"But I'm not everybody else," I whined. "I'm special!"
"You're still going to have to wait," she smirked, dodging as I lunged at her to tickle her. "And I won't be persuaded otherwise!"
The farmhouse was cleaned and the yard swept, and on Friday, April twenty-eighth Mr. Langston and I went over to Bill Bronski's place and got a whole bunch of fresh burgers that Mr. Bronski had frozen the previous November. We didn't buy our steaks and burgers from the store; we either got them from local farmers, or we made a journey to the eastern side of the state and picked up a side of beef in a borrowed refrigerated truck (we didn't want to use ours because Mr. Langston was afraid of getting blood on one of the dairy's trucks.) There were even more cattle ranches over there, since the landwas very flat and open, perfect for cattle farming.
We also loaded up on charcoal for the barbecue, and a lot of sodas and various other party supplies. It was going to be a big affair.
The Saturday before her birthday, Tabby spent with me as usual. We did our homework, which was a lot tougher now that we were approaching the end of sixth grade. She was better at math and I was better at social studies and English, so we complemented each other nicely.
The big day finally arrived and Tabby bounced into my room at six in the morning. "Wake up, Bobby!" she squealed, jumping on my bed and jerking me out of a weird ass dream involving Michael Landon in his werewolf outfit, Chuck Berry and Elsa Lanchester. I forgot what they were doing, because Tabby in her bouncing hit my nose with her big toe.
"Ouch!" I said, sitting up abruptly, eyes watering and nose stinging. "What was that for?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Bobby," Tabby said, forgetting her excitement momentarily and sitting down next to me. Through watery eyes I noticed with some surprise that her chest was swelling already, but quickly forgot about it as a fresh pulse shot through my injured nose. "Is it broken?"
"No, just a little bruised," I said in a funny foghorn voice.
"Let me look," she said, pulling my hands away and leaning closer. I held my breath so I wouldn't blast my morning breath in her face as she inspected it.
"Doesn't look bad, just a little red mark," she said, moving back a little. "Sorry, Bobby."
"Don't worry about it," I said. The pain was already fading, and I stood up to take care of my morning business. "Just don't kick me in the face again next time you're so excited."
She giggled and stood too. "How do you know I didn't use it as an excuse to get close to you?"
"Because you would've picked a time when I didn't have morning breath," I snickered, and escorted her out of my room.
"Darn it, you got me again," she said, skipping toward her room to change out of her pajamas and sticking her tongue out at me.
We met up down stairs, where Mrs. Langston was busy making raspberry pancakes and bacon, Tabby's favorite breakfast. Mr. Langston came in just as we were sitting down.
"Happy birthday, Kitten," he said, giving Tabby a big old hug and spinning her around, the same way he had done seven years ago when I first met him. "You're growing up so fast."
"I'll always be your little girl though," she said, smiling up at him.
"Always," Mrs. Langston piped in, flipping the last two pancakes onto a plate and coming over to join the hug. "I'm so proud of you, baby girl."
"Just wait till the sweet sixteen, and then the eighteenth," I said. "You think this party will be big? Oh boy, this will be nothing."
"Let's get through this one first," Tabby said, coming over and wolfing down her breakfast like it was her last meal. She always was like that, throwing herself fully into whatever she did like it was the last time. Just one of the many things I liked about her.
"I'd better go start laying in the coals for the smoker," Mr. Langston said, rising from the table. "You guys better start getting ready too."
"All I have to do is lounge," Tabby smirked, pointedly stealing a slice of my bacon. "You guys are supposed to serve me today."
"Hey, that was my bacon," I whined.
"Mine today," she smiled, pointedly chewing it. Before she could swallow the whole strip I darted forward and bit off the end protruding from her lips and smirked at her. "Gotcha," I snickered.
She pretended to pout. "No fair. I'm the birthday girl and get whatever I want."
"You know bacon is a special case," I pointed out, grinning. "See you in a little bit."
"I'm going to get you back for this," she hollered after me.
"Sure you will, Tabby," I called back, snickering to myself.
I went upstairs, got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and brushed my teeth. People would start arriving in about three hours and I used this time to wander around the farm, making sure the various areas were set up properly. We had a big old rainfall yesterday so there were lots of mud puddles and the cow pond was a lake, but overall I thought things were pretty much under control. It was about sixty degrees out today and there was a watery spring sunlight. I hoped it would last for the whole day; I'd hate to see Tabby's party ruined with one of Washington's torrential downpours.
When I got back to the house, Tabby was skipping around the front yard, looking as happy as a clam in a sandbank. I could smell the evocative aroma of burning charcoal from the barbecue on the other side of the house, where Mr. Langston was rattling around singing "Buffalo Gals." Mrs. Langston was out on the porch arranging furniture.
"Slow down, Tabby, you're going to run out of steam halfway through the party," I said, grabbing her arm in the middle of one of her skips. She was wearing a silk blouse she had gotten on her last shopping trip and a pleated skirt. Her curls were tied back in a knot at the back of her head and her face was suffused with high color, eyes sparkling.
"No I won't. I'm just so excited I could burst!"
"Well why don't you help me string the crepe paper," I said, hefting it in my hand. "That way you won't splash mud on your shiny new skirt."
"Okay," she chirped, skipping inside to grab some tape.
* * *
Two hours later we were set up. The band arrived with their PA system and instruments and we showed them to the makeshift bandshell Mr. Langston and I had erected yesterday. The band consisted of four scruffy guys in their twenties who looked as though they could've found better things to do than play for a thirteen-year-old's birthday party. I got a sinking feeling as I watched them set up their amps, which seemed to be held together with a lot of tape and glue. They called themselves Johnny Bucket and the Rockin' Ramblers, but I think the name was the only thing good about them. I hoped to god they weren't going to make Tabby's party a bust.
"They don't look like much do they?" I heard her say from behind me.
"Well," I said diplomatically, "maybe they sound better than they look."
She snorted. "Yeah, maybe. But don't worry Bobby, they're not going to ruin my party."
Just then the first carload of kids arrived and the party started.
* * *
The Rockin' Ramblers turned out to be not half bad. They weren't going to be on Bandstand anytime soon, but they were good enough to make a few bucks doing things like this and maybe at bars. If the patrons were drunk enough, anyway.
We played games and danced and ate. About thirty people turned up, all of our friends from school and a few neighbors. Tabby cut the big ass cake Mrs. Langston had made and blew out the thirteen candles. She got a wistful expression on her face when she did it, and when I asked what she had wished for, she said that it wasn't any of my business.
The festivities lasted until almost six in the evening and by the time the last car was driving down the road, Tabby was yawning and glassy eyed, rubbing her fists into her eyes like a little girl.
"I told you that you would burn out," I smirked, leading her inside.
"You said I'd burn out half way through the party," she retorted through a yawn. "I made it all the way through the damn thing."
"Happy birthday, Kitten," Mr. Langston said, hugging his daughter again. "You go to sl
eep, we'll handle the cleanup."
"Thank you, Daddy," Tabby yawned again. Then she surprised the hell out of me and gave me a brief kiss on the lips too. It was almost over before I realized it.
"Uh happy birthday Tabby," I muttered, thoroughly discomfited.
"Thank you Bobby," she said, and with a last sleepy smile she trotted off to her bedroom.
I looked at Mr. Langston to see what his reaction was to his daughter kissing me on the lips.
He smiled at me and shrugged. "Don't look at me, Bobby, I'm staying out of this."
I just groaned and started to help with the cleanup.
Chapter Five
Kisses on the cheek and other small affectionate gestures became quite commonplace the rest of that year. Then, in August, Tabby once again escalated things.
On Labor Day weekend, we went out to Vancouver Lake again, Tabby wearing a billowy sarong thing that floated around her in the hot summer breeze. It wasn't nearly as hot as it had been last year when I almost drowned out here - I figured it was probably about eighty, but it was hot enough to do some swimming. There weren't a whole lot of people out here for some reason. Maybe they all went to hang out at the Washougal River or someplace.
"I've got a surprise for you, Bobby," Tabby told me, once we were out of sight of her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Langston were set up under an umbrella with books or something, and Tabby dragged me behind a clump of bushes into a private section of the lake.
"Should I be afraid?" I asked, pretending to look around like a character in one of those werewolf movies.
"No, fool," she laughed. "You're going to love this." And then, without any further ceremony, she dropped the sarong thing she was wearing. It billowed lazily in the warm summer air before settling without a sound to the sand.
Tabby was wearing a yellow bikini. It didn't have any polka dots on it like the song, but it was brief (for the era anyway) and it showed that she was becoming all woman. Her breasts were swelling and her hips were rounding. Her legs weren't quite as long and coltish anymore and she was turning into one hell of a pretty girl.
She did a slow twirl and my glands did a bit more than roll over in their sleep. I got hard and my heart speeded up. "You like?" she giggled.
"What's the deal, Tabby?" I asked in a slightly hoarse voice.
She spun back around and faced me. Her breasts weren't big enough to jiggle yet - they were still only faint swellings so far, but I almost saw that they soon would be. A vision of Tabby-yet-to-come or something.
"We are teenagers now, Bobby. You have to start seeing me as a girl instead of some buddy you hang around with. This is my first step to getting you there. I realize I'm not big up top yet, but I will be. And I want you completely under my spell before some other girl snatches you up. Remember what I said to you almost a year ago."
"Um, Tabby, I've always known you were a girl," I said, looking at her like she was crazy.
"nuh uh," she said, shaking her head and sending all those curls flying everywhere. "Up till now I've been this super best friend who happened to be a girl. I want you to see me as a girl, not a friend who happens to be a girl."
I shook my head, confused. "Um, what's the difference?"
She threw her hands up, exasperated. "Bobby, you're having the toughest time keeping your eyes on my face instead of what's in this bikini. That means you're already almost there. I'm a girl, not your fucking friend who just happens to be a girl."
I suddenly thought I understood. I gave up the battle and just let my eyes drink her in, from the top of her nappy head to the tiny feet in the sand. I saw her nipples plump up on the bee stings of her breasts as I let my gaze travel back to the top of her head again.
Taking a deep breath and mentally crossing my fingers, I asked the dreaded question.
"Tabby, will you be my girlfriend?"
She gave me an incandescent smile and jumped at me. "Of course I will, you big jerk," she said, and then she kissed me.
It was awesome. She tasted of sunshine and strawberries and her plump lips met mine with warm, gentle friction. Her arms wrapped around my waist and my hands found themselves buried in that mass of wild curls as if by magic. Standing there in the sand by the shores of Vancouver Lake with the smell of the evergreens in my nostrils and the feel of warm summer sand between my toes, I felt like I woke up for the first time.
The kiss was brief, lasting only about ten seconds, but I felt like I had traveled whole universes. We broke apart, Tabby's face flushed and eyes heavy lidded. She looked very mature in that moment. Her hands were laced together at the small of my back while mine continued toying with her hair.
"Wow," I said, breaking the sudden hush.
"Am I a girl now?" she smirked, rubbing my nose gently with hers.
"Yeah," I breathed. "You're definitely a girl."
She smiled and leaned in for another sweet kiss. "Good. I'm glad we got that settled. Now let's go swimming."
* * *
From then on we went everywhere holding hands. We kissed goodnight and cuddled on the couch. There were no steamy make out sessions yet, and we never investigated anything that was covered up by clothing; our romance was pretty much like a made for TV movie. We were far too young for any of that other shit.
Nevertheless we grew closer every day just by coming to a full realization that we were destined to be together. I have to admit that most of the realizing was done by me, being the clueless male that I was. Tabby knew it from the first day.
Her parents viewed our blooming relationship with I think a little amusement. I don't think that they believed we were going to last beyond high school, but were willing to let things progress naturally. I never got one of those "if you hurt my daughter…" speeches from Mr. Langston, thank god. Mrs. Langston smiled a lot when she saw us holding hands or cuddled on the couch doing homework, but it was like one of those "ain't the kids cute" smiles.
Things progressed like that pretty much all the way through junior high and into the start of tenth grade, which was when the next bit of drama happened.
* * *
Over those couple of years Tabby bloomed. She grew another few more inches, stopping at about five foot eight, very tall for a girl back then. Her chest and hips shot out alarmingly and her legs rounded and became succulent. She began to take more care with her hair too; instead of letting it run wild she styled it into a sleek cut that floated enticingly around her face.
I grew up too. By the time we went into tenth grade I was five ten and one sixty, not exactly a hulk but no beanpole either. All that helping around the farm gave me some decent muscles and I had taken up running a little. Nothing serious, but a good jog three or four times a week.
High school was different. A lot of other boys saw what a beauty Tabby was turning into and began to flock around. It didn't matter to most of them that she was black, she was still a hot girl.
Tabby rebuffed them all though. She was polite about it, but firm. But then trouble struck. And once again it was that bitch Rosie Devlin and her asshole brother Brian who did it.
Rosie had stayed out of our way over the past couple of years. Her daddy's farm went bust because nobody fucking liked him and wouldn't sell him the right equipment. He ended up trying to do everything by hand and he apparently didn't have a clue how to farm properly, so all his crops failed and he ended up reselling the land and moving into Vancouver. He was now operating a pawn shop downtown with his wife, Angelina and his spawn, Rosie and Brian. They all lived in the little apartment over the store.
The fact that their father was a complete and utter failure made no difference to Rosie and Brian, the latter of whom was two years older than us. They continued to strut around their respective schools like proud peacocks and acted as if their shit didn't stink. Brian managed to get himself on the football team and Rosie joined the cheerleaders when she entered high school.
By the time we were in tenth grade and Brian was in twelfth, I had managed to learn my guitar pretty w
ell. I was no Chuck Berry, but I could chord and strum pretty good and even do a few lead licks.
I had upgraded my guitar a little bit and bought a Fender Bassman amplifier. I had also managed to get together with Barry Schwartz, Mike Smith and Stan Baker to form a loose band. Mike played bass, Barry did lead guitar and Stan did drums. We were a pretty good band, I think. Barry was our lead singer and Mike, Stan and I were backups, because neither of us were brave enough to be frontmen. We were still nameless, the right name just hadn't occurred to us yet, so on the bulletin board we just called ourselves the Barry Schwartz Quartet and let it go at that.
When all the trouble started, our little band was approved to play for the Halloween dance and we were staying over at the school, using their music room for rehearsals. Tabby usually hung around to observe, as did the other band members' girlfriends, but today Tabby needed to get home to help Mrs. Langston with something and the other girls were busy doing stuff for the dance.
We ran through about two dozen songs, from rock tunes to jazz standards for slow dancing. We even threw in a few country songs, "He'll Have to Go," "The Battle of New Orleans," and a rockin' version of "Your Cheatin' Heart" played with a boogie pattern and speeded up a few BPM.
I left that rehearsal with a good feeling. Playing good music in a group is a high you can't really explain. When the music flows so well and effortlessly, it's like you've captured a little of the energy that fuels the universe and swallowed it whole, making you feel like you can fly for hours. It is probably why so many musicians are so god damn promiscuous. You want to share that energy you get after playing good music. It's a high better than drugs and you want to share the joy.
Alas, I wasn't going to be getting any from Tabby, not until we were both eighteen. We had made that pledge to each other in a serious talk last August. We had taken a blanket and gone to a little clearing way back in the trees at the bottom of our property to have a little picnic. After that of course we started making out and Tabby had stopped me before things got too heavy.
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