Munky looked quite smart and established in his tuxedo.

His mother said so; his sister said so; and so did Jessie when she knocked on his door. She had been wearing her "hole puncher", but slipped it into her purse just as his mother opened the door. Her heart beat fast, threatened to give out on her. She still couldn’t believe that Jimmy had asked her to the prom; he was the only kid in school she liked. For the past four days she had simply never gotten it out of her mind as to how he just showed up on her door. She had been doing vocal exercises to the blasting metal music, and had been caught off guard. She was sure that she had been all sweaty and gross—singing to her was a physical experience, not just a vocal one. It was cool.

Just not when the hottest guy in school showed up on her doorway like a misled fleck of dust.

His apartment was small but homey. The living room gave way to a tiny kitchen, packed with the bare essentials and nothing more. The living room itself sported a TV that Jessie could hold in her palm and a couch with more holes in it than cottage cheese. His mother was a young but seemingly aged woman, with curly black hair and eyes that burned into Jessie’s multi-colored ones. She spoke with an unmistakable Mexican accent.

"He’s in there," she said, pointing to a door that straddled the end of a short hallway. Thinking of nothing else to do, she walked there, and knocked on the door. He opened the door to her. He blinked. For once, there was a tone of color to her cheeks (she had declined on putting on as much foundation) and her full lips were touched with the slightest hint of gloss. Her dress hugged her hourglass body, the color of it a velvet that was neither purple, black, red, or blue. It varied under the light. On the contours of her breasts an intricate design dissolved into two straps that slid over her narrow shoulders. Her ample cleavage exemplified the rest of her tiny figure, her long, naturally black hair flowing down the arch of her back like the night itself.

"Wow."

"Um, thanks." She blushed, and for the first time he saw color creep to her high cheekbones. "You look good, too." He was wearing a crisp black tux, fitting together so well with his dreadlocks that it was somewhat uncanny. He had decided to shave off his sorry attempt for a goatee, and instead there was a sharp and soft chin.

Neither knew what to say, especially Munky. She looked good. Not Kristin, but good all the same. Damn good. He had to keep his mind on his goals, though, and had time to do it when his mother attacked them with her camera. They took about a million pictures, until he kissed her goodbye. They finally escaped. "Thank God," he whispered to Jessie as they both leaped down the stairs. By the time they piled into Jessie’s Mitsubishi, they were cracking up. They drove down the road, and on impulse decided to skip the fancy dinner and just get something at Dairy Queen. By the time his mother had used up all the pictures, they only had half an hour before the prom would start. Munky insisted that they could go somewhere else if she really wanted to, but she said with nonchalance that she didn’t really give a shit either way. That settled it: ice cream. She slipped the "Cradle of Thorns’" demo tape into her tape player.

They roared into parking lot, and Munky left to get the ice cream. He came back out with two large banana split sundaes, and saw Jessie flipping him the bird from across the parking lot. She had moved to the other side of the parking lot. "Over here, bitch!" she yelled, waving frantically, half hanging out of her window, her breasts threatening to pop out from her dress—but in a good way. Despite himself, a warm wave passed over his groin, and he smiled.

"Here ya go." He handed her a sundae, and climbed into the car with his. They turned down Cradle of Thorns as they ate, and he told her that he thought their shit was cool.

"Yeah. I know. I met them. My band opened for them before."

"Really?" She was in a band?

"Yeah. I heard you had a band, too. With Brian. Or Head. Or Ham. Or something. I don’t know."

"He used to be in it, but he’s not anymore. He quit because we’re surfer and he doesn’t like surfer music. We’ve been to LA a couple of times, but never to play shows. We’re trying to get a gig up there."

"Cool. I’m in a girl band called ‘Pathetic Fallacy’. We never practice, cause all the rest of the band is up in LA. I just go there and scream my heart out. That’s all. I count on them to provide the music, and they count on me to break stuff and write kick ass lyrics to their shit. That’s all I do. I’d like to say that we’re pretty good; our shows are real wild."

This was something unexpected! She didn’t say what she did in a braggart way at all; just laying down the facts, almost as if it weren’t that big of a deal. He had come across of a lot of exaggerators in his time; people that said they were a lot better or that their band was more popular than they really were. He believed her. He just did. "We might be able to get you a gig. I heard you were real good, but I never heard you," she continued, between bites.

"Yeah, well we’ve been together for four years."

"Wow. I mean, I got in ‘Pathetic Fallacy’ last year. I was at a show, and their singer sucked. I thought the actual band kicked ass, though, so I ripped my shirt off to get to the front of the crowd. Then I got up there, took the mic from the singer when he let me, and just started singing."

"Shirtless? Totally?"

She blushed again. "Well, yeah."

He only smiled at his banana split sundae. Carefully, he said, bringing the plastic spoon to his mouth, "I would have liked to see that." He meant it, too, he realized. After he said it.

"Maybe you will."

Silence.

"You scream? What do you mean?" he asked. He put his spoon into the empty ice cream container. He did a quick double take to make sure none of the ice cream had dripped onto him and then set it aside. Jessie wasn’t far behind; she only had a few bites left. Finally, a girl that ate real food. Another plus. "Yeah. It may be hard to believe, but I can. Like Metallica. Like Pantera and Megadeth and all those kick ass motherfuckers."

"Really. Show me," he said quickly, wondering what her reaction would be. He found it hard to believe that a girl could growl like the lead singer of the band that played softly from her player. The sounds emanating from her speakers were deep-throated and primal. He expected her to hesitate, decline, but she just threw her head back and brayed laughter.

"You decide. You want me to really do it?" Her eyes twinkled, one brown and one blue.

"Go for it."

She took a quick deep, breath, and settled it deep into her lungs, as if she were smoking pot. When it happened, Munky couldn’t believe that she had been smiling a millisecond before. Her face twitched, and suddenly contorted into unencumbered rage. "DIIIE!!!" (Author’s note: Think Morgan from Kittie)

People enjoying sundaes in their cars swung their heads toward the car. Some people opened their doors warily, trying to see better what was going on. After her scream she turned on the car and peeled out of the parking lot, and together they left the onlookers to always wonder. Munky simply let out a long breath. His ears were ringing. Her voice had not been that of a female at all. Just a grumbling en masse of vocal onslaught he had before thought only men had the ability to do. "You sound possessed. But in an amazing way." She flashed him a wonderfully beautiful, wide smile. Then, she took her gaze back to the road. "Thank you," she replied lightly.

Looking back, Munky would say that somewhere along there was when he changed his mind about her. He found his gaze wandering to the cleft of her breasts, of the figure that flowed like liquid silver, the sounds coming from her perfect lips sexy in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He thought about her bisexuality, and decided that he would like to talk to her about it sometime. Maybe that night, even.

Don’t think about that shit. Just don’t. You’re here to get Kristin. Through her you’ll be able to get the girl of your dreams. Whether you want to believe it or not, you are never going to see Kristin again after next month. You’ve wanted her for years; don’t give up on her just because of some freaky chick. Just don’t do it. Jessie isn’t that important.

Looking at her—actually there, and not just a figment of his vivid imagination—he wasn’t sure.

Munky had had some preconceived notions about the prom. From the way it was romanticized on television and talk shows (his mother always watched "He Never Took Me To The Prom!" on Oprah), he thought it was some fancy, big fucking deal. After spending two hours sitting at a table with punch and talking with Head, Rebekkah, and Jessie, looking all quite overdressed for the gymnasium, he knew otherwise. (He had wanted to try to get him and Jessie a seat at Kristin’s table, but turns out there wouldn’t be enough room for Head and ‘Bekkah as well). It was a big deal, yes, everywhere but in Bakersfield. Everything was different there. The hired band sucked, though most of his classmates, including Kristin, danced like there was no tomorrow. At first it was hard not to watch her move to the music, but after walking outside under the stars with Jessie it wasn’t that difficult. He offered to get more punch, and asked Jessie if she wanted some more. Head and Rebekkah started to make out again at the table and it made him kinda uncomfortable to just sit there with Jessie and watch them. Those two fucked like rabbits, and their long-time relationship made Munky feel a little cheated. It could have been worse: Jessie could have been a total flake. Except that she wasn’t. She had kept them all laughing…when the two lovebirds weren’t sucking face, that is.

"I’m sorry ‘bout them," Munky said as the both of them, holding their little plastic cups, made their way to the punch.

"Don’t be."

"Give me some," he said as she poured some punch into her cup. She poured some into his. She grinned at him, and grabbed his arm when he turned to walk away. She lifted up her skirt to reveal knee length combat boots and sexy fishnet tights. She had a G-String on, and on her inner thigh was a bottle of vodka. She grabbed it and pulled it out, the dress immediately falling to her ankles once more. She held the bottle carefully against her breasts, looking around. "You think anyone saw that?" she asked.

He swallowed. "I did."

"Well, that doesn’t matter." She popped the cork, and poured some of the punch into his drink, and then hers.

"I like the way you think. Let’s spike the bowl," he suggested.

"No way! Let’s save it for later."

"There’s gonna be a later?" he asked, a little more hopefully than he meant to.

"Is there?" As if she was implying nothing at all.

"Again, I like the way you think." He took her hand on the way back to the table. As they sat, his gaze wandered outward, away from Head and the rest of them. They wandered to Kristin. She was sitting with all her friends, talking. She had on a short red skirt, hiking up now that she sat on the table. Her blonde hair accented two blue eyes and a tight shirt under which there were only ample breasts.

"Are you friends with Kristin?" he asked. Head shot him a look to kill. Rebekkah had been begging him to dance, but he insisted to stay put.

Jessie’s face contorted with the hate he had seen during her screams. "No. She is such a fucking bitch. She’s a double-crossing cunt." Jessie shivered. "I can’t even stand to talk about her."

WHAT?

"Hey, guys, a slow song. Wanna dance?" Head squeaked. He stood up with a satisfied Rebekkah.

Jessie’s eyes lit up as Munky’s narrowed. She wanted to dance, didn’t she? The whole thing had flown from her mind, hadn’t it? Why did she hate Kristin that much? Why did she have to be such a fucking bitch about it?

"No. I’ll be right back." Munky left. In the bathroom, peeing, he let his forehead rest against the tile above the urinal. Even as the sound of urine against porcelain stopped, he remained the same. He couldn’t help but hate Jessie. And for the past two hours, he had wanted her. Actually Wanted her. "Getting-a-boner-in-his-nice-tuxedo-pants" Wanted her. That Want was the Want he had had for Kristin.

There was a humongous difference between Jessie and Kristin: he had a chance with Jessie. And now he despised her. He had to.

Or maybe he just hated the pissed off, pathetic aura that comes along with seeing a plan falling apart before it even really started. What had been his plan anyway? To sit with Kristin’s so-called "friend" at her table while Kristin went and grinded with some guy who had dissed his prom date to be with her? Had he really expected to fool Jessie?

He had. But reality’s a bitch.

"Munky?"

"Head. Go away."

"Munky, you’re not peeing." Head, Ham, and Brian had another nickname as well: Dr. Obvious.

"No shit, Sherlock. Look, just leave me alone."

But Head wouldn’t do that. He would never just leave it alone. "I don’t know what the fuck your problem is. Jessie wants you. She wants to be with you, and thinking about it real hard, you had a fuckin’ good time just now with her. For once in our fucking friendship you were acting like a normal teenage guy, chasing pussy you can actually get."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His voice was high and stringy. Almost on the verge of hysteria. Head looked as if he had been betrayed. "I want Kristin. I can’t deny it. Jessie’s cool, but—fuck it! You don’t even know! Not everyone is as fucking lucky as you and Rebekkah are, okay? I can’t get over Kristin just like that." He snapped his fingers. "I don’t want to."

"You have to wake up. I don’t know a guy who wouldn’t go for Jessie. She’s beautiful, and she wants you. Come on man, that is one hot piece of ass. You’re practically in for sure tonight. Can’t you even see that?"

Munky zipped his pants up, and narrowed his eyes at Head. Jessie wasn’t just a piece of ass. He thought about eating ice cream with her, about the way she looked at him with those sparkling, multi-colored eyes. And walking under the stars with her. That had been the best. In the dark, just being quiet, looking at the stars. She had told him, "When I was a little girl I used to think that when the sun went down it broke like a piece of glass and floated back into the sky. I thought that the stars were shards of the sun."

In the past couple of hours he had gotten more from Jessie than he ever had from a million fantasies about Kristin. That’s all she was: a fantasy. With the blink of an eye, Kristin would disappear. Jessie wouldn’t.

"Don’t even go there," Munky whimpered. He almost broke into tears as Head slumped. All was silent as Munky went on. "She’s not just a piece of ass."

"Who? Kristin?"

"Jessie!" he shouted. The energy drained out of him, as if the room was sucking it out with a straw. Before his scream bounced back, he apologized. "She’s not just pussy. She means more to me than that," he said again. It was all he had to say.

Head had to suppress a warding "FINALLY!" and approached his friend. He only went to pat him on the shoulder, but Munky hugged him. For the first time in their four year friendship. Soon Head returned the embrace, and they stood there, in the bathroom, hugging, neither one saying anything. The overdue bonding of the skinny poor kid and the old fat, chubby kid with a tapping tic. They had come a long way over the years; after next month, nothing would be certain at all. L.A. would be theirs. Someday, both were determined that the world would be theirs. If they only knew how right they were.

"Jessie means a lot to me."

"I know. You say all that stuff about me and ‘Bekkah, but you have to let it happen first." He let this sink in. Then, "And you know what I heard about Kristin, anyway?" Head said. They let go of each other.

"I don’t really give a fuck, but what?"

"She has hairy nipples."

"No way!" Munky said as they both left the men’s bathroom, and the crappy music from the playing band filled their ears. "Not shitting you," Head said, a little loudly. Munky saw ahead to the table, where Rebekkah and Jessie were talking, their heads close together. They shut up as the guys approached.

"How do you know that?" They would be out of hearing range for about ten feet yet.

"Someone in my lab class that had slept with her said that. Why do you think that she can never keep a boyfr—"

"We’re taking a break. We love you all," insisted the band onstage. The music stopped with a screeching halt that they both dreaded and yet were thankful for. Each song ended with a terrifying screech from the singer. As they left their instruments to get some punch, Munky and Head exchanged a mischievous look. "You know, we are WAY overdue for a competition. I’m pretty sure I can beat you for the second time in a row," Munky bragged.

"Let’s fuckin’ do it."

"Come on. Come on, ‘Bekkah, Jessie," Head said as Munky ran through the crowd of dancers leaving the floor. Jessie was doubtful as she watched Munky lift himself onto the stage. But that dispelled when he messed around with the amplifier, and picked up one of the Fender Strats from its holder. He laced the strap over his shoulder. He continued to fiddle with it at a volume so low that none noticed. Yet. Suddenly, the blaring introduction to "Rock You Like A Hurricane" from the Scorpions caught everyone’s attention. They gaped, and some for the first time, at the young man fiddling with a thousand dollar Fender Strat on the stage. His counterpart was soon onstage as well. The band ran to the stage, but Munky told them to chill.

Besides, the kids seemed to like it. The rock fans in the crowd came onto the dance floor for the first time. A drummer emerged, as well as a bassist that Munky and Head were affiliated with. The bassist was a fanatic; he knew every song in the book. The drummer was the same. After a minute of discussion, they broke out into a mutual favorite: "Slow Ride" by Foghat. Slowly, the class colonated onto the dance floor, to sway to the instrumental band that played like a well-oiled machine. As the last notes faded away, they received an ovation from the student body as well as the faculty, and for the first time Munky looked upon the people he had grown up with, cheering their heart out for him. It would never be the same at Highland High for Munky. They would never again look at him as weird; they would look at him as weird and talented.

"MORE! MORE! MORE!" the crowd shouted.

"Let’s do a fuckin’ metal tune," Head said.

"Yeah," Munky said. "Let’s do something awesome. Like, Metallica, or something. You guys know any Metallica? I know it all."

They decided on a song, and Munky waved Jessie onto the stage. She looked just as out of place as the others, as overdressed, the other guys in the band in tuxedos. Munky remove his guitar quickly, to take off his overcoat, and unbutton the cuffs of his crisp white shirt. Head looked at Munky doubtfully as Jessie picked up the microphone. She checked it with a sweet voice.

He just grinned back.

They were just about to begin when Head and the others decided it was time for them, too, to remove their overcoats. Jessie waited with her arms crossed, and looked out into the crowd. Onstage she wasn’t the scary girl she was in the hallways; she had a stage presence that far outweighed Munky’s and Head’s. Onstage was where she belonged, and the onlookers seemed to realize it, for they laughed at the insinuating looks she gave to the muscular bassist. She waited until the instrumentalists were all situated.

They started the first couple seconds of the encore until she stopped them. As everyone watched she gingerly replaced her microphone, and took the straps from her dress, pulling them from her shoulders and down her arms. The guys hooted; the girls watched on in disbelief; Munky laughed. When the straps were down, and her breasts seemed even more precarious to both the audience and the school staff, she said "Ahh. There. You guys ready for some rock?"

They roared, loving it. Loving her.

Head almost slipped from his guitar when her voice ripped from the microphone. It was the same screaming that Munky had heard in her car, except so much better with a soundtrack. Everyone watched, entranced, as she belted out a metal tune that did Metallica a supreme justice. When she was done, a sweaty mess, she gave them the devil sign, and retired though they begged for an encore. When they were offstage, Munky took her into his arms, and swung her around. He would have kissed her, but she told him not to forget his overcoat, so he went back to fetch it.

"I have to go calm down. I’ll be right back," she said behind him. He winked at her.

When he went back for his overcoat, it wasn’t hanging over the amp anymore. Kristin had it on her shoulder, dangling over her back from a long finger. She prolonged the touch as she handed him his overcoat. She took his hand and led him to her table. He wanted to go back to Jessie—where was she? And where was Head, for that matter?

She sat him down at the table—physically sat him down. Then, she settled onto his lap, lacing his hand around hers. He wanted to say "Kristin, get off me. Now," but he couldn’t. He was in shock. Hairy nipples, was all he thought as he looked at them, poking from her red shirt. They didn’t look hairy.

"You were amazing. I love guitarists," she said, her blue eyes twinkling. All he could do was look at her. His mouth worked in an effort to form words, but stopped when he felt the contours of her firm buttocks move against his leg. Passersby didn’t see it, didn’t even notice it, it was so subtle; but he sure as hell felt it. Her eyes said all. Those deep-sea blue eyes.

Something moved very quickly to his right. Jessie. Her shoulder straps were still on beneath her arms. She didn’t say a word. She just turned around, defeated, and departed. It was what he had always wanted. What he had wanted all along. His plan had worked. Fate had done him a favor. It was funny to think that half an hour ago he had been on the verge of crying, longing for the girl who now sat on his lap, her subtle weight expecting a notch any moment.

Except there wouldn’t be any. Even if he tried. There just wouldn’t be.

"Jessie!" he cried. He threw Kristin to the side, so harshly that she collided ass-first with the hardwood of the gym floor. He would have apologized. If he had cared at all.

"Jessie! Come out!" he said from outside of the girl’s bathroom door. She insisted that he go fuck himself, but he ignored her. His heart pounded from running across the gym so fast, wondering in the back of his head whether Kristin had bruised her perfect little cupid-shaped behind. He hoped she had, and with that thought banged hard on the swivel door with his large fist. "Come on! Jessie!"

She didn’t answer this time. He surveyed the area to make sure that no one was there. Then he barged in, and for the first time since early childhood found himself amidst pink wallpaper, a row of porcelain sinks, and large mirrors. Not to mention the sanitary product dispenser that Jessie was leaning against, facing the petal colored tiles, away from him. The satin skin of her back sleeked into her velvet dress. His anger dispersed. When Jessie spoke again she sounded so vulnerable, as if she herself were shards of bitter glass threatening to break.

"Jimmy, just go with her. I know it’s what you want."

He sighed. "It isn’t how it looks…"

"Oh," she turned around suddenly, bent forward, her bosom once again voluptuously visible. Her long, elegant fingers were knotted into fists. "And I suppose you think that I haven’t noticed how strange things have been. You asked me to the prom even though we’d never even talked to each other before. And Jimmy, you’ve been staring at Kristin all night! Not to mention the little time that you ran off to the bathroom when I called Kristin a cunt. That’s what she is, Jimmy! A fucking cunt! Look, I’m not blind. I know that you want her. I know that you thought I was her friend. I know that you have had a crush on her since who knows when.

"And—" here her voice broke. She swung back to face the wall. She had caught the desperate look on Munky’s face. "I’m just angry that you asked me. You used me. I knew it all along, I guess; I was just kidding myself. I’m not like her, Jimmy, so if that whore is the one you want, then go for it. You’ll get her. It doesn’t matter that I’ve wanted you for just as long, doesn’t matter that after you left that day I went out to L.A. and got a dress. I wasn’t even gonna come until you asked me. I didn’t give a shit about prom until I knew that I was coming with you."

Silence.

She heard the footstep of his shiny black shoes as they clicked across the tile. He reached an arm for her shoulder, but hesitated. Shrugging him off as if he had already touched her, she whimpered finally, "Don’t. Just go. Really. I-I want you to be happy."

Oh, god, what do I do now? he pondered as her chest heaved, and finally, she broke into tears, silent ones, so pained in their masking that his own eyes filled. He let loose a long, deep breath and drew nearer to her, until his large hands tenderly wrapped around the innermost curve of her slender waist. Slowly, he drew his hands around her until they met in the center of her firm stomach, and folded. He brushed his body against her then, for the first time feeling the blue warmth of her sadness. Hot breath cascaded down the side of her neck as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. The words tumbled from his tongue.

"I wanted Kristin for a long time, it’s true. Jessie, I was desperate. I would do anything for her. Even go to the prom with one of her friends"—she stiffened. "I wanted to get to Kristin, although I didn’t have a clear idea of how. When I saw you the day I asked you to prom, I didn’t know what to think; you were so beautiful. I love how you look tonight. Yeah, I wanted her. She started to hit on me after you left, and I just didn’t know what to do. I realized that she wants the guy with the guitar; she doesn’t want me. I thought that getting in with her crowd would help me. But those who hate her, who want nothing to do with her, are the people that I want to be with." He turned her around. She didn’t resist him. Pressing their lean bodies together, she rested her head, charcoal eyes closed against his chest, hands squeezing the fabric of his rented ebony tux. He finished. "I’m sorry."

Munky had the best night of his life. And when all was said and done, when Munky moved to Huntington Beach with LAPD that July, Jessie came, too.