The next morning, I sat at my desk, notebook paper in front of me, pencil behind my ear. Stillwater on my record player. Unexpectedly, the phone rang. I didn't bother answering it. I was trying to write; and besides, who would call me?

"Rainy! Phone!"

Apparently, someone.

Somewhat excited, I jumped out of my chair and leaped onto the bed, arm outstretched to reach the dark green phone that resided on my nightstand. It was actually dusty.

"Hello?" I breathed into it.

"Rainy? This is Jeff."

JEFF?

Misinterpreting my silence, he added, "Bebe. From Stillwater."

As if I didn't know.

"Hello," I repeated.

For some reason, he laughed.

"What?" I asked, mortified. Was he calling me as a prank? Were Russel and the other band members gathered around him, to laugh at my reaction?

"You like to repeat yourself, I've noticed."

When had he noticed?

"I guess so. Why... are you calling?" I just had to ask.

"Oh! I was wondering if you and Penny Lane would be interested in joining the band at the Riot House sometime this week?"

The what?

Again, misinterpreting my silence, he added, "Of course, the invitation stands for William, too. Mainly, actually. Couldn't find him in the phonebook. Yeah."

Was it just me or was the almost-famous lead singer of Stillwater actually *stumbling* for words?

"It's on, uh, Sunset Strip. You'll probably have to tell him that. Not that he's naive or anything. He's just... new?"

Yeah. He was *definetely* stumbling for words.

"Oh, I know. So am I," I pointed out.

"You're different."

Hmm, glad to hear it.

"Alright, well, I'll relay the invitation to him."

"Thanks."

Neither of us hung up. Still silence, with breathing.

"It's just, I was sort of in the middle of writing, and I can't really have much of a stimulating conversation right now..." I tried to excuse my weird behavior.

"I thought you said you weren't a journalist."

"It's fiction."

"Not much of a difference nowadays, is there?"

We both laughed at that comment; like two friends sharing lunch out on the school grounds and discussing homework.

"Well, like poetry. And songs. That kind of fiction."

"You write lyrics?"

Now I mentally slapped myself. Why did I have to go and forget that he was a rock star and tell him that I write songs?

"Um, yeah. Butthey'renotgoodoranything." I quickly tried to dismiss the subject.

"Bring them when you come to the hotel. You've got me curious now."

Excellent. Sort of.

"Ok."

"I'll see you, then. Ed wants to use the phone. Bye."

He hung up.

It took me about three minutes to remember that Ed didn't really talk.

William, Penny, and I walked out of the backstage arena and into the parking lot.

"You guys have got to call me. We live in the same town. Call me if you need a rescue." Penny wrote her number on the back of William's green notebook.

"OK," agreed William. It almost were as if he were hypnotized. I briefly wondered that if I dressed more like a Band-Aid, would *i* be able to have that affect on people? I banished the thought, though. Besides, it wasn't too hard to see that the me being a Band-Aid thing was just a game for that one night. I doubted I'd ever see Penny or Jeff or any rock star ever again. I have a vivid imagination, too.

"Rainy?" Penny was waving her hand in front of my face.

"Huh?" I blinked.

"You'll come over, right? So I can give you some clothes?" Was she serious?

"Are you serious?"

Penny stopped me and put her hands on my shoulders, stood on tiptoe (even though she didn't really need to), and looked me in the eye. "Yes."

I grinned. "yeah. I'll call you... tomorrow?"

Penny nodded. She spread her arms. "It's all happening."

"It's all happening," William repeated dutifully.

After we said our final goodbyes to Penny, we ran slowly to where his mom was whistling for us to find her.

"You *like* her." I stated.

"You *like* Jeff." He replied.

Neither he nor I said anything to deny either accusation.

"The main rule, and the one we've all broken a thousand times, is to not fall in love with the rock stars." Penny, Sapphire, and Polexia were now filling me in on the rules and regulations of being a Band-Aid.

I raised an eyebrow.

"It's harder than it sounds," Polexia assured me.

"Right." Said Penny, "These guys can write, or sing, or play guitar, or the drums, or whatever. They're totally charming like that, and any girl would fall for them. Us music junkies just fall harder."

That, I could definately understand.

"But it's worth it!" exclaimed Sapphire.

I had never doubted that it was.

"Hey... Rainy..." William was calling me over to him, he was standing with Jeff Bebe and Russel Hammond.

"I'll be right back," I told my new friends.

As I walked off, I heard Sapphire say, "Right back? Somehow I find that hard to believe."

I stepped up to the two Stillwater band members. "Hello."

William grinned. "Rainy, may I present to you Jeff Bebe and Russel Hammond, who you already met earlier."

"Hello," I repeated. I could tell that this was one of William's moments of glory.

"Rainy?" questioned Jeff, "Sounds like the name of a Band-Aid to me... certainly not the name of The Enemy."

Oh. William must have been telling them that I was a journalist. "Well, Rebecca is my real name. I'm not really much of a journalist; that's just how I got in."

"Actually," William corrected, "she got in because Scotty mixed her up with the Band-Aids."

"Not a hard mistake to make," Russel observed, gesturing towards the eyeshadow job Polexia had done on me.

I suddenly felt Penny's presence beside me. "She is a Band-Aid. A brand new one. We recruited her." As if to prove this, she removed her huge coat and put it on me.

"Indeed? Well then, join us on the road, Rainy." Jeff smiled at me. I couldn't help but smile back.

I saw William writing in his notebook; about Stillwater, I assumed. He had been interviewing Jeff Bebe for quite some time.

"Hey," I greeted him.

"Hey," he said back, still writing.

Penny appeared at my side, and threw her heavy coat-thing down next to him.

William looked up. His eyes grew wide.

I had been somewhat transformed. I was now wearing several layers of different shades of green eyeshadow. My eyelashes had been attacked by Polexia and a lot of mascara. And my long hair had been let down out of it's bun and was hanging silkily to my waist.

"Got you a pass," Penny spoke up.

"I-- I got in with Stillwater," he said.

"Changing your story to them, I see," I teased.

"And you- you are not getting any story at all." He was still surprised by my sudden metamorphisis.

"She's one of us now," said Penny.

William nodded as if he understood.

I raised an eyebrow at him and grinned.

"Hey, The Enemy," Russel Hammond approached William.

"Russel! Russel, I want you meet my friends Rainy and Penny Lane!" William was always pretty bad at acting 'cool'.

I shook his hand, and then so did Penny. But their handshake lasted a lot longer...

"Have we met?" Penny asked.

As if in reply, Russel awakwardly put a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear with his fingers.

...And before I knew what was happening, I was off to the far side of the stage, but still on it, with the band Stillwater, my friend William, and the legendary Band-Aid Penny Lane.

Penny kept me close to her and introduced me to the other Band-Aids.

First, there was Sapphire. She was the one who had arrived with Black Sabbath and given us our passes. Mine was stuck on the bottom of my bell bottoms.

Then there was Polexia. She had been the Sabbath squealer.

Of course, then there was Penny herself. A legendary Band-Aid, apparently.

"Now; what is your name?" she said quietly, as if whatever I answered would something completely awe-inspiring.

"Rainy," I answered.

They all stared at me.

"Well, I mean, it's actually Rebecca, but everyone calls me Rainy."

"No! Rainy is a *perfect* Band-Aid name! That's excellent, we won't even have to change your name!" Penny was very excited. Me, I was very confused.

"But I'm a journalist," I protested.

"Haha! Not anymore," laughed Sapphire.

"You've been recruited," explained Polexia.

"Recruited?" I questioned.

"Yes." Said Penny finally.

It was about then that Stillwater blew into the room, and with them was William.

But before I could say anything to him, I was dragged away by the Band-Aids, and hurried over to meet Sabbath.

"How are we going to get in the back way?"

And I had thought that getting William's mom to let us go was going to be a problem.

The door guy wouldn't let us in, even though we swore up and down that we were journalists there to interview Black Sabbath. He must not believe in teenage journalists.

This was when we retreated to the top of the ramp with "the other girls". I assumed they were groupies, and felt really awkward. I mean, if you were a girl, wouldn't you? I felt like living my respectable life was embarassing. And the idea of my "respectable" future (marrying an ex-varsity basketball star), didn't help much either.

"Who are you with?" One of the girls spoke up.

"Um... we're with, ourselves." William answered her.

The girl rolled her eyes. "No, who are you with; what band?"

"Oh! We're here to interview Black Sabbath; we're journalists. Not-- you know..." he trailed off.

"Not what?" Another girl, this one with bright blond curly hair and wearing a brown coat thing, approached us.

I stayed quiet.

"You're not what?" she repeated.

"Not... groupies." William smiled sheepishly.

The girls seemed appalled.

"We are not groupies." She said defiantly.

The first girl who had spoken to us spoke up again, "This is Penny Lane, man; show some respect."

Poor William. "Oh." He nodded.

"We're Band-Aids. Groupies sleep with rock-stars so they can be near someone famous. We are here because of the music."

Interesting.

'Penny Lane' looked at me. "You're a journalist, too?"

I nodded. There was something silencing about her. I wondered how old she was.

"Interesting."

I doubted it was *that* interesting. There were plenty of female journalists around; 17 years old though, maybe not. Hmm.

Just then, a black limo drove up onto the drive and proceeded to the garage.

"IT'S SABBATH!!!" squealed several of the girls and swarmed to the car.

Penny stayed, staring at William and me.

"I think I saw Sapphire in there," commented one of the girls.

Then the door at the bottom opened and another girl, clutching several backstage passes, emerged. "Does anyone remember laughter?!" She yelled.

"SAPPHIRE!!" all the girls yelled, and ran towards the door.

I looked at William, and he looked at me. We were both a bit... confused.

Then, Penny grabbed my arm. "Come on."

Quickly, I grabbed William's arm and Penny began to drag us into the backstage area.

"Passes, girls!" Sapphire exclaimed.

I must have blended well with the Band-Aids, because the man only stopped William.

"I'll get you in," Penny promised.

I looked at him sympathetically before the door slammed in his face.

We had an assignment. Black Sabbath. Hmmm.

"Your mom is never going to let you go to this concert."

"Well... if I give her enough good reasons to let me, she might."

This, I doubted. But William must have had a lot of good reasons, because he somehow managed to get her permission. God, no wonder she wants him to be a lawyer. He must have the persuassive powers of a god or something. Jesus.

It had taken bloody forever for school to end that day. William asked me if I needed to call my mom at the shop to tell her where I was going to be. I smiled at the poor kid and said no, she wouldn't miss me anyway.

I swear. William needs some freedom from that woman he calls his mother.

Anyways. William always carries that messenger bag of his. I have one, too, but I don't carry it around as much. I find it easier to just keep a spiral and a pencil in my hand; which is all I had today. Everything else was in my locker, considering I didn't have any homework or anything. My black Converse All-Stars didn't bother to avoid any mud puddles, and they made little splashes on my dark bell bottoms. I rolled up the sleeves of my green 'peasant shirt'. Sometimes I really hate the weather here.

We came to the radio station where we would meet the great rock critic. Looking through the window, William and I grinned at how Lester Bangs criticized The Doors. Neither of us had ever liked Jim Morrison much. I was happy to see that he was sporting a Guess Who shirt. God I love that band. Their song "She Comes Undone" is excellent. They may not be all heavy guitar riffs and shit like that, but still, they're great and I love them.

"So you're the two who have been sending me stuff from the school newspaper," he acknowledged.

"Yep," said William.

"You two are damn good writers. It's just too bad that rock n' roll is over."

"Over?" I echoed, horrified.

"Yeah, you got here just in time for the death rattle."

"Least we're here for that," William pointed out hopefully.

Lester looked at us for second. "You take drugs?"

Both of us shook our heads. William, I knew, would never ever try them. Me, on the other hand... well, let's just say that if I ever get the chance...

"Smart kids."

...well, maybe not.

"Are you serious?" I stared at him.

William nodded, panting a little from his rush to find me.

I slammed my locker door shut and then leaned against it. "Wow."

William nodded again, this time grinning.

"We could be famous," I said, thinking ahead.

He laughed. "Famous? I wouldn't say that exactly."

"Well... close enough. I mean, in a few years, if there's two kids like us, then we could famous to them." I explained. This was so cool. Lester Bangs wanted to talk to us. Rainy (oh fine, Rebecca) Taylor, and William Miller. Why? To either say our writing kicked ass, or to say it sucked ass. Either way, at least he read it.

Once upon a time, there was me and sort of best friend William. He was 15 and I was 17. We were both seniors in high school in San Diego this one crazy year when things changed. My brother Charlie had left home three years before when I was 14, to become a roadie. He writes me postcards a lot, but I'm not allowed to show them to Mom and Dad. As far as they're concerned he hardly keeps in touch. Dad is a college math professor (which doesn't explain why I hate and am so bad at it). Mom is the co-owner of the central card shop, along with Lydia Holloway. Her son John is also a senior. I'm supposed to marry him someday, and let me tell you, neither of us is looking forward to that. He's the star of the varsity basketball team and I'm the co-editor of the school newspaper (along with William). Yeah, we were just meant to be, huh? Ugh. Anyways, The school year hadn't seemed too promising for William or me; we still had hardly any friends, and we still longed to do the things our parents would never let us (rock concerts). So our story starts one normal San Diego spring day when William rushes up to me at my locker before 2nd period to tell me that Lester Bangs (who he's been sending some of our rock writing to recently) is back in town and can meet us later after school.