Chapter 10: Greasers, A Gig, and a Girl

Today, I’m over the moon.


Go ahead, ask me why. Because me and the gang get to play our very first gig, that’s why! Ain’t that a kick?

Yesterday after school, the boys and me met up at Roxanne’s. That’s the usual hangout, on account of their Cokes are never flat, and their jukebox has a bunch of the good songs, like stuff by The Platters and Frankie Lymon. None of that boring junk my mother and her friends play at their Tupperware parties.


“You’ll never guess what!” said my friend, Spots. (His name is really Mitchell, but we all call him Spots on account of his face looks like somebody spilled a bowl of freckles on it).


“Your brother Hector let you drive his car,” said Tony.

Spots guffawed. “No, dummy. Even better. I got us a gig! Right here at Roxanne’s, next Tuesday.”

I gaped at him. “No joking?”

He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Hector snorted. “Get a load of Boy Scout Spots.”

I grinned. At last! Our band, The Goobers, had been practicing in my garage for nearly two years. And now, we were getting a chance to play for our first live audience.


That wasn’t the only good thing that happened. As I swaggered over to the counter to order me a Coke, she was standing there. Donna Wagner. The prettiest girl in school. No, the prettiest girl in town. I thought about saying Hi, I’m Raymond Garrett. I sit behind you in Mrs. Hicks’ English class. But just thinking about it made my hands start shaking so bad, I almost dropped my Coke, and gee, wouldn’t that have been embarrassing?


So that’s why I’m over the moon. A real, live gig, and a Donna Wagner spotting. Our band is pretty good, you know. Especially me on my guitar. I mean, I ain’t no Elvis or nothin’ – I don’t have any illusions like that. But I’m not half bad. And now everybody else in Hillview will get a chance to hear us play. Who knows? Maybe a talent scout will be hiding in the audience, just waiting to hand us a record deal. Boy oh boy!

While I’m still thinking about all of this and smiling like an idiot, I head into the garage where our band equipment is still set up.

Then I freeze.


It’s like a big whiff of wind comes along and blows the clouds away from the sun. I am not Raymond Garrett.

This is not my life.


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