Emmy And Me

Friday (the last day of Fall Term) was a short day and as always, it was the Winter Carnival at school. All this meant is that we only had our first two classes, and then we got to hang out for a couple of hours until the bell rang.

When Emmy knocked on my door first thing in the morning, my reaction to her outfit was “What are you wearing?” I think a better question would have been “Why are you wearing that?” since I could clearly see what she was wearing, just didn’t understand the reasoning.

Emmy was dressed in an outfit that could be described as ‘soft-core schoolgirl fetish’ or something like that. Mary Janes and knee high white stockings, pleated plaid skirt that was definitely way above the knee, white shirt and a striped necktie tucked into the shirt three buttons down. She also had on a dark blue blazer with the FHS mascot embroidered on the right breast. To finish it all off, her stark white hair was held back by a band that matched the tie.

“I thought you were done with wearing costumes to school,” I complained.

“But it is a special day,” Emmy replied. “A day to show school spirit.”

“Aw, Jeeze. Emmy, nobody really cares about these things. They’re just put on by the school staff so they can convince themselves that the kids are involved and enjoying the ‘school experience’, whatever that is. Really, it’s no big deal.”

“But today is a big day for me,” she replied, perhaps a bit defensively.

“Emmy, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just, well, you are going to be the only one at school wearing anything but the same old stuff they wear every day. You are going to feel like…” I was going to say ‘a fool’, but Emmy’s crestfallen look was too much to bear. “You’re going to draw a lot of attention, that’s all,” I finished lamely.

I did have to admit that Emmy looked good in that get-up. Somehow it did seem to fit her bubbly personality. Sexy, but a bit coy, too. I certainly could never wear anything like that, and I really couldn’t imagine Allie or Courtney managing it, either. Emmy had a flirty way about her that managed to be both sexy and innocent at the same time, and this outfit captured it well.

At school, my prediction was proven to be correct. The boys mostly liked what they saw, and the girls mostly developed attitude. Emmy seemed completely oblivious, but I’m sure that wasn’t the case. She’s a far better observer of human behavior than I ever could be, and almost everything she did was for a specific effect.

Emmy seemed particularly interested that Brent’s band, the ‘Prodigal Sons’ were going to play an hour-long concert during the Winter Carnival. “Will you come with me to watch the show?” she asked several times.

“I’ve seen ‘em before, but I’ll watch them with you,” I grudgingly agreed.

After our last class of the day, we went to where the stage had been set up in the quad right in front of the clock tower. The Prodigal Sons were finishing their sound checks when we walked up. Brent waved and the bass player (I think his name is Justin, or something like that) gave Emmy a thumbs-up.

After Mr. Canseco announced the band, they started in on their usual repertoire of ‘70s and ‘80s rock hits. They’re good, no doubt, but I’ve never heard their original songs so I have no idea what kind of music they play when they get to do their own stuff.

Emmy grabbed my hand to pull me toward the front of the stage, but I resisted. “Leah, I want to dance. Please dance with me?” she pleaded.

“No way. I’m a crummy dancer. There is no way you’re going to get me to embarrass myself in front of everybody.”

“Oh, please?” she begged, but I stood firm.

“You go dance all you want. I’ll watch from right here,” I said, sitting down on the low concrete wall that surrounds the quad.

“Spoilsport!” Emmy replied, sticking her tongue out at me. With a wink to show there were no hard feelings, she bounced up to the front near the stage. I’m not sure how it’s possible to dance to Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin, but Emmy managed. Her dancing was just this side of saucy (I love that word), rocking her hips so her pleated skirt swayed back and forth, exaggerating her movements. Soon Mindy and Stephanie (both in their cheerleader outfits) joined her. The three formed a kind of cheering section, doing some of the cheer squad routines but in a sort of sly mocking kind of way. It reminded me of that old Nirvana video, the one with the Goth cheerleaders. Smells like teen spirit all right, I thought to myself. Allie and Courtney had come over and sat down while I was watching.

“She really does love to be the center of attention, doesn’t she?” asked Courtney.

“Emmy?” I asked.

“Of course, Emmy. Who else could I have been talking about? Who else looks like she’s just a brass pole short of a striptease routine?” Courtney replied with a snort.

“That’s mean,” Allie protested. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“Well, look at her,” Courtney responded. “Look at that get-up. Nothing says ‘Hey, look at me, I’m a slut’ better than a catholic schoolgirl gone bad outfit like that. If she wants everybody to think she’s easy, I can’t think of a better way than wearing something like that.”

I started to protest, but deep inside I kinda agreed with Courtney. Allie, though, came to Emmy’s defense. “You know she just likes to tease, Courtney. You know it’s all just a game to her. Everybody in this whole school knows she just likes to flirt but has no real intention behind it. That’s part of why all the guys like her. She’s nice to everyone, but doesn’t single anybody out so they all think that maybe they’ve got a chance with her.”

“Yeah, maybe, but she takes it over the top. She just needs to tone it down a little,” grumbled Courtney.

While this conversation had been going on I kept watching Emmy, like most of the other kids gathered around the quad. She’d taken off her blazer, and now Stephanie was wearing it. This bothered me for a minute, but then I quickly realized that I was just being jealous, which pissed me off at myself for being stupid because I had no claim on Emmy after all. I mean, sure we’d kissed a bunch when she stayed over at my place, but that was it. It’s not as if we were going together or anything, right?

I turned to Courtney and Allie, but then heard Brent introduce the band members. I’d been right- the bass player was named Justin. After the introduction, though, Brent said “And now we’d like to introduce a very special guest to the stage. Please give it up for Mademoiselle Êmerald De Lascaux!” Turning to look, I saw Emmy was onstage, giving a little bow. She stepped up to the microphone, and said “Thank you, Brent, for asking me to be here.” Justin handed Emmy her blue guitar, which I hadn’t noticed onstage before.

Emmy smiled at the assembled crowd, and looking around I saw puzzled looks on a lot of the kids’ faces.

Emmy grinned one more time at the expectant hush, and then she slammed her first chord out. It sounded terrible- like some kind of loud, nasty guitar explosion. I cringed, and so did a lot of others, Brent included. The explosion noise continued for maybe ten seconds, but it seemed like a really long time. Gradually, clear notes emerged from the noise and started to resolve into a melody, but then came crashing back into the explosion noise. The melody emerged again, but stronger and longer this time, lasting for a bar or two (I am sorry if I’m screwing up the musical terminology). The melody seemed to fall back into the crashing, grinding noise before it emerged once more, and as it picked up speed the grating noise faded away entirely. Emmy was playing with both hands on the frets, not strumming at all but almost playing the strings like a keyboard. The tones were pure and clean, and with a shock I realized it was that organ music they always play in old vampire movies. Emmy’s fingers flew across the strings, and I swear to god it really did sound like a pipe organ belting out some old Bach tune.

I glanced over at Brent, who was standing slack-jawed, just watching in amazement. The rest of the band was watching, too, except Justin who was looking out at the crowd with a big grin on his face.

The organ music Emmy was playing on her guitar all of a sudden seemed to come apart and crash back into the explosion noise, which then slid down the scale with a harsh grinding sound, finally scraping to a halt. Brent just stood there gaping, and it wasn’t until Emmy broke into a familiar riff and the drummer and bass player kicked in as well that Brent recovered. He grabbed the microphone, belting out that old Van Halen song “You really got me.”

Emmy’s guitar made a kind of laughing sound every time Brent sang about how he couldn’t sleep at night, but each time she returned immediately to the melody. Every time Emmy did the laughing guitar thing her smile was as wide as it could get.

The image Emmy struck was a bizarre contrast. Here she was, a petite girl in a catholic schoolgirl uniform that was more than just a little bit racy playing a vintage electric guitar with heavy distortion and driving rhythm, grinning as if she were enjoying every minute of being on stage.

After ‘You Really Got Me’, Brent spoke into the microphone. “Emmy Lascaux, ladies and gentlemen. The girl I am going to marry.” Which caused some more laughter from Emmy’s guitar, prompting a lot of laughter from the audience.

When the laughter died down a bit the drummer hit a quick beat and Emmy ripped into another tune. After a couple of moments she stepped up to the mike and began to sing. Now, I’d heard her sing plenty, but I’d never heard her sing like this. Instead of the pretty, clear voice I was used to hearing she belted that old tune “I Love Rock And Roll” with a snarl, full of attitude and arrogance.

Emmy was doing a powerful Joan Jett swagger, too, strutting around on stage as if she owned it and all she saw. When Emmy and the band sang the chorus a lot of the audience sang along, too, eating it up big-time. Emmy’s utter transformation to rock goddess was phenomenal. I just couldn’t believe it, and neither could Allie.

“Wow. I mean, just wow. Look at her go. She’s like Mick Jagger up there or something,” Allie said.

“Yeah, something,” Courtney agreed, with more than just a hint of disapproval in her voice.

The song ended before I could think of anything to say, bringing the concert to its close. Brent thanked everyone and hoped they enjoyed the show, while Emmy scooted off the stage. I watched as Emmy ran over to Stephanie and Mindy and gave them both a big hug, bouncing with enthusiasm. She was headed over my way when I saw Mr. Canseco (the music teacher) stop her to talk. After a minute Emmy walked over to where Allie, Courtney and I were sitting.

“Did you like it?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. It was amazing. I had no idea you were going to perform with Brent’s band,” I replied.

“Yes- it was to be a surprise. Brent asked me if I would, and I agreed. We had rehearsed a few times, so I knew it would go well.”

Allie chimed in at this. “Go well? It went incredible! Everyone loved it! You…” she stammered. “You rocked so hard I can’t even believe it.”

Courtney just ‘humphed’ in disdain. I don’t think Emmy heard her, but I certainly did. I was going to have to have a talk with her soon. This anti-Emmy thing was getting a bit ridiculous.

“This was the first time I have ever performed in public,” Emmy admitted to Allie. “I was worried, but it was fun.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself up there,” Allie replied. “You seemed to be a natural.”

“Thank you, Allie. It is kind of you to say so.”

That was pretty much it for the short school day, so Emmy collected her guitar from the stage and we headed back to the parking lot. Plenty of kids complimented Emmy as we walked to the Mini, saying things like “You really kicked it!” and “OMG, Emmy! You were amazing!” Yeah, one girl really did say the letters O M G.

On the drive to my house, I told Emmy that although I knew she could really play, seeing her on that stage was something else.

“Thank you, Leah. That means very much to me.”

I surprised her when she went to give me her usual goodbye cheek kiss by turning into it so her lips landed on mine. It wasn’t a big kiss or anything, but it was the first one since the weekend she spent over at my house, so that made it sort of a big deal.

“Oh,” she gasped.

I didn’t know what to do, so I just said “Give me a call and let’s do something, O.K.?” Yeah, I was wimping out, but what can I say? I was still really conflicted over the whole thing.