Maybe I'll Get It Right Next Time...

Chapter 2: My World

"You wan'da step into my world, it's a sociopsychotic state of bliss..."

Palo Alto, California – May 1985

I had been staring at the black and white numbers on clock at the front of the classroom for what felt like hours. The arms were barley moving. I put my forehead down against the cool wooden surface of my lab bench. Chemistry. Final period on a Friday before Memorial Day Long Weekend. This was torture. I doodled the Van Halen logo in the corner of my notebook.

The city of Palo Alto is one of the wealthier cities in California, with very little poverty, comes very little crime. It is a safe, boring, little town, where nothing ever happens. Ever. My high school, Palo Alto High, is your average American public high school—linoleum floors, rows of lockers, a courtyard, and a well-known spot beneath the football bleachers where kids go to smoke cigarettes. The walls are painted institutional gray. The popular kids get good grades, play football or do cheer, and break into their wealthy parent's liquor cabinets on Friday night. The unpopular kids... well, I don't know what they did, I was too busy with homework and cheer. I had just turned 17 in April and was in my junior year at Palo Alto High. I couldn't wait to graduate and get the hell out of this place. I had already started college applications. I was applying to several out-of-state colleges but my first choice was UCLA where I want to study Communications. When the bell finally rang, I slammed my book closed and b-lined it for my locker. My lab partner, and best friend, Mandy, chased after me. "Allie!" she called out. "Wait up!"

By the time she caught up to me I was already stuffing books into my locker. "Hey," she said, slightly out of breath from the chase. Mandy peered at her own reflection in the mirror inside my open locker door, checking for lipstick on her teeth. "my parents are out of town for the weekend. Come stay over. There's gonna be a bonfire out at Hook's Point. I have a fifth of Vodka." I rolled my eyes. Another high school party. So lame.

"I can't," I told her, "I'm going to L.A. to see Slash."

"Slash..." Mandy said dreamily, leaning back against the row of lockers. "He's such a babe."

"Gross. That's my cousin."

"Remember when we saw his band jam at that house party he took us to? I've never seen somebody shred like that. I think I fell in love that night."

Slash was an incredibly talented guitar player. He had been playing since 8th grade and since then, it seemed he was always in a new band. His current band, Guns & something, I couldn't remember exactly, were now playing actual paying gigs. I hadn't heard them myself yet but they had gained some local notoriety in the L.A. music scene so they must be pretty good. I slammed my locker shut.

"When do you leave?" Mandy asked.

"Right now! My bag is in the car!"

Mandy walked with me to the parking lot. It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining and everything was in bloom.

"Alright,' Mandy said, hugging me goodbye, "drive safe. Say 'hi' to Slash for me," she winked.

"I will!" I replied and climbed into my red 1970 Ford Escort. I turned the key and the engine struggled to a start. I glanced at myself in the rear view, pushing my long, thick, dark, hair out of my face. I examined myself critically. I have dark brown eyes were almost too big for my face and creamy white skin that never tanned, not even in the summertime. People tell me I am a classic beauty like Audrey Hepburn but what good does that do me in California? I popped Toy's In the Attic by Aerosmith into the cassette deck and pressed play on the stereo. That low, sexy, base line, filled the car.

"Swwweeeeeeeeeeeet Emmmmmooooootttiiioooooon..."

I slammed the car into reverse and I was on my way.