My Beautiful Hippie by Janet Nichols Lynch Read Free Book Online Page B

Pill.”
    â€œSo she can support
him
,” Maxine almost snarled. “That’s the other subject they teach you girls in high school, isn’t it? Typing—so you can support a man attending a university for a real profession, so you can type
his
dissertation instead of writing your own. That’s what those male chauvinist
pigs
want, and they always get what they want!” She stopped, nearly panting.
    If Quentin was insulted by her talk, he didn’t show it. He smoked his cigarette, putting a lot of wrist motion in it and following through with a sweep of his arm. He was the most stylish smoker I’d ever seen.

Chapter
Five

    On Thursday nights my parents went out to dinner and on to their ballroom dance lessons. It used to be a treat for Denise, Dan, and me to eat TV dinners on trays in front of the boob tube watching
The Mod Squad
, but now, with Denise married and Dan off at his new pizza delivery job, Thursday nights were even better. I had the whole house to myself to practice the piano as loudly and long as I wanted. But that night was special. I was going to sneak off to Martin’s with Rena.
    My parents left the house at five-thirty, and I waited a full ten minutes before charging down to Walker Street to Rena’s house.
    When she opened the door, she seemed surprised to see me. “Oh, Jo! I forgot! I can’t go!”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œLook, I’ll show you! It’s fantastic!” She led me into her living room and opened the pink entertainment section of the
San Francisco Chronicle
. “The American Conservatory Theater is casting
The Crucible
, and they’re having auditions tonight! It’s about the Salem witch trials, and they need a bunch of teenage girls to spaz out and act like they’re possessed by the devil. I’ve been rehearsing all afternoon. Watch!” Rena rolled her eyes and jerked her arms around, then dropped in a heap to the floor as if her skeleton had dissolved to Jell-O. She sat up with a grin. “Pretty convincing, huh?”
    â€œYeah, but you promised you’d come with me.”
    â€œI know, Jo. I’m sorry. Can’t you go alone?”
    I hugged myself. “I’d be too scared without you.”
    â€œWe’ll go tomorrow!” Rena said brightly.
    But I was psyched up to go right then. I had selected the perfect outfit. I had rehearsed all the cool things I’d say to Martin. I started to trudge home, but when I got to Ashbury, I turned left toward Haight.
    I passed a couple of scary-looking Hells Angels astride their Harley choppers. I was pretty certain the one with scraggly hair, a black beard, and a beer gut was the famous Chocolate George. He wore a denim shirt with the sleeves ripped out as a vest, dotted with peace buttons. My eyes slid away from him, and I walked a little faster. The Hells Angels had once held the entire town of Hollister hostage, and even more terrifying, they had been prosecuted for gang rape. Dozens of Hells Angels had rolled into the Haight and decided to hang around and drop acid. They seemed peaceful enough, but still they made me nervous.
    I sat at the trolley stop, and when it arrived, I got on. Every fiber of my being told me not to do this. Every newspaper clipping about abduction, rape, and murder that my mother had ever read aloud to me rose in giant letters in my mind. Simply, I would be killed, and it served me right because when my parents went out, they trusted me to stay home with my TV dinner and piano.
    When the trolley stopped at Beach Street, I got off. I walked across the street, through the gate, and up the steep, cracked walkway to Martin’s house. A recording of the Purple Cockroach’s “Evolution! Revolution!” blared from an open basement window. I knocked and waited, but no one answered. Maybe Martin was watching me from behind the curtains, not really wanting me to visit and waiting for me to leave. This thought caused