Suddenly, Peter stopped walking, as he recognized a very unpleasant sound. He looked ahead down the beach and noticed a girl there crying. Poor Peter wasn't sure what to do. Should he try to help her, or just walk away? Peter was rather shy around girls. He really wished his friend, Davy, had been there to tell him what to do.
He was comfortable around the ladies and never seemed to have a problem talking to them. Nevertheless, Davy wasn't there and Peter didn't feel he should ignore this girl, knowing that she was sad. So, he walked over to where she was and gently placed a hand on her arm.
"Excuse me, but are you ok?" Peter asked kindly.
The girl looked up and wiped her eyes, and then put on her Coke bottle lens glasses. She wiped her nose before she spoke.
"Why should I tell you?" She said, "I don't even know who you are,"
She had a point, Peter thought, but then he had an idea.
"Hi, my name is Peter Tork. What's your name?" He asked as he stuck out his hand.
"Julie Morris," she said, as she accepted his handshake.
"So, what's bothering you, now that we know each other," Peter said.
"Are you nuts?" Julie exclaimed. "Do you always go up and ask personal questions to women you hardly know?"
"No," Peter said seriously, "I'm usually too nervous to talk to girls at all. You just looked like you could use a friend."
Peter's comment made her smile. She had a pretty smile, Peter thought.
"I'll tell you what, you tell me about yourself and then I `might' tell you my problem," Julie said.
"Ok, well you know my name already. Let's see, I'm in a rock n roll band called 'The Monkees.' I play bass and keyboards. I live in those apartments just over the hill," he said pointing, and then continued. "I live with my other three band mates; Micky, Mike, and Davy."
"Wow, I love music. You must be the group I hear through my bedroom wall of an evening," Julie said.
"You mean we are neighbors?" Peter asked.
"Uh- huh, there is my father and mine's apartment," Julie said, pointing to the apartment next to the Monkees.
"Where's your mother?" Peter asked.
"She died when I was four," Julie said sadly.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Peter said sympathetically.
"Don't be. I've been to plenty of counseling to help me cope. Besides, daddy is a great father and mother to me," Julie explained.
"Now will you tell me what's bothering you?" Peter asked.
"The senior prom is a week away and I don't have a date. The guys at school don't like me, but I can't say that I blame them," Julie said.
"What do you mean?" Peter asked.
"Look at me!" Julie exclaimed as she stood up. "I'm as skinny as a scarecrow, my hair is long and stringy, and don't even get me started on these glasses!"
"Well, looks aren't everything," Peter replied.
"Yeah, try telling that to a teenage boy," Julie said sarcastically.
"You have a nice smile," Peter commented.
"Thanks, but a smile doesn't count for much anymore. Besides, I can't even dance. I can barely walk without tripping over my own feet," Julie said.
"A little klutzy, huh?" Peter said.
"To say the least," Julie admitted.
"I know what you mean. I'm a bit of a klutz myself. I'm always tripping over or bumping into something," Peter told her.
"You know, I don't even know how to act around a boy. Anyway, I had better go. It was nice to meet you Peter. I'm sorry to unload my problems on you," Julie apologized.
"Hey, I asked. I was glad to listen," Peter said with a smile.
"Well, I'll see ya," Julie said, as she turned and walked away.
"Wait! Don't go," Peter yelled after her. Julie turned around and headed back towards Peter.
"I have an idea. My friends can help you. Davy especially, can teach you how to dance. We can all help you in someway," Peter offered.
"Well, I guess it can't hurt anything. It's too late to change me for the prom, but I would like to learn to dance," Julie said.
"Greet! Come with me," Peter said as he took Julie by the hand and led her to the pad.