). Sung by Britta Phillips. Also, a little research told me that there were several Beatles besides the Fab Four (Pete Best, Stuart Sutcliffe, Chas Newby, and Jimmie Nicol, to name them) and there were actually five Marx Brothers (Gummo and Zeppo didn't last). I'm not naming them, well, pretty much because I don't want to get into a debate in the reviews/dms about which person I'm referring to! Roxy knows that there were members of famous groups who were dropped/stepped away and faded into obscurity. She doesn't want to be one of them.

Chapter 19

Emma was used to getting her assignments back marked up in so much red ink that they looked like they'd been in a horror movie. (She hadn't actually seen any horror movies, not yet, but she'd heard about them from other kids in some of her group homes. They'd always told her that she was too young for them, and while she hated being told so, going by the stuff they were describing, she wasn't sorry that no one had ever invited her to watch one.) Usually, no paragraph of hers could expect to be spared from having half its content crossed out, circled, or criticized. Sometimes, it was her handwriting. Emma wasn't sure if it was worse when a teacher scrawled their dismay at her messiness, or when they wrote it so neatly that it made her own work look even worse in comparison.

So when she got her book report back, Emma took in the red ink with a weary resignation. Then she saw the large B+ circled at the top and her jaw dropped. That… that had to be a D+, right? Ms. Kogawa just had rotten handwriting and some of her letters looked too much alike. Or could a teacher be… what was that learning problem again? Dilatia? Dyslexia. That must be it. Wait. Had she just written, 'Good insight!' in the margin? Emma flipped to the next pages. I like this interpretation… Nice phrasing… This is a good summary, but it should be at the end. There was a long red line in the margin after that one, which ended in an arrow, some five paragraphs later.

On the final page was a short note. Emma squinted at the cursive, trying to puzzle it out. Emma, I love how you've connected with these characters! You clearly state what you intend to show and you follow through admirably. Going forward, work on your organization and watch out for run-on sentences. Great effort and keep up the good work!

Emma looked up to see her teacher's eyes on her and smiled. Then she quickly slid her paper into her workbook, so it wouldn't get creased, and shoved it into her knapsack.

Stormer looked through the peephole and smiled as she unlatched her front door. "Hey," she said, as she held it open.

Kimber gave her a watery smile. "Is it okay I didn't call first?"

"Of course," Stormer assured her, stepping aside. "What's up?"

Kimber shook her head. "Oh, Jerrica was just… I don't even know." She stepped inside and waited for Stormer to close the door. "She started asking if there was anyone special in my life these days, and… and I didn't know how to answer. And I guess I must have waited too long, because she got that smile on her face and started asking me all kinds of stuff, like, 'What's his name?' and 'How long have you been going out?' and I just…" She heaved a sigh. "I blew up, shouted it was none of her business and stormed off. Bet she thinks I've gone off the deep end, now."

Stormer put a hand on her shoulder. "She thinks you're her immature little sister who wants to keep secrets like she was still twelve."

Kimber groaned. "Great."

"Well, you are keeping secrets."

"Yeah, but I don't want to," Kimber admitted. "I just… I don't know how to tell her." She squeezed Stormer's hand. "I'm not ashamed, you know."

"I know." Stormer sighed. "I wonder if Craig suspects. He's pretty sharp about this stuff. I haven't told him, though. Not because he wouldn't be cool, but… I thought it should be coming from both of us."

"It should," Kimber admitted. "And I'm okay if you want to tell him. But with Jerrica, it's… harder." She sniffed. "Even if she's one person who'd understand about living a double life."

"Huh?" Stormer blinked, and Kimber suddenly remembered that there were some things Stormer still didn't know about Jem and the Holograms.

"Nothing," she said quickly, with a nervous smile. "Absolutely nothing."

Shana greeted Jerrica warmly at the airport, but waited until she was seated behind her friend and foster sister in the limo before she said, "Okay. Now, what's wrong?"

Jerrica winced. "Mostly nerves, I guess," she said. "It's been a long time since we were all on stage together."

"Mostly?" Shana pushed.

Jerrica sighed. "Had a blow up with Kimber this morning."

Shana rolled her eyes. "Is that all?" she teased. "I mean, that only used to happen on days that ended in 'y'."

"Yeah, when we were teenagers," Jerrica replied. "And, okay, when she sang with the Holograms," she added in an undertone, "back when she thought Jem was upstaging her and blamed me for letting it happen."

Shana eyed the back of the limo driver's head and nodded, thinking to herself how easily Jerrica was slipping back into the fiction that she and Jem weren't the same person whenever an outsider was present. "So…?"

"So, I asked if she was seeing anyone and when she didn't answer, I…"

"You needled her?" Shana asked innocently.

"No! I…" She sighed. "Okay, maybe I needled her a little bit, but I thought it was just girl talk and somehow, it hit a nerve and she totally overreacted. I don't know why," she added. "It was just… off."

"Maybe she was having a bad day," Shana suggested.

Jerrica nodded slowly. "Maybe," she agreed, but something about her tone told Shana that she wasn't fully convinced.

Wendy looked at the two pieces of shimmery fabric in horror. "I'm to swim in that?" she exclaimed. "Amongst boys and girls both?"

John cocked his head at her. "And what, pray, did you wear to swim in whilst in Neverland, when you were the only girl?"

"As though Pan set me loose to swim!" Wendy exclaimed. "When I needed a wash, he plunked me down amongst the mermaids and gave them leave to drown me if I ventured too close to the boundary of their lagoon." She snorted. "They'd have probably drowned me anyway, if he hadn't ordered them not to, and that didn't keep them from playing at it!"

"And doubtless, while you were having your wash, you were wearing that romper-and-frock you wore in London," John teased. "Shadow brought it special for you, did he?"

"At least the lagoon was deep enough, and the reeds made a proper screen for when I was ready to come out," Wendy allowed, her face turning a shade of dark pink. "And a fine gentleman you've turned out to be for even inquiring about it!" she added.

John laughed. "I think you'll find that bathing costume to be on the modest side, compared to what the other girls will be wearing, and it's rather a bit more than the boys shall be," he pointed out.

Wendy's blush deepened. "I… I daren't," she stammered. "I couldn't! It's not decent. E-even Pan didn't make me swim with the boys!"

John smirked. "Welcome to the twentieth century, dear sister. Now, do try to blend in."

"How'd you do?" Casey asked eagerly. "C'mon, we want to know if our coaching actually helped!"

Emma shook her head and clutched the manila envelope more tightly. "I don't want to look," she admitted. "It's probably all a bunch of incompletes anyway. I mean, I've only been here for a few weeks and they probably didn't get my records from Boston, yet." She winced. "At least, I hope not," she added.

"Oh, come on," Stephanie coaxed. "If you don't look, you'll just worry more. Look already!" In a more serious tone, though still smiling, she continued, "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"I…" Emma took a breath. "I just don't want you to be disappointed if it didn't help," she said. "I've never really been good at school. At least, not since second grade," she added. That had been when she hadn't been able to coast on her general knowledge and had changed schools five times in two semesters, found herself too far behind in some subjects and far enough ahead in others that she'd spent those classes daydreaming—and then missed when everyone else caught up and moved ahead. After that, she'd managed to keep her head down and squeak by, but she didn't dare hope for more than a pass.

"So look at it later when you're alone," Casey said. But look at it." She paused. "Actually, look at it before we get back to Starlight House, because Jerrica's going to need to see it to sign and then file it away for September."

Emma's shoulders slumped. "Great. Maybe I can just toss it and tell her the wind ripped it out of my hands."

"What wind?" Casey asked, pointing toward the limp flag hanging from a nearby rooftop.

Emma sighed. "It figures." She thrust the envelope to Stephanie. "Here. You open it. Just tell me I didn't flunk. I don't know what I'll do if I have to do sixth grade over without you guys."

Stephanie hesitated. "You sure?"

Emma nodded.

"Okay." Gingerly, she eased the envelope's flap up and slid the cardboard three-fold out. "Uh… Emma?"

"I flunked," Emma whispered. "Didn't I?"

"Noooo…" Stephanie said. "You didn't."

Emma looked at the cardboard her friend was holding out to her and blinked. There was only one D. There were a couple of Cs. And… "Very funny," she muttered. "Now, seriously, show me mine instead of yours."

"Emma," Stephanie said. "That is yours."

Emma's jaw dropped. "No way," she breathed. "Where did all those Bs come from?" she blurted. "And…" And that wasn't a D at all. It was an A. Still stunned, she looked from one friend to the other. "My grades," she whispered. "They don't suck!"

Both of her friends broke into peals of laughter. "C'mon," Stephanie said. "Let's go get ice cream to celebrate!"

Back at Starlight House, the reunion of the Holograms was underway and punctuated by hugs and squeals of delight.

"How long has it been?"

"You look amazing!"

"This is going to be so much fun!"

Jerrica broke away from the huddle first. "Everyone ready to get down to business?" she asked cheerfully. "Or do we need a little more time?"

The other young women looked at one another, and then back to Jerrica. "I guess we're ready," Shana said.

Aja had already moved toward the office door and was scanning the hallway beyond. "Coast's clear," she said with a smile. "Go for it."

Jerrica nodded. She took a deep breath. And then, for the first time in nearly five years, she whispered, "Showtime, Synergy."

They were almost two hours later than usual getting back to the house. Emma turned nervously to her friends. "We won't get in trouble, right?" she asked. "I got kicked out of one place for coming back a half hour late. Her face burned at the memory. Her teacher had told the class that if they had any trouble with their homework, they could see her after class. She'd screwed up her courage after days of deliberating to approach the woman, who had been sitting in the teachers' room, chatting with a colleague, oblivious to the third-grader standing patiently but nervously in front of her.

When the other teacher had finally moved away and Emma had tentatively held out her homework, Ms. Daley had shaken her head. "I'm sorry, Emma. I've got to take my son to karate practice and I'm running late. Why not stop by Tuesday at lunch?" She frowned. "You know, if you only paid more attention in class instead of staring out the window… Anyway, let's make up for Tuesday, okay?" And then she was gathering up her coat and purse and leaving Emma behind without as much as a goodbye.

By the time Tuesday had rolled around, Emma had been in another school in another part of Boston, struggling with another math teacher, and she'd completely forgotten about that appointment.

Now, Casey grinned. "I called Mrs. Bailey from the ice cream parlor. We're fine."

Emma heaved a sigh of relief, as Stephanie pulled open the manor door. "Why's it so quiet?" Stephanie asked. "Where is everyone?"

Casey frowned. "Wait. The concert this summer. You don't think…?"

Stephanie's eyebrows climbed. "Only one way to find out!" she exclaimed. "C'mon!" She seized Emma's and Casey's hands, and took off down the hallway at a brisk trot, breaking into a run before they'd gone more than a few paces.

Stephanie hesitated before the auditorium double doors. "I don't hear anything," she said."

"Hello?" Casey teased, tapping her head. "Soundproofing anyone?" So saying, she tugged on one of the doors. As it opened a crack, the sound of an electric guitar met their ears.

The rest of the Starlight girls were already seated in the audience, and up on the stage were five women with hair ranging from blue through pastel pink with purple, mauve, and orange in between. The music was upbeat and bouncy, and the girls realized at once that they'd been lucky enough to walk in during the song's introduction.

Emma recognized Kimber and Aja at once. The others looked familiar too, though it took her a few seconds longer to connect them to the other three faces on her pajama top. Kimber looked up from her keytar and sent the girls a friendly smile, as the lead singer gripped the center mic firmly and began to sing.

Everything's gone downhill

We can recapture the thrill

Don't say that we're through

We're gonna make it good as new

Gotta get it, gotta get it, gotta get it back in shape…

Emma felt her heart beating faster. The pink-haired woman's voice was pure and clear, carrying easily over the music and sweeping her away with it. One day, she thought fiercely to herself, I'm going to write a song and I'm going to imagine her singing it. She smiled at her folly. As if an 80s rock star like Jem would ever sing one of her songs!

She followed her friends to a vacant row of chairs and sat down to enjoy the rest of the concert.

Roxy flung the newspaper across the room with a shouted expletive. "Who cares about the Misfits reunion!" she yelled. "It's not even a real reunion without me there!"

Someone banged on her wall and she hurled a shoe at the spot from which the sound had emanated.

She couldn't let this stand. Any day now, some reporter was going to shove a mic and a camera in her face and ask her how she felt about the band going on without her, or why she wasn't with the band, or whether she had a relationship with her daughter—of course they'd know about Hana May, they were reporters! And…

And what if they didn't come seeking her out after all? What if she ended up like the fifth Beatle or the fourth Marx Brother? "I'm twenty-seven," she muttered. "I can't be washed up yet!" Sure she could be. Ask most of the actors who'd played kids on 80s sitcoms. There were probably a dozen of them just in this apartment building!

Her solo career was tanking. She didn't want to rejoin the Misfits, but she didn't want them to perform without her. How dared they go on if she wasn't there! She'd show them! She would! Maybe she didn't know how to do it, but she knew exactly who to go to for advice on that score!

She grabbed her phone and dialed for directory assistance. "Uh… Los Angeles," she said. Then, "No, sorry. Lancaster. I need the number for the Los Angeles prison. Yes, I do mean 'California State Prison, Los Angeles County'!"

As she waited on the line, she was drumming her fingertips on the dresser impatiently. Maybe it was dumb running to Eric Raymond again like she had back in the day, but he was one person she could count on not to rat her out, even if he turned her away. And if he was willing to help, "then I'll be back in business…" she murmured, her lips curving upwards in a nasty smile.