Fleetwood Mac-Part III of Fritz Series

The New Girl

Kit, as it turns out, is short for Kitty which is a nickname for Katherine. Katherine Maylor lives about six miles from us in a gated community with her mother father and older sister Regina. She's in middle school, seventh grade, and her family moved her from Manhattan to get away from the big city. And move closer to another big city apparently, since LA is about thirty minutes by car from their house. Her father Matt is a broker and her mother Anna is a surgeon. Upon meeting the three of them I'm reminded of how close to the counterculture scene we still are.

Matt wears his hair in a long pony tail, he dresses in sandals and t-shirts and jeans that look like they've been mauled by Ginny in one of her destructive moods. Anna on the other hand looks like Greg in female form. Buttoned down, straight laced, not a hair out of place with a serious demeanor I suppose fits with being a doctor. The medical kind. She reminds us of that constantly. Kit seems like a mixture of the two. She has blonde hair and blue eyes, and dresses in jeans and some kind of girly top that I don't know the name of. Like her father she wears her jeans with holes in them, but like her mother they're impeccably pressed and the outfit matches each accessory perfectly. Leads me to believe the jeans were probably sold with holes in them.

I elbow Stevie gently when we're alone whispering to her "Which one did you talk to on the phone?" she smirks whispering back "Matt". That's what I expected, Anna doesn't seem to be the warmest of people. Not that I have a problem with that, I'm standoffish in crowds. The other girls have already lugged their sleeping bags and backpacks upstairs to Sara's room. Since we know all of their parents, and they know us they thank us for baby sitting for the weekend and disappear like a bolt from the blue. Probably off to drink, and smoke grass and walk around the house naked and curse...all the things I miss doing occasionally. Sigh.

"Gross, more girls" all boy and not afraid to show it Nova leans against Stevie's leg glowering at Kit. Smiling she kneels down and shakes his hand "You must be Nova, Sara said you drive her crazy but you're kind of cute" turning red my son takes his hand away hiding behind his mom again "Now I have cooties" ah yes cooties, we finally have a doctor in the house maybe we should have her explain to my son that such a pathogen does not exist. It's merely a manifestation of his as of yet undefinable fear/anxiety of being around girls.

"You're much taller than you look on T.V. you slump when you play guitar, I can see a slight curvature in your spine" Dr. Maylor, inspects my posture with her eyebrow cocked almost to her hairline. I expect her to hand me a specimen cup any minute "I didn't notice, did you babe?" running a hand over my spine Stevie shrugs "No, but then I'm not focused on your slouching when we're on stage" Matt chuckles rubbing his wife's back "She can't turn it off I'm afraid, she's on call 24/7" Anna simply shrugs moving her hand to the strap of her sensible leather bag.

"I only just noticed the other day when Katherine insisted we watch one of your old concerts. Matthew and I don't watch television or other dumbed down forms of mass media. I get my news from the New England Journal of Medicine, and the BBC" I get my news when there's nothing better on the T.V. Kit rolls her eyes "Mom" taking the opportunity Stevie smiles at the girl "What kind of music do you like?" this makes her perk up "Rock and roll, and folk music especially stuff from the 60's". solid gold oldies then, not bad.

"Yes, our daughter has a preference for antiquated popular music, it's a waste of time intellectually but on the whole harmless" good to know, I've never read a medical journal, but if that's all Anna reads I'm going to make the assumption that it's as bland as a saltine cracker without the salt "Well it's good to meet you all. Sara's room is upstairs to the right she should be up there" needing no further excuses to disengage from her parents Kit flees up the staircase.