by George Gipe
“I don’t think that’s gonna be enough now,” Marty replied. “Lorraine’s father’s hitting him with the car gave them a special relationship. She felt sorry for him, brought him into the house.”
“You’re probably right. Maybe you’d better push, make it seem like you think he’s a great guy.”
“That might not be so easy,” Marty sighed. “He’s a real prototype nerd.”
“Don’t do it for him. Do it for yourself.”
“Yeah…”
They entered the school that was familiar and yet so different in Marty’s eyes. The halls and classrooms looked basically the same but the atmosphere was totally different—it resembled something from an old movie, except that it was in color. As they walked, they spotted Lorraine rushing into a classroom. Marty started to move after her but Doc Brown grabbed his arm.
“That’s your mother?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’s better if you don’t go in the same class,” Doc Brown suggested. “The teacher won’t know who the hell you are. My first notion of having you really go back to school isn’t practical, I guess. Better we just hang around and see what we can accomplish.”
“Sure. Let’s see if we can spot Dad. Then at the end of the period, we can arrange to bring them together.”
“Good idea.”
They spent the next twenty minutes wandering the halls, systematically peering into classrooms in order to locate George McFly. Finally he could be seen in the back row of a class only a couple rooms away from Lorraine’s.
“We have about ten minutes to wait,” Marty said, looking at the hall clock.
“Ten seconds slow,” Brown muttered, comparing it with his pocket watch. “You’d think a public school would at least have the correct time.”
They strolled back to Lorraine’s class and peered inside again. She was seated in the second row, writing. The class was obviously taking a test.
“I see the resemblance now,” Doc Brown said. “She has your eyes…” Then, with a little chuckle, he added: “And eyes for someone else’s paper, too.”
“My God!” Marty whispered. “She’s cheating.”
It indeed seemed so. With her hand in writing position and head tilted downward, Lorraine’s eyes were pointed directly at the paper of the young man next to her.
“I can’t believe Mom would do that,” Marty whispered.
“Why not?” Doc Brown countered. “She’s an ordinary human being, isn’t she?”
“Not to hear her tell it. She always talked about what a straight-shooter she was in school, how moral and nice she was—and practically everyone else, too.”
“She has a selective memory like the rest of us,” Doc said philosophically. “Still, I can understand your feelings. It’s kind of a shock to see our parents show their dishonest or seedy side.”
“Maybe we better go get my father,” Marty suggested. They arrived back at George McFly’s class just as the bell rang. As his father got up, Marty was doubly impressed with his nerdish qualities. His shirt tail was out, his hair poorly combed and his papers practically fell out of the three-leaf binder.
“That’s the old man, eh?” Doc Brown said, displaying a notable lack of enthusiasm.
“Yeah.”
They noted that several boys walked behind George McFly, barely suppressing giggles as he moved out of the classroom into the hall. When he neared them, another boy walked up behind George and very deliberately kicked his behind.
George turned, looked at the fellow with downcast eyes. A sign reading KICK ME was hooked onto the back of his collar. He was, of course, completely aware of it.
“Maybe you’re adopted,” Marty heard Doc Brown say softly.
Fat chance, Marty thought.
Just as George McFly was about to be kicked by another student, a familiar figure suddenly appeared on the scene, snatching the sign from his shirt and showing it to him.
“Good God!” Marty gasped. “It’s Mr. Strickland.”
It was true. Hill Valley High’s avenging angel, still wearing a bow tie, was there in the form of Gerald Strickland. He looked younger, a bit tauter; but basically the same. His presence caused the other students to go quickly about their business.
“McFly! Shape up, man!” Strickland shouted.
George regarded him like a prisoner about to be sentenced.
“You’re a slacker!” Strickland charged. “These things happen because you’re not paying attention. Your head must be off on Mars or something. Do you want to be a slacker for the rest of your life?”
George shook his head unconvincingly.
“Then wake up and join the human race,” Strickland continued. “That’s all.”
Thrusting the sign into George’s hands, he stalked down the corridor toward his office.
“You’re sure your Mom fell in love with that guy?” Doc Brown asked.
“Yeah.”
“Looks like a match made in heaven.”
“My Mom always said it was meant to be,” Marty sighed, “I sure hope she’s right…”
“Hey, she’s coming now,” Brown said. “Better get ready to make the introductions.”
Marty nodded, took a deep breath and started toward George.
“George!” he cried. “Hey, buddy! How are you?”
George nodded weakly. “Fine…”
“You’re just the guy I wanted to see,” Marty continued. Then, noting George’s nearly blank expression, he said: “You remember me, don’t you? Saturday when you fell outa the tree…I probably saved your life.”
“Oh, yeah…” George muttered.
“The binoculars didn’t break, did they?” Marty asked, unable to help himself.
His father reddened. “No,” he replied.
“Good! Listen, there’s somebody I want you to meet. C’mere…”
Grabbing his arm, Marty led George down the hall in the direction of Lorraine. As his father’s gaze fell on her, his expression whitened, his eyes filling with panic. Marty saw his body stiffen and for a moment he thought poor George was going to try making a break for it. Then he relaxed somewhat as the meeting became unavoidable.
“Excuse me, Lorraine,” Marty began.
Lorraine’s eyes caught his. For a split second, they were confused, but as soon as she stripped away the changes in Marty’s clothes and hair style, she brightened considerably.
“Calvin!” she nearly shouted. “I mean, Marty!”
So delighted was she to see him, she dropped her books. “Oh, let me get those,” Marty offered.
He felt a hand on his elbow. It was Doc Brown.
“Let him do it, jerk!” Brown whispered.
But Marty was already bent over and George was just standing there, slack-jawed, looking as if he wanted to be anyplace but here.
Retrieving the books, Marty handed them to Lorraine, whose eyes shone with gratitude and infatuation.
“Oh, thank you,” she gushed.
Marty smiled, cleared his throat, and then thrust his hand out at the pathetic figure of George McFly.
“Lorraine,” he said. “I want to introduce you to someone. This is my good friend, George McFly. George, this is Lorraine.”
“Hi, it’s really a pleasure to meet you,” George managed to say.
Lorraine’s eyes moved toward him and then turned back to Marty, bequeathing barely a flicker of recognition at her future husband.
“Build him up,” Doc Brown whispered.
“How?” Marty demanded, sotto voce.
“I don’t know. Fake it.”
Bringing about a meaningful introduction being the purpose of his visit, Marty sallied forth. “George here is a terrific guy,” he stammered. “Really great…He’s smart…and a good athlete…”
“No—” George interjected.
“He’s got a great sense of humor, too.”
“No—” George repeated.
Marty might as well have been talking to Lorraine in Sanskrit or Choctaw.
Her eyes never moved from his during the entire eulogy.
“Marty,” she said, her voice dripping with sincerity. “I was so worried about you running off like that the other night with that bruise on your head. Is it better now? It looked so sore…” She reached out to touch his forehead.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Marty nodded.
“It could use something to take down the swelling,” Lorraine suggested. “I’m sure we have something at home in the medicine closet.”
“Uh…I believe in letting things get well by themselves,” Marty replied. “That way, your body builds up certain types of immunities…”
“You’re so smart,” she smiled.
“Yeah. But George here—”
The bell rang.
“George here is even smarter than—” Marty continued.
“Never mind,” he heard Doc Brown whisper.
Marty looked around. George McFly was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is he?” Marty asked Doc.
“He went thataway.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“What did you expect me to do, tackle the guy? Anyway, he did it kind of sneaky-like…Just sort of sidled a few steps away and then bolted.”
“Damn,” Marty murmured.
Lorraine was still smiling at him, obviously perfectly content to stare at him during the brief interruption.
The bell rang again, snapping her out of her romantic trance.
“I’m late,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah…” Marty said.
As she turned away, her girlfriend, who had been waiting patiently to one side, joined her.
“Isn’t he a dreamboat?” Lorraine rhapsodized. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’m gonna marry him.”
● Chapter Nine ●
As they watched the two girls walk away, Marty and Doc Brown issued perfectly synchronous sighs.
“She didn’t even look at him,” Marty said.
“You’re right.”
“On the other hand,” Marty continued. “Why should she? He’s a nerd.”
“I understand perfectly what it means, but is that a 1985 word?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s interesting, and you’re probably right. This is a lot more serious than I thought. Apparently your mother is amorously infatuated with you instead of your father.”
“Are you trying to tell me Mom’s got the hots for me?” Marty asked.
“At the risk of sounding crude, yes. If we let it happen, an Oedipal situation could develop…”
“Oedipal?”
“Yes. A very undesirable attraction between mother and son. Of course, this is probably the most bizarre condition under which it’s ever occurred. Still, the psychological implications—”
“Jeez, Doc, that’s pretty heavy…” Marty said.
“There’s that word again,” Doc Brown replied with a shake of his head. “Heavy. Why are things so ‘heavy’ in the future? Is there a problem with the world’s gravitational pull?”
“Huh?” Marty said.
Doc smiled. He enjoyed confusing his young friend occasionally. But rather than explain the remark or try to add to Marty’s confusion, he leaped ahead to another aspect of the Lorraine-George dilemma.
“New theory,” he continued. “The only way those two are going to successfully mate is if they’re alone together. So you’ve got to arrange to get your father and mother to interact in some sort of social encounter, some mutually acceptable and stimulating premating ritual.”
“You mean a date?”
“Excellent, my boy. I think you’ve put your finger on it.”
“But what kind of date?” Marty asked. “I don’t know what kids do in the ’50s.”
“Kids are always kids, aren’t they? It’s the background that changes.”
Marty shrugged. “She did talk some about the kids in her day going to the Essex Theatre and necking in the balcony. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds plausible, but perhaps that might be pushing them a little. I think it would be better if we started them out on something a tad less erotic.”
“I agree, but what?”
“Well, they’re your parents. You must know them. What are their common interests? What do they like to do together?”
“Just the two of them?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing.”
“Hmmm.”
The school hallways were nearly deserted now, the vast majority of the students having gone into their next period classrooms. Doc Brown paused before a large bulletin board, hoping he would see something that would stimulate his imagination.
“Aha!” he said finally.
“What?” Marty asked.
“There seems to be a rhythmic ceremonial ritual coming up. Have him take her to that.”
“A rhythmic ceremonial—”
“Dance, to you.” Doc Brown smiled, pointing to a handpainted banner which read: ENCHANTMENT UNDER THE SEA…THIS SATURDAY NIGHT…ADMISSION $1.
Marty grinned and slapped his hands. “That’s right!” he cried. “They’re supposed to go to that dance—'Enchantment Under the Sea.’ That’s where they kiss for the first time. It’s perfect.”
“All right, then. Make it happen.”
Marty frowned. “That’s the problem,” he murmured. “How can we get that yo-yo to summon up enough courage to ask her?”
“And how can we get her over the hots for you so she’ll accept?” Doc Brown added dourly.
“I think we got our work cut out for us.”
They were still considering the problem an hour or so later when George McFly entered the cafeteria, found himself a table in the corner, and began eating his lunch. For a few minutes, he just read; then he took out a pad and pencil and started writing as he finished his sandwich.
Marty and Doc Brown sauntered over to him. He barely noticed them as they pulled up chairs and sat at the same table.
“Hi, George,” Marty said after a while. “What are you writing?”
“Stories.”
“Any particular kind?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind?”
“Science fiction.”
“That’s interesting. I didn’t know you were into that. What’s it about, people visiting strange and faraway planets?”
“No. As a matter of fact, it’s about visitors from other planets coming to Earth.”
“I never knew you did anything creative.”
“What do you mean, you never knew?” George asked in a rare display of any emotion other than resignation or despair. “You’ve only known me for a couple of days.”
“That’s right. I keep forgetting. Anyway, how about letting me read one of ’em?”
“Oh, no,” George replied, shaking his head decisively.
“Hey, you said no,” Marty smiled.
George looked at him blankly. Doc Brown also directed a blank stare at him.
“It’s the first time I’ve ever heard George McFly say no,” Marty said. “I guess it’s a joke between me and myself. Forget it.”
George looked as if he was getting ready to bolt.
“Wait a second,” Marty said gently. “I’m just interested in you, that’s all. It isn’t often you meet a writer who’s so young. I should think you’d like to have somebody read your stories.”
“Oh, no,” George muttered. “I mean, what if they didn’t like ’em? What if they told me they were no good, that I was no good?”
Marty had the feeling he had heard these words before—himself complaining to Jennifer after he’d been turned down by the YMCA dance committee.
“This must be pretty hard for you to understand, huh?” George asked, obviously having noticed the slight smile on Marty’s face.
“No, George,” Marty replied sincerely. “It’s not that hard at all.”
It was a breakthrough moment. Something in his father’s vulnerability and desire to create touched Marty; for
the first time in a long time, he found himself not only liking the man but understanding some of his anxieties. Suddenly he wanted to help George McFly not only because it would be beneficial to himself but to George as well.
“Listen, George,” he said. “You know that girl I introduced you to—”
“Lorraine.”
“Yeah. She really likes you.”
George shook his head.
“It’s true,” Marty persisted. Doc Brown added his nod as well.
“I don’t believe it. She didn’t even look at me. I felt invisible.”
As they were discussing her, Lorraine and some girl friends walked into the cafeteria. She did not see either of the young men.
George spotted her first. After a brief expression of adulation, his face melted into a mask of terror. He lifted the writing tablet above the lower part of his face as if he wanted to hide.
“I’m telling you she likes you,” Marty continued. “Now why would I say that if it wasn’t true?”
“To embarrass me,” George replied quickly. “Like Biff when he plays tricks on me or those guys who put ‘kick me’ signs on my back.”
“Well, I’m different,” Marty said. “I’m the one who saved your life, remember? Would Biff or those other guys have jumped in front of a car for you?”
George shook his head, partially convinced that Marty was on the level. Nevertheless, years of being used as a punching bag had taught him to be super-cautious. This guy Marty acted sincere enough, but he was decidedly a strange type. He seemed to know a lot more than most kids his age…He also seemed to show up out of nowhere, wearing strange clothes (like a sinister visitor from out of space who got his time periods mixed up, George thought). And why was he hanging around with the man some people derided as the “village idiot”? No, he thought warily, it would not be a good idea to trust this newfound friend completely.
“I appreciate your saving my life,” he said finally. “But that doesn’t mean you’re right about Lorraine. You saw yourself how she looked right through me.”
“Yeah,” Marty nodded. There was, after all, no sense trying to deny the obvious. “But she’s shy…”
“She overcompensates,” Doc Brown added.
“She’s very shy,” Marty continued. ‘That’s why she asked me to come over here and tell you she’d like nothing better than to go with you to the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance.”