This is the story of two gender non-conforming teens back in the benighted 1980s. Two kids trying to find their places in the world and finding a kindred spirit.

Thanks to Lizzy Bennet, editor and friend extraordinaire.

----------

Fall 1983. Spencer’s Gifts in the Nanuet Mall.

Lyle and Josh were flicking through the racks of posters, the clicking sound getting faster and slower.

They stopped at Carol Alt. “She’s fucking hot,” Lyle said. Lyle had very specific ideas of who was hot and who wasn’t. He was also 6’2”, 140 pounds, with a zit marked face and a Jewfro last in style in 1977. My sister called him ‘Refugee GI Joe,’ which was surprisingly witty for her.

“Paulina’s hotter,” Josh offered. Josh was 5’6” (5’8”, if you asked him) and 140 lbs. Of the three of us, Josh did the best with girls, which was like being the world’s tallest midget.

“Hey, Alan,” Lyle asked, after he and Josh exchanged ‘you’re high’ with each other, their all-purpose insult, “who’s hotter?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was busy looking at the R-rated board games. I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t care, to be honest.

--
Who was I? Alan Berger, a freak, a mess. 5’9” and 195 pounds. ‘Berger with a side of tits’ being lobbed at me, at least once a day. And I sucked at gym - ‘run towards Berger’ being a guarantee that you would score in any sport. Oh, and I was a geek. Other than that, I was a prize.

---

“I dunno,” I mumbled.

“Come on. Pick one,” Josh said. “Paulina is much hotter than Carol Alt, right?”

“She’s OK. They’re both OK,” and I felt them staring at me.

Lyle looked at me, in horror. “They’re OK? That’s it? OK?”

And I felt their disapproval and suspicion. “I mean I’d do either one,” and then I scoffed, “but I mean Christie Brinkley is much hotter. I mean, I like blondes better,” I lied. I mean, I wasn’t exactly lying. Christie Brinkley was objectively beautiful. And so was Carol Alt. And Paulina. But I didn’t feel anything. I’d stare at them, trying to feel something but I never did. The same with Playboy. And Penthouse. I could close my eyes and use my imagination and feel something. But posters? Nope.

But they were staring at me like I was weird. So I bought the poster, because that’s what everyone else did. Josh did. Kids on TV did. Lyle’s room was covered with pictures from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.

And I didn’t. I had original comic strips in my room. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a cartoonist. I had written to all the cartoonists that I liked, asking for originals. And when they’d come, I’d frame them and hang them. Except now, my father would come into my room and shake his head.

Three hours later, I was in my room taping Christie Brinkley up to the wall that was parallel to my bed. Maybe, I thought, if I stare at her long enough, maybe I’ll feel something. I sat with my hand on my crotch staring, playing with my penis, which just flopped there. And I started picturing the video to “Uptown Girl,” Christie in the black and white strapless dress and hat. Dancing around while Billy Joel and his backup singers followed her.

And I started picturing myself. In the dress and the heels, hips shaking while they followed me. And I got instantaneously hard. And, even as I told myself to stop, I kept pumping. And then my dick twitched, and the cum shot up and landed on my leg.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought, as I took a sock from the laundry and wiped off my leg. What is the matter with you? And I fell back on the bed, picking up a copy of “Rolling Stone” from the floor.

An hour later, my father came in, no knocking of course. Only Michelle got a knock from my parents. “Dinner in ten minutes.” Then, looking at Christie Brinkley, he grinned, “Who’s that?”

Oh god no. Please no. Don’t do this, I beseeched him silently. “Christie Brinkley,” I sighed.

He kept looking. “You have good taste,” he laughed, like he was proud of me. He was never proud of me any other time. But, get a poster of a beautiful woman and then he’s proud. Asshole. “Ten minutes,” and he walked out, leaving my door open.

---
Two weeks later, I decided that I needed a job. I wanted a new stereo and my parents weren't going to buy it for me.

“We'll buy it one piece at a time,” my mother offered, “something for your birthday and then Hanukkah.” Because a turntable without an amp or speakers was worthwhile.

So, I went looking for work. ‘Now hiring,’ the sign in the bookstore read. ‘No experience necessary.’

Perfect, I thought. I needed money, I liked books. And I had no experience. I'm made for this job. I took a deep breath and walked in, hearing the bell above the door tinkle.

“Welcome to Clarkstown Books,” the girl behind the counter yawned. She was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, her hair hanging lankly to her shoulders. “How can I help you?” Her tone all but saying that she hoped the answer was ‘just looking.’

“I saw the sign in the window…”

She smiled, “You need to be 15…” I had a baby face. I had always had one.

“I am,” I said, trying to keep my voice low and, looking at her, failing. I fished out my work papers and thrust them at her. “Here, here are my papers.”

The girl looked at them and smirked, “Well, Alan, tell me how you can be a valuable addition to the Clarkstown Books family…”

“I, uhh, well, I….” Keeping it cool.

Just then, an older woman, at least thirty-five, came in from the back. “What’s up, Kate?”

Kate, with a big grin, “Mr. Berger here was inquiring about the position and I was asking him how he could be a valuable addition to the Clarkstown Books family.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Hi, I’m Dawn Lucas. I’m the owner. Tell me about yourself.”

“Um, my name is Alan. Alan Berger,” I felt my throat closing. “And I’m, um, a tenth grader. At Ramapo. And I like to read.”

Dawn smiled, “A plus in the bookselling business. What do you like to read?”

“Um, Stephen King,” which got a groan from the girl behind the counter.

Dawn looked at her. “What else?”

“Ummm…” Do not look at the floor, I thought. Make eye contact. Dad always told me that a man makes eye contact.

The girl behind the counter threw me a lifeline. “What did they make you read in class that you liked?”

“Ummm...we read short stories by William Saroyan. I liked those. And I do like to read and stuff and am willing to try new books. And stuff.” I prayed that she had a trapdoor, one that would drop me out of the store and back out to the street.

Dawn smiled. “If I gave you things to read, would you read them?”

“Yes.” My stomach fluttered.

“That's good. A willingness to expand your horizons. Have you ever worked anywhere?”

“I was a CIT at day camp?” Why did I ask it? Mr. Fletcher, my math teacher, used to say that anyone who did that was a ‘Valley Girl.’ Which everyone jumped on.

The girl behind the counter grinned. “That's an in-demand skill, Dawn. Many employers are looking for that…”

“Kate,” she grinned, “be quiet. Well, you seem like a nice enough kid. The job only pays minimum, you know.”

“Ok,” I said. “I understand.”

“Can you start Saturday?” I nodded. “Welcome aboard. Let me get the paperwork,” and she headed to the back.

The girl behind the counter smiled, “Welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys. Dawn's cool.”

I looked at her, willing myself to make eye contact. “Yeah, she seems like she is.”

The girl kept looking at me, making me a little nervous. “I'm Kate Murray. I'm in eleventh grade at South.”

“Cool.”

She looked at her nails, palm facing her, fingers bent. Short and no polish. “Not really. Is Ramapo cool?”

If you played a sport. Or drove a Mustang. Or had blonde hair and big tits. Or dark hair. But definitely big tits. “No. I just meant it more like…”

Kate smiled. “I'm just kidding you, Alan. I know what you meant. This is actually a pretty cool place to work. Dawn doesn't care what you wear, so long as it's clean. And she's not one of those bosses on an ego trip, making you do shit just to do it. I worked at Sears, and my boss was this total bitch who was all about folding the same shirt four times just because she thought you should know what to do. Dawn's not that way. I mean, everything has to be shelved correctly and stuff.”

“Ok…”

“You really like Stephen King?”

“What's wrong with him?”

“Ooh, a killer car. Disconnect the battery. Problem solved.”

I looked at her nervously. The way she dressed, the way she sat, wasn't like my mom. Or Michelle. Or any girl I knew. I felt acutely aware of myself, of the way I stood. And I jammed my hands in my pockets. “What do you like?”

She looked at me. “Normal shit.”

“What does that mean?” I picked up a best seller, Jackie Collins. “Like this?”

She made a face. “No!”

Her vehemence threw me. “Sorry. What then?”

“Dune. Lord of the Rings. Stuff like that.”

Now my face contorted. “And the elves called it a wood. And the hobbits called it a shire. And they spent forty pages talking about trees. I get sleepy thinking about it.” Lyle read all that and I had tried multiple times, but I couldn't make it past page fifty. At least, I didn't have a report due on it.

Dawn came back. “I heard you two talking…”

Kate smiled, “I am concerned about Mr. Berger’s utter lack of discernment... He is not an aficionado of the oeuvre of JRR Tolkein.”

“Kate is taking the SATs shortly. And, despite my best efforts, is not expanding her literary horizons with sufficient alacrity and breadth. 750 verbal, thank you very much. Fill this in,” Dawn said, setting the papers down in front of me. She looked at Kate, “and it’s pronounced ‘ooh-vhruh’, not oVER.”

----
Saturday December 22, 8:00 PM.

Dawn turned the sign to ‘Closed,’ and sighed, smiling, “And we are done. Great job today, guys. Thanks.” Kate and I mumbled ‘you’re welcome,’ and she continued, “You guys have been amazing, maybe the best I’ve ever had.”

Kate and I looked at each other, and then I said to Dawn, “Are you sure it’s OK that I won’t be here tomorrow?”

“It’s fine, Alan. Enjoy Florida.” We were headed to Miami for our annual visit with my grandfather. He spent most of his time while we were there playing gin rummy. “Kate and I will hold down the fort. Besides, Monday will be slow.”

I grinned at Kate, “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?” She held up her middle finger and grinned. “I am the number one employee, that’s true. Thank you for realizing it finally.”

Dawn rolled her eyes at us. “OK, you two.” She went into her office and brought out two packages, each with a card on top. “Anyway, you guys have been really amazing and I wanted to thank both of you.”

Kate looked at her, then at the floor. “Oh, um, sorry, I didn’t get you anything.” I could see her trying to decide if she could get to the mall in time.

Dawn looked at her. “I wasn't expecting you to. This is from me to you, Kate. Now, open the cards first.” We both looked inside and saw three twenties.

“Wow, Dawn. Thanks. Cool!” I said.

“You’re welcome, guys. Use it in good health,” she mumbled, sounding like my grandfather.

I had been heading to Tech HiFi every weekend to check out stereo equipment. I was $50 shy of what I needed to get a turntable and amp, and my dad had promised to match whatever I put up.

“Now open the packages, guys.”

I opened mine. Two books. Something called ‘A Confederacy of Dunces’ by John Kennedy Toole and ‘The World According to Garp.’ “Thanks?”

She laughed, “No one is starting fires with her eyes but I think that you'll really like them.” Read one book about a girl with pyrokinesis and everyone thinks that's all you like.

“Ok,” I said, for lack of anything else. I looked at the cover of ‘A Confederacy of Dunces,’ a fat guy in a trenchcoat. I felt my stomach tense and then I took a breath.

Kate opened hers. “Cool.” I looked over. ‘All the King's Men’ and ‘Hens Teeth and Horses Toes.’ She looked at me and then said, “Huh?”

“And you shouldn't expect any elves or giant caterpillar things. But you both trust me, right?”

I looked at Kate and then said, after weighing my options and finding none, “Uh huh. Of course.”

She smiled, “Good choice, Alan. Read them with an open mind. You each have a report due when you come back...just kidding...you two are so gullible. Have a great trip Alan,” and with that, I got my jacket.

Kate looked at me, “You want a ride?”

“Uh sure,” then I mumbled, “lemme just call my parents.” I braced for a comment.

“I know you don't have a license yet. It's fine.”

I dialed my house, “uh yeah, so anyway, uh, Kate is giving me a ride, Ok? Yeah, soon...uh huh, yeah, me too,” which got a huge grin from Kate. “Stop looking at me.” She kept staring at me, grinning. “I mean it. Seriously. I mean it.”

“You can't even tell your mom you love her. That's sad.”

“Shut up.”

“For nine months, she carried you. Growing inside her. No charge.”

“Thank you, Shirley Caesar,” a gospel singer. I had seen her in a commercial on Channel 9 for a gospel album.

She grinned. “I knew you would know.”

I shook my head. “You're weird.”

“So are you.” We walked to the town lot and she opened the door to her car, Babe, a blue Oldsmobile the size of a parade float.
---
The first time, she had driven me home, she announced proudly, “this is Babe.”

“Like Paul Bunyan's Ox?” I had a memory of a movie in the fourth grade, ‘Tall Tales,’ with Pecos Bill and Paul Bunyan's blue ox.

She smiled, “You're the first person to get that.”

I climbed in and buckled my seat belt, the kind that went across your lap. I remembered a kid at camp saying how they didn't actually protect you but ‘if you get hit really hard from behind, the buckle cuts you in half. My cousin is a cop and he said that they saw an accident where the woman's top half was through the window and her bottom half was on the seat.’ Even still, I buckled up. Kate put in a tape in the tape deck, and I heard weird plinking noises, then a guitar, and then mumbling. “What is this?”

She looked at me, as she turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed a few times and then rumbled to life. “You've never heard R.E.M.?”

“Should I have?” I was into Springsteen. Michelle listened to Top 40. Lyle would make you listen to Zappa (‘but not Valley Girl’) or, worse, King Crimson. I shuddered at the memory of a sleepover listening to ‘In the Court of the Crimson King.’

“Ummm, yeah. Have you never heard of IRS Records?”

“That's the label that the guy from the Police’s brother owns, right?” I remembered one of the VJs talking about that before a Go-Gos video. Not that I would say that.

She looked almost impressed. See Dad, I thought, a girl is impressed with me, with something I know. “Yeah. Well, anyway, listen to them.”

I listened for a couple of songs, Kate moving her head along and tapping on the wheel. It wasn't bad, except, “does he mumble like that on every song?”

“What do you listen to?” It felt like a challenge.

“Lots of stuff,” I said, as I looked at the floor, at the soda can at my feet.

“Like?”

“Springsteen.” She had to like him. It was a law around here. Him or Billy Joel. You had to pick one.

Kate was clearly not interested in the law. “And I thought you were cool.”

“Springsteen is cool,” I protested.

“Douches like him. Every jerk at school likes him.” She didn't make eye contact, just gripped the wheel as she changed lanes.

I looked at her, “So I'm a jerk?” I felt like I had been punched. “Thanks.”

She kept staring ahead. “No. You aren't. Sorry,” then she grinned. “You just haven't been exposed to good music.”

I felt humiliated, mortified. I had my honor to defend. “I like other stuff too,” I protested. In the background, I heard the singer ‘talking about the passion.’ Maybe.

“Like what?” She was still grinning, the idiot.

I ran through songs in my head. I liked the Who but, if she hated Bruce, she'd hate that even worse. And the Stones were boring. I started thinking about videos, the ones that annoyed my sister most. “Wall of Voodoo,” I offered tentatively. The sounds of her ‘what the fuck is a Mexican Radio’ ringing in my ears.

She grinned. “Cool. Anyone else?”

I thought about another video, ‘Goody Two Shoes,’ how cool the guitar player looked, cigarette in his mouth, sitting outside, playing his guitar. “Adam Ant.”

She smiled, “There's hope for you, Alan.”

And we drove home the rest of the way, listening to the music and talking.

Since that night, we drove home together a couple of times a week, making fun of the customers.

“Excuse me, miss...miss...I know there are people ahead of me,” and she would poke my arm.

“Young man, young man,”and I’d pull on her sleeve, “Why is the Great Gatsby under ‘F’ and not ‘G’?””

“I do not know what happened to this book,” the pages of the book in question frozen open, the ink on the cover art running, “but I demand a full refund.”

---

Tonight, she looked at me, “Do you have to get home?” She popped XTC into the tape deck, and ‘Senses Working Overtime’ began playing.

I had packed already. “Nah. I’m good. Why?”

“You wanna go to Martio’s?” Pizza.

I looked at her. “You don’t like Nanuet Hotel?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nanuet Hotel is overrated. Martio’s kicks ass.”

“We usually get Nanuet Hotel.” ‘We’ being defined as Josh, Lyle and I when we went to the mall. My father would stare at me like I had three heads, if I asked him to drive here for pizza (‘I’m not driving past twenty pizza places for that’)

“It sucks. Trust me.”

I did, actually, but went with, “You’re driving. I have no choice in the matter, do I?”

She smiled, her crooked smile. “No. But trust me anyway.”

We pulled into the lot, and saw a few kids hanging around. I scanned the lot and let out a breath. Kate said, “I don't know anyone either. Good.”

As we waited for the pizza, she reached into her pocket and dropped a tape on the table. “I made this for you,” she said, as she pushed it across the table.

I felt embarrassed, having nothing to give. “Thanks. I mean...I didn't get anything for you. You didn't have to.”

“Someone has to get you better taste,” she grinned, as I could see the garlic knot in her open mouth.

I looked at the cover, at the cramped handwriting. XTC - Melt The Guns. Adam Ant - Desperate But Not Serious. The Specials - Enjoy Yourself. Weird Al - I'll Be Mellow When I'm Dead. At the end, ‘New York City Serenade’, “Springsteen? I thought only douches liked him,” I teased.

She turned red. “I listened. That one's not bad. Anyway…”

“Simon and Garfunkel?” I knew most of their stuff, having watched the ‘Concert In Central Park’ a hundred times on HBO, but not this one - ‘I Am A Rock.’

She smiled, “Just listen to it.”

I took a sip of my Coke, to gather my thoughts. “OK. Thanks.”

She looked at me, with a look in her eye I couldn't place. “You're welcome,” then she looked down. “Play it loud to annoy Michelle. Kelly,” her sister (‘Glinda the Good Witch’), “kept telling me to turn it off.”

I smiled, “Cool. I will.”

We finished and she drove me home. We pulled into my driveway and she put the car in park. “So, anyway have fun in Florida,” and she shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable.

“Thanks. Have a good Christmas...you OK?”

She shifted some more. “Why?”

“You seem like something’s bothering you.”

“No!” And she looked at her side view mirror.

Huh? “You sure?”

She touched my arm, then leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Then, she blushed, “Sorry. I didn't mean that.”

I faced her and smiled, “It's ok.”

She leaned forward and kissed me, parting my lips and teeth with her tongue. I moved my tongue forward and could taste the sausage. We kissed for a few seconds, while I tried to think of what to do with my hands. She pulled away first, “Was that OK? I mean, don't tell me if it wasn't.”

My head was spinning. “It was OK,” I offered again.

She looked at me, “You're sure?”

I leaned forward and kissed her again, “Yes.”

“Have fun in Florida,” she said, her hand on the gear shift. I got out and I heard the car go into reverse.

I went inside, my head still spinning.
--
It was an early spring Saturday, 50 degrees and overcast. Still, after the long winter, I’d take any chance to not wear my winter coat. I was working until 3:30. Then, the plan was to hang out tonight with Josh and Lyle, Josh having just gotten his driver’s license.

Dawn had gone out to run errands, leaving Kate and me in charge of the store. The minute she left, “OK,” Kate laughed, popping the tape out of the deck, “bye, Joni.” Since I had started working here, I had heard enough of “Blue” and “Court and Spark” for a lifetime.

“Help me, I think I’m going off the tape deck again,” I sang, as Kate put on XTC. Dawn had come in once to find us listening to Adam Ant and we had negotiated a truce. ‘No offense, guys,’ she laughed, ‘but we’re trying to get customers who buy shit.’

“Life Goes on the Hop’ was playing, while I was in the back, checking stock. I heard the bell ring.

“Oh, hey Lyle,” I heard Kate sigh, then, “hey Alan, Lyle’s here.”

I came to the front. “What’s up?”

“I got a call that my book was in.” The illustrations of Frank Frazetta, all sorts of Vikings and dragons and shit. The guy could draw, I’d give him that, but I just didn’t get the appeal. He cocked his head. “What are you guys listening to?”

Kate, looking past him. “XTC, Lyle. Same as it was last time you came in,” her voice an aural eye roll.

Lyle, oblivious. “Oh yeah.” Then, grinning at Kate, “did anything new come in?”

Kate, now looking at me. “There’s a new Belva Plain,” a romance novelist. I tried not to laugh.

Lyle, annoyed but trying not to show it. “You know what I mean.” Lyle had repeatedly told me that Kate was ‘weird’ and ‘nothing great,’ his experience being limited to Andrea, a girl that, in exchange for taking her to dinner and movie several times, let him French kiss her twice and touch her chest over her shirt. Still, he felt the need to impress Kate. “I meant sci-fi. I’d ask Alan, but,” grinning at me, “he has no taste.”

Kate, now looking at him. “Clearly,” then, because Dawn overheard her insult him once, “there’s a new book, ‘Across the Sea of Suns,’ you might like. It’s about this nomad race that lives on a red dwarf near the moon. It’s actually pretty good.”

“Thanks,” and he loped to the back to find it. He came back and took out his wallet, the same one he’d made in camp in fifth grade. It was barely together then and was falling apart now. Josh and I offered to buy him a new one, if only to spare us the embarrassment of being seen with him with it, but he refused.

As he was paying, I said, “So, what’s the plan for tonight?” I saw the look come over his face. Lyle could never lie. When we were kids, we’d play Go Fish and I always knew when he had the cards I needed. “What?”

“Um….” Now Kate was glaring at him.

“What?” I could feel my pulse racing, but tried to calm myself.

“Yeah, so, Josh and I are going to La Cage,” a teen dance club in Ramsey.

“I mean, I can’t dance.” I couldn’t. I had no rhythm. My music teacher called me ‘lucky 13,’ for the way I clapped on the one and three. “But, I mean I’ll still go.”

“Yeah,” he said, staring at the window. “Um, yeah, so it’s just me and Josh. Sorry. I was going to tell you.”

Really? When, asshole? “Yeah, whatever.”

“You understand, right?”

Kate looked at him. “What’s he supposed to understand? You’re ditching him. That’s it. Oh, and you weren’t going to say anything. That’s it.”

Lyle, no longer hiding his agitation. “No one asked you, Kate.”

Kate, with a fake smile. “Thanks for shopping Clarkstown Books. Come again!”

“I was talking to Alan,” he huffed.

“Uh huh. We appreciate your patronage!”

“I’ll talk to you later or something,” I grumbled.

He walked out and Kate just said, “Dick.”

Me, looking at the people walking from their cars, locking their doors. “I don’t care.”

“That was a serious dick move. Like when was he going to tell you?”

“I said,” and I took a deep breath, “I don’t care. I don’t want to go to some dance club anyway. I can’t dance.”

Kate looked at me. “I heard some guys talking about it. They said it’s filled with skanks from Bergen Catholic who don’t put out.” Then, grinning, “it’s right up Lyle’s alley.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled. “You didn’t let him use my discount, did you?”

She looked at me. “Fuck no.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Now I have nothing to do. Guess I’ll watch HBO or something.”

Kate, now looking away, “You wanna go see a movie or something?”

“You don’t have plans?”

“Nah, Maria,” her best friend, her Lyle, “is going to some family thing. And the last place I want to be is at home with them. Or worse, watch them go out and look at me like I’m a loser. So you wanna go? We’ll get the diner and go, OK?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s cool.”

“He’s still a dick,” she offered. “So’s Josh.”

The funny thing was I didn’t want to go to the club. If they had suggested it, I would’ve fought it.
--
I remembered the ice skating party in seventh grade. Friday night, once a year, they'd rent the Sport-o-Rama and the whole school went. I had started junior high with hope. There'd be new kids, kids from other schools who didn't know me. I could have a fresh start.

And then I asked Wendy Grillo to skate and she giggled, followed up with, “Ummm, no.” Which I followed up with falling down.

But still I tried. The winter dance. In my new flannel shirt and jeans. Where I watched everyone else dance. I watched the way the other boys would go over to a girl and ask her. The way she'd giggle and turn red, but go.

“Elissa Slotnick wants to dance with you,” Richie Handler told me. “Marissa told me.”

“You're lying,” I said. “I'll just go over there and be embarrassed.”

Richie looked at me. “No man, I'm totally serious. Look,” and he pointed at her, “see, she's looking.”

“No. You're lying.”

“I swear. Tell you what, if I'm lying, I'll give you five dollars.”

“Show me.” I still didn't believe him.

Richie took a five dollar bill, crumpled, from his pocket. “See?”

I knew he was full of shit. Not about the five bucks. His family had money. When we were younger, he had Atari and Intellivision. But about Elissa. But, then again, I figured why would he bet me? “Fine,” and I walked over. Elissa stood there, three inches taller than me, “Ummm...err... Do you want to dance?”

She twisted her face. “With you?” And she laughed. In my face. Literally. Joined in by everyone else. Followed by Richie tripping me. And then dropping the five onto me, “here you go.”

I ran out of the gym, mortified, and then sat on the bench. Which is when I realized that... I didn't want to dance. When I looked at Elissa, I felt...nothing. I didn't care. I'd rather watch a movie or TV.

Not that I could tell anyone that. Or would. I was abnormal enough already without this. So I sat on the bench until fifteen minutes before the dance would be over. Then I went back inside, just inside the door, so I could come back out with everyone else.
---
“I told you,” I said, to my parents as I watched TV. “Kate and I are going to the movies. Police Academy.”

“So,” my mother said, in her singsong, “a date? But she’s not Jewish.”

I sighed. “I told you. It’s not a date. And even if it was, and it’s not, it’s not like we’re getting married.” My mother had harped on me dating Jewish girls since before I was old enough to understand what it meant. Hey ma, I’d think, let someone talk to me first.

My father came over and took out his wallet, handing me two twenties. “Thanks,” I said, “what’s this for?” Which was a stupid question. My father never opened his wallet for me, only Michelle. He’s offering you money, take it before he changes his mind. I took the money and put it in my wallet.

He smiled. “You pay. Not her.”

“Um, I told you it’s not a date or anything,” and I pushed the wallet deeper in my pocket. “I don’t think she…”

“She does. You pay. Trust me. Girls don’t like going Dutch.” I shrugged. If nothing else, I had $40.00.

---
The check came at the diner. “I got this,” I said.

Kate looked at me, a dab of ketchup at the corner of her mouth. I tried to subtly mime wiping my mouth. “Why?” Then, a look. “This isn’t a date. You know that, right?” We hadn’t kissed since December or spoken about it. Not that it was bad or anything, not that I’d know, we just didn’t.

I laughed. “Well, you don’t have to be so adamant. Yeah, I know. But my dad gave me money, so let’s let him treat.”

She looked at me. “You know, right?”

Her vehemence surprised me. “I know. And I’m serious. He gave me money. Let’s enjoy it. You wanna milkshake to go?” I held up my hand. “A vanilla shake, garcon!”

She rolled her eyes. “Thank you, you putz. Or I guess thank Stan.”

We were walking out when I heard, “ “Look who it is.” Danny Gelman. The biggest asshole in a grade full of assholes. A fact exacerbated by the fact that Danny wasn't stupid, that he and I had been locked in a grade competition since fifth grade. And that, after Tuesday's bio quiz, Danny was ahead by 1 point. “Does Berkoshits know you’re cheating on him?” Snickering behind him were his girlfriend Wendy and Paul Rudenstine and his.

Wendy gave Kate a merciless going over, clearly finding her t-shirt and jeans lacking when compared to Wendy’s sweater over Izod shirt, followed by, “You’re on a date with...him?”

It’s not like I could tell her to fuck off. If I did, I'd be the asshole, no matter what she did to deserve it. So, instead, I mumbled, ‘excuse us.’ Yup. That showed her.

Kate looked at her and sneered, “I could say the same thing,” and then she took my hand.

“Aw,” Gelman said, “Berger’s girlfriend is protecting him.” I mumbled, ‘fuck off,’ which got, “excuse me?”

“You heard me, Danny. Fuck off.”

Paul and the girls looked surprised. Still, Danny stood chest to chest with me, and I hated those two inches he had on me. Then, he flicked my ear. “You’re not worth my time.” Then, looking at Kate, “I hope you got cash up front.”

Kate looked at Wendy, and smiled, “I hope you did too.”

We walked out. “God, he’s an even bigger asshole than you said.”

“I don’t fucking care,” I mumbled.

She looked at me. “Good for you for telling him to fuck off.”

I looked at the diner. “I’ll probably pay for it Monday in gym, but…” And I paused and thought, “it was worth it,” I smiled.

Then, she grinned. “You can’t let them treat you like that.”

“Thanks, dad,” I laughed.

She smiled, “If I’m your dad, give me my money back.”

“No chance. Thanks for sticking up for me. I know this isn’t a date.” She stared at me. “And I don’t want it to be…”

“You’re just with me because Lyle dumped you. Oh wow. I’m the rebound from Lyle. Wow, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“I went from Lyle to you. Think of how I feel.”

She looked at me and said, “You’re welcome.”

We were sitting in the movie, watching the scene where the two cops ended up in the Blue Oyster. One had his head on another guy’s chest, which made the theater hoot with laughter. Nothing like two guys slow dancing for comedy. I looked over at Kate, who wasn’t laughing. All of a sudden, I felt her hand take mine. Was it an accident, I wondered. No. It couldn’t be. You accidentally touch someone’s hand when you’re reaching for something. You don’t accidentally take their hand. But, I liked the way it felt. It felt...normal. You’re a guy, she’s a girl, you’re at the movies and you’re holding hands. This is what you’re supposed to be doing. While Lyle is probably striking out, you’re holding hands with a girl at the movies. You win.

She didn’t move her hand. I looked over at her and wondered whether I was supposed to make a move. Does she want you to kiss her, I thought to myself. No, this isn’t a date. She said that and, if you make a move, she’ll get upset and it will ruin the night. So, I sat there holding her hand for the whole movie.

We left the theater. In the cold light of the lobby, she let go of my hand. OK, well, that’s that, I decided. It felt good but it wasn’t anything. “Did you like the movie?” I asked

“It was funny mostly. Steve Guttenberg is funny.”

“Yeah. He is. Do you wanna...?”

And then, from the other side of the lobby, I saw her friend Maria with a guy. She was wearing a royal blue sweater and a blue ruffled mini that I had seen in the window of Impressions, the clothing store next to us. And slouchy boots. And I saw her see Maria. “Let’s just go,” her face had turned to a mask, impassive.

“OK. Yeah.”

We walked quickly out to the car. “Get in,” she snapped. We pulled out quickly and didn’t talk until she pulled into a parking lot a couple of miles away. “That fucking bitch,” was all she said.

“Yeah,” I looked at her. She wasn’t crying or anything, like my mom and Michelle would have. She wasn’t screaming either. She just looked...hurt. “Fuck her.”

“She’s...,” then she stopped.

“I just…”

“If she wanted to go out with someone, all she had to do was say so.”

“Exactly, I mean, like all Lyle…”

She turned to me. “It’s not like Lyle.”

I was confused. “I mean, he didn’t tell me and she didn’t tell…”

“It’s not like Lyle,” she said and then turned quickly away.

“Um, I….”

She looked back at me. “Never mind...”

“I mean, if you want to talk about it.” Not that I knew what ‘it’ was.

“I don’t want to. Sorry.” I saw tears forming in her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Her head on the steering wheel was all the response I needed. “You know we’re friends, right? We are, right?”

Still not lifting her head. “We are.”

I decided to joke. “You could look at me, you know.”

She turned to me. “Thanks, Alan.” Then, she took my hand again and reached across to me, putting her lips on mine. She parted them with her tongue and we began making out. I knew I should stop it. I knew she was upset and was doing this out of some weird emotional reaction. But, I didn’t want to stop it. I liked it. And then it hit me. I pictured her and Maria making out - and I was Maria. I was wearing the skirt and the boots. I pictured her hands cupping my chest, playing with my nipples and I got an erection. We kept kissing, our hands on each other.

And, then, she pulled away. “Sorry.”

I looked at her. “For what? Was I that bad?”

She looked out the windshield, not making eye contact. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends and I...and then...and I...I just shouldn’t have.”

I took her hand, afraid she’d move it. “I liked it.”

She turned to face me. “So did I. I mean...I….I liked it but…”

I put my finger to her lips, the way I had seen an actress do in the movies. I smiled. “We both liked it, right?” She looked confused, then smiled. “Then, that’s what matters. Nothing else.” An image came into my head. Me checking my makeup in the mirror before she dropped me at home, so my parents wouldn’t know what we’d been doing.

“You’re not like any guy I know.”

I smiled. “Is that a bad thing?”

She leaned forward. “Not to me.”

And, for the first time in my life, I felt it. That feeling. The one that everyone talked about, that they showed in movies and TV. I felt it. “Kiss me again.”

She looked at me. “Huh?”

“Kiss me again.” I almost said, ‘the way you kiss Maria.’ And she kissed me again. And I still felt it. And I wanted to tell her why I felt it, but that was too much for one night.

----
It was May. Kate and I were sitting at Rocco’s after work, getting pizza, our usual activity. We had kissed occasionally since then, but I was pretty sure she was back with Maria, whatever that meant.

I held my pizza in the air, tip down, to let some of the grease run off, while Kate covered hers in oregano and parmesan cheese. “Yeah, so anyway,” she said, as she covered the last inch in cheese, “my parents are on me about going to prom.”

“Why?” I said, through a mouth of hot cheese. I liked eating with Kate because she never cared if I spoke with my mouth open.

“Because Kelly and Michael went. Because she went with my dad and,” she affected a cloying Bronx accent, “‘it was the most magical night of my life. You won’t forget it. I know I didn’t,’ and then they look at each other.”

“Fuck. Stop. I’m eating,” which made her laugh. “So, they went? So what?” Among other things, Kate and I argued about our mothers, which one was more annoying, that sort of thing.

“I know. But she won’t let it go.” Another imitation, this time Kelly, a weird hybrid of Valley Girl and every JAP in our schools, even though she was Irish. “What IS the matter with you, Kate? You know, normal people WANT to go.” Normal. Like we were normal.

I looked at the map of Italy on the wall, looking for Bari, as I always did. “Kelly’s normal. Michelle’s normal. There’s two strikes on normal.”

“Yeah, well, anyway, do you wanna go with me?” I was not expecting that. I just assumed that, whatever we were, we weren’t that or anything like it.

“Um, wow, I mean I’d have to check with my parents.”

She put her chin in her chest and looked at the table. “Yeah, OK. I get it. If you don’t want to go, just say so.”

“No no, it’s not that. I mean, yeah, I’d like to go. Will it be,” and I imitated my mom, a little too well, “the most magical night of my life? Or does that just work one way?”

She balled up a napkin and threw it at me. “Dick.”

“First, you barely ask me. Then you throw paper goods at me. I mean, this is not the way I expected to be asked.”

“Fuck you, Alan,” she laughed.

Stifling laughter, “I mean, I have a lot of interested people. Some of whom said please and shit like that.”

Taking an exaggerated deep breath, “will you PLEASE stop?”

“Close enough,” I laughed. I took her hand and batted my eyes. “I cannot wait for the most magical night of my life.”

She looked deep into my eyes. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“There’s not a lot of competition. I mean, winning that Yankees mirror down the shore when I was ten is in first for now.” Pausing, “I mean, I guess I should tell my parents.”
---
My father grinned from ear to ear, at dinner. “That’s great, buddy! Your first prom. You won’t forget it,” and he leered at me. Oh fuck, I thought, please don’t tell me a story.

“I don’t know,” my mother said, as she peered into the oven at whatever chicken-based thing we were eating tonight.

“Whaddya mean you don’t know?” God, I hated my voice.

“Yeah, Judy, what’s to know? Alan,” and he put his arm, which felt like lead, around me, “is going to the prom. With Kate,” the element of shock in his voice making me incredibly uncomfortable. “Nothing complicated.”

She came to the table with what looked like her mustard chicken breasts. Mmmm, dried out chicken breasts. With spinach. “I don’t know,” and then sing-song, “call me old fashioned but in our day, the boy asked the girl.”

My father got agitated. “What does it matter who asked who? They’re going. Right, Alan?”

“Uh yeah. I mean, I think she just asked because it’s hers. It would be weird,” almost as weird as this, “if I asked her to her prom.”

“Exactly, buddy.” My father was grinning.

“Fine. So what color dress is she wearing?”

“I dunno,” I looked at the table. I couldn’t imagine Kate in a dress of any kind, just me. “She just asked me.”

“Well, find out. You need your cummerbund and tie to match, if she wants that.”

--------
“How the fuck should I know what color dress I’m wearing? It’s in like a month,” Kate said, as we stocked shelves, the latest Danielle Steel, known in the store as ‘the crap that keeps the lights on.’

“Well,” and I opened a page of the book, “how am I supposed to caress your milky white shoulders with my strong hands if I don’t know what color you’re wearing?”

She looked at me. “If anyone’s caressing anyone’s milky white shoulders, asshole…” And then she stopped, looking down. “I mean, if, big if, you ever get near anyone’s milky white shoulders, you really shouldn’t notice the color of her dress. Just saying.”

“Yeah, well, anyway, she made this big deal about it. Like this is very important. We don’t match, it’s the end times. Dogs and cats living together!”

“I dunno. We’re going shopping this weekend. Me, her and Kelly…” I pictured my mom and me, shopping for my dress, blue ‘because it’ll set off your eyes.’

Just then, Dawn came from the back. “What are you shopping for?”

“Nothing,” and she began shelving furiously.

“Alan?”

“I dunno. I’m not going shopping with them,” and I began unpacking and stacking.

“Just tell me,” she laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”

I looked at Kate who looked at me. “Prom dress,” she mumbled.

“A prom dress?” Her tone of disbelief.

“What?”

“You don’t strike me as the prom type,” and she began moving my piles around, disrupting my rhythm. Kate looked upset. “It’s a compliment. I mean, you’re not one of those,” and she began flicking her hair and ‘maaaa, I like this.’ “Who are you going with?” Kate pointed at me. Thanks, I thought. Make me the idiot. “Really?”

“Wow, thanks, Dawn. I really appreciate this.”

“No,” she apologized. “Sorry. I just didn’t think...I mean...I just...you two make a cute couple,” she grinned.

Shouting in unison, “We’re not a couple!”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” and she walked to her office.

“Well, that was mortifying,” I said. “What do you think she meant by, ‘I just didn’t think…”?”

Kate looked at the floor. “The same as ‘I’m not one of those.’”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew I didn’t want to know either.

The rest of the shift moved glacially. Normally, Tuesdays were busy, because the new releases were in but today? Maybe five customers. At 7:30, Dawn turned the sign to ‘closed.’ “I’ll clean up, you two. Have a good night.”

We walked outside into the warm spring night, the parking lot empty except in front of the supermarket. “You wanna ride?”

“My dad’s coming. We’re going to do some more driving lessons.” I had turned sixteen and had my permit. All that was left was my road test in two weeks.

“Oh,” she said, leaning against her car. “Cool.”

“I mean, otherwise I would.”

She opened the door, jimmying the handle a little. “Nah, it’s OK. Besides,” she smiled, quoting some romance novel. “I need to preserve the mystery. When the time comes, I want you to ‘gaze upon my body in all its majesty, my raven tresses falling down onto my heaving bosom.’” Huh? What did that mean? Was she telling me something?

“Something’s heaving, all right,” I laughed.

“I don’t think she meant anything bad.” She sat down and buckled in.

“Me either. I mean she’s always been cool,” I said, through her open window. “Anyway, have a good night.”

--
A month later and I was standing there, as my father helped me with my tuxedo, putting in the studs. “Are you excited?”

I looked at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“This is a big deal, you know that?”

Sure. OK. This was a big deal. Not when I won that writing competition. Or went to the regional spelling bee in sixth grade. A dance. “Uh huh.”

“Behave yourself,” and he grinned.

I looked at the floor, then the wall. “Dad…”

“You’re sixteen, Alan. I know you know things,” and he reached into his pocket. Please don’t give me a condom. Please don’t. I had seen a dad do that on TV. “This was your grandfather’s watch. He told me to give it to you when you were ready. You’re ready.”

“Um, thanks.” I put it on. A Seiko he got when he retired. “I’ll be careful.”

My dad smiled. “I know you will.”

---

“Well, that was painful,” Kate said, as we pulled away, me driving. We had left my parents at her house, her mom having invited mine over ‘to take pictures.’ Because they needed photographic evidence to prove this happened.

“At least it’s done,” was all I could offer. “I’m not that bad a driver,” and I put REM in the tape deck. My parents had gotten the car, an Accord, last year when our old car finally died, so we finally had something besides the radio in a car.

“I’m just a bad passenger,” she laughed. “Besides I feel like an idiot like this.”

She was wearing a lilac floor-length satin dress, with a ruffled v neck and ruffles at the shoulders, her hair styled and her face plastered with makeup. I could finally see the shoes she was wearing, matching heels. She looked like Bambi on ice walking in them, or a condemned man. “You really do look nice,” I offered. When I had said that before, the parents all laughed.

“I feel stupid. Like I wanna just wash my face.” I pictured myself all made up, in my dress. Then I shook my head a little. “You OK?”

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“You just looked funny. You’re not sorry you did this, are you?” She sounded nervous.

“Not at all. I’m really into it,” I said. “I was just thinking of something from school,” I lied. I would have moved my hand over, but I still didn’t feel totally comfortable behind the wheel.

We pulled up to the school, and saw everyone walking in, the guys all in tuxedos and the girls all in varying shades of pink, purple and blue. She gripped my hand. “Are you OK,” I asked.

“This wasn’t a bad idea, was it? This was a bad idea.”

“Do you not want me here? Because we can just go for a ride or something.” I was an expert at hiding at dances.

“No, they’ll want a picture. Besides, I really do want you here.” She looked at me and smiled. Sort of. “I just...I just don’t...I dunno.”

I knew. “We’ll have a good time. I’ve been practicing my dance moves.”

She laughed. “You have dance moves?”

“Yeah. At least two,” I joked. “Prepare to be impressed.”

We walked in and I could feel people staring at us. Fuck you, I thought. Then, I felt naked. In front of people I didn’t know and would probably never see again and who would’ve forgotten me by the time we left besides. We were shooed onto a carpet to pose in front of a cheesy background. ‘OK, put your arm around her waist and,’ the flash went off.

We found our table. We were, for reasons I didn’t fully understand, sitting with Maria and her date and a bunch of other people. I tried to ask, but was told, in a tone that brooked no opposition, that she was her best friend. I sat down next to a guy with dark curly hair moussed to within an inch of its life, who proceeded to ignore me and talk to the guy next to him about sports.

Maria came in, in a pink taffeta dress that left her shoulders exposed, with matching pink heels that she had clearly practiced in, her steps fluid. Curly black hair freshly permed. Ten pounds too heavy and too much eyeshadow. Her date, a mirror of the guy next to me. She and Kate exchanged hellos and, in Kate’s eyes, I could see hunger, desire and pain, met with Maria’s pity and disdain. We were here together but I never felt so alone.

Kate introduced me to everyone at the table, most of whom wavered between confusion and amusement at my presence. I shouldn't have cared. They all went to a different school and were a year ahead of me besides. I'd never see them again, except incidentally and they probably wouldn't even remember me. But I did care. We were all here, doing the same thing, wearing the same clothes. You don't have to like me, I thought, but can I have one night of not feeling like this?

After a while, the music started, some Top 40 crap. The other couples got up, Maria casting a glance at us. “Do you want to dance,” she asked me, looking out.

“OK,” I offered in a show of chivalry and bravado. “Prepare to be impressed,” which got a laugh.

I had been practicing in Michelle's room, in front of her full length mirror, periodically looking at the pink strapless monstrosity she had worn to her prom and thinking. “Head Over Heels” by the Go-Gos started playing and I began dancing, arms flailing. “So, this is your move?” Kate was laughing and matching me.

I laughed, “Shh, you're throwing off my rhythm.”

“Oh, is that what they call it these days?” It felt like we were at the store, Alan and Kate, in our t-shirts and jeans. The song finished and she said, “the important thing is that you tried.” A slow song started and couples moved in close. “Do you wanna?”

I took her hand and we started dancing, well swaying in time. After a minute, I felt the beginning of an erection and hoped it didn't bother her. I saw her look over at Maria, her head on her date's chest and almost said something, then stopped. Instead, we just danced, the warmth of her hand in mine.

Two hours later, I was coming back from the bathroom when I heard, “Hey, Alan,” followed by the clacking of heels.

“Oh, hey, Maria,” I said, taking her in. “You look very nice. That's a great dress,” then kicking myself.

She smiled and looked me up and down. “Thanks. You clean up nicely too.”

“My dad says that,” I laughed.

She looked at me, still smiling. “I'm glad you came tonight.”

Huh? “Yeah, me too.”

“Kate's a good person.”

Now with even more ‘huh.’ “Yeah, I like her a lot.”

She appraised me, in a way I had never felt before. I mean, my mom did it before we went someplace. And Gelman and his friends did it constantly, but this felt different, less cruel but more personal. “She likes you too. You're good for her. Anyway, I'm going back inside.” I waited a second, then went back in to find Maria talking to Kate, then smiling at me.

The night eventually wound down, the last song being, “The Long and Winding Road.” Over Paul McCartney's vocals, Kate smiled at me, “Thanks for doing this.”

“Umm, you don't need to thank me. I had a great time.”

She kissed me on the lips and I could taste the lipstick. “Me too. Maria said there's an after-party at Brian's,” mousse-head number one. “You wanna go?”

Not really. I should have. That would be the normal thing - and something that Josh and Lyle weren't doing, but I had no interest in sitting there with guys I didn't know talking about things about which I didn't care. “Ok, if you want to.”

She grinned, “Dawn gave me the keys to her place.”

My eyes widened. “Huh?”

“Yeah, she's staying at Ted’s and said we could use it.” Then, looking down, “I mean, if you wanted to.”

“I do.”

“Just to hang out.”

“Right, of course,” her kiss still on my lips. “And we can always go to the party later, if we want.”

“Right.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were at Dawn’s. As the door closed, Kate gave me a deep kiss, her tongue wrestling with mine, our hands on each other's asses. She began pulling at my shirt, then stepped back, lipstick smeared and red in the face. “You're ok with this, right?”

I stood there and pictured her in her tuxedo, me in my dress. “Yes! Stop asking,” I giggled. Yes, giggled and she smiled.

Then, more quietly, “Can I ask you something?”

“Is everything ok?”

“You won't get upset, right?” She looked nervous. No, she looked scared. “Because I don’t want that.”

I took a step towards her and took her hand. “Is it that bad?”

“So, like, anyway, I noticed the way you kept looking at the other girls today. And I’ve noticed the way that you always check out Impressions..” Shit. “And I don’t want to ruin anything...but...do you want to try on my dress?”

Why was she asking? Was this a test? Was she going to mock me? I took a breath and looked at her. “Yes,” and she smiled, not a mocking smile. A genuine one and she began undressing. I began taking off my tux, carefully putting everything on the couch. When her dress was off, she stood there in her bra and panties and I wondered what to do next.

I took the dress over one arm, picked up her shoes and her purse and went into the bedroom. As I stood there in my underwear, I wondered whether I was making a mistake, one from which I could never recover. Would she see me the same way after this? Would I? Was I opening a door to something I didn't know or understand?

And I told myself that it was now or never. I pulled the dress over my head, then looked at the full length mirror. I can't tell you that I looked perfect. I had no hips or chest, and my hair was too short. But, for the first time, I liked my reflection. I went to her purse and took out the lipstick and her compact, carefully coloring in my lips and brushing my cheeks with blush. I took a deep breath and walked out, trying not to turn my ankles in the heels, which were a half size too small.

Kate was in my tux and smiled. “You look beautiful, Allie.”

I smiled. “You really think so? You don't think that…”

She looked at me somberly. “No, you look beautiful. You were the prettiest one there.”

“You look very handsome,” her hips straining against the pants and the shirt laying strangely on her chest. At least, the shirt studs were all there. “I'm glad you invited me.”

She took my hand and we started dancing, swaying in time to our own music.