"Macey! Honey, what's the matter?" Mom came in, looking concerned.
"Nothing except for the fact that Ashley is a bitch," I said.
"How so?" That was one of the things I loved most about my mom. I could cuss in front of her and she wouldn't get mad about it.
"We went to the concert and things were going great," I explained. "We were waiting outside when someone announced that there was going to be a lottery for backstage passes and Stacey entered us in it. We won, but there were only three passes. The three of us decided to go because Ashley had just vanished somewhere, then at the last minute she showed up, and went in my place! She came back all smug, saying, 'Oh, it's too bad you didn't get to go backstage, Macey. Maybe next time.'" I didn't throw in the fact that she had also bragged from the time that she got back 'til 14:59 had gotten onstage that she had gotten pictures taken with Steve.
Mom hugged me. "Oh sweetie, I'm sorry."
"How come she's decided to get all evil this year, Mom? She used to be my best friend."
"Things change, Macey. People change. Ashley might be going through a phase. If she doesn't get out of it anytime soon, then dump her."
I sighed. "I was so close to meeting Steve," I said sadly.
"Steve?" Mom looked around my room. Dozens upon dozens of pictures of 14:59 and Steve decorated the walls. "Is he that guy whose face is all over your walls?"
"Yeah Mom, that's Steve Ramone. Isn't he gorgeous?"
"He's cute, but if I had to pick any one of those guys I'd pick that one with the wavy hair, even though the silver streaks in his hair scare me a little."
I snickered. "That's Jack McCain, he's the drummer. Stacey's in love with him."
Mom smiled. "Not too much has changed since '99," she said. "Girls still obsess about pop stars. I was just like you and your friends."
That then reminded me of my music project. "Hey Mom, could you help me with a project tomorrow?" I asked.
"Sure. What kind of project?"
"It's for music. I need you to help me research a band from the 1990s."
"What band did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking about that group you mentioned a few days ago-*NSYNC."
Mom's eyes brightened. I had apparently struck a good point there. "Of course. What time do you want to start?"
"What time? Mom, you're making this sound like we're going to dig up King Tut's tomb and figure out every detail in one day."
"Trust me, Macey, as a former *NSYNC freak, it's gonna take awhile. I'll be ready whenever you're ready."
"Whatever. Goodnight Mom."
"Goodnight Macey. Sleep tight."
*********
I got up the next morning around 9 a.m. and headed into the kitchen. Mom was dressed in her cleaning clothes: that old Duke t-shirt and jeans. "Ready?" she asked me as she finished the last of her coffee.
"Yeah."
"Alright, we're going to the attic."
"The attic?" I asked, almost horrified.
"That's where all of the stuff is. You're project is going to be great. Now come on." Mom grabbed a flashlight and we headed upstairs.
As soon as we got to the attic Mom said, "Look for a long blue trunk down at that end. If you find it just give me a yell, okay?"
"Sure." I headed to my right and began to look around for the trunk. After pushing aside a few boxes (and getting some dust clogged in my nose) I found it. "Mom. I think I got it."
My mother ran over. "Good, now we're going to take it downstairs."
"Can't we open it up here?" I asked. I was now itching with curiosity. Or maybe it was the fact that I thought something was crawling on me.
"Let's take it downstairs. It'll be easier to access."
The two of us together managed to lug the heavy chest downstairs and into the den. "Whew! That thing is heavy!" I said.
"Now we can open it." Mom rubbed her hands together eagerly, like a little kid in front of the Christmas tree trying to decide what package to open first. "I haven't been in this in years," she whispered. "Not since..." She paused, then flipped up the latches to reveal the contents.
I peered into the box and gasped at what I saw inside. There were books... pictures... notebooks... all with *NSYNC on them. "Whoa."
"This is everything *NSYNC," Mom said. "All mine, all original." She reached in the trunk and pulled out a box. I recognized the case; it was a case that held a thing called a video. "*NSYNC 'N the Mix. God, I watched this thing so many times. I've also got it on DVD, so you can watch it and take some notes or whatever."
I was still in awe. "I can use all of this to do my project?" I asked.
"There's more." Mom got up and five minutes later returned with another small box, this one holding CDs. "This is my entire collection of their CDs," she explained. "You can't just do the project without the music. You can use my CD player to listen to it. It's great stuff."
You say that about everything from when you were my age, I thought. "Thanks Mom."
Mom smiled. "No problem. From now on you're on your own." She left the room, leaving me alone on the floor. I stared at the trunk for a minute, then began to go through it, looking for someplace to start. I found an official biography beneath a t-shirt and hat. I picked it up and began leafing through it, beginning my extensive research on *NSYNC.