A Prairie Christmas Chapter 7

The moms backed us into a corner, insisting they have the final say on what our band, The Triplets, is allowed to play. Our first performance at the Downtown (Ames) Coffee Shop set off a near riot. Luckily our new fans, the Ames High football team, lead by my new best friend ‘Gator, arrive at the last-minute and save us from mom control, by taking us bowling. The moms entertain the boys, while we change into our bowling attire, recently purchased from Goodwill.
‘Wow, y’all have uniforms already,” ‘Gator gushes. “Where can we get our team gear?” Tim 356
“I know just the place,” I assure him.
“We’s bin tellin’ yer moms ‘bout the write-up in the mornin’ newspaper,” as he holds up a copy of the Iowa State Daily. “They even mentions us, yer fans.” Iowa_State_Daily_Logo
The girls run over and started read our first review aloud .
“Patrons of Friday Open Mic night at the Downtown Coffee Shop were surprised when new trio, The Triplets, ended their performance of folk songs with an electric version of the Stooges rocker, ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog.’ Instant mayhem ensued, as the Ames High football team celebrated that night’s win over Iowa City, by acting out the song’s nonsense call to be dogs. Howling and barking drove the more sedate college folkies out the door, except for a few frat boys who weren’t about to be shown up by the high school crowd. The show ended with at least twenty males writhing on the floor, devoted fans to the new trio. Management was none too pleased watching their regular clientele flee. It is unlikely to see The Triplets back at the Coffee Shop. Hopefully they can  book as the fight band at next week’s Ames High football game.
The Triplets are Amy, Angie and Andy Muller-Castle, all seniors at Ames High. It is good to see youthful energy kick out the jams.”

“What a great idea. Kin y’all play at the Friday fight rally?”
I’m sure ‘Gator could arrange it. “What’s ya think, moms?” we all ask.
“We’ll discuss it later,” is their final decision.

It’s off to Goodwill, to outfit the Aims High, Bowls Straight, Ten Pin team. The twins and I are seated in ‘Gator’s Ford F-150.
“What’s the story with your moms,” no beating around the bush for ‘Gator.
The girls look at each other and shrug. It was up to me to spill the beans.
“They’ve been together since my mom split from my dad a year ago last summer,” I don’t make excuses.
“Did ya know yer mom was a lez before she split?”
“She just seemed lost after my dad got a girlfriend. Now I got two moms here and a mom in Miami.”
“That’s cool. ‘Least ya don’t seem like no mama’s boy.”
“Hell. Afta Mom split, all my friends’ moms adopted me. I counted there was seven of them that I was callin’ Mom.”
“That ‘cause everone like’n ya, Andy. Y’all’s just like honey. Maybe’s I be callin’ ya that,” he laugh.
“Maybe I be kickin’ yer ass off’n the bowlin’ team.”
He looks real hurt before punching me in the arm. Tim 442Sweet like honey, that boy.

Goodwill on Saturday morning is buzzing like bees. ‘Gator and the boys (Clarence, Noah, Henry and Buzz) find plenty of polyester for bowling uniforms. None of us match, but together, there’s little doubt we’re off to the bowling alley. Nice to set a new fashion trend. I explain that bowling is a team sport with each boy teamed with a girl. ‘Gator choses Amy for his partner, so I have Angela. The boys are stuck with each other until they can recruit girls for themselves. Girl friends are excluded, as they are to be cheerleaders. The eight of us take adjoining alleys and the competition is on. The lanes were not busy, as leagues meet on weeknights. There are a few younger kids rolling, who see the high school jocks as their heroes. Soon they’re our cheering section. Once they realize how terrible we are at bowling they became our ten-year-old coaches, yelling tips and encouragement. Tim 151 ‘Gator is the only one to break 100 on any game. We promise we’d keep practicing and become more competitive. We eat bad pizza once we finish. ‘Gator and I speak with the Ames Lanes manager about sponsoring us as a high school sport. He promises to reserve lanes on Saturday mornings for practice and eventual competition with other high school teams. School bowling has come to Iowa. ‘Gator promises to call his friends on other football teams to let them know about the new winter sport.

It is Saturday afternoon, which means Iowa State football. ISU football stadium The demands of my new lifestyle are outrunning my initial enthusiasm. I remember how Coach Isaac from the University of Miami Swim Team and the other U of M swimmers hate the football team. As jocks on scholarship, not only were they required to coach the Hurricane youth club, but they also had to live in the sports dorm, dubbed the pit. Swimmers are fair game for boorish football players in the dorm. I also remember how I grew to hate the Gables High jocks for their entitled social status, pushing lesser students aside in the school halls. I have to smile at the irony of becoming an instant jock because ‘Gator likes me. Adding girls to the bowling team seems like a way to reduce the jock arrogance.

As soon as we enters the football stadium, ‘Gator decided to concentrate his attention on the band and its entertainment values. They never play fight cheers. The opponent is Oklahoma, ranked number two in the nation. After going 4 wins and a single loss to open their season, Iowa State lost a close game to Kansas the previous week. The stands seem somewhat subdued and dispirited, intimidated by Mighty Oklahoma. The college band marches out for the national anthem, reminding me of my performance at the State Swim finals in May. The lack of spirit hurts the Cyclones, as Oklahoma is leading 21-0 by half-time. “Gator is pacing on the sidelines, as we watch from our seats. He knows many of the Iowa State players, exhorting them to up their game. He comes and sits with us while the marching band goes through their halftime routine.

He remain upset, saying the band is lame.
“You should be out there,” he says turning to the three of us. “Y’all knows how to git everyone riled up.” He reminds me of Robby, all worked up and expecting everyone to do as he says. It works great at our gigs. We play Neil Young to rednecks and watch the riot get going. I know just how to rile up these lame Iowa State boys.
“Okay,” I tell ‘Gator. “You stay on the sidelines. We’ll get the band to play ‘Oklahoma’,oklahoma_musical_logo1 then you git all worked up.  Pace up and down, waving your arms, and screaming at us”
He instantly recognizes the strategy. “Do it when Oklahoma has the ball. Only the defense’s can score. State’s quarterback sucks.”
“You get the crowd screaming at us. We’ll make the defense thinks it’s for them. They’ll git off their asses and cause a turnover.”
Gator runs down and grab a cheerleader, pointing at us. She comes over and takes us to the marching band director.
“Do what this boy here tells ya,” she commands.
He looks skeptically at the three of us.
“Y’all know ‘Oklahoma’?” I ask.
“’Course.”
“Gimme a mic, We’ll do the vocals. I’ll tell ya when to start.”
He looks at the cheerleader. She nods. He shrugs. We were about to sing for 15,000 people.
“You know this song,” I assure the girls. “Just back me up. And come in for the chorus, when I tells y’all.”
I signs to Jace. I prepare to channel Jack at Mommy’s dinner parties. I give the band director his marching orders.
“You can play the Oklahoma song from the Rogers and Hammerstein musical?”
“Of course.”
“We’re going to sing the chorus part all the way through to the spelling O_K_L_A_H_O_M_A, then repeat it again until the team responds on the field. I’ll tell you when to stop. Just follow our singing.”
He looks quizzically at me but nods that he understands. He tells the band members to pull the old Broadway standby out of their sheet music folders.
I wait until the defense comes on after another three and out offensive set. They look worn down. I wave to ‘Gator that we are ready, so he can start his antics on the sideline. The girls and I start singing as the band goes right into the chorus:

“Ooook-lahoma, where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain
And the wavin’ wheat can sure smell sweet
When the wind comes right behind the rain.
Oklahoma, Ev’ry night my honey lamb and I
Sit alone and talk and watch a hawk
Makin’ lazy circles in the sky.

We know we belong to the land
And the land we belong to is grand!
And when we say
Yeeow! Ayipioeeay!
We’re only sayin’
You’re doin’ fine, Oklahoma!
Oklahoma O.K.

Okla-okla-Okla-Okla-Okla-Okla
Okla-okla-Okla-Okla-Okla-Okla…

We know we belong to the land
And the land we belong to is grand!
And when we say
Yeeow! Aye-yip-aye-yo-ee-ay!
We’re only sayin’
You’re doin’ fine, Oklahoma!
Oklahoma
O.K. L – A – H – O – M – A
OKLAHOMA!
Yeeow!”

“Gator is his irrepressible self. Running to the stands in front of the band and raising his arms in disgust and incredulity at why Iowa State is playing their rivals’ state song. Tim 290The crowd gets into it, yelling and stomping their feet. As the song builds, the crowd noise reaches a crescendo. The game proceeds, but the noise from the stands perks up the defense. Oklahoma twice tries a run and the line holds. On third down, they go to the air, but it’s batted down. Having to punt, the visitors seem confused and disorganized. Before getting the punt off, the officials whistles for too many players on the field, pushing them further back. We keep repeating “Okla-homa, Okla-homa, Okla-homa,” in a soto whispering voice, that eerily echoes throughout the stadium. The crowd starts to get into the song, as the defense has rallied from down-trodden to energized. The punt is almost blocked and the squiggled kick allows time for the run-back receiver to get up a head of steam. As he races down the sidelines, we sing the finale, “You’re doin’ fine, Oklahoma! Oklahoma O-K- L – A – H – O – M – A
OKLAHOMA! Yeeow!” as the runner is finally pushed out-of-bounds at the visitors’ 35 yard line.
We rest when the offense comes out, feeling exhilarated that we had inspired 15,00o fans to sing along with us. As was unfortunate that year, the offense is unable to gain a first down. The attempted field goal is wide right. Once the Iowa State defense comes back on the field, we get up and start our ironic fight song. The crowd responds by singing right along from the start of the chorus. Who knew football fans loved Broadway show tunes? The defense rallies again, holding the visitors to no ground gains. On third and long, we’re doing the soto voiced “Okla-homa, Okla-homa” as the long pass float down field. A defender leaped higher and pulls in an interception. We switched to the finale, “You’re doin’ fine, Oklahoma!
Oklahoma
O – K – L – A – H – O – M – A
OKLAHOMA!
Yeeow!”
as he races untouched for the Iowa State’s first score. The stands are rocking with cheers, including “Oklahoma’s okay.” The score was 21-7. It’s a game, not a rollover.

Unfortunately, the momentum shifts back. The opposing stands start joining us in the song, confusing everyone, especially the players. Without an offense, the defense can’t keep up their adrenaline-pumped performance. The final score is 38-7.

The girls and I remain pumped up. Many of the band members tell us how great we sing, especially the girls’ high sopranos behind my Broadway dramatic tenor. We know how to project. We promise to work with them for the next week’s game against Colorado. ‘Gator and his boys meet us outside the stadium.
“How’s ‘bout them apples? We rilly got them boys playin’ defense,” as he hugs each of us.Tim 358 He reminds me of Stu, jumping up and down and telling everyone how great he has done.  The image of a 220 pound Stu is scary, especially with his half-ton posse backing him up.
“We needs pizza,” I declare. “There gots ta be better pizza in town than that frozen tasteless crap at the bowlin’ alley.”
“Y’all needs the Pizza Pit,” ‘Gator announces, pizza pit.jpg with the approval of his posse.

It is about four blocks from the Hyland house. We stuff ourselves with what I admit is decent pizza, reserving my gold standard for Miami’s Sorrento’s All the guys end up on the third floor with the twins. The moms are nervous at the odds, seven pimpled-faced boys with just their two cherubic choir girls. I assure the moms that there is safety in numbers. So far, there has been little misogynistic banter from the boys. Maybe the comfort/cheerleader girls satisfy their hormones.
We pull out the guitars and Amy is on the piano. Soon we’re all singing pop songs. The boys know they should stick to football. It’s fun. No one is mocked for being off-key. We do the Beatles’ ‘A little help from my friends,’

 

The moms come up the stairs.
“Pizza?” they ask.
“Pizza Pit,” we all yell.
In twenty minutes we are scarfing slices for the third time that day.
“So how was your day?” Molly asks everyone. The exploits of the bowling team, singing with the Iowa State Marching Band, unlimited pizza, and the upstairs sing-along indicate we still are infused with teen spirit. ‘Gator mentions that next is a football team party, about which he let slips that the home is without parental supervision. His enthusiasm and inability to finesse the truth means the twins and I are grounded. “Gator and the boys finish the last of the slices and are out the door, ready to expend their built-up testosterone.
Sitting at the table, I ask the four women, “You like our new friends?”
“They sure put away the pizza,” Mom observes.
“We were a little shy when we sat with them at lunch. The boys didn’t know what to say with us there. But after ‘Gator took us under his wing, we feel right at home. He’s a force of nature.”
“Ya shoulda seen ‘im whip up the crowd at the football game, Ma,” Amy enthuses.
“Please save the cowboy talk fer outside the house,” Molly slips into country speak herself, at which we all broke up. “And please, please don’t be calling me ‘Ma.”
It is all sunshine and light after a special day. None of us miss going to the party. Next, we discuss going to church in the morning. Mom feels conflicted about Catholic Mass, believing she is betraying her relationship with Molly by not taking communion. The Church believes she is living in sin and refuses to accept their relationship. Molly and the girls say we’d be welcome at their Baptist Church. I swear I could hear Father Frank groan, but that seems acceptable. I am already familiar with the Baptists.
“Is there much holy rolling and speaking in tongues?” I ask. Tim 426
“We don’t cotton to those practices here in Iowa,” she answers.
I’m slightly disappointed.
“You’ve got mail,” Mom says, “and Dad sent a package with your clothes. I put them away for you.”
I blush at the thought of all the gay underwear that must have shocked her.
Mom notices my red face. “What’s the matter. Most of those ratty jeans and shirts without buttons won’t fly here in Iowa during the winter.”
I recover my poise. “I know I need heavy clothes. I should get a job.”
“Dad is sending more than adequate support. Don’t you worry about clothes.”
“That support won’t go very far if’n we keep havin’ friends over for pizza. I’ll jist feel better carryin’ my own weight.”
“I’ll be happy if you stick to speaking the Queen’s English,” Molly interjects.
“Jist the result of all day with heathens.”
The three of us go upstairs. I opened the big window in the spare room and sit in one corner with a leg outside the sill. Tim 418 The girls sit in the other corner, Amy leans back into Angela’s arms. A big smile comes to my lips, as I remember doing the same with Jace, Robby and Jack – bittersweet.
“Don’t be thinkin’ nothin’.” Angela asserts. “We ain’t lesbians.”
“It don’t run in the family?” I josh.
“We’s always bin this close.”
“All I’s thinkin’ is how nice it’ll be when I’s all that close with y’all. This is fine for right now.”
I look out over the other houses and tree tops. “Hey, I can see Pizza Pit from here.”
“You still hungry?” Amy is amazed.
“Naw. It’s part of my life, the pizza connection. I feel I belong here now.”
We sit there without talking for a while.
“What’s ya gonna wear to church tomorrow,” Amy asks.
“Let’s go see what old Dad sent. I ain’t wearing bowling gear to church.
On the second floor, we go through my drawers and closet. The white suit from Easter stands out.
“You really know how to make an impression.”
“Mom got that for Easter. We sang “Amazing Grace” in New York City. Even sang it at Abyssinian Baptist in Harlem.”
“Ya wants ta sing that tomorrow. You can join us in the choir. I’ll get the choir master to have us do it special.”
I lood sad, missing Hippie, as it is his signature song.
“What’s the matter?” Angela notices my mood change.
“I’s jist missin’ my best friend, Hippie, from the band. He always sings ‘Amazing Grace.’”
“His name is Hippie?” Amy laughed.
“He is a Southern hayseed, but he can really sing. He is a Baptist choir boy, too. He’s married now. Do y’all have the pledge here?”
“You mean pledging abstinence until marriage.”
“Yeah. That’s how he’s married at sixteen. They couldn’t wait.”
“Wasn’t ‘cause she got pregnant?” Angela asks.
“Naw. The pledge prevents that. She was jist ready. He never thought anyone would want him. Once he got in the band, he was natural on the bass. He came out of his shell.”
“Everyone sure likes ya, Andy. I bet you gots lots of friends.”
“Growin’ up in the military makes it easy ta make friends. Sometimes I find those friends don’t know me very well. Since I fit in, they just assume I’s jist like them.”
“You don’t mean us.”
“No way. You’re takin’ a crash course on getting’ ta know the real me. And music is a deeper means to know each other’s soul.”
“That mean we’re movin’ to Oklahoma?”
“Not that song, but like ‘Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” It’s real emotions, not platitudes.”
“You’re a deep one, Andy Muller-Castle. But does this underwear explain somethin’ we’re missin?’” Tim 47  as she holds up all the briefs from Out & Proud. Susan’s unpacking didn’t leave anything out .
“Maybe it just says I ain’t borin’,” I’m not embarrassed by underwear but I don’t need to explain it either.
“You are so cute when you blush,” Amy laughs. They both hug me. “I guess you wanna move up to the third floor. You seem mighty attached to that big window.”
“I do. I had a window like this in Florida where I spent many hours figuring out teenage mysteries while the storms came off the Bay with thunder and lightning.”Tim 131
“And the winter wheat can sure smell sweet when the winds comes right behind the rain,” they both sing.

We move my clothes and the bed to the third floor. I notice that several garish briefs are missing. Girls can’t help themselves from fetishing. I worry that this is more than sisterly interest. Then I realize that it’s innate sisterly harassment.
We are done in and quickly go to bed. I leave my door open, yelling out, “Good night, Mary Ellen.” Tim 290
They both answered, “Good night, Jim Bob.”

Sunday is bright and sunny, with the autumn colors in full season. The three of us comes down for breakfast, all in white. Tim 305 Mom looks chagrined that she had not dressed up for church.
“It’s not like Catholic Church, Mom. Baptists go all out for services.”
“When did you get so knowledgeable about religion?” she asks.
“I guess you didn’t hear about Teen Jesus,” I laugh.
“What?” they all exclaim.
“Jesus was a teenager once, Himself.”
“And what part of being perfect and without sin does being a teenager play in that story?” she ask.
“Most people don’t think it’s a story,” I challenge her.
Molly laughs. “Never a dull moment with Andy Muller-Castle.”
I guess I have a completely new name.
Mom makes my favorite blueberry pancakes. We all pig out, memories of yesterday’s pizza long faded away. Baptists don’t  worry about getting the Eucharist on an empty stomach. I am interested enough to wonder what type of human craziness would express itself at this church.

We walk into services as a group. Three teenagers all in white, draw admiring glances. The girls take me to the choir leader, introducing me as their new step-brother. They say I am a gifted singer.
“That’s quite a compliment, coming from you two. Come to our rehearsal on Wednesday night to try out.”
“We hoped all three of us could do ‘Amazing Grace’ this morning,” Angela surprises me as she was generally the reticent one.

“Well, let’s try a verse right here, just to make sure you don’t embarrass yourselves.”
We look at each other and nod. I hummed a D. We sing the first verse. Having never practiced it, I am stunned that it sounds so pure.

‘Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.’

“Goodness,” he exclaims. “I see we’re in for a treat today. Go sit with your parents, Andy. I’ll call you up with a nod after the morning prayer.”
I walk back to the pew and sat with the moms. I have a big grin on. I love to perform. What a geek.
Mom asks why I am so happy.
“The girls and I get to sing together.” Only then do I notice Jace sitting next to me. He signs ‘what a good little Baptist you’ve become.’
I sign back, ‘Hippie will be so proud.’
‘Your new best friend?’ he asks.
“You’re my best friend.’
‘Your best dead friend.’
‘Forever.’
A tear rolls down my cheek. Mom notices and grabs my hand. “You okay?”
“Just Teen Jesus,” I whisper back. I instantly regretted my habit of keeping her off-kilter and clueless.

The service begins with announcements. The pastor mentions my name as Andy Muller-Castle, a new member who would be singing with my sisters later. The Baptists do go on. The hymns are refreshing with lots of arm and hand waving. Tim 373 They believe God can see them. They expect Him to take note. Jace accompanies me when I go to join the twins standing by the mic in front of the choir. The golden glow that Jace imbues any group of believers spreads over the entire choir. When the three of us sing, there is pleasant stillness in the church. Our voices blend perfectly. My lower key allows the girls a base from which to ascend the higher octaves, which they do separately, then together. We are quite good, smug me believes. When I got back to the pew, I see that both moms have been crying. I bend over and kiss each on the cheek.  There is a sigh heard throughout the church. We are a shameless hit.Tim 448After the service s over, we stand outside on the steps.  Kids and teens are not shy at this church, coming over to welcome meTim 219, while the older ones smile a bit too much at the girls. Many adults compliment the moms. Only a few say the coded words, “we are praying for you.” I know from Hippie’s moms Marge and Meg what that means. How condescending. My performance junkie gene makes me remark, “We’re praying for understanding.” The haters look shocked, as if I am talking back to them. They quickly leave. The choir director, Mr. Key, reminds me that choir rehearsal is on Wednesday night.
“I wouldn’t miss it for this world or the next.” Even I am shocked at myself. Mom grabs my arm. We all leave for Sunday dinner. At least I don’t have to eat my words. Yet.

At the restaurant, we are seated at a table for six. As the hostess starts to take away the extra setting, I asked her to leave it, “for my friend, Jace.”
“Is he coming later?” she asks.
“He’ll be here.”
“I’ll be sure to look for him.”
“Good luck with that.”
Jace s in hysterics. It has been building since our antics on the church steps. Tim 95
“You say your friend is coming?” Molly asks.
“I thought having a place set for him would make him feel welcome.”
“That’s very zen,” Molly notes.
She seems to get it.

“Excuse me, Molly, could you tell me what you do for work, if that’s not too nosy of me?”
“Right. I teach psychology at State. My zen comment is meant to reflect Buddhism’s reverence towards the old and deceased.”
“Jace is definitely deceased,” I admit. “I just want his place recognized in my life.”
“That means he’s in our lives, too, Andy. What affects you, affects all of us.”
I bite my lip to hold back the crying jag I feel bubbling up. Tim 501 Amy and Angela instantly feel my distress and move over to hug me. The tears burst, though it felst okay. I am quickly over the crying . The girls remain distressed from their own empathy.
Mom gives her own spin on my outburst. “Oh, Timmy, don’t you think you may have bitten off more than you can handle. A new school and friends, a fight band for the football team, now joining the choir, and looking for a job, as well as playing music with the girls. And. also, this bowling team? You’ve only been home for a week.”
“We’re teenagers, Mom. If I’m not busy, I get into trouble. And, please call me Andy.” Again I see how I push her away. I give her a big hug for trying to protect me from myself.

Our meals arrive and conversation tapers off as we dig in. Midwest meals are super-sized. While we wait for dessert, Molly resumes the topic of conversation, my weird personality.
“The doctor at the hospital recommended counseling when you were discharged. I know a colleague who may be perfect for your split personalities. Want me to make an appointment?”
“Is she as zen-like as you?”
“Actually, he’s Japanese. I’m guessing he’ll ‘get’ you.”
“Make an appointment. The truth is, this family is helping me stay grounded. It may be all I need.”
“It makes sense to get you all the help you can.”
“Having a shrink for a mom sure helps,” as I smile at Molly.
“Tell us about Jace,” Amy ask.
I turn to the moms, “Did you notice a special glow coming from the choir when we sang?”
“I thought that the sun came out, shining through the stained glass,” Mom remarks.
“Whenever Jace feels people are open-hearted and accept him, they feel his love, like the glow people notice when a mother is pregnant. Today the whole choir accepted us and loved the hymn we sang. We all glowed, like at first communion or being born again.”
“You feel Jace is Jesus?” Molly asks.
“No. Jace was a rowdy teenager, breaking rules and having fun. He’d been badly abused all his life. There was so much love in his heart. When he broke free of the abuse, he loved everyone. He loved all of us in the band. He loved his girlfriend. I loved him back. When he was killed by his abuser, I couldn’t let him go. He’s been in my heart ever since, except when I’ve had to lock away my heart at the juvenile work camp. That’s why I broke down when I arrived. I had shut off my heart, lying in a ditch in Alabama. Jace came to me in a dream, telling me to come here. I met Amy and Angela in that dream. The four of us hugged and they drove me home.”
No tears on my part, just smiles for the twins. Tim 420
“Teen Jesus,” Amy says.
“That’s another story,” I demure.
Desserts come. We all ate. I was too full of it to say more.

Arriving home, we discover ‘Gator and his boys sitting on the porch. They look worse for wear after a night of football team partying. Tim 276 One look at the three of us, dressed entirely in white, perks them up.
“Y’all go to church?” ‘Gator observes.
“Fresh as a spring breeze and free of sin, unlike you reprobates,” I crow. Tim 399
“We ain’t no reprobators, whatever that is. It sounds sinful.”
“The cheerleaders kick y’all out this morning?” I mock them. The moms quickly go into the house. The twins just look embarrassed.
“Naw. We never spends the night with ’em, too intimate.”
The twins start to leave us alone.
“Wait. We’s here ta work on the fight band. Y’all gots ta help.”
We follow the twins up to the third floor and get out the guitars.
“The one sure song is Queen’s ‘We are the Champions.’” I assert. “It’s not a fight song but a statement. Best played at the end of a game or when it’s all over but the shouting.

I played a few riffs and sing the title lines. The boys haven’t even heard of Queen.
How about this song by AC/DC?” as I played ‘Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.’

‘If you’re havin’ trouble with the high school head
He’s givin’ you the blues
You want to graduate but not in ‘is bed
Here’s what you gotta do
Pick up the phone
I’m always home
Call me any time
Just ring
36 24 36 hey
I lead a life of crime
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap
You got problems in your life of love
You got a broken heart
He’s double dealin’ with your best friend
That’s when the teardrops start, fella
Pick up the phone
I’m here alone
Or make a social call
Come right in
Forget about him
We’ll have ourselves a ball
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap
If you got a lady and you want her gone
But you ain’t got the guts
She keeps naggin’ at you night and day
Enough to drive ya nuts
Pick up the phone
Leave her alone
It’s time you made a stand
For a fee
I’m happy to be
Your back door man
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap yeah
Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap
Concrete shoes, cyanide, TNT
Done dirt cheap
Neckties, contracts, high voltage
Done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds
Do anything you wanna do
Done dirty cheap
Dirty deeds
Dirty deeds
Dirty deeds
Done dirt cheap’

Songwriters
ANGUS MCKINNON YOUNG, RONALD BELFORD SCOTT, MALCOLM MITCHELL YOUNG
Published by
Lyrics © J. ALBERT & SON(INTERNATIONAL) PTY. LTD.

“Don’t ac/dc mean ya swings both ways?” Clarence speaks up.
We all look at him strangely, which makes him turn bright red.
“I just heard my uncles talkin,’ that’s all,” is his excuse.
“AC and DC means electricity, alternating current or direct current,” Noah clarifies. His dad is an electrician.
“That’s what we want – we’s electric,” ‘Gator confirms. “That’s a song for the defense. We gets down in the dirt and gets dirty.”
“You kin rip on guitar, Andy, while we sing real high. Make that guitar respond like a chainsaw,” Angie is inspired.
“How ‘bouts a song fer the offense?” I ask.
“That there dog song got us all a’howlin?’” “Gator suggests.
“The Stooges have a great metal song – ‘Search and Destroy.’” I remember.

I’m a street walking cheetah
with a heart full of napalm
I’m a runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb
I am a world’s forgotten boy
The one who searches and destroys

Songwriters
POP, IGGY/WILLIAMSON, JAMES
Published by
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC

We decide that three rock songs are plenty to get the stands stomping and screaming. We practice each one. It is amazing that the girls picked up the songs so easily. Jace is still working with them, knowing when either one is unsure of the chord changes. It doesn’t take much for them to have the whole song, singing backups as well. I take the lead riffs while they play the rhythm. They have confidence that the notes are flying off the guitars perfectly. Choir girls in the morning; demon rockers at night. Tim179

I suggest we have a song for the opposing team. I recommend Elvis’s ‘Hound Dog,’ as the team could sing along to taunt their opponents, especially after a penalty flag is thrown.

The boys all get into making Elvis moves and taunting each other. Tim 374 I let the girls do the singing while I play as loud as possible on an acoustic guitar.

All the stomping and yelling brings the moms up the stairs.
“You kids have been at it for hours. How about a break for supper?”
“Pizza Pit,” we all yell.
Mom gives me twenty dollars. All of us walk the four blocks to the Pit, ordering four larges with varying toppings. The girls want veggies. We kidded them that the moms will be so proud. While waiting for our order, I notice a sign saying ‘help wanted.’ I ask the counter man if I can apply.
“Ya gots yer license, boy.”
I pulled out my Florida permit.
“Once ya git a real license, com’n back. The opening’s fer delivery. Ya needs yer own car.”
“I’ll be back. I lives jist ‘round the corner.”
“See ya then, boy.”

The pizzas come. ‘Gator dives in to grab a slice immediately. I slam the cardboard lid on his hand, “Have sum manners. The moms come first.”
He looks chagrined, not used to being denied. We both laugh, while his boys warily keep an eye on us.
At the house, ‘Gator makes sure the moms have first choice. Naturally they choose the veggie pizza. Everyone laughs.
“What?” Molly asks.
“Don’t ask, Mom,” Angie warns her. “It’ll only give the boys a chance to put us down.”
“Over pizza?”
“Over veggies.”

Three pizzas disappear quickly. The final veggie slices are attacked by the boys after the women only have a single slice a piece. Female anorexia rules. ‘Gator and his crew are hustled out the door after supper, Molly announcing we have homework to do. ‘Gator makes every one thank the moms for the weekend of hospitality. I groan thinking they have plans to become semi-permanent fixtures in our ever-expanding household. Molly seems able to maintain control. I’m still getting used to having parents  so involved in my activities. I decide to call Flo and check in on her life.
“Tim. I miss you,” she cries when she comes to the phone. “Where are you?”
“Iowa,” I laugh. “I’m living with my mom.”
“Which one,” she quips.
“The first one. How are Mary and Edi?”
“We all miss you, Tim.”
“Oh, I have a new name, it’s now Andy. And I have twin sisters.”
“I know where that’s going.”
“Naw. They’re choir girls like you. I even joined the choir.”
“Turning over a new leaf?”
“Maybe. We started a new band, called the Triplets, cause we’re all the same age. We played at a college football game yesterday. We caused a riot Friday night, when we played at an open mic in a coffee shop.”
“New name, same crazy life.”
“Not so crazy. The big excitement is starting a high school bowling team for winter term.”
“Is it cold there yet?”
“Not as cold as Alaska.”
“When are you coming back to Florida?”
“Not ‘til I’s 18, next summer.”
“Will you come to see me?” She sounds sad.
“Of course. You’re my number one.”
“Really?”
“Who else can put up with me?”
“You are so lovable, even though you’re crazy.”
“Well, don’t be lonely. Waiting for me just means we’re on hold. Have as much fun as possible. Drive AP Spenser mad, that dick.”
She laughs. “Edi and Mary keep things interesting. Nothing like you and your unending supply of boyfriends.”
“Yeah. I already have been ‘adopted’ by the captain of the football team. He’s playing me for tight end, but I may end up a wide receiver.”
“You are too much,” she can’t stop laughing. I hear her pop telling her to get off the phone. “Gotta go, Andy (hah). I’ll say hi to everyone. Stay in touch. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”

I hang up and turn around to find the twins listening in on my end of the conversation.
“That was my girlfriend, Flo, in Miami. Just catching up. She’s a choir girl, too.”
“Are you two real serious?” Amy wants to know.
“High school sweethearts. I told her not to wait for me.”
“What did you mean about ‘Gator? You think he’s too sweet on you?”
“Naw, not that he knows it. He recognizes that we have the same spirit of adventure. I’m trying to keep the risk taking under control. We both like to perform – him in football, me in music. The reason I came here is because I let things get out of control. I can’t go back to Florida ’til I’s an adult.”
“Trouble with the police?” Angela is shocked.
“They put me in juvie. I escaped and hid out in the Everglades for four months. My friend got an infected foot. When I took him to the hospital, I went to see Flo and the boys in the band. After that, I hitch-hiked out of there but got stuck in Alabama. I was roughed up and thrown in a ditch. That’s when y’alls came to me in a dream. You were a vision.” Cathy Christina
They get all flustered when I mentioned them.
“We weren’t trying to spy on your phone call. We want to know all about you. What’s a split personality like?”
“My best friend Jace and our dog, Max, died. I see them and talk with them like they’re ghosts. Anyone that opens their heart to me seems able to feel them, too.”
“We do,” they agree.
“The shrinks call it projection, like I’ve created a fantasy to fool myself that they’re still alive. I think it’s inspiration, allowing me to channel musical ability from Jace and love from Max.”
“You like having sisters, Andy? Most boys don’t.”
“That’s their lookout. I always complained to Mom that I wanted brothers and sisters. When they got divorced, I realized why there is just me.”
“How you like Ames so far? Is it too boring for you?”
“Life is never boring. You’re only young once.” Zorik

They go upstairs to do homework. Telling them about the Everglades makes me want to call Tommy. I have his number from Jay but haven’t called. I’m afraid he’ll keep begging me to be his boyfriend. My lack of sex drive (rape does that) made it easy for me to ignore him. There is no doubt I love him. We had so much fun last summer. But I have to keep him in the little brother mold. Tim 492
An older woman answers the number Jay gave me.
“Evening, ma’am. My name’s Tim. I’m Tommy’s friend from last summer. Can he come to the phone,” I use my adult-pleasing voice. “He calls me Huck sometimes.”
“Oh, my goodness. Y’all is all that boy talks about.”
“How’s he doing, ma’am? Last time I saw ‘im, he’s laid up in hospital.”
“Please call me Auntie Em, Tim. The boy’s doing real well, getting good grades and making friends. Half the neighborhood’s always over to the house. He’ll talk yer ears off.”
“That’s why I called, ma’am, er, Auntie Em.”
“I’ll git ‘im. He’s upstairs practicing singing. I’s afraid its hopeless, jist cain’t carry a tune.”
“Yeah, we’d pinch ‘im when he went off-key. He’d squeak and somehow find the right note.”
She laughs. “Well, that’s not an option fer foster parenting.”
“Y’all is church-going people?”
“’Course. It’s not his favorite time of the week.”
“I’ll tell him to become a choirboy so he can learn to sing proper.” Tim 123
“That sounds more better than pinchin.’”
“Nice talkin’ with ya, ma’am.”
“You sound older than Tommy.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m seventeen. Tommy’s like my little brother.”
“A sight better than his other brother. We had to call the police to keep that mean boy from coming here ta harass our boy. He gave Tommy a black eye for fightin’ back.” yaoi 06
“Y’all don’ts need that kinda trouble. Sounds like yer the parents Tommy needs.”
“Sight better than his real parents.”
“Thank you, Auntie Em.”
“I’ll git the boy now.”
I’m so proud of Tommy for fighting back.

“Huck! Is that really you?” Tim 210
“Sure thing. Y’all think I’d forgot ya?”
“I miss ya so much. Where are you?” He seems to have lost the country accent.
“Iowa. I live with my mom, her girlfriend and two twin step-sisters.”
“Wow, you hit the jackpot – four women, Kin ya stand it?”
“’S cool.”
“Yer mom’s a lez. Is that why yer gay?” Tim 489
“Not gay so much no more, though the football captain is sweet on me. Jist don’t feel it no more.”
“Well, my new folks is cool. They’s real old, so I kin pretty much do as I pleases, jist as long as my grades is good. I got my own gang. My asshole brother come lookin’ fer me. I popped him good, jist not enough ta put him down like y’all did.”
“Auntie Em told me he give ya a black eye.”
“Yeah, but it’s worth it. Haven’t seen the asshole since.”
We laugh.Dario 03
“Bin singin?’”
“Everday. We’s still gots the band tagether?”
“If’n when we do git tagether. Auntie Em says yer still singin’ off-key.”
“Aw, nobody here ta pinch me.”
“She says yer going to church. Why not join the choir. I did here in Iowa.”
“You’s a choirboy?”
“’S’cool. The girls are in it. We got to sing at the college football game on Saturday. The three of us sang fer 15,000 people. We calls ourselves The Triplets.”
“No more Hillbilly Brothers?”
“Not makin’ babies with each other.”
“You’s so much fun, Huck. Ya comin’ back to Florida?”
“Cain’t ‘til I’s 18. Kin ya come visit here?”
“Havta ta git special permission from foster care ta go anywhere.”
“Ask the fosters to check. My band friend Hippie is comin’ ta visit his mima and pipa in Iowa. Ya could git a ride with ‘em.”
“Oh, Huck,” he starts to cry. “I misses ya so much.” Tim 490
“We had so much fun this summer.”
“I’ll never forget it. I loves ya, Huck. We don’t havta be gay. I got me a girlfriend,” he stops the tears.
“Ya do? Does she order ya around.”
“Yup. I’m a real pussy.”
“S’cool. I’m so proud of you. We both just normal teenagers now. Guess my job as big brother is done.”
“Kin we be boyfriends for real when I’s 16. You’ll be 18.”
“What ‘bouts yer girlfriend.”
“I ain’t that much of a pussy.”
“Remember that big cat that watched us at camp – that was a pussy.” jaguarMayan
“That was black pussy.”
“Once ya go black..”
“Ya never go back.”
“I loves ya, Tommy”
“Don’t hang up! You have to get me a ride to Iowa for Christmas.” His country twang falls away when he wants something badly enough.
“You get your new parents to get permission.  I’ll see if Hippie can give you a ride.”
“I love you forever, Huck, even if’n yer country accent ain’t fer real.”
“Jist whens we’s the Hillbilly Brothers. Don’t fergit ta join the church choir.”
We laugh and hang up

Next I call Hippie. Anna picks up.
“Hi, Anna. It’s Tim. Congrats on yer wedding. Y’all still prayin’ fer me.”
“Oh, Tim. Not so much now that Gregory is settled down.”
“You slowin’ that boy down?”
“No. It was you that sped ‘im up by joining the band. He’s slowly comin’ back ta normal. I kinda miss his rock n roll self.”
“What’s ya think ‘bout coming ta Iowa to visit his Mima and Pipa fer Christmas? That’s where I lives now.”
“I’ll pray on that one. Maybe, if’n I gits ta come, too.”
“’Course, ya gots ta come. Ya think I’d wanna see ya miss yer first Christmas tagether?”
“Well, I’ll see if the doctor says I kin travel then.”
“You’s pregnant? Oh, my god, er, my gosh.”
“That’s better. Prayin’ seems ta done yer sum good.”
“That’s wonderful news. If the doctor says it’s okay, ya gots to come visit his grandparents.”
“Well, you boys work it out. I’m a’goin’ ta put my feets up.”
Hippie got on the line. “Ya heard the news.”
“You sly dog. Guess all our sex lessons worked, ‘cept the one about condoms.”
“Typical. The gays take all the credit when it was me that had ta do the dirty deed.” Tim 427
“Dirty deeds done dirt cheap,” I sing, channeling AC/DC from our fight band practice.
“Same old Tim,” Hippie laughs.
“So hows ’bout y’all come ta Iowa fer Christmas. Your Mima and Pipa can meet their new granddaughter and future great grandwhatever. I wanna see ya.”
“I’ll ask the moms. They’re a bit worked up about the baby, thinkin’ they’s the ones who’s gonna do all the work. They’s back to cursin’ all men as slave masters, makin’ women pregnant.”
“Our sex ed. lessons may have been lacking. But babies are a blessing, especially when there’s two moms to pick up their teenager’s slack.”

“Ya got that.”
“Sounds like they can use a break. If they say okay, kin ya bring my little brother from up in Lauderdale. He’s about ta burst from missin’ me.”
“Why not. We’ll call it the faggot express.” Tim 385
“Hippie?”
“Jist teasin.’”
“So, how come ya didn’t use condoms.”
“We did. Must’ve bin all that prayin’ that caused the condom ta explode.”
“Sounds like ya needs bigger condoms.”
“They come in sizes?”
“Well, don’t you cum in sizes, too.”