"Wow," I said. "That is really groovy. He must be a poet, or maybe someone in a band, like Micky."

      "Will you please forget that name?" she asked.
      "Sorry. So, do you really think I should answer this ad?

      "Uhm, you already did."

      "What are you talking about?"

      "Well, I answered it for you."

      "I can't believe you! What'd you do that for?"

      "It's for your own good," she told me.

      "How about I say what's good for me from now on?" I asked her.

      "I promise, if you do this, I'll never interfere in your life again, at least until next week."

      "All right."

      "I've already got an answer back. How's your next Friday night, as if I have to ask."

      "Oh, shut up," I told her. I wasn't blonde-haird, blue-eyed, tall, and thin like her. She got lots of dates. I didn't.

I was terribly nervous when Friday night finally came. Mary came over and helped me get ready. I wore my best dress, a long beige lace one. I must admit, Mary worked wonders with my plain self. At least I had great hair to work with. It was brown and shoulderlength. She put a beautiful ribbon in it. When I was finally ready, she gave me a ride to the Vincent Van Go-Go. I knew this was Micky's favorite hangout. I was afraid that he would be there. I would be too busy watching him and mess up the date. Mr. P.O. Box 9847 had told Mary that he would be wearing a red jacket, so I started looking for one. Then I spotted Micky. "Oh, no" I thought. Then I saw what he was wearing. A red jacket. "Oh,no, no," I thought. I looked around, hoping to see someone else wearing the same thing. I didn't. Then Micky started walking up to me. To say that I was petrified would be an understatement. I had never had the courage to talk to him, and I sure didn't have it now. I thought of running out the room, but by this time it was too late. Micky was standing right in front of me.

      "Are you Crystal?" he asked me. I managed to nod. He held out his hand. "Hi. I'm Micky."

      "I know," I said, and immediately felt like kicking myself really hard.

      "You do?" He asked.

      "I go to Grant, too," I told him. "I've seen you around school." Lord, was this small talk excruciating!

      "Yeah, I know. I've seen you around, too. I just didn't know your name." I almost died. He KNEW me! "I got us a table. Are you ready to sit down?"

      "That'd be great," I told him. We went to the table and ordered. I knew I would never be able to eat, I was too excited, but I ordered something anyway. We talked through dinner. Talking became easier as we went along. Finally, when we were through, he asked me if I wanted to go back to the beach house he shared with Mike, Davy, and Peter and watch them play. There was nothing I wanted more!

      When we got there he introduced me to the three guys. "I thought maybe we could play for her," he told them. They were happy to because they wanted to practice a song Mike had written the night before. They were magical. They had a great amount of talent, I thought. And it was not because I was in love with the drummer! The thought suddenly shocked me. I realized that it was no longer just a crush. They played a few more songs. When they finished, I told Micky my curfew was getting close. He offered to bring me home.

      When we got to my house, I told him good night. "So," he said, "I'll see you in school Monday."

      "Yeah," I said. "Sure."

      "Well, what about before that?"

      "What do you mean?"

      "What are you doing tomorrow night? Maybe you could come back to the pad then. But I have to warn you. If Peter cooks, don't eat!"

      "I'd love to," I told him.

      "Groovy!" he said and he smiled.

      We went out the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. . .

by M. G.

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