By the Light of the Moon

chapter five

     The two days fly by easily. Mostly by babysitting in my downtime- it's the only way I've been able to save money and peacefully do homework during high school to afford going out with the boys on the weekends. They have money from paying gigs, I have money from watching slobbery-mouthed kids.

     I finally make my way back home after a long few days- the parties seem to add up, and that was just a preface to tomorrow night. The gig nights are always the craziest. Luckily, my parents have never bat an eye, they trust me, they trust the boys, and for that I'm thankful. They know the boys look out for me- they actually like them quite a bit.

     I sit on the floor of my room, sifting through records to find the perfect one. The Runaways- perfect. I need good music for anything I do: cleaning, cooking, homework. I work the needle slowly to the third track and feel myself easily start to nod along and dance around, tidying up my room before I make a whole new mess picking out an outfit for the show tomorrow. Though I'll never admit it, I put a lot of effort into looking effortless.

     Tip-toeing around shoes scattered on my floor, I throw things into my dresser, pull the sheets and blanket up on my bed to have it look half-presentable, and I shuffle my records back to some sort of uniform stack. Before I know it, the next song is playing, and I turn my sound system up a bit louder- my parents are out at dinner, I can be as loud as I please.

     I open up my closet and take a long look. What haven't I worn yet, what could I do to look cool? What could I do to impress-

"Fireworks between us you'll find... and it's thunder!"

     Cherie Currie's siren voice interrupts my pathetic internal monologue. Why is Cherie right, how is she reading my mind?

God, this is embarrassing. It's Dave for crying out loud!! Dave is your buddy. Just your buddy.

     I shake myself out of my trance and continue on looking for a good outfit, whether or not it was for the right or wrong reasons. Picking out a few pieces, I lay my options onto my bed, slowly trying to piece together how I could make something work. Ruling things out is easy, remembering what I've worn before, what would probably make me look more boyish than usual, so on and so forth. I wish I didn't care so much. I walk toward my mirror and hold up a very short shirt to my chest, and some leather pants to my hips. I nod slowly, thinking this could maybe work out. If I tease my hair like this, wear a few belts like that-

     As I'm building ideas in my head, my phone starts to ring. I huff and puff toward my bedside table where it sits, knowing it's probably my mother calling from the payphone at the restaurant asking if I want any food, if I'm okay.

"Hello?" I sigh, instinctively wrapping a finger into the coiled cable.

"Diana?" a deeper voice purrs from the receiver.

My breath gets stuck in my throat, "Uh- er- Dave?" I manage to choke out. Are you kidding me?!

"Yeah, it's me," he answers coolly.

"Oh! H-hey," I race to turn off my record player, and frantically run a hand through my thick hair, "what's up?"

"Well, I uh," he starts, then trails for a moment. I wait. "Are you home?" My heart does a somersault, "Yeah," I reply all too quickly.

"Come outside, will you?" he says, stifling a chuckle. "I- what?!"

I can hear him shake his head through the phone as he asks, "I didn't stutter, did I?"

     I rush out an 'okay' and slam down the receiver. I look in the mirror quickly, not really caring what I look like, but looking long enough to make sure I'm not a total wreck. I fly down the hallway and slow my pace once I make it to the front door, smoothing out the long sleeve shirt and boxer pajama shorts I have on. I swing open the door to find none other than Dave leaning up against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a smug look on his face, hip jutted out.