Emelie in the 80s: 14 (Patreon)

At home that night, the news was filled with more of the growing conflict between America and the Soviet Union. A Soviet spy plane had been shot down over the Pacific Ocean off the coast of California. None of this had happened in Pete’s previous life, and he watched, curious if he was actually not in the past, but in an alternate universe. Well, he reminded himself, he needed to get out of here in any case. He had a wife daughters depending on him. He went up to his room and called Information, asking for a phone number for Emporium le Majik. “I’m sorry,” the operator said in the kind of nasal voice they’ll seemed to have back then, “there is no listing under that name.”

Pete frowned. “Anything for the last name Daba?”

“I don’t see anything under that name.”

“Okay,” Pete said. “Sorry.”

Pete fell back on his bed, sighing. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. He wondered if he’d remembered the names right. It had been a long time ago. What he wouldn’t give for the Internet about now!

When Pete’s alarm rang Thursday morning, it pushed away of muddled, steamy dreams that had kept him tossing and turning all night. He showered and dressed, only half awake, then went downstairs in a daze, mumbling “good morning” and making himself a bowl of Special K. Lexi came walking into the kitchen, and Pete did a double take. Her breasts had— blown up! She now was just as busty as he was. He remembered their conversation, how he’d wished for her to blossom. “You look hot,” he said, unable to control himself. He looked at his hand, the one he’d used to squeeze her shoulder. What the what?

“Um, thanks?” Lexi said, screwing up her face. “Weirdo.”

The phone rang. Lexi answered. “It’s for you,” she said, holding out the phone, a little smile on her face.

Lexi’s smile set off Pete’s spidey sense. There was a cat that ate the canary look in her eyes.  “What?” He said.”It’s Fi,” she said impatiently.

Pete got up and took the phone, feeling the cool plastic in his hands. “Yeah?” He said.

“I can’t give you a ride today,” Fiona said. “Bummer, dude, but something came up.”

“What the h.e. double hockey sticks?” Pete said, mindful of his languages due to his parents. “How am I supposed to get to school?”

“The bus,” Fiona said.

“Take the bus?” Pete said. “Me?”

“Later,” Fiona said, hanging up.

Pete hung up the phone.

“You’re gonna have to ride the bus like some normal?” Lexi said. “Hahahah!”

Pete slit his eyes at her.

“It will be good for you to ride the bus,” Dad said from behind his newspaper. “Remember where you came from.”

“Gag me,” Pete said, plopping onto his seat, tossing his hair and sighing dramatically. “Mom, can’t you take me?” He said, a whine slipping into his voice.

“Sorry, dear,” Mom said, flashing that same ‘I have a secret smile,’ as Lexi. “I have something.”

“YOU have something? Really?”

“You’ll probably get stuck sitting next to a sweaty nerd who’ll hit on you the whole way,” Lexi said.

“I cant be seen on the bus,” Pete said, pouting. “Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation?”

“Oh, probably just make people think you’re a dork,” Lexi said.

Pete checked his watch. “Maybe I can walk,” he thought. “If I leave now?” He actually didn’t know if he had any boys’ phone numbers. They called him sometimes, but if Emily had kept their numbers, he’d never found her address book. Ugh! Things were so much harder in this stupid analog planet. “Is it okay if I walk?”

“You could walk,” Dad said, lowering his paper, a big smile on his face. “Or, you could just drive.”

“Drive? I can take your car?”

“My car? Take your own,” Dad said, sliding a set of keys he’d been palming across the table. The chrome key sparkled, the key ring read “Saab.”

“What?” Pete said, staring at the keys, his heart racing. “My car?”

“Go take a look,” Dad said, nodding toward the drive way.

Pete snatched the keys from the table and ran to the front door, throwing it open. There in the driveway was a fire engine red Saab 900 Turbo. There was a big bow on top, and balloons floated all around it.

Pete turned up his hands at the wrists, bent his knees and screamed.  He turned to face his family, and now Mom was holding a cake that read “Happy Birthday.” As he turned everyone shouted “happy birthday” and Lexi pulled a popper that showered him in confetti.

“It’s my birthday?” Pete said.

“Yeah,” dad said chuckling. ‘Same day a last year.”

“I totally forgot,” he said.

“Airhead,” Lexi said, shaking her head, but she was smiling.

“It’s my birthday!” Pete screamed again, running up and giving each and every member of his family a hug. Then he ran out to the car and slipped into it, loving the feeling of the leather seats, the new car smell. He heard honking and glanced in the rearview mirror to see Fiona waving from her car. “You were in on this?” He shouted, jumping out of his car.

“Of course!” Fiona shouted. “Happy birthday, slut!”  And with that she rode off laughing.

Pete could have spent all mooring gushing over his birthday present, hugging everyone, but school beckoned, and as Pete drove into the senior parking lot, windows down, Duran, Duran singing “Hungry like the Wolf” he felt like he was floating in on a bubble, Glinda style. And, checking out all the cute boys, he smiled and waved, thinking he was hungry like the wolf-- fer sure.

Then, his eyes were drawn to Jenny Number, an angry post punk girl who never smiled, but gave everyone stink eye for no reason. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her firm little breast strained against her Black Flag t-shirt, her ripped jeans hugged her long legs. Pete felt his mouth get dry as their eyes met, and he thought— wait, am I still into girls?

Later that day, Pete got a hall pass during boring math class and went to the bathroom to check his makeup. When he walked in, none other than Jenny was leaning against one of the stall doors, smoking. Their eyes met. She scowled. Pete scowled back, thinking— bitch, don’t test me. He went to the mirror and pulled a tube of lipstick out of his bag, leaned over the counter and puckered up, painting his plump lips, all the while glancing in the mirror, meeting Jenny’s eyes, which were hot and hard. Jenny licked her lips and raised her chin toward one of the stalls. Pete agreed with his eyes, spinning, following Jenny into the stall. They kissed, and Pete grabbed one of Jenny’s small breasts, giving it a squeeze. Jenny grabbed his hair and pulled it, hard. Pete laughed, and once more like they were psychically connected, he knew just what she wanted, and he dropped to his knees, unbuttoning her jeans, yanking them down. The earthy smell of Jenny’s wet sex filled his head, and he kissed her there, and then again, and then Jenny put her hands on the back of his head and pushed him in between her legs. Pete’s tongue flicked out, he hadn’t realized how long it was— like a snake— and he pushed it deep into Jenny, who moaned softly, her body spasming.

The bell rang, and Pete got back to his feet. He started to kiss Jenny, but she turned her head. “You have me all over your face,” she said.

“Oh. Sorry, Pete said.

“You are so hot,” Jenny said. “I’ve never been with a girl before. I just… I needed to have you.”

Pete smiled and gave Jenny a pat on the ass as she slipped past him and out of the stall, yanking and buttoning her pants. You and everyone else at the school, Pete thought, going to the mirror to clean up his face.

Friday came, and the whole school was buzzing with excitement for the pep rally and the big game. Everyone except for that one group of kids— the stoners, who as always were off in the smoking area, trying to look so cool and superior to everyone. They all had long hair and wore black t-shirts with the names of stupid singers like Ted Nugent or old, 70s bands like Led Zeppelin. Pete kept up his flirtatious little act with Casey, spending a few minutes listening to him talk before school, giggling and tossing his hair, his back turned to Brad.

The pep rally was in the gym. The stands were packed with all the students, and even the teachers were excited, a lot of them wearing the school colors. Pete and Fiona were sitting with all their friends right down front and center. They were the most popular girls in the whole school, and he could see the way the other kids kind of looked at them in awe. Pete had put on a skirt and a green and white stripped sweater. The school band honked out their fight song. The cheerleaders came cartwheeling out onto the floor, got in formation and led a cheer, all the kids stomping their feet on the wooden bleachers, creating a rumbling like thunder. Pete cheered, too, feeling so excited. The first time through life, as a shy boy, he’d just sat off at the top of the bleachers, had felt alone, left out, like he wasn’t a part of it at all. Now, he was totally a part of it, and he clapped and shouted, all the while avoiding even looking at Brad, even when the team was called out onto the floor, the captains introduced…. Cheers and music, shouts and clapping…

There were a few hours between the end of school and the game. He and Fiona went over to her house to hang out in the basement. “Let’s watch a movie,” Fiona said.

“Cool,” Pete said, going over to the cabinet with rows of neatly stacked VHS tapes. “Star Wars?”

“Har har,” Fiona said, rolling her eyes. Then, she pulled a box out and held it up toward Pete.

“Benji?”

“Remember how we watched this, like, 1000 times when we were in middle school?”

“Yeah,” Pete lied.

“And you always cried!”

“As if,” Pete said.

“Liar.”

Fiona put the tape in the VCR, and they sat on the couch together. Pete didn’t actually remember if he had ever seen Benji. It started out, Benji was a stray, and the dog that played him looked like a ragamuffin. “He’s so cute,” Pete said, tugging on an earring. Early on, seeing the movie through his middle-aged man’s eyes, it seemed kind of corny, but as it went on he fell in love with Benji, and he so badly wanted Benji to find a family.  At the end, when Benji saved the day and got to be part of the Chapman family, Pete couldn’t help but bawl.

“Told ya,” Fiona said, punching him on the arm, but her eyes were red-rimmed as well, though she seemed to hold back the tears. As the credits played, Fiona shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re seniors already. High-school is going to be over so soon, and then its the rest of life. It went by so fast.”

“Life does that,” Pete said between sniffles. “Blink, and you miss it.”

“What if we end up going to different schools?” Fiona said. “We’ll drift apart, lose touch.”

“We’ll always be friends,” Pete said, because he knew that was what she needed to hear, but at the same time he knew it probably wasn’t true. How many kids from high-school had he kept in touch with? None.

“Promise?” Fiona said. “Even if I go to Michigan State and you’re going to Michigan? You won’t start hating me?”

“Never,” Pete said, giving her a hug. “I’ll make fun of you is all.”

When the hug ended, Fiona took his hands. “So tell me, then.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me why you’re acting to weird. So not like yourself.”

“I’m me,” Pete said.

“Forget it,” Fiona said, getting up, walking away. “Just keep your little secret.”

“There’s no…”

“I KNOW something happened!” Fiona snapped. “Something is different about you! And the fact you won’t tell me makes me think I am losing you as a friend.”

The pain in Fiona’s voice hit him— hard. And, it almost happened. Pete almost told her the whole truth— that he was actually a middle-aged man who’d somehow found himself transported into the past and turned into a teen-age girl, but it seemed too crazy, too impossible, and so he blurted out another secret, one he’d been dying to tell her: “I fucked Mr. Kelly!”

Fiona’s eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open. “No way.”

“Way,” Pete said. He got up and grabbed Fiona’s hands, dragged her back to the couch. “You can’t tell anyone. Swear.”

“You totally slept with him, didn’t you?” Fiona said, amazed. Her face clouded. “Wait, did that old perv come onto you?”

“No. He actually — it was me. I just wanted to make him, and he was all, oh, my wife, and I just—- I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“You? Went after him?”

“I know. It was— I just—- “

“You dirty girl,’ Fiona said, shaking her head.

“Am I terrible?” Pete said, covering his face. “It was so wrong, and I just— didn’t care?”

“Wow. Well, that was not what I was expecting you to say,” Fiona said. “Give me a minute to process.”

“What if his wife finds out and—“

“Processing done,” Fiona said, waving her hand dismissively. “And never mind about his wife. I want details.”