Stacy's Song by Jacqueline Seewald

on.
    â€œSorry,” I said.
    â€œIt’s all right,” Randy said, “the squirt was just trying to impress us.”
    I rejoined my parents and Greg.
    My father turned toward me. “Stacy, did you know Greg is planning to go to Princeton?”
    â€œHopin g to go there is more like it , sir. My dad went there. I hope to follow in his footsteps. I’ve got decent grades and I am captain of the football and baseball teams , but even so it won’t be easy. You never know with the Ivy League c olleges just who or wha t they’re looking for. Anyway I’m applyin g to a lot of different schools just in case.”
    â€œThe y’d be fools not to snap you up , s on.” No, it wasn’t my imagination; my father was salivating over Greg.
    I saw Michael signal Liz and Jimmy to return to the bandstand, and I went to join them.
    Michael immediately sensed my presence. “You don’t have to play anymore with us tonight.”
    â€œThat’s all right. I’m part of the group.”
    â€œNo , not tonight. T his is your party, your friends and your family. Just go and enjoy yourself.” He took me forcefully with his strong hands and pushed me toward the steps of the stage.
    â€œMichael!” I felt keen ly hurt.
    â€œWe ’ll do without you tonight. Now get out of here!”
    I was so angry at him I felt like punching him.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” my father asked, looking in Michael’s direction.
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œYou do look upset,” Greg agreed.
    Michael starte d playing something with a hard fast beat.
    â€œLet’s just dance,” I told Greg.
    â€œSure,” he agreed.
    It was a special evening all right but Michael sure had a way of spoiling it!

Chapter Seven
    A few days later, Greg asked me to be his date for the Thanksgiving Dance. Th at was a no brainer. I accepted of course. The dance was a big deal for us since it represented the end of the football season. The te am had been doing well. In fact , if we won the next two games there was some talk of going on to a state championship. At school e verybody was upbeat. We were thinking football. It made us all feel like winners.
    I hardly even paid any attention to the report card that was sent home. But my father paid a lot of attention to it.
    â€œYou’re doing below average work in several courses. This is the worst report card you’ve ever had. How could you let this happen?” His spine stiffened as he stared at me. “Don’t you do your homework?”
    â€œAs much as I have time for , Dad. But I’ve been busy, real busy. There just doesn ’t seem to be enough hours in the day.”
    â€œWell, you better make extra hours.” His stern eyes pinned me with their intensity. “Good grades are important. I expect school work will be your number one priority.”
    I nodded; I never argued with my father when he was in that kind of mood.
    â€œYou could drop that band of y ours for starters. I believe that blind boy is a very negative influence on you.”
    I stared at my father in surprise. “I love playing in the band , Dad.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” he said in a way that made me uneasy. A chill slithered down my spine.
    Â 
    While I was sti ll smarting from my report card , problems developed with Michael. We’d managed to rub along well eno ugh in our working relationship but suddenly he wanted me to devote even more time to practice.
    The day after report cards came out Michael announced that we had an important gig. “We’re going to play at the Thanksgiving Dance,” he told us. “The student council at Wilson had such good feedback about the job we did at the Sock Hop that they want us back to play for the big Thanksgiving Dance.”
    â€œFine by me,” Jimmy said.
    â€œWhat do you think, Stacy?” Michael waited for a response.
    I hesitated. “It’s great but I