A/N: "One Moment in Time" written by Albert Hammond and John Bettis. Recorded by Whitney Houston on the compilation album 1988 Summer Olympics Album: One Moment in Time (Arista, 1988). Released as a single on August 27, 1988.

"Starlight" written by Andrew Creighton Dodd, Gannin Duane Arnold, Adam M. Watts, Ahmet Zappa, and Shana Zappa (Reservoir Media Music, Seven Peaks Music, Walt Disney Music Company, Dodd Music, Dying Ego Music, Ganologiks, Star Darlings Music Llc).

John's information on foster care is taken from The Little Hoover Commission's, "Restructuring Foster Care in California," Report #115 (April 9, 1992).

Chapter 23

Phyllis looked at Roxy in disbelief. Shaking her head, she murmured, "Are you for real?"

If it had been the old Pizzazz, raging and shrieking, Roxy might have been able to keep her temper. The woman who scoffed dismissively at her and made her feel like she was back in grade school and being called on to read aloud when she barely knew her ABCs brought her rage to the boiling point. "You still think you have it all?" she demanded. "Cushy job, Beverly Hills mansion, a comeback concert in the works, huh? Well don't discount all the little people who got you where you are, because we can take it all away in a heartbeat!"

Phyllis blinked. "How much did you have to drink before coming over here?" she sighed.

"Don't change the subject!"

"Roxy…" Phyllis sighed. "Look. Go home. Uh… back to the hotel. Sleep it off. Call me when you're sober, if you still remember this conversation. We'll talk then."

"You can't get rid of me that easily!" Roxy snapped.

"No," Phyllis replied, "but building security can." She reached for the phone. "Do I need to call them?"

Roxy pushed back her chair and stood up, slamming her hand down on Phyllis's desk. "I'm gonna call you in three days and you'd better come across with what I'm asking, or I'm going to the press!"

Phyllis hesitated. Then she said, "The latest issue of Variety comes out in two. It'll feature an interview that Serena and I did together, where I fess up to all that. Now, you can start the gossip mill running early if you want to, but in less than forty-eight hours, it won't matter."

Roxy's jaw dropped. "You're lying," she stammered. "There's no way in hell that you'd—"

"I also spoke to Riot. The Limp Lizards are going to be the benefit's opening act." She shook her head slowly, but she was smiling. "These days, I help kids. Some of them are every bit as messed up as I was. It's… kinda weird trying to be a good example, but I'm done with trying to sweep my old crap under the rug. Actually," she went on, "I think it helps: knowing that the social worker telling them they can turn their lives around did some wild stuff when she wasn't much older than they are, but got past it lets them know there's hope for them, too." She met her former bandmate's stare levelly. "Just like there is for you, too."

"If I sober up and turn into you?" Roxy scoffed. "No thanks. And if you're lying about that interview," she added, whirling on her heel and heading for the door, "you can kiss your establishment life goodbye!"

The door slammed behind her.

Phyllis winced.

"Well?"

Wendy sighed. "I'll do what I have to. I just wish I could have done it without… meeting her." John removed his round spectacles and polished them with his finger and Wendy tutted at him. "Now, you know that's only going to smudge them," she said, reaching for a paper handkerchief—a tissue—from the cardboard box on the dresser and plucking the offending object from his hand. "Here."

John took them, smiling a bit quizzically at her. "Still trying to mother me? Even now?"

"I'll always be your elder sister, John," Wendy told him primly. "No matter how young I stay."

"And because you're the responsible one, you'll look after Michael as well, right?"

Wendy nodded glumly. "I only wish she wasn't so… nice," she admitted. "If we'd been at school together, I daresay we'd have been such good chums."

"I wish I could tell you it was possible here," John told her softly. "But good chums don't do as you must. At least, if you intend to keep on being a good sister."

Wendy nodded again. "You and Michael are all the family I have left now," she said. "I shan't let either of you down." She heaved a great sigh. "Or Pan either."

"And then she just laughed in my face!" Roxy finished. "To think we used to be friends!"

Stormer smiled weakly. "Well, you were trying to blackmail her…" she murmured.

"I shouldn't have had to! The Misfits were a team!" Roxy snapped. "All for one, one for all!"

"Uh…" Stormer twisted her fingers together and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I… guess I don't remember it being like that."

Roxy's eyes seemed to bulge. "What?"

"I don't remember it being like that," Stormer repeated, her voice steadying. "I remember being thrilled to be a Misfit, sure. I loved performing on stage and when we were up there, we were fantastic."

"The best!"

She wasn't finished. "But when we weren't on stage, I didn't feel like I belonged. It's funny," she continued. "In high school, I always did feel like a misfit—small 'm'," she added. "When you and Phyllis found me and told me the name of the group, it felt like I was taking that label and owning it. The truth is," she sighed, "I wasn't… I only ever wanted to perform. I wanted to win awards, but not if I had to cheat to do it."

"We didn't have to," Roxy protested. "But it was fun!"

"Not for me." She took a breath. "Do you remember when we wanted to get into Howard Sands' mansion, after Jerrica and the Starlight girls moved in?"

Roxy grinned. "Sure!"

"Do you remember how?"

That was harder. The white-haired woman frowned for a moment. "Yeah… yeah!" she said, smiling once more. "We bribed that little blonde girl… Amy? Ashley!"

"No," Stormer said. "I bribed her. Pizzazz was a billionaire's daughter, but when she told you pay Ashley the thirty bucks, you didn't point that out. You passed the buck and told me to do it."

"So? Why didn't you say 'no'?"

Stormer sighed. "You don't know how many times I asked myself that question. Oh, not about the thirty bucks; I mostly forgot about the whole thing once I started getting royalty checks from our first album. But about why I always ended up playing the patsy? I guess it was because I'd always been the oddball until then, and if bribing a teenager here and switching a dressing room sign with a janitor's closet sign there meant I was suddenly one of the cool kids?" She winced. "Let's just say I wasn't going to say what I was thinking and risk getting kicked out of the band." She saw Roxy start to open her mouth and went on quickly, "It doesn't matter whether you actually would have done it; it's what I felt would happen. Right or wrong, it doesn't matter. I wanted to fit in, and if pulling dirty tricks and shelling out petty cash was what it took, I told myself it was a price I was willing to pay." She sighed. "Let's agree I had self-esteem issues back then. I still do. My point is, we were a band. We had some great times. But we were never the three… or four musketeers. We just weren't."

Roxy's jaw was gaping by the time Stormer was done. "What's happened to you?"

Stormer shrugged. "I dunno. Guess it took me a little longer to grow up."

Roxy's incredulity gave way almost instantly to rage. "Grow up?" she repeated, slamming her coffee mug down on the table so hard that it shook. "Well, if you and Pizzazz are what pass for adults around here, it's a damned good thing I'm not one of you!"

"Roxy…"

"Never mind!" she leaped to her feet, practically knocking her chair backwards as she did. "I'll just take my fun-loving, immature self elsewhere!"

And with that, she flounced out of Stormer's apartment, slamming the door behind her.

"So," Casey said, smiling at Wendy. "You're from London, right?"

Wendy nodded. "Yes, though it's been some time since I've been back. I'm told it's quite changed."

"It can't have changed that much, though," Stephanie protested. "I mean, how long has it been since you left? You've still got an accent." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she added quickly. "No offense meant."

"Nor taken," Wendy assured her. "It just feels as though London was another life. I can hardly remember it now. Were I to return, I feel as though I'd scarcely recognize it."

The other three girls absorbed that. Then, Stephanie nodded. "So, what sort of things did you like to do?"

"Oh dancing and drawing," Wendy said slowly. "I did like jumping rope. And going on outings to parks and museums."

"Is that where you learned to climb trees?" Emma asked.

"In a museum, you mean?" Wendy murmured innocently, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. The other three girls giggled and a moment later, Wendy joined in.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" Casey asked. "You into MCC like Emma?"

"Emceecee?" Wendy repeated blankly. "Oh, but I did like going to concerts in Kensington Gardens and Mother did take me to see the Nutcracker the…" Her voice broke. "The Christmas before I lost her," she whispered.

"Hey," Stephanie said. "Hey, sorry. We didn't know."

"Well," Wendy said, with a forced smile, "how could you have?"

"I've been in foster care since I was eight," Casey said. "And Stephanie since she was five."

Emma raised her hand resignedly. "I was found on the side of the highway as a newborn. I've been in the system my whole life."

"Oh my," Wendy murmured. "I-I can hardly imagine."

"Yeah, well, life sucks sometimes," she said. "Uh… sorry about your mom."

Wendy nodded. "Just as you said," she replied. "Life… 'sucks'." The word fell awkwardly from her lips and she rather hoped that she'd only said something slangy and not vulgar. Then Emma smiled and the other two girls laughed and for a moment, Wendy almost felt like she belonged.

"You've been pretty quiet," Kimber remarked.

Stormer blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"Hey. Is everything okay?"

The concern in Kimber's eyes made her smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a run-in with Roxy."

"I think Jerrica mentioned she was back in town," Kimber nodded. "Bad?"

Stormer frowned. "You know," she said slowly, "I'm not so sure it was. I-I mean, she got mad when I didn't go along with what she was saying and stormed off." Her lips twitched. "Yeah, she stormed away from Stormer. Sounds like it should've been my exit. I know. And it wasn't great getting screeched at," she added, wincing a bit. "But… I finally got a chance to talk about some of the stuff that always bugged me."

"The stuff that had you drowning your sorrows with a three-scoop hot fudge sundae and a double vanilla coke at that night club?"

"You forgot the banana," Stormer said, smiling a bit more.

"Yeah, well, bananas are evil." Kimber replied with a straight face.

Stormer giggled at that and Kimber joined in a moment later. "To answer your question," Stormer said, her face turning serious once more, "yeah. I mean, back then, I just threw a tantrum and walked out. This time, I don't know. I just said what was bugging me like a normal person and she had the tantrum. Weird."

"Weird?" Kimber repeated. "You do mean weird-weird, right? I mean, that's not the new slang for 'great'?" With an exaggeratedly worried look, she added quickly, "I can still say 'outrageous' without sounding dorky, right?"

"You can say 'groovy' for all I care," Stormer assured her. "But no, I mean weird. Kind of... freeing, actually." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know I'm a couple of years younger than the other Misfits. I always sort of felt like they were doing me some big favor letting me hang out with them. Don't say it," she added.

"Say what?"

"Whatever you were going to say to cheer me up. Back then I didn't know any better. Now," she shrugged, "I do. I guess I just feel like Phyllis, Jetta and me? We all grew up and grew out of the dirty tricks and ditched the rebel attitude. I mean, I think we'll probably pick that last part up again when we're up on stage, but when the show's over, we'll just go back to who we are now. Roxy's still… Roxy."

"You okay?"

Stormer grinned. "I'm okay," she sang softly. "I have faith in myself..." Her smile fell away. "I guess I just… wish I had more in Roxy." She blinked. "Whoa. I think that's why I'm still a little down. Not because I'm hurt by what Roxy said to me, but because I'm sorry she's still stuck back there and we've… moved on." She sighed. "I wish we were in one of those old-time musicals where you go into this big production number and by the time you're done, everyone's smiling and singing and dancing together and you just know that everything's going to work out."

"Welcome to the real world," Kimber sighed. "Of course, if you think a bit of jamming will help…"

Stormer thought about it. "Know where I can get a spare keytar?"

Kimber beamed.

Emma hadn't looked at her song lyrics in over a week. When she pulled out her lined notebook and reread what she'd written, her eyes widened. "No way," she whispered. "It's… it still doesn't suck."

But it was still only one verse and a line that didn't work to start the next one. Emma took the cap off her pen and set it on the other end so she wouldn't lose it. Then she frowned at the page. She still liked that line. What rhymed with 'okay'? Lots of things. Bay, day, way… away. That might work. After all, starlight came from stars and stars were in the sky, away from the ground. One eyebrow rose.

Run on faith and we'll be okay

Watch the ground as it's fading away

Oh, she liked the sound of that! It still didn't feel right to begin the next verse, though. She looked at what she'd already written. Her first verse started with a short line. Three words. Three beats. Either the second verse should do the same thing, or she should make the first verse's line longer. Emma shook her head. She liked the first verse just the way it was. Okay, so then…

She nibbled briefly on her pen cap and thought. If the ground was moving away… was the song about going to the stars? To space? She'd never been that into science fiction, but she'd picked up a few things from Saturday morning cartoons and the odd TV show in some of her foster situations. Bits and pieces, really, not much she could use… A line surfaced in her memory; she couldn't say from where. Something about the 'space-time continuum'. Emma had no idea what that meant, but if space and time went together… Maybe she could use that. She considered.

Time and space

All right. That was her three beats. What came next? Well, if she was writing about running away to the stars, leaving everything behind… what could you outrun in space? UFOs, asteroids, Darth Vader, Superman—nah, only if you had super speed. Besides, why would you want to outrun Superman unless you were a criminal? But this wasn't about running away. It was about running to or toward or past. It was about forgetting all that stuff that got you down and leaving it behind in the dust. Was there dust in space? Asteroid dust, moon dust… but that was… It was dusty. Dull. Not what she wanted. She wanted… Her eyes opened wide. She looked at her page again.

Time and space

She hesitated. Then she added,

Like stardust they will blow away

That… worked. She was smiling and nodding as she looked at the other two lines she'd written. If they ended the verse…

Time and space
Like stardust they will blow away
Run on faith and we'll be okay
Watch the ground as it's fading away

Yes! Smiling, she leaned down and wrote some more:

Up in the atmosphere we can disappear

Hearts will collide

And, just like that, she hit another wall. She had no idea what came next. After frowning at the page for what felt like a solid ten minutes, she pushed it aside and got up. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she caught up the paper again and headed downstairs.

It wasn't as though there weren't a few musicians in the house right now! Maybe one of them could help her!

"Hey, Emma!" Kimber stopped playing long enough to introduce her to Stormer. "How's the song coming?"

Emma hesitated. Now that the moment had come, she was suddenly loth to hand her words over. No matter what Kimber had shown her a week or so ago, her lyrics were going to sound so… babyish. Maybe they'd be okay if they were set to the tune of 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm', she thought dryly. Aloud she only said, "Here," as she held out her page.

Kimber scanned the lyrics carefully, nodding a bit as she read. Then she handed the paper to Stormer. "You write better music than I do," she said. "What do you think?"

Stormer's eyes narrowed. "It needs more."

"I know," Emma said. "But it took so much out of me writing these two verses, I wanted to know if what I had was any good or if I should just rip it up and start fresh!"

"Don't rip it up," Stormer told her seriously. "But don't go thinking you've got a verse and a chorus either. I think you have two verses. You still need a chorus. And maybe a pre-chorus and a bridge…"

"Pre-chorus? Bridge?" Emma repeated, frowning.

"Well, a bridge is a couple of lines that sort of comes between two rounds of the chorus. Like in "One Moment in Time," Stormer explained. "You've got your stanzas," she continued, playing soft accompaniment on her keytar:

Each day I live

I want to be

A day to give

The best of me

I'm only one

But not alone

My finest day

Is yet unknown

"That Diana Ross?" Kimber asked, with a frown.

"Whitney Houston. For the '88 Olympics," Stormer corrected. "There are another couple of stanzas like that before you hit the chorus." She closed her eyes and rose to her feet, concentrating.

Give me one moment in time

When I'm more than I thought I could be

When all of my dreams are a heartbeat away

And the answers are all up to me

Give me one moment in time

When I'm racing with destiny

And in that one moment in time

I will feel eternity

The words seemed to burn into Emma's heart. She felt like she was soaring with the melody. "Whoa," she whispered, as Stormer opened her eyes once more.

"I know," the blue-haired woman laughed. "It's that intense, isn't it? But the bridge… that's what comes after the second chorus. Here." She played the notes of the chorus once more, but she didn't return to the slower, measured lines of the earlier stanzas. Instead, her voice rose in a strong crescendo as she belted out,

You're a winner

For a lifetime

If you seize that one moment in time

Make it shine

"And then you repeat the chorus again," she went on. "It just… takes it to a new level."

"I get it," Emma said. "What was that other thing? A pre-chorus?"

"Well, it's sort of like a bridge that segues... um… connects… the verses to the chorus. It sort of helps with the build-up. Here, let me see if I can come up with something that works with what you've written so far… and I'll show you what I mean."

She looked at Emma's paper again, frowned, smiled, and frowned again. Her fingers strummed lightly on the keytar, stopped, then started again with a slightly different melody.

Come with me
Chasing dreams, making history
We'll find a way and a place to be
Far away, finding new memories

"That's not…" Emma whispered, eyes round. "Is it really that good?"

"I told you," Kimber grinned. "With the right music…" She leaned over to look over Stormer's shoulder and joined on the second stanza.

Time and space
Like stardust, they will blow away
Run on faith and we'll be okay
Watch the ground as it's fading away

"I see what she means, though," Kimber said. "It needs something before the chorus."

"What chorus?" Emma asked.

"The one you haven't written yet," Stormer said, with a laugh. "But when you do..." She bent down and unzipped a large bag beside her. "Lemme just make you a cassette of the tune I'm hearing. If it's not the song you're hearing, don't worry about it; it's your song, not mine. But it'll at least give you an idea of the meter you're probably looking for."

"Meter?" Emma repeated. "I-I don't know the metric system very well."

"Not that kind of meter," Stormer explained. "I mean, like, the beat."

"Oh," Emma felt her face grow hot and Kimber gave her arm a friendly poke.

"You'll learn," she said. "We did."

"You think I can do it?" Emma whispered. "Like, you don't think I'm crazy for thinking I can write a song when I can't even read music?"

"But you can read English," Kimber grinned. "You work on the lyrics; let Stormer and me help with the music. Bet between us, we can create something…"

"…Truly outrageous?" Stormer finished.

"Now you're talking!"

"So, now you've befriended all of them," John translated flatly after Wendy had made her report.

The girl shook her head. "If you must know, it's they who've befriended me. And really, John, where's the harm in that?"

John shook his head. "Haven't you been hurt enough, Wendy? You know this can't last. And anyway, I thought the plan was to monopolize Emma's attention until those other girls drifted away, and then abandon her yourself. Not to join their little clique."

Back in London, Wendy might have stamped her foot, but she'd been here long enough to recognize how childish that would seem. "Oh, you're just a boy and you don't understand!"

"I do understand," John informed her icily. "You want friends about you, and you're prepared to abandon Michael and your mission if you can have them." His face twisted into something so ugly that Wendy scarcely recognized him. "Well, aren't you a selfish little beast."

"That's not fair!" Wendy protested furiously. "None of this is! How do you expect me to win Emma away from her friends when they all live together and I come back here at the end of the day? If you want me to have any chance, you need to… to tell the authorities I'm a foundling and get me placed where she is!"

"If it were that simple," John said, his voice still cold, "don't you imagine I'd have done so from the start? Oh, having you declared a foundling is easy enough. I could place a call to the authorities right now and tell them that I've lost my employment, am about to lose this flat, and can't see my way to looking after you and they'll likely take you at once."

"Then… I don't understand," Wendy said with a puzzled frown.

"Do you imagine that the place where Emma's living is the only house where orphaned and abandoned girls might be sent? There are more than eighty-one thousand children in foster care in this state alone. Nearly half of them are looked after by relatives, but many are billeted with other families and more than eight thousand five hundred are in group homes like she is. Once you're taken into care, while it's likely you'll remain in this city, I can't even promise you that much. And as for the odds of your ending up in the same group home where Emma is…"

"Well, couldn't we… I don't know, ask them? The authorities at Emma's residence or the authorities who'd decide where to place me, I mean. We could tell them I've already made friends there and I'd want to be with them and surely—"

"At best?" John said. "Yes, we can ask. Perhaps, the person in charge of that group home could request to foster you specifically—unless the home is already at the maximum capacity allowed under the law. There's still no guarantee that petition will be granted. And meanwhile, it's not even certain that you'd be able to stay there while the matter was decided." He sighed heavily. "Don't think Michael and I didn't look into this, back when we still thought that there was a chance we could convince Pan to let us take you out of Neverland. It's all very bureaucratic now and the government keeps rather good records of all the children it oversees. The days when one could leave a swaddled infant in a basket on a doorstep with a note asking the residents to 'please look after our little one' are long gone, and you're rather too big to swaddle anyway," he added with a weak smile.

Wendy didn't warm to it. "Don't be such a silly," she snapped. "And don't you dare say I don't care about Michael, when you know perfectly well that I do! I can't help liking the company of girls my own age enough to forget myself for a time, but you needn't worry. I shan't forget what I'm doing here, no matter what you think!"

This time, when she stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her, she managed to find herself in the hallway beyond instead of in the bedroom closet.