TUESDAY, OCTOBER 13th

   Faircrest Middle School has somehow managed to have a minimum amount of the problems usually associated with schools that are part of large metropolitan areas. There is little if any drug culture, racial conflicts or intentional vandalism. What the school does have alot of, however, is judgementalism on the part of both the students and the teachers. If one is not doing well academically, the word spreads fast, and ostracism is inevitable.
   Nobody is more aware of this than Jeffrey Feingold, a well meaning 8th grader who, to put it mildly, has alot of trouble getting his act together. Essentially a perfect example of a good person who is not a good student. His lack of attention span in the classroom translated into a lack of close friends out of it. It's a viscious circle. Being distracted by one's own loneliness...a loneliness that comes as a result of being distracted by it.
   He wasn't handsome in the traditional way, nor was he a complete disaster. About average height for his age, with a head of dirty blond hair that seemed to be perpetually uncombing itself, he was the sort of person who under normal circumstances, would easily fade into a crowd. Not particularly muscular or coordinated, his lack of prowess in phys-ed pretty much matched his meager abilities in math and history, his least favorite subjects. He was somewhat better at English and computer sciences, in which he managed to squeak by with Bs and Cs, but he still narrowly missed having to repeat the 7th grade.
   Like most boys his age, girls were the major distraction. Jeff had a much harder time hiding this fact than others. His unfortunate penchant for occasionally gazing at a girl he found attractive longer than he should, did not go unnoticed by more than a few students who unfairly assumed that he must be an ill-intentioned stalker of some sort. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.
   He made it a point to smile and say "Hi" to anyone who happened to be in any of his classes whenever he would pass them in the hall. He did this regardless of whether or not they appeared to like him or not. Jeff hoped that merely letting people know that he knew their name, might result in their taking an interest in his. Unfortunately, the opposite was usually the case. The more common reaction he would get was more along the lines of 'Get out of my face, Feingold,'or 'Get lost, Feingold,' occasionally accompanied by a shove into the nearest locker. No one seemed to even know his first name. This fact was slowly starting to grate on his nerves more than he cared to admit to himself. What on earth could possibly be so difficult to remember about the name 'Jeff'?
   Of all the people he would greet every morning, there was no reaction more strange than that of Stacy Kessler's. Stacy was new to the school this year, and an absolute goddess. Not just in her appearance, but in the way she carried herself. She had a detached aire about her that made her seem mature beyond her years. Her long straight blonde hair was always perfectly styled, and her choice of make-up was always an ideal match for her big brown eyes. On top of all that, she was an honor student, a star in the school's gymnastics program, and managed to nab the lead role in the school play as well. In short, this was a girl that really had it all together.
   As luck would have it, her locker was located right next to his. Every morning, the same bizarre ritual would take place as they gathered the appropriate books for the appropriate class. He would smile and say "Heya Stace," and she would give absolutely no response at all. Not a half-hearted greeting, not an insult, not even a change in facial expression. Nothing. It was as if he were a ghost talking from a different astral plane that she was completely oblivious to.
   This was not the case with her three closest friends, Dana, Cindy and Rhonda. Unlike Stacy, they all had gone to this school the previous year. Dana had long ago surmised that Jeff fell into the category of complete loser. If Jeff said "Hi" to her, the response was always "Buzz Off." Cindy's opinion of him wasn't quite as harsh. Out of pity, she would usually just roll her eyes and respond with a sarcastic "Heya Feingold." Rhonda would usually just point at him and laugh. As annoying as the four of them were, their beauty could not be denied. Jeff had assumed that the reason Stacy was so quickly assimilated into their clique, simply had to do with her looks, which matched theirs and then some. In this school, girls often traveled in packs that were based on appearance, and these four were certainly at the top of the food chain.
   Jeff's daily schedule consisted of homeroom, 1st period English, 2nd period shop, 3rd period sociology, 4th period history, 5th period math and finally 6th period phys-ed. His first two classes usually went by with a minimum of hassles. It was 3rd period where he usually started to run into problems.

10:30 AM

   "Heya Carl."
   "Heya Jeff."
   The two boys exchanged greetings as they filed into the classroom. Carl Kingsbury was just about the only kid in the school who would return Jeff's greeting, and get his name right. One might describe him as a stereotypical owlish intellectual. Like Jeff, he was a bit of a loner, but in his case, it seemed to be by choice. A guy who was genuinely comfortable with his own company. Schoolwork came naturally to him. You could say, "a textbook example of a guy who enjoyed reading textbooks."
   Third period sociology, while not nearly as daunting as math, presented numerous peculiar challenges of it's own. It was the only class that Stacy, Dana, Cindy and Rhonda were all in as well, which was quite a distraction. The four of them always sat at the left-front area of the class, while Jeff always sat in the rear-right, which gave him a clear view of Stacy, without her knowing that he was looking at her. He also deliberately sat back there, as he did in most classes, to avoid being called on by the teacher to answer questions (which he usually didn't know the answers to).
   The teacher, Mrs. Pickering, wasn't nearly as cruel as Mr. Langsdale, the math teacher, but she was for the most part, a serious woman who wasn't given to injecting much humor into her lectures.
   "I'd like everyone to please turn to page 71 in their books." The class complied. "Mr. Kingsbury, would you do us the honor of reading aloud in your inimitable way."
   She frequently called on Carl, when something needed to be read out loud. He had a way of annunciating everything as if he were reciting one of Shakespear's sonnets. It was slightly amusing to hear this oratorial style when applied to something as ponderous as Darwin's Origin Of Species.
   "When we look to the individuals of the same variety or sub-variety of our older cultivated plants and animals, one of the first points which strikes us, is, that they generally differ much more from each other, than do the individuals of any one species or variety in a state of nature..."
   The moment he started reading, it didn't take long for Jeff's mind to start drifting off to other matters. More often than not, he would think about what it would be like to be really good at something, and be appreciated for it. Occasionally he would ponder what it would be like if the four girls were his friends...Or for that matter, what it would be like to have any real friends at all. Life outside of his Walter Mitty-like existence was just plain depressing. In his fantasies, he would often be walking side by side with Stacy, occasionally calling her "Angel." For some reason, that simply appealed to him more as a pet name than the usual "Sweetie" or "Honey."
   "Mr Feingold!" Mrs. Pickering's loud voice jarred him out of his REM state.
   "Huh?"
   "Would you agree?"
   Obviously she had asked a question that he hadn't heard. He didn't want to risk saying yes or no because there was a fifty percent chance of him making a complete fool of himself. Instead he decided to go for the option of making a slightly lesser fool of himself. "Uh, would you please repeat the question?"
   This immediately caused spasms of laughter throughout the classroom, combined with the sound of a few kids mumbling words like "moron" and "idiot" under their breaths.
   "Alright, enough." the teacher interrupted. "Everyone listen very carefully. I have an improtant assignment that will be due on Friday."
   "Hey, how come we have to listen carefully when Feingold obviously doesn't?" Clifford couldn't resist getting in a wisecrack, which caused a few more titters to emerge from the students.
   "That's enough Mr. Slatery." Mrs. Pickering's ritual of never calling anybody by their first name was always annoying. "Although it's what I would consider to be a fairly easy assignment, it will have a major effect on your grades. For this project, I'm going to need all of you to work in pairs, so I want everyone to choose a partner."
   Instantaneously, almost everyone in the room either started clasping hands with someone else, or pointing and motioning at whoever they considered to be their closest friend in the class. Since Jeff didn't really have any close friends, he just sat there to see who would wind up being his partner by default. The class had an even number of students, so there had to be at least one other person left over. Not surprisingly, that person turned out to be Carl.
   Dana's voice rang out over the cacaphony, "Mrs. Pickering, is it o.k. if all four of us work together?" she asked, referring to herself, Stacy, Cindy and Rhonda.
   "It's perfectly o.k. for all of you to get together and work on your assignments, but I'm afraid you're still going to have to turn in two of them." She turned to the rest of the class. "Is there anybody here who doesn't have a partner." Jeff and Carl both raised their hands. "Well Mr. Kingsbury, it looks like you're going to be working with Mr. Feingold. Is that alright with you?"
   "No problem," was Carl's plaintative answer.
   "That's fine," agreed Jeff.
   "Alright, everybody settle down," Mrs. Pickering continued. "I haven't even told you all what the assignment is yet." Everyone sat back down in their chairs and all eyes and ears were focused on the teacher. "I want each pair to pick either a trend, an event, or an invention of some sort, that changed the course of history. On Friday, I want one person to stand up in front of the class and present an argument to the effect that the fruit it bore was mainly positive, and the other to make a case that it's effects were mostly negative. This event, trend, or invention can be anything from as far back as seven thousand years B.C. right up to the present. You will each have eight minutes or less to state your case."
   Cindy raised her hand.
   "Yes?"
   "Would you please give us an example?"
   Mrs. Pickering thought about it for a moment, then spoke in her usual slow and deliberate manner. "As a matter of fact, yes I will. Let's take an obvious one, like the television. Although I'm sure it's hard for people your age, and for that matter my age to imagine a time when it didn't exist, belive it or not, prior to 1948 there was no such animal. At least not for public consumption. Needless to say, It's negative effects are pretty self evident. While the radio, which had already existed for nearly thirty years could also be considered passive entertainment, at least one could get other things accomplished while it was on, whether it be changing a light bulb, washing the dishes, or automobile maintenance. Television, on the other hand, required one's undivided attention, and thus, proved to be much more time consuming. In my personal opinion, the most damaging blight that it foisted on the American public was the whole concept of advertising aimed directly at young children. Prior to television, when a child entered a toy store, it was to find out what the latest toy was. With the advent of television, suddenly children already knew what the latest toy was before they entered the store. Then they started begging their parents to buy them this and that, which they now knew existed, without even leaving the house. To make a long story short, prior to the 1950s, cereal boxes did not have cartoon characters on them."
   Although usually it was difficult for Jeff to stay awake during one of her long-winded dissertations, somehow this subject matter seemed to be holding his attention.
   She continued. "On the other hand, it had many positive effects as well. Up until that time, if you lived in a particularly rural section of the country, it was very possible to go through your entire life without ever comming into contact with someone who wasn't of your religion or ethnicity. Television certainly played a central role in changing all of that. People who had never even seen anybody who was African, Hispanic or Jewish on the streets of their hometown, now had Nat King Cole, Desi Arnaz and Milton Berle in their living rooms at least one night per week. There has always been, and always will be alot of frivolous formulaic sitcoms that basically do nothing but turn people's brains into water. However, there are also many fine educational documentaries and Shakespearian plays, mainly on public television."
   The bell rang.
   "Alright," she finished, "Other than this one assignment, for the rest of the week there will be no homework. Class dismissed."
   As all of the kids shuffled out the door and on to their next classes, Jeff and Carl approached each other.
   "Shall we get started on this right away?" Asked Jeff.
   "Yeah, lets."
   "My house or yours?"
   "I think mine's closer. Where do you live?"
   "4323 Arcana Dr."
   "I'm at 4893 Grammercy. Since I walk to school, and you've got a bike, it definitely makes more sense to meet at mine."
   "Sounds like a plan," agreed Jeff. "Is four o'clock o.k.?"
   "That'll do it."
   The two youths went off to eat their lunches.

12:00 Noon.

   It was always difficult to stay awake during 4th period history. Mrs. Kelton had a monotone delivery that rivaled Mrs. Pickering's. It made studying the ancient Roman Empire alot more boring than it should have been. Essentially it was like listening to the audio portion of a PBS documentary with still photographs in a book to look at, instead of moving pictures. Memorizing a bunch of difficult to pronounce names and dates wasn't anyone's idea of a good time, and it never ceased to amaze Jeff that anybody could possibly remain focused on the stuff, let alone someone whose tedium threshold was as low as his. The classroom overlooked the school's track & field area. This caused him to frequently zone out while gazing out the window at the 4th period phys-ed class, which had more girls than guys in it.
   "Jeff!" the teacher jarred him out of his state of catatonia.
   "Huh?" It was as if a hypnotist had snapped her fingers and said 'you will now awake'. It was obvious that this must've been the second or third time she had actually said his name. The rest of the class started laughing as usual.
   "In the year 69, Rome had four emperors. Would you like to tell us their names?"
   "Uh, no I wouldn't." Once again the class erupted in laughter. He liked to think they were laughing with him, although in his heart he knew they were actually laughing at him.
   "You know, it would be easy to do if you were on the same page as the rest of the class. Three of them were Galba, Otho and Vitellius. Would you at least know who the fourth was?"
   Since he obviously had no idea, he decided to go for his usual class clown act, "Um, Zeppo?"
   As the class erupted in laughter once more, Mrs. Kelton took a swig of Malox right out of the bottle.

1:00 PM

   Math was easily the nadir of the day. Jeff's brain simply was not programmed to absorb anything beyond addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Faircrest didn't have any kind of a remedial math program, so he was stuck in this relentless purgatory five days a week. The teacher, Mr. Langsdale had had Jeff's sister Marcie in his class three years earlier. She was his star pupil, and he simply couldn't square the fact that her younger brother was sweathog material. The only good thing about the class, is that it only took Langsdale a couple of weeks into the semester to realize that Jeff was a lost cause, and so by early October, he had simply stopped calling on him to come up to the board to solve problems. It would've been a complete waste of time for both of them.
   What really added insult to misery was the fact that Dana was in the class, and was carrying on the legacy of his sister. The one subject in which males consistently tested higher than females, and the class brain was a girl...One who flipped him the bird behind the teacher's back almost as often as she did in sociology.
   The current problem on the board was this:

f (x) = 9x^2 + 108x + 330

   "Dana, would you please come up and show us how to solve this?"
   She got out of her seat, strolled up to the board and picked up a piece of chalk. "You factor nine out of the first two terms."

f (x) = 9( x^2 + 12x ___ ) + 330 ___

   "You then take half out of twelve, and square it. The result is..."

f (x) = 9( x + 6 )^2 + 6

   "Excellent, Dana." Langsdale jotted down another problem on the chalkboard. "Would anybody like to take a crack at this one?"
   Jeff looked at the chalkboard. As usual, to him it all looked like this:

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2:00 PM
.
   Phys-ed was yet another dreaded class for numerous reasons. All of Jeff's principal enemies were in it. Clifford, Gordy and especialy, Gavin. Individually, they were daunting enough, but together in the same class, they were like the unholy trifecta of violent terror. All of them had, at one time or another, made it a point to sneak up behind Jeff in the hallway and slam him head first into a locker. It made for alot of dents in the school's lockers that had the faculty puzzled. For these guys, merely ingoring Jeff altogether, or just shouting out verbal barbs at him was simply not enough. They were guys with way too much testosterone coursing through their veins who needed an easy target to take out their physical aggression on. With his relatively easy-going manner, Jeff was a sitting duck.
   Coach Randall began as usual with a series of warm up exercises and calesthenics. The second 15 minutes of the class was ususally taken up with either a quick game of basketball, in which Jeff was always chosen last when selecting teams, or touch football, with similar results.
   It was the final fifteen minutes that he always dreaded most. That's when everyone was made to jog around the neighborhood on a route that was approximately a mile in length. That meant a good 15 minutes in which he was out of eyesight of the coach, and well within reach of everyone else's fists. It was on these jaunts that he would occasionally get shoved into a thorny bush. Not being naturally athletic, he usually was the last to arrive back on the schoolgrounds. There was actually an advantage to this, as it meant that towards the end of the jog, he didn't have to be constantly peering over his shoulder, as anybody who was looking for trouble was always in front of him.
   The only perk, if you could call it that, was that near the end, the route took everyone past the school's indoor gym. During 6th period, the girl's gymnastics apparatuses were set up. Only a select group of unusually coordinated students got to participate in the school's gymnastics program. Stacy and Cindy were among them. The doors were usually open, which meant a person could catch a glimpse of what was going on inside when jogging by.
   On this particular day, Jeff made an extreme error in judgement. When he saw Stacy doing a handstand on the balance beam, he couldn't resist jogging in place for about fifteen seconds to savor the image. Because he was already considerably behind the other students, this resulted in his late arrival back at the field being even more conspicuous than usual.
   "Feingold, what the hell took you so long?" Yelled coach Randall.
   Before he could think of an excuse, Gavin piped up, "I believe it's because he was busy leering at the girls in the gym, sir."
   The now perfunctory laughter erupted from the other students.
   "Yeah," added Clifford, "And this is by no means the first time he's done that."
   The expression on the coach's face was now one of a half-smile and a half-snarl. "Feingold, would you like to explain to everybody why you were watching the girls in the gym?" Obviously, he felt he good get his point across better if he were to embarrass Jeff in front of everyone else.
   Jeff thought for a moment and then replied, "Uh, admiring their artistry, sir." This got a few scattered chuckles from everybody else. They were definitely laughing at him and not with him.
   "Why do you suppose Mr. Marshall and everyone else in this class doesn't seem to share your strange desire to 'admire the girl's artistry'?"
   In yet another spur-of-the-moment lack of judgement, Jeff wisecracked, "I don't know, perhaps Mr. Marshall would prefer to admire the boy's artistry."
   This of course, brought on an uneasy onslaught of both "Whoas" and "Oooohs" from the rest of the class. Gavin was now staring at Jeff with gritted teeth and blood in his eyes. The one thing a clear-thinking person never did was call a bully that was twice his size, a fag. Not even as a joke. This time, Jeff really let his pride get in the way of good judgement. He knew that at some point in the near future, he was probably going to get the crap kicked out of him, but at least for the moment, he had the last word. The bell rang.
   "Alright, I want everybody except Feingold to hit the showers," hollered the coach. He then turned and looked at Jeff. "You are now going to give me twenty push-ups, and another lap around the school. And this time, no stopping to 'admire' anything."
   As the other kids headed for the gym lockers, Jeff did as he was instructed. For him, twenty was alot, but at least it kept him out of the showers where a minimum of three people were ready to strangle him with a towel.    Little did he know that coach Randall was thinking the same thing. While Jeff huffed and puffed on the ground, the coach asked him, "Feingold, do you have a death wish?"
   "Yes sir." By this time, Jeff wasn't putting any thought into his answers.
   "Stand up," ordered the coach, even though Jeff hadn't quite made it to twenty yet. "Listen Feingold, as one of your teachers, it's my job to insure your safety, even if you don't seem to care about it yourself. There's no way I can, in good conscience, allow you to go in that locker room right now. I just said that stuff about 'doing another lap' loud enough so that everyone else could hear it. What you're really going to do right now, is go to your regular locker, get your books, and then get on that bike of yours and pedal home in your gym clothes before they have a chance to finish their showers. I have no doubt that at some point in the future, one or more of those guys is going to kill you. I may not be able to prevent that from happening, but I can at least prevent it from happening on my watch. Now get going!"
   Jeff didn't need any convincing. He went from yard to locker to bike in record time. He arrived home and quickly showered and changed. He then hopped back on his bike, and headed straight for Carl's house.

4:00 PM

   Jeff arrived at Carl's and was greeted at the door by Mrs. Kingsbury.
   "You must be Jeremy Feingold. Come on in, Carl's waiting for you."
   "Jeff," he corrected her, knowing that she probably wouldn't remember anyway. He was led down a narrow hallway to Carl's room. Carl was busy on the computer, exploring an online encyclopedia, already looking for ideas for the presentation.
   Carl briefly looked over his shoulder. "Heya Jeff." He resumed piloting the mouse.
   "So have you come up with anything?"
   "Actually, the options are endless," Carl got right down to business. "Let me run a few by you...How about radio?"
   "A possibility. A bit obvious, considering Mrs. Pickering already mentioned it in her lecture on television."
   "How about the internet?"
   "Even more obvious."
   "Rock 'n Roll?"
   "Nah, I'll bet half the class is already doing Elvis and the Beatles. We should come up with something that there's almost no chance of anyone else coming up with. That way, even if it doesn't come out that great, we'll at least score some points for originality."
   "Did you have anything in mind?"
   "No, but perhaps we should go for something earlier than the 20th century."
   Carl paused for a moment. "Well, the century before that one certainly had enough to choose from. Bell and his telephone. Edison and his lightbulb. Sousa and his marches..."
   "Carl, can I ask you something personal?"
   Carl turned away from the computer and looked at Jeff, somewhat startled by his sudden desire to change the subject of the conversation. "I suppose," he answered suspiciously. "It doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to answer you."
   Jeff slumped back into another chair in the room, not exactly sure of how to properly phrase his question. "You sit right next to Stacy Kessler in sociology."
   "Uh...Yeah?"
   Jeff hesitated slightly, then smiled, trying to keep the conversation light. "Well, how do you resist the urge to look at her? I find her appearance to be downright distracting."
   Carl considered his words for a moment, then answered. "Actually, you answered that question yourself when you pointed out that I am sitting right next to her. Because your seat is in the last row to the right, you have the luxury of being able to stare at her and get away with it. If I were to do that, she would obviously notice."
   Jeff immediately realized that Carl was trying to cleverly dodge the question. "Well Carl, that certainly explains why you don't look at her. But I didn't ask you why you don't look at her. I asked you how you don't look at her. She's like a major elephant in the room that nobody ever acknowledges. Is it my imagination, or is she really that beautiful?"
   Carl looked down from his swivel chair and took a deep breath. "Alright, you want an explanation, I'll give you one." Looking back up at Jeff, he gathered his thoughts and proceeded. "You know that foreign car dealership over on 14th street?"
   "You mean the one that always has that red Lamborghini on the revolving platform in the window?"
   "Yeah, that's kind of hard to miss, isn't it? Many's the time I've passed by that display and thought to myself, 'you know, in another couple of years when I get my driver's license, that thing would make a pretty good impression on the girls if I were to drive it on to a high school parking lot'."
   "I think that thing'd make quite a statement in any parking lot," quipped Jeff.
   Carl continued. "Yeah, it's nice to daydream. But when I give the fantasy a little more careful consideration, it doesn't really hold up. Especially when I think about all the two story, three bedroom houses there are in this city that probably cost less than it..."
   Jeff tried not to allow Carl's cynicism to get to him. "You know, your metaphor has both merits and inaccuracies. I certainly agree that if Stacy were a car, she probably would be a Lamborghini. But theoretically, one does not rent or own a girl, one woos her. You know, I once saw this talk show where a bunch of really hot babes were talking about how they were having trouble getting dates because every guy who looks at them just automatically assumes that they are either taken, or too good for them. Do you think there's a chance that Stacy..."
   "Jeff, forgive my rudeness, but I've got to interrupt." Carl was now shaking his head with pessimistic resolve. "Do you know a girl named Linda Alfaro?"
   Jeff thought for a moment. "Um...I believe so. If she's who I think she is, she's in my English class. Kind of short, brown hair, big boobs..."
   "Yeah, that's her." A melancholy smile came to Carl's face as he thought of her. "Most guys would probably think she's a little on the chubby side, but there's something about her that I've always found very appealing."
   "Well, I'm in your camp on this one." Jeff agreed. "I think she's cute."
   "I ran into her a couple of days ago, at the fairground gate near where they were putting up that big double ferris wheel. I just sort of casually walked up and asked her if she'd care to ride on it with me this comming weekend. I figured the worst she could do was say 'no'."
   "I take it her answer was not affirmative."
   Carl looked up, now visibly upset. "As a matter of fact, she just glared at me and said 'You've gotta be kidding' and then walked off."
   "Well, maybe she's afraid of heights."
   "No, I distinctly remember seeing her on the ferris wheel last year, and if that were the case she would've just said 'no thanks'." Carl was now agitated. "Now think for a moment Jeff...If I got that kind of a reaction from Linda Alfaro, can you imagine what kind of a response either one of us would get from the likes of Stacy Kessler? Or for that matter Cindy Toliver, Dana Lefkowitz or any of those other girls in Mrs. Pickering's class?"
   "Well I know that Dana hates my guts, but Stacy I'm still not sure..."
   "Look, you mentioned something about an elephant in the room. I'll give you a more obvious one." Carl took off his glasses. He was now quite agitated. "Girls like them go for a specific type of guy. Tall, muscular, good looking, preferably wealthy. In other words, the exact opposite of us."
   "Well that's certainly a defeatist attitude." Jeff was slowly but surely realizing the futility of his optimism.
   "It is if that's how you wish to define the concept of setting realistic goals for one's self. Listen, there are alot of tall good looking guys in school, who for the next five years, are going to be setting their sites on winning the affections of all the prettiest girls. Take my word for it when I tell you that guys like us should be striving for something a little more modest."
   "Such as?"
   "Such as not making complete fools of ourselves around people who we're going to be spending the next few years in class with. The fact is, Stacy, Dana, Rhonda and Cindy are all working together on this homework assignment like we are...probably at this very moment, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they're goofing on us as well. Step number one in making sure we don't make fools of ourselves, is to see to it that our presentation is at least as good as theirs."
Begrudgingly, Jeff concurred, and the two youths resumed their search for a suitable project.

4:30 PM, Dana's Bedroom

   Carl had no idea how accurate his deduction was.
   "When we look to the individuals of the same variety or sub-variety of our older cultivated plants and animals, one of the first points which strikes us, is, that they generally differ much more from each other, than do the individuals of any one species...." Dana was mockingly doing an impersonation of him reading from the textbook, which Rhonda and Cindy laughed at hysterically, but only managed to coax a half-hearted smile out of Stacy. The four girls had regrouped in Dana's bedroom after school to decide what their sociology projects would be, and who would be working with who. Cindy fidgeted around on Dana's computer while Rhonda sat on the bed. Stacy was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, doodling on a notepad.
   "Is that Carl a trip or what?" Dana said, with a laugh.
   Cindy added, "You know, if you were to dial up central casting and ask them to send over a stereotypical nerdy bookworm, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he showed up at your door. Carl's alright though. I find him amusing, albeit unintentionally."
   "Right now, I feel sorry for him." Dana's voice took on an air of disgust. "The poor guy got paired up with that retart Jimmy Feingold. You just know Carl's probably going to wind up having to do all the work himself."
   "Frankly, I feel sorry for Johnny Feingold." Cindy responded. "I'm sure it can't be easy going through life with limited mental capabilities...and being funny looking, to boot."
   "It's not just that he's a retart," Dana continued. "I think he's also a perv of some sort. He's always learing at us from the back of the room."
   "Really?" Rhonda spoke up. "How do you know? You have eyes in back of your head?"
   "I don't have to have them," Dana sounded sure of herself. "I can just feel it."
   "Well," said Rhonda, "To tell you the truth, I haven't really put that much thought into what's going on in the mind of Joey Feingold."
   Finally, Stacy spoke. "Can I ask you guys something?"
   "Yeah?" All three answered in unison.
   "By any chance, are Jimmy, Johnny and Joey Feingold related to one another, and if so, are they triplets?"
   "It doesn't matter what the hell his first name is," asserted Dana. "The fact is, the guy is creepy."
   "Well," responded Stacy, "I'll just have to take your word for it. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't be able to pick him out of a police line-up. All I know is that Mrs. Pickering occasionally talks to somebody named "Mr. Feingold" who's voice always responds from somewhere behind me in the back of the room."
   "I hate to say this Stace, but Dana might be on to something." Cindy continued figeting with the mouse. "While we were in the gym today, I could swear I saw him standing in the doorway for a few seconds, watching us."
   Stacy was somewhat amused at the thought of this. "Well, I don't know about you Cin, but where I come from that doesn't necessarily make someone a perv, that just makes him a guy."
   "He was also at the ballgame last Sunday, pretty much doing what she just described." Dana got down and in Stacy's face. "By any chance, do you happen to remember the first week of hebrew school last year?"
   "No I do not," Stacy declared. "As a matter of fact, I remember very little about any week in that place."
   "Jimmy Feingold was in the class for just that one week. Rabbi Gurvitz kicked him out, because he kept falling asleep."
   "Dana, if that's true, then you have no idea how close I came to being kicked out of that snoozefest."
   "Good afternoon ladies!" The four girls looked up to see Dana's mother standing in the doorway.
   "Hiya Mom. This is my friend, Stacy. You already know Rhonda and Cindy. We're doing homework."
   "At least we're trying to do homework," added Rhonda. "These three can't seem to stop talking about Joey Feingold."
   Dana's mother turned to Stacy. "You look familiar. Haven't we met before."
   "Yeah," acknowledged Stacy. "A couple of summers ago, I was at Dana's Bat Mitzvah, and she was at mine."
   "I never forget a face. So is this Joey Feingold some boy in school who you girl's like?"
   "No, that's some boy in school who we hate," declared Dana.
   Stacy rebutted, "Speak for yourself, Dana. I don't hate anybody."
   "Girls, there are two main things to remember when choosing a boyfriend." Mrs. Lefkowitz took it upon herself to hand out some uncalled for advice. "Seek out the alfa male, and make sure his family has money."
   There was about ten akward seconds worth of silence as Stacy was trying to decide whether or not the woman was being genuine or facetious. Cindy and Rhonda just looked up at the ceiling. They were used to hearing this sort of nonsense from Mrs. Lefkowitz.
   Finally, Stacy tried breaking the tension with one of her usual droll observances, "Oh, I don't know. I think hygenic cleanliness is a pretty important character trait as well."
   "Redundant, my dear. That's just something that naturally goes along with wealth. Always marry up."
   Holy crap. Stacy was at a loss. Is this woman for real? She had only heard about women like this in books and newspapers, but now she was actually in close proximity to one. She wasn't really sure which was more reprehensable...that she apparently really believed what she was saying or the fact that she felt compelled to offer this advice completely unsolicited.
   What was most shocking of all, was the fact that Dana didn't seem to be the least bit embarassed by her mother's nonsense. "Don't worry mom. There's a major 'alpha male' in school named Gavin, who just might be in love with me."    This remark caused the other three girls to roll their eyes.
   Stacy was especially cynical. "Dana, are you talking about that tall guy in the suede jacket we were speaking to at the fairgrounds on Sunday?"
   "That's my guy."
   Cindy knew better. "Dane, I hate to disappoint you, but I don't think Gavin Marshall will ever love you, or anybody else for that matter, as much as he loves the sound of his own voice."
   "Aw, you're just jealous."
   At this point, Dana's mother realized that she was probably getting in the way of the girl's homework, and made an exit. "I'll leave you girls to your project. Sorry for barging in."
   After the woman left, once again there was akward silence.
   This time it was Cindy who initiated the conversation. "Dana, what does your father do for a living?"
   "I don't know," answered Dana. "My folks divorced before I was born. All I know is that my mom has gotten a decent alimony check for the last thirteen years, so whatever it is, he must be doing something right."
   Indeed. All three of her guests had noticed that the house was not too shabby.
   "Does your mom work too?"
   "Yeah, she supplements the family income by selling DVDs on the web."
   "What kind of DVDs?" Stacy was now a bit suspicious.
   "Mainly instructional stuff."
   Rhonda, who up until now had been relatively quiet, finally decided to change the topic. "So have any of you put any thought into what subjects we're going to base our presentations on?"
   "As far as I'm concerned, we might as well just do it on television," quipped Cindy. "Mrs. Pickering already did half the work for us."
   Stacy thought about it for a moment. "Well, obviously that's out of the question, but I can think of a few subjects related to T.V. that are up for grabs."
   "Like the advent of color T.V.?" suggested Cindy?
   "No." This was a subject that Stacy knew quite a bit about. "There was no sudden change from black and white to color, and the only effect the gradual transition had was the inevitable slowdown in sales of black and white televisions."
   All three of them turned and looked at her.
   "How do you know all this stuff?" Cindy was slightly envious.
   "When it comes to entertainment, I'm a hopeless information hound. If you're looking for something television related, you might want to consider the pros and cons of the home video market."
   "That's it," Declared Dana, turning to Cindy and Rhonda. "I call Stacy as my partner. In exchange, you two can use the home video idea. I'm sure she'll come up with something else."
   Cindy yawned and turned to Rhonda. "Is that idea acceptable to you?"
   "Anything is at this point." Rhonda was obviously bored. "Wanna meet tonight at my house after dinner? I'd feel alot more comfortable using my own computer. You can even sleep over if you'd like."
   "That sounds like a plan," Cindy and Rhonda both rose and picked up their backpacks. "Dana, if you will excuse us, we'll leave you and genius over here to cook up another idea for yourselves. It was a pleasure meeting your mother." she uttered in a manner that hinted at sarcasm.
   "Great. We'll give you two a call later on, and let you know what we've decided on." Dana showed them to the front door and returned to her room, where Stacy was still sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. "Alright, I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume that you've already got some better idea cooked up in your head."
   Stacy finally stood up. "As a matter of fact, yes I do. Do you know where I live?"
   "Strangely enough, no I don't."
   "It's only about five blocks from here." Stacy scribbled her address on to the pad she was doodling on, ripped off the sheet of paper and handed it to her friend. "Meet me at my house at around seven. I've got something to show you that will blow you away."
   "Can you at least give me a hint?"
   "Like Rhonda and Cindy's project, it is also entertainment related. That's all I will say." Stacy started to walk towards the door, with Dana following.
   "Do I need to bring anything?"
   "Just your brain. See you this evening."
   "See ya."
   Stacy walked out the front door and headed towards home. On the way, she thought about the fact that she had really only known Dana for a little over a year, and that although they were constant companions in school, today would be the first day that the two of them would visit each other's houses and only the second time they would meet each other's mothers. Thankfully, Stacy's mom had ideas about male/female relationships that weren't quite as extreme as Mrs. Lefkowitz's.

6:00 PM, The Feingold Residence

   The conversation around the dinner table that evening went as usual. The fact that they were a family with one kid in elementary school, another in middle school and a third in high school always somehow played into it. Fred Feingold was a man who wasn't shy about displaying his pride in his daughters and his disappointment in his son. Sharon Feingold was somewhat more restrained in her acknowledgement that one of their children was clearly not excelling in school the way the other two were. On this evening, Jeff decided to try an experiment.
   "Dad, I have a question to ask."
   Mr. Feingold looked up from his tuna salad. "Yes?"
   "Aulus Vitellius, the emperor of Rome was assasinated on December 24th in the year 69. Can you tell me the name of the emperor that replaced him?"
   His father paused for a moment, not thinking about the answer, but about what on earth would prompt his son to ask such a non sequiter out of the blue. "No I cannot."
   Jeff turned to his mother, "Can you?" She shook her head no. He then turned to his older sister. "Marce, can you tell me who became the emperor of Rome on Christmas day in the year 69?"
   She rolled her eyes and sighed. "No I cannot, Jeff."
   He then turned his eyes to his younger sister, Aggie. Before he could say anything, she cut him off.
   "Don't even bother."
   "I didn't think so," said Jeff, with a self satisfied smirk on his face.
   This obviously was annoying his father. "Do you know who it was?" he asked.
   "Yes," responded Jeff. "The man's name was Titus Flavius Sabinus Vespasianus."
   "Well thank you for enlightening us all." Mr. Feingold wiped his face with a napkin. "Now would you mind explaining to us why you felt this information was significant enough that we should all know about it?"
   "Yeah. Prior to today, I didn't know the answer to that either...by next week, I will have forgotten it. Just like she did" He nodded towards Marcie. "She had the same history teacher that I now have, learned that same useless tidbit of information that I just spewed, and then promptly forgot it a week later." He then nodded towards Aggie. "In a couple of years, she'll also be in Mrs. Kelton's history class, learning useless crap like this, and then forgetting it a week later." The tone of his voice, now became even more sarcastic. "I don't know why, but it just suddenly occurred to me that while everybody in this room has probably forgotten 95% of everything they've ever learned in school, I seem to be the only person here who is aware of that fact."
   "Listen you," his father was now angry. "The difference between you and your sisters is that they are at least able to retain that knowledge long enough to get it right when it comes time for a test."
   "True, but doesn't that prove that learning it in the first place is essentially a waste of time?"
   His father got up from the table, threw his napkin down, and pointed an accusatory finger at his son. "Your problem is, you think you're special."
   "Calm down Fred," Pleaded his wife, but to no avail.
   Mr. Feingold continued his tirade. "You think you're above going through what everybody else has had to go through? What do you think you'd be doing all day if you weren't in school?"
   "Um, riding my bike, maybe learning stuff on the web..." Jeff couldn't believe the surrealism of the situation. It was if he were once again getting yelled at by coach Randall.
   "Learning stuff on the web!?" His father was now incredulous. "Every time I pass by your room, it looks to me like you're always playing video games on the web. You are the most ungrateful little..."
   Jeff's mind drifted off, just like it did every day in school. If it's pointless to learn something you're just going to forget in a week, then it's even more pointless to listen to somebody screaming about what you already know.

7:00 PM, Stacy's House

   Dana arrived promptly. The blonde re-introduced the brunette to her mother, and once all the formalities were out of the way, took her into a den in the back of the house, that her father liked to call his video library.
   "Feast your eyes on this" Stacy declared, while pointing to all the VHSs and DVDs that were on shelves that stretched from wall to wall and ceiling to floor.
   "Whoa, this room looks like a video rental place."
   "My dad is a big classic film buff. He especially has a bit of a passion for Hays Code era dramas. Personally, I've always had a little trouble getting into them, myself."
Dana looked at her inquisatively, "What's a 'Hays code era drama'?"
   "Basically, any serious film made prior to 1967." She turned to her Dana. "and that, my friend, is exactly what I was thinking we would do this report on. I'll be the pro, and you be the con."
Dana was confused. "You just said you have trouble getting into this stuff. Why would you want to be the pro?"
   Stacy smiled broadly. "Believe me, I know you well enough to realize that there is no way in hell that you are going to be the pro. At least not willingly."
   "Alright, so what exactly are we doing?"
   "Debating the merits of the Hays code."
   "You still haven't explained what that is."
   "After you've seen a few of these things, it'll become self explanatory. Grab a handful of DVDs. For some reason, my dad has them sorted by actors. You got your John Waynes over here, your Bogeys over here, your Cagneys over here..." Stacy picked out a DVD of The Roaring 20s. "He's never sure where to put this one, because it has Bogey and Cagney in it."
   Dana started picking DVDs randomly from various different shelves, until she had all she could carry. Stacy did the same, and the two teens headed to Stacy's room, to view them on her computer screen.

9:00 PM, Rhonda's Bedroom

   "Alright, where do we begin?" Rhonda was sitting in front of her computer, fiddling with an on-line video game.
   Cindy was lying prone on Rhonda's bed, her legs dangling over the side, staring at the ceiling, obviously not excited about the assignment. "Well, I suppose you could start by typing the words Home Video into Wikipedia's search engine, and see what comes up."
   Rhonda did so and read aloud. "Prior to the late 1970s, most feature films were inaccessible after their theatrical runs, only viewable in re-releases and television broadcasts. The home video market changed all that. The first film studio to delve into their archives and make theatrical films available for home use was 20th Century Fox, who released fifty titles in both the VHS and Beta formats..."
   Cindy cut her off. "You know on that site, articles of this nature usually have a timeline you can click on that'll summerize the whole mess. Try going to that page."
Once again, Rhonda complied, and resumed her droll delivery. "Ah, here we go: 1975, Beta. 1976, VHS. 1978, Laserdisk. MCA and Warner Brothers enter the market. 1979, Paramount and Columbia enter the market. 1980, Disney..."
   "Alright, enough already." Cindy sat up. "So we now know what time frame we're talking about. Basically the late 70s. This is not telling us anything about the industry's cultural effects on humanity. Try picking out a random search engine, type in early home video. and see what happens."
   Rhonda followed Cindy's instructions, and much to her horror, a huge batch of pornographic pop-ups appeared simultaneously. "Yikes! Look at all this crap!"
   Cindy was now looking over Rhonda's shoulders, and laughing. "Oh man, we should've seen that comming. I think you might have accidentally stumbled on to a better idea. Perhaps we should just chuck the whole home video idea and give a presentation on the merits of adult entertainment." Cindy laughed continuously as she spoke. "Would you like to take the pro or the con position?"    "Well, Mrs. Pickering would certainly give us an A for originality, but...." Suddenly Rhonda stopped what she was doing and nearly jumped out of her seat. "Oh...my...God...!" Her mouth hung wide open in disbelief at what just appeared on the monitor.
   "What is it?"
   "Take a look at this, and tell me if you're seeing the same thing I'm seeing."
Cindy glanced at the screen, and her jaw dropped as well. "It can't be...that's just too wild a coincidence."
   "What should we do?"
   "Why not try clicking on it, and see where it leads?"
   "No!" Rhonda protested. "I don't want that shit all over my hard drive!"
The two girls just stared at the unbelieveable site before them for a few moments, then Cindy spoke. "We really should give Stacy a call and tell her about this."
   "That, I can agree with," said Rhonda as Cindy picked up the telephone, and dialed Stacy's cell.

9:00 PM, Stacy's Bedroom

   "What the hell is all this crap?" After a couple of hours or so of viewing samplings of the DVDs, Dana's eyes were beginning to glaze over. "So far, all I've learned from this stuff is that in the 30s, 40s and 50s, apparently nobody could write or act..."
   "...And that black people were only chauffeurs and maids." Stacy continued what her friend had started. "And the handicapped didn't exist at all...And for that matter, with the exception of Mickey and Judy, neither did teenagers. You see, this is what makes this such an easy target...Easy for you anyway. I've actually gotta cook up some sort of argument defending this tripe."
   As Stacy spoke, Humphrey Bogart said something to Sindey Greenstreet about "slipping him a mickey," in a famous scene from The Maltese Falcon.
   "He 'slipped him a mickey'? What the hell does that mean?" Asked Dana
   "It means she put something in his drink to incapacitate him. This is the sort of silly Runyonesque banter that one finds in all gangster movies of this period."
   "How do you know all this?"
   "I watch this stuff with my dad all the time. Sometimes he has to explain to me what's going on."
   Dana was perplexed. "Let me ask you something. If we had access to a working time machine, and were able to make ourselves magically materialize somewhere in New York's bowery in the 1930s, do you honestly believe we would be overhearing real live humans talking in this manner?"
   "Oh, absolutely not. This is apparently how jewish people thought gentiles spoke in those days."
Dana was still confused. "You told me that the Hays code was basically put into effect to keep swearing and nudity out of films. Was it also put there to keep any kind of believable dialogue out as well?"
   "Naw, that was just a bi-product of it that people were unaware of at the time, having never been exposed to any kind of realistic acting. You know, to be fair, the reason I specifically said Hays code dramas is because most of the comedies and musicals from this period are still quite watchable. I don't know about you, but I never get tired of the three stooges."
   Stacy's cellphone rang.
   "Hello?"
   "Stacy, it's Cindy. I'm over at Rhonda's."
   "Hey, how's it going?"
   "Is Dana in the room with you?"
   "Yeah." Stacy was now sensing something slightly forboding in Cindy's voice.
   "Listen, we need to talk to you for a couple of minutes alone." her apprehensive tone was enough to convince Stacy to not ask any further questions.
   "Dana, I've gotta go talk in the other room for a couple of minutes."
   "Take your time," Dana reassured. "There's still quite a few of these things I haven't taken a look at yet."
   Stacy went out into the hall and closed the door behind her. "What's this all about."
   "Rhonda and I were looking for information on the home video industry, and tried out a search engine that gave us alot of porno pop-ups."
   Stacy found this somewhat amusing. "Well that's kind of understandable, considering the subject matter. You know you can easily prevent stuff like that by adjusting the security settings at the..."
   "That's not what we're calling about." Cindy cut her off.
   "Then please tell me why I'm standing in the hall and whispering."
   "Stacy, this is going to sound too crazy to believe, but one of these pop-ups features a picture of a woman on her knees in a leather thong, with her face turned towards the camera, and...and..."
  "And what?" Stacy was now getting annoyed at Cindy's cryptic delivery.
  "...And we are 99% positive that the woman in this pop-up is Dana's mother."
Stacy paused for a moment, absorbing what the voice on the phone had just told her. "Is it a recent photo?"
   "Definitely not," Cindy replied. "As a matter of fact, she looks about twenty years younger and a few pounds lighter. It would appear to us that the woman had a whole other life before Dana was born. And a pretty sorted one at that."
   Stacy remained composed. "Have you tried clicking on it?"
   "Naw, Rhonda won't do that. She's paranoid about computer viruses."
   "Understandable." Stacy thought for a moment. "I've got an idea. Tell Rhonda to just run the cursor over the ad and write down the URL it leads to. It should be in the lower left part of the screeen. Then E-Mail the link to me."
   "Hold on" The muffled sound of Cindy talking to Rhonda could be heard over the receiver. "She did it."
   "Good. Does the phone you're talking on have a speaker thing?"
   "Uh....yep."
   "Turn it on, I want to talk to both of you."
   Cindy did so.
   "Listen you guys," Stacy whispered. "For all we know, Dana might not know anything about this, and it's probably not our place to enlighten her. At least not until we know a little more about what's going on."
   "Well," Rhonda interjected. "You might want to start by checking out her mom's website. I have a feeling she's selling alot more than just 'instructional videos'."
   "Yeah," added Cindy. She and Rhonda were now both giggling. "It would appear that back in the day, this woman had a little more than her fair share of 'alpha males'."
Stacy rolled her eyes. "Do you think that pop-up leads to her website?"
   "The pop-up leads to someplace called Aphrodite's DVD Outlet." Rhonda responded. "We'll leave it to you to figure out whether or not that's the place."
   "Alright. I've gotta get back to the assignment. I'll keep you guys posted."
   "Bye Stace." The two spoke in unison.
Stacy re-entered the room to find her friend viewing a scene from High Sierra.
   "Man, this Bogart character is really a one trick pony," Dana observed. "In every film he's in he plays the same guy."
   "You'll find that to be true of most of the big stars of that era. They really didn't have actors that disappeared into their roles in those days. Back then, people were mainly paying to watch familiar faces inject their own personalities into different situations. Clark Gable was always Clark Gable, and John Wayne was always John Wayne."
   "That is really weird when you think about it," observed Dana. "Not only were the character actors character actors, but evidently the leading men were also character actors."
   "Yeah, hey Dane, can I ask you something?" Stacy prepared to change the subject.
   "Uh huh." Dana continued to look at the screen as she spoke.
   "Have you ever checked out your mom's website?"
   "She showed it to me once," Dana didn't seem at all unnerved by the question. "I don't recall it being much to look at. Just a typical small business site."
   "Have you ever checked it out on your own?"
   "Naw. To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure of what the URL is. I guess it just doesn't interest me."
   Stacy decided that now was not the time to press the matter any further. Dana could be covering up for her mother, or she might genuinely be innocent. For that matter, the picture in the pop-up that Cindy and Rhonda saw, might very well be just some woman who happens to look like a younger version of her mom. Stacy put it in the back of her mind, and started thinking about what she could possibly say that would show the Hays code in a good light.

10:00 PM

   Mrs. Kessler gave Dana a lift home. As soon as the two of them left the house, Stacy immediately went to her E-Mail, and clicked on the link that Rhonda had sent her. She heard the front door open. Dana only lived a few blocks away, so it only took a few minutes to drive there and back.
   "Hey mom!" She called from her room.
   "Yes?" Her mother entered the room.
   "Take a look at this." The monitor was showing a homepage with a button at the bottom that read, By clicking this, I certify that I am 18 years of age or older. "I suppose I should either ask your permission to click on this, or have you click on it for me."
   Her mother put on her glasses. "Alright, if I might ask an obvious question, why would you be interested in exploring a website that sells adult paraphenalia?"
   "Because I have good reason to believe that Dana's mother owns and runs this website. Dana claims that she sells 'instructional videos' of some sort, and I've got a sneaking suspicion that that's a euphemism for something else."
   "Well," her mother sighed. "I'm sure that clicking on this with you here in the room is probably what most people would consider to be a demonstration of poor parenting skills, but I'm just going to assume that you won't be too traumatized by whatever pops up." She reached for the mouse and clicked.
   Stacy instinctively recoiled at what was now being displayed on the monitor, but her mother had an entirely different, and unexpected reaction. She started to laugh.
   "Ewww, that's not funny! That's my friend's mom!" Stacy was now also having a little trouble not laughing.
   "Oh my," giggled the older Kessler, as she enlarged a few pictures of the DVDs. "I believe that these are mostly old films from the 1980s. It would appear that your friend's mother has had a bit of a chequered past, and is still capitalizing on it."
   "I wonder if Dana is genuinely innocent and really believes that her mother is selling some sort of 'instructional' videos."
   "I've got news. There are some people who actually would consider these things to be...'instructional.' At any rate, if you want my advice, I think it's best not to say anything to Dana. When you come right down to it, her business is really none of our's." Stacy's mother started to laugh again. "I'm just wondering what I should call her mother, should I run into her at the P.T.A. meeting in a couple of weeks...Mrs. Lefkowitz or Raepunzel Ferrari."
   "Mom, don't even joke about that." Stacy was surprised to discover that she was alot more squeamish about these sorts of things than her mother. "The problem is that my friends Cindy and Rhonda already know about this."
   "Look, the fact of the matter is, while this is not exactly something to be proud of, as far as I can see, the woman is doing nothing illegal. She's an adult, running a business that caters to adults. As a matter of fact, I'm the one who might be doing something illegal by allowing you to view this."
   "Believe me, this is not something I ever want to see again." Stacy grabbed the mouse, hit the X in the upper right-hand corner, and the website disappeared. "There is something else about Dana's mom I think you should know, however."
   "What's that?"
   "She gives Dana alot of weird advice."
   "Such as?"
   "She's one of these people who thinks that the quality of a human being, directly correlates with how wealthy they are. I don't think she would allow Dana to hang around with any boy who's parents don't make as much money as she does."
   "Well, it could be that she's scared of Dana winding up leading the life that she's led."
   "Wouldn't the best way of avoiding that be to get an education of some sort?"
   "She's divorced, right?"
   "Yes."
   "My guess is that her ex-husband was probably a complete bum, and she's worried that her daughter is going to make the same mistake." She paused. "Look, I'm not defending the woman, but the fact is, it's not our place to tell other people how to raise their kids."
Stacy reached for the phone. "Well, I've gotta give Rhonda and Cindy a call and have a talk."
   "You do that." Stacy's mom got up to leave. "Don't stay up too late. It is a school night, you know."