PROLOGUE

The mind numbing effect of Leaping settled down leaving him with an inebriated feeling. He waited for the sensation to pass as he relied on his senses to tell him of the place he’d leapt into. His senses slowly came back to him. At least he could tell he was sitting down, his body somewhat slumped into a hard uncomfortable chair. He could smell different mixtures of cologne and perfume that lingered in the room. It was then that he could feel two objects - somewhat heavy- leaning on both of his shoulders. As his hearing improved, he could hear a tapping of some kind. Then slowly, his vision cleared and his mouth dropped open.

A middle-aged man stood at the chalkboard drawing a female reproduction system. He glanced around the room to find that he was in a classroom of teens that looked positively bored. He glanced at his shoulders to find two young men had propped their textbooks there then had laid their heads down to sleep. Nothing could surprise him more than leaping into a teenager during a sexual education lecture in Science class, or so he thought.

"Reproduction," the teacher supplied as he turned around placing the chalk onto the board. "It’s very simple and yet very important." The blond haired middle-aged man pulled off his glasses and huffed a couple of breaths at the lens, then wiped them with a handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket. "When is the best time for a woman to conceive?"

Sam closed his eyes and slightly shook his head. He didn’t need this, not now. He prayed with earnest that the man wouldn’t look to him to answer that question. When the teacher picked up a piece of paper from the desk to look at it for a moment Sam wondered if this was the classes’ regular teacher, but dismissed the thought quickly as he tried to act attentive.

"Mr. - ah . . . " The teacher looked around the room searching for a student to match the seating chart. "Joewarskie." The teacher’s eyes fixed on a young man a few seats up from Sam.

"What’s 'conceived'?" The young man asked with a slight flush to his face embarrassed that he had been called upon.

"Well, you know . . . to be fertile." The teacher prompted him as he puffed on the other lens to clean it. 

"Uh . . . oh . . . ask Naugarellie, Mr. Stewart." He quipped.

"Mr. Naugarellie?" He prompted simply looking at another young man who sat cater-cornered from the other.

The raven-haired young man had been leaning back in his chair showing the students around him the Playboy magazine hiding in his textbook. He looked up, unconcerned. "Ask Goose," he replied with a grin.

Mr. Stewart prompted, "Mr. Goose?" 

Sam could tell already from this line of questioning that Mr. Stewart must a substitute teacher for this particular class. Lifting his hand to his head, he grinned as he listened to them pass the buck.

A young man toward the back of the room who wore a leather jacket with goggles about his neck lifted his head in response. "Ask Demuchie," he chirped.

"Mr. Demuchie?" Mr. Stewart pressed a bit impatiently as he looked to the student in front of the Goose.

"Whaaa?" The student asked innocently as he chewed his gum.

"Conceive?" Mr. Stewart repeated patiently. "What’s the best time?" He asked placing his glasses back on.

Mr. Demuchie glanced toward his friends who had passed the buck, grinned, and then shrugged as he answered with his own question, "At night?"

Mr. Stewart sighed. "Well, I can see that we aren’t getting very far here," he stated pointedly.

"I have the same problem." Demuchie answered with a mischievous grin.

Sam rolled his eyes as the class giggled at the teen’s response and glanced around the room again. From the clothes, it looked like he had leapt into the late 50's or early 60's. "Oh boy . . . " he began. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy . . . what’s next?" He questioned the highest sovereignty with a sigh.
 

PART ONE

May 16, 1961

Yonkers, New York

The teacher shook his head at the young man’s response and frowned. "Well, since it looks like some of us haven’t been studying, I want the entire class to read chapter fourteen on the reproductive systems once more. We will discuss it tomorrow in class. Remember gentlemen," Mr. Stewart said, looking at the ones he’d called on for a brief moment. "I will call on you." Just as he finished his sentence the bell rang. "Remember, chapter fourteen. You’re dismissed."

Before Sam stood up to leave he glanced around the room and his eyes fell upon a young woman getting her books together. A few of them cascaded to the floor from her grasp. He went to her aid automatically. "Here, let me help you with that."

"I can manage. Look, I can manage." She said a little exasperated as he handed a few of them up to her. He could already feel the very strong sense of the person that he had leapt into coming through, but when he heard the Imaging Chamber Door open and saw Al walk out, he was able to push the influence aside.

"Oh, my God!" Al said exaggerated. "This is great, Sam! It’s rad . . . it’s cool . . . it’s hip," he said making sure to put the p at the end of hip.

Sam frowned for a moment. He wasn’t sure exactly what Al was talking about, but he hoped that Al would start telling him what he needed to do to leap. Feeling something heavy in his hand, he looked down. He looked back up as the young woman walked away. "You forgot this one," he called, holding out the book.

She glanced down at the books in her hand and counted them, then came back to him. "Thanks."

Sam smiled at her and watched as she walked away. Grabbing his books from his desk, he walked after her with Al following close behind. "Ok, so where am I that has you so thrilled?"

Al grinned. "I’m not really interested in where but when, Sam! It’s 1961, and you're in high school when things were so cool. Oh man, all kinds of new things were going on. Rockets into space, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, "The Misfits", Psycho - the movie credited for making ladies fear of showering alone, thank you very much." Al grinned at Sam mischievously. "Everything was going on during this time. The best cars," Al reminisced as he pointed his cigar toward Sam in excitement. "Oh . . . like the Jaguar X.K.E.! Man . . . now that was a car. Everything that came next in line seemed to progress to even bigger and better things. New songs, new dances, new moves . . ." Al’s eyebrows wiggled up and down seductively as he did a little of The Twist.

"I knew it would eventually come around to sex." Sam glanced out the classroom window and was at least satisfied to see that school was over; buses were waiting and students were massing in the front. Not worrying about putting up his books for the moment, he stepped outside of the class. "So, why am I here, Al? What needs to be put right here?"

"Well . . . we haven’t gotten that far just yet. I mean, Ziggy just barely told me the year when I came in . . . and . . . oh . . . my . . ." Al’s voice faltered as a young woman walked by wearing a tight sweater. Al turned and watched her as she walked by, admiring the way that her hips swayed back and forth. "I really . . . really liked the style in the 60's, too."

Sam sighed and shook his head. Al seemed to like the style of any era as long as it was on the female gender and Sam told him as such. "Well, I would eventually like to make it home." Sam finally quipped as he brought his head down to the side to hide the fact that he was talking to the hologram.

Al gathered his attention back to Sam. "Okay," he said as he raised the handlink. "Let’s see here." He hit the side it as the information stuck in the tiny screen. "Come on you hunk of junk." He gave it one more good hit. "Ah . . . here we go. You’ve leaped into Michael Carrington, an Australian, who moved to New York to live with his aunt and uncle for a while to see what America was like. It’s a really nice family." Al gave Sam the directions to the Carrington’s house then pocketed the handlink. "Once we get more information for you, I’ll let you know," Al said as he walked with Sam toward the parking lot. "Ah, there ya go. There's Michael's wheels."

To Sam’s chagrin, it was a motorcycle. "Oh no." Sam said softly as he looked at the machine resting at an angle on its stand. He shook his head and took in a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh.

"What?" Al asked as he looked at the machine, admiring it. "Now this is a classic. It’s a Harley Sportster 1958, 55 cubic inches, overhead valve." He bent down to inspect it thoroughly. "Whoever re-assembled this bike did an excellent job, Sam. Used the best of parts." He continued his verbal admiration as he continued his way around the bike, looking at the parts that he could see.

"Re-assembled?" 

"Yeah." Al said as he stood back up. He pointed at certain parts of the bike. " It doesn’t have all the Harley emblems on it, but they did the best with what was given to them. Honestly, Sam. Don’t you know anything about motorcycles?"

"Al . . ." Sam groaned as he divided a glance between the bike and Al then frowned. "I don’t know how to ride . . . remember the last time I was on a motorcycle? I nearly killed myself." Even with his Swiss-cheese memory, Sam recalled it all too well. Being on the motorcycle as he leapt in, slipping and sliding over the asphalt and falling with it into the dust with a graceful thud. He wasn’t in the mood to repeat that graceful feat again.

"Well, you have to get home somehow. You might as well start learning now." Al said with a grin.

Sam shook his head disapprovingly as he strapped his books to the bike. "You just want to see me eat dirt again, don’t you?" Sam said as he straddled the bike. Sitting back on the seat for a moment, he put his hands on the handlebars and immediately felt the urge to get off of it and walk home. However, he was as surprised as Al when he stood back up and kick started the motorcycle, then revved the engine for a moment, feeling the power of it as he settled down on the leather seat.

"How . . . " Al started amazingly. "If you don’t know how to ride a bike then you couldn’t have started it just like that, Sam. Sam?" Sam’s head turned to Al for a moment, then he broke into a wide grin before he revved the engine again, picked up his feet and shot out of the parking lot. Al’s mouth dropped open. "How in the . . ."

"Admiral Calavicci, there are some strong indications of psycho-synergizing going on at the moment. Michael Carrington must be trying to get himself home." Ziggy responded, answering the question Al hadn't fully posed. 

Al nodded. "Well, in that case, I guess we need to talk to Michael and see what we can pull from him." He watched for a moment longer as Sam rode away then punched in the exiting code on the handlink. He passed through the doorway, and the door closed behind him as he walked down the ramp into the Control Room. "St. John, what else do we have on Michael?" He asked as he put the handlink on the control panel in front of the programmer.

"Dr. Beeks hasn’t been able to get back in to talk to him. You know you gave Dr. Fuller and Tina the day off at the same time, so they are off to the malls to spend what is left of their paychecks." He rolled his eyes before meeting the Admiral’s eyes. "It seems that the ladies always blow their pay on the oddest of accessories."

Al watched St. John's hands fly over the console as he talked. He wondered exactly how the man knew what he was doing. "Well, then there’s no time like the present, I guess. Ziggy, take notes, my dear."

"I am not your personal secretary," Ziggy’s voice coldly filtered through the room. "I record everything routinely anyway."

Al smirked at her replay, then meandered back toward the Waiting Room and sighed as he placed his hand to the plate that let the door slide open before him. He glanced around the room searching for the aura of his best friend trapped in the past and found him sitting on the floor over near the corner of the room, his knees up to his chin, his head resting on his knees. Running his hand over his mouth, he cleared his throat. "You okay, kid?"

Michael raised his head from his knees and looked up at the older man. Frowning, his head cocked aside as he glanced at the man’s clothing: Black slacks and a very bright green-and-pink checkered shirt. He frowned at the sight as he shook his head. "Who are you?" The Australian accent was slight, but obvious.

Al grinned at the young man. He knew that his clothes often produced strange looks from Visitors. Not worrying about it too much, he walked over to him. "My name’s Al, Michael. I work here and I need to get some information from you. Think you can help me out?" He asked as he shifted his pants’ legs to sit down beside him.

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "I guess. Why am I here? Am I sick?"

"No, you aren’t sick. You’re fine. There’s just been a . . . a little mix up, and we need to get things straightened out before you leave here." Al said evasively, getting around the mechanics of leaping. "Think that you could answer a few questions for me?"

Again, Michael gave him a shrug. "I’ll do what I can." He sniffed at Al then turned to face him as he sat with his legs crossed. "What do you want to know?" 

Al once again couldn’t help smiling at the young man sitting before him. "We’ll do a few simple ones first. Who re-built that motorcycle of yours?" Al asked with interest.

It was Michael’s turn to grin. "That lovely machine is my concoction. I made it by using only the best parts from the local junkyard. Glad that you like it. Runs like a dream." He said as he leaned toward the older man. "It’s a cool ride."

Al smiled genuinely at the young man. "You sound almost like Jack Karowack. The dream of the open road ahead, living life and seeing what’s out there." 

"Well, I don’t know about that." Michael said softly. 

"Oh?" Al asked.

"Yeah," Michael began. "You see, there’s this girl . . ." He let his sentence linger for a moment and he watched as Al nodded his head understandingly. "Anyway, her dream is for someone on a motorcycle to come and sweep her off her feet. Well . . ."

"And you want to be the one." Al answered for him.

"Well, yeah. She’s gorgeous, Al, but she doesn’t want some ordinary guy like me. She wants ‘a cool rider’." Michael said softly as he looked out across the room. "And . . ." he said hesitantly.

"And?" Al prompted him, wanting him to continue for as long as he could remember. 

"And, well, with the right clothes, I can be just that. I even knocked that girl right out of her bobby-socks the other night at the Bowl-a-Rama decked out in my 'Cool Rider' duds. I threw everyone else for a loop as well. No one recognized who I was under the leather jacket, helmet and goggles." Michael told him rather pridefully.

Al had to give the kid some credit. He didn’t know how he raised the money to buy the parts for the bike or how he got everything situated, but to do it all for a girl . . . that was devotion if ever he saw it. "And who is this girl? What’s her name?"

For the first time, Michael drew a blank. He frowned, as he looked up at Al confused. "I . . . I can’t remember her name. How could I forget her name? She . . . Frenchy told me to stay away from her . . . because she is a part of a group, an elite group, called the Pink Ladies, and their boyfriends, or pals that they hang out with, are the T-Birds. And Steph . . . Stephanie. Stephanie Zanoani. That’s her name."

Al grinned when he said her name. He nodded. "Do you know of any problems that might be happening around you?"

"Yeah." Michael said simply as he looked away from Al. 

"Well?" Al asked softly. 

Michael frowned. "I have three problems. One is trying to be someone that I’m not; two, trying not to get my butt kicked from here to the wall from the T-Birds for horning in where I shouldn’t; and last, but not least, Ballmeudo."

"Ballmeudo?" Al asked with a wary gaze at the young man.

"Yeah. He’s a biker who has a gang. He won’t leave the T-Birds alone, and I got in between a rumble last night at the Bowl-a-Rama when I showed up as the Cool Rider. You see, Ballmeudo was about to rough up Davey when I showed up, and I kicked him down as I rode past him."

Al mouthed the word ‘oh’ and nodded his head. Those three things were enough to probably drive the poor kid to the brink. "Well, I need to get back to get things set up so that we can get you back home as quick as we can. Until then, do you need anything?" Al said as he stood up and brushed at his pants.

Michael shook his head. "No. But if I do, who’s going to hear me?"

Al grinned. "Well, this room is always monitored by Ziggy. If you have any problems, just let her know. All right, Ziggy?" He asked the air as he looked up toward the light blue dome of the ceiling.

"Of course, sir." Ziggy’s voice floated down around the pair in the room, sounding slightly bored. "No problem what so ever."
 
 

PART TWO

After getting some much needed sleep, Al head back to the Imaging Chamber. He knew he had to tell Sam what was going on with Michael and his wanna-be girlfriend, Stephanie. He walked down the corridor and smiled when he saw Julianna stepping into the hallway from her own quarters. "Morning, sunshine." Al approached her and gave her a sideways hug. 

Julianna grinned at her father and hugged him back. "How’s your head? I haven’t forgotten about those occasional headaches that you still have and I want to make sure that you don’t have them any more." She watched him as he brushed the subject aside, and shook her head. Eventually she knew that she would catch him when he had another headache, and when she did, she was going to take him directly to the infirmary. No more funny business.

Al knew that he couldn’t get out of the conversation about the headaches and he was rather irritated that she brought it up again. Brushing it to the side with a wave of his hand, he changed the subject completely. "What are you up to today?" He asked. 

Julianna sighed knowing that she wasn’t going to get far with the topic, especially since he changed the subject. "Oh, not much. Just going up and training another recruit on the basics. That’s all. We need to be on the ball."

"I knew I hired you as Head of Security for a reason." He smiled as he brought up his hand and chucked her chin lightly. "Well, I’m off to tell Sam more on this leap. This Carrington fellow remembered more than most leapees do. I was rather surprised."

Julianna nodded. "Have fun, Dad."

Al moved his eyebrows up and down and smiled at her. "Always." Giving her a kiss on the cheek, he bid her farewell and continued on toward the Control Center. Upon walking into the room, he saw St. John holding a conversation with Ziggy and he was quite surprised at what he heard.

"Well, you know, Ziggy, not all of the songs that were in the 50's were that bad. I mean, think about it. Some of the greatest songs were there. What do you think about Neil Sedaka, his song Calendar Girl wasn’t that bad."

"I’ve reviewed the song and don’t see what the calendar has anything to do with the girl." Ziggy said matter-of-factly. 

"Ziggy, come on." St. John placed his hands on his hips. "He’s saying that he loves his girlfriend 365 days of the year. Hello? A year. Okay . . . okay . . . I can see how you might have a problem with that one though. What about Unchained Melody? The perfect love song to dance to?"

"Please wait 3.39 minutes." Several moments passed and then the neural-hybrid computer responded, "I agree with you on that song."

Al shook his head. "What are you talking about?" He couldn’t help but question as he retrieved the handlink from its resting place on the Control Panel. 

"Oh, Admiral," St. John began. "We were discussing the effects of the songs in the 50's with people. For example, how Alley Oop, When A Man Loves A Woman, Who Put The Bop and It’s In His Kiss - affected the people around them."

Al nodded, not really sure how they got on that kick, and honestly didn’t really want to know. He was sure of one thing, though, that Ziggy didn’t need to be wasting her energy on the 50's when she needed to be in the 60's and finding out why Sam was needed in 1961. "Ziggy, have you found out anything for me? Anything at all?"

Ziggy purred down at him, "Yes, Admiral, I do have some percentages for you as to why Dr. Beckett leapt into 1961. There is a 56.5 percent chance that he is there to put Stephanie and Michael together, a 66.7 percent chance that he is there to get the gentlemen who make up the gang called the T-Birds to accept Michael, and a 62.2 percent chance that he is there to fight off an individual known as Ballmuedo."

Al shook his head and rubbed at his face. "You don’t have any other information to give me? Nothing with a higher percentage?" 

"No, Admiral." She replied silkily.

Al’s shoulders dropped as he turned to head up the ramp to enter the chamber. Al shook his head as he waited for the scene to coalesce around him once again. He found himself on a stage as he looked out at the empty seats. He heard singing from behind him and he cringed at the words. "Oh, jeeze." A cute set of twins were in the middle of practicing their song: 

"His loafers were Reeges, his chinos were black, with a cute little buckle that fastened in back, and my heart shook with fear as I prayed that I’d hear from Brad, hear from Brad."

When Al saw Sam sitting at the piano playing for them, he quickly walked over and found his friend talking to a cute little girl with pigtails as he played.

"Hey ‘D’," Sam said with a grin as the brunette sat down beside him on the bench.

"Dolores, okay? What’s that noise?" She asked as she cringed at the words of the song herself.

Sam sighed as he looked up and spied Al. "Brad," he stated rather blandly.

"Does this song stink or what?" She asked as she shook her head.

"At least the kid's got a good ear. She’s right, it does stink." Al over-emphasized his statement as he put his hand to his nose.

Sam grinned and finished playing the song. The pig-tailed girl gave Sam a half-hug then quickly got up.

"What’s with the munchkin’?" Al asked as he pulled out a cigar from the inside of his coat pocket.

"Her name is Dolores Rebbchuck. Sweet little thing. She’s the youngest of the group called The Pink Ladies, whatever that is."

Al perked up when he heard the group mentioned. "Well, Sam, that’s a part of the reason why you’re here." Al said as he brought up the handlink.

"Nothing happens to Dolores does it, Al?" Sam inquired as he glanced back at her as she sat down with another young lady to talk.

"No. Nothing happens to Dolores. Actually, Ziggy says that you have three things to accomplish here. One, you have to finish the charade that Michael was portraying when he leapt out. He was trying to get this young lady named Stephanie Zanoani's attention, and he did it by trying to be something that he’s not. He built that motorcycle for her, learned how to ride for her, and also dressed up as her knight and shining biker to whisk her off her feet. So, one, you have to finish the charade, two, you have to get the T-Birds to accept Michael so that he can be with Stephanie, and three, you have to have a face-off with a biker named Ballmuedo. It seems that the other night at the Bowl-a-Rama, Michael, dressed as the ‘Cool Rider’, started something with this guy." Al shook his head and snorted. "This is like Superman or something. No one recognized Michael when he's dressed at the Cool Rider! How different could he possibly look?"

Sam sat on the piano bench and stared at Al. He had to be joking. If that was all he had to do, then hell, he might as well cozy up to liking life here for a while. "This should be easy," he commented sarcastically. "Do you know how long that will take, Al?" Sam asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh come on, Sam. It should be easy to do the first two; you’ve done that before. Remember, you’ve been the Midnight Marauder, defending the girls at the dorms! And the second one, these guys should be easy to work on. According to Ziggy they are just regular guys who try to act cool. They are actually nice guys just wanting some attention. Michael should fit in just fine. The third, well, just use your karate to get the guy in line and then you won’t have a problem. Simple!"

Sam sighed as he looked at his partner in crime and shook his head. Nothing seemed simple anymore.

Upon arriving home Sam eventually found the outfit that Al had been talking about stashed in the Bomb Shelter in the back yard. Stripping off his blue jeans, he put on the black leather pants and felt the heat that was put out from them. He stripped off his shirt and put on the black leather jacket that went with the pants, and zipped it up halfway. He grabbed the helmet and goggles lying on the cot and then went back out to the bike feeling like an idiot. He had already told Michael’s Aunt and Uncle that he was just going to drive around for a while, and they had consented. 

Hopping on the motorcycle, he said a small prayer as he kick started it. It purred under him and he held his breath for a moment as he started forward, hoping that he wouldn’t fall over. He remembered the directions that Al had given him to the garage/gas station where Stephanie Zanoani worked. It was her father’s station, and she was helping him out in the afternoons. 

When he arrived at the gas station, she was terribly busy. He reached over and grabbed the gas nozzle, and pumped fifty cents worth in the tank. When he put the nozzle back, he caught her attention. "Hey, miss. What do I owe you?" He asked softly, lowering his voice to complete Michael's charade of being someone, or something, else.

Stephanie leaned over to read the pump without looking at who had been speaking to her. "Ahm, fifty cents." She then turned around to see him sitting there on the motorcycle, and her face brightened as she blushed and smiled at the same time. The other people at the station became irritated at her distraction. One car finally drove off and the other honked the horn at her.

"How about a ride?" Sam asked as he placed the quarters in her extended palm.

Without another word she hopped on the back of his motorcycle and tossed the maps that she had in her hand up in the air. "Honk that horn where the sun don’t shine." She yelled at the car as Sam took off.

For the rest of the evening until the sun went down, they rode around the streets enjoying the wind in their faces. Upon reaching a hill that overlooked the ocean, Sam stopped the bike and looked out at the sunset.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" He heard Stephanie ask him as she looked out at it.

"Not as beautiful as you are." He said as he turned back to the young woman sitting on the back of the motorcycle. He reached up, felt of her cheek through the gloves on his hands, leaned down and lightly kissed her. Knowing that he needed to get her home pretty quick, he turned back to take her home. 

"I can’t stop shivering." She said.

"Then hold on." He replied as he helped her wrap her arms around him. 

"That’s what’s making me shiver." She murmured against his back as she pressed up against him.

By the time they made it back to the garage/gas station, it was late in the evening. "We’re here." He said as he turned off the motorcycle. He felt her press up against his back, then reluctantly moved off of the motorcycle. She went up to a window and began fussing with her hair. Sam got off the bike and set it up on its stand before getting off himself. Moving over to her, he placed his hand upon the window to make her stop messing with her hair. She stopped and moved to his body, placing her arms back around him again. He leaned down and lightly placed a kiss on her hair. "I’m the one that can’t stop shivering now."

Stephanie giggled as she held onto him. "Why?"

"Because, I have something that I should tell you." Sam said as he reached up to pull down the goggles blocking his identity.

"What?" Stephanie asked softly.

The Imaging Chamber door opened and Al stepped out once again. "Whooo Hoooo, look at you, Sam!" 

Sam froze, and glanced over at Al, then tried to continue. "I . . ." Then, hearing the revving of an engine, he looked up and saw a group of motorcycles coming toward the gas station. "We have company," he said as he quickly dropping his hand from the goggles and pushing away from her. The psycho-synergizing became overpowering again as Michael took over.

"Sam?" Al asked as he looked at him. Something wasn't right….

"Check this out!" Goose hollered over the engine of his motorcycle as they approached.

Stephanie looked at Sam as she motioned to the group approaching. "I can handle these guys," she said quietly.

"That’s the guy that popped Ballmuedo!" Goose hollered once again. "Look who he’s popping now!"

Sam moved to his bike, and threw his leg over it. "When am I going to see you again?" Stephanie asked him as Sam revved the engine and turned the machine around, ready to ride off.

"Sam, where are you going? Get off that bike and talk to these guys! Come on, don’t run away! You have to talk to them!" Al waved the handlink up and down in the air to get Sam’s attention, but Sam wasn’t paying attention to him at all.

"Friday night, the Talent Show." Sam answered Stephanie. "Out front, you hear?" With that said, he revved the engine once more and took off just as the other group pulled into the gas station.

"Sam!" Al called out to him. Al sighed as he watched him ride away. "Chicken." He said softly then turned back to watch Stephanie.

"The talent show?" She questioned herself. "How’d he know about that?" She moved toward the group as they pulled to a stop. "Hi. What are you guys doing?" She asked as they turned off their motorcycles. She smiled to the girls sitting behind the guys on the bikes; Sharon behind Louis, Paulette behind Johnny and Rhonda behind Goose, and beside Goose sat Davey in the sidecar.

"What’s the story with the creep in black, Zanoani?" Johnny asked as he gave her a once over.

"What do you mean?" Stephanie asked innocently. Since she had broken up with Johnny awhile back she had no problem with what she was doing.

"You tell him, sweetie." Al told her softly as he puffed on the cigar that he had in his hand.

"The story, the creep . . ." Johnny prompted her.

"Yeah, the creep, the story . . ." Goose mimicked him.

"Shut up, Goose," Rhonda said softly before placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Why don’t you just leave her alone?" Paulette asked as she pressed against Johnny’s back, her voice seductive. Al looked at the young woman and let his eyes rove over her body. She was trying her best to look like Marilyn Monroe and was succeeding.

Getting off of his bike, Johnny took a definite stance before Stephanie. "You shut up." Johnny sent back at Paulette. Behind him, Paulette took off the sunglasses she had been wearing and stared at him distastefully. "You. Let’s have it." He said as he pointed toward Stephanie.

"Have what?" Stephanie questioned as she crossed her arms.

"The story." He prompted yet again.

"Personally, I think that you should . . ." Sharon began as she took a step towards them.

"We don’t care, Sharon!" Davey, Louis and Goose said all together and annoyed. 

"Look, Zanoani, no chick of mine messes with no other creep except this cr . . . except me."

" 'No chick of yours'?" Paulette asked as she moved off of the bike she had side-straddled. 

"Oh . . . someone's jealous." Al said as he stood back watching the scene unfold before him, grinning. 

"Why don’t you ever get jealous like that over me, Johnny?" Paulette asked as she stepped up to him.

"Cause I ain’t jealous." Johnny said as his voice went up a couple of notches as he over-emphasized his words.

"Why don’t you just stay out of my life, then, huh, Johnny?" Stephanie said as she stalked off and headed toward the door.

"I’m out!" Johnny watched only a moment as she walked away. However, he raised his hand to point at her as she opened the door of the gas station. "I catch you with that punk one more time, I’ll rearrange his face! He’s a dead man, you know what I’m saying? D-E-D!" He spelled out for her.

Al chuckled at the words that were said. "D-E-D! Johnny, you need help in the English department there, buddy." 

Paulette put her hand on Johnny, drawing his attention back to her. "Look, I think you better decide once and for all just who belongs to whom around here," she said a little flustered.

"Come on, Paulette, you’re making a scene." He said softly as he lifted his arms out to the side.

"Because I’m getting all mixed up and I don’t like that one little bit!" She continued.

"You know, you’re embarrassing me." Johnny shook his head as he looked down at her.

She frowned at him then followed in the same direction as Stephanie. When she passed by the air gauge, she stepped on the hose, which caused it to blow up her dress, and she let out a stifled yelp as her dress briefly blew up behind her. The other girls followed, avoiding the hose. 

Al’s eyebrows rose as he watched Paulette walk away. He chuckled at the group of guys as the girls all walked away from them to console their girlfriend and to find out what had happened with Stephanie and her Cool Rider. "You’ve got a job, Sam. But I know you can do it. I know you can." Pulling the handlink up he punched in the exiting code, leaving as the guys began talking about needing the girls.
 

PART THREE

By the time that Sam made it home he finally realized what had happened. Michael had taken over the situation, not wanting to be beaten up. How was he going to do this when Michael kept taking over and running away? 

He sighed heavily as he stored the bike in the garage and headed inside. Mr. and Mrs. Cartridge looked up from where they sat in the living room as he opened the door. "Michael? Are you all right?" Mrs. Cartridge asked him.

"I'm fine. Just been a long evening." He stated miserably. He was extraordinarily hot in the Cool Rider outfit.

"Michael, please sit down." Mr. Cartridge told him.

Sam closed his eyes then rolled them as he went to the offered seat, positioned so that both people could see him clearly. "Yes sir?" He asked.

"We're a little worried about you. Is everything okay with you?" Mr. Cartridge questioned him softly.

"Everything is fine." Sam said as he sighed. "I . . . I'm just trying to impress someone." He finally admitted.

Mrs. Cartridge smiled at him. "You don't need to impress anyone, Michael. If they can't recognize the person that you are without that outfit on, then they aren't worth the effort that you've put into this . . . this charade." Sam opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off before he could say anything. "We aren't going to tell you what to do, because we know you well enough to know that you will do the right thing. Just make sure that you think before you leap into a situation that you can't handle."

Sam inwardly grinned. If only she knew how true that was. 

"Just remember that we are here for you if you need us. All right?"

Sam finally smiled at her. "Yes ma'am. I'll remember that." Rising up from the chair knowing that the little lecture was over, he walked up to her and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you." Then he went back to his room to get out of the leather that seemed to be melting him.

May 18, 1961

Sitting in English class listening to Ms. Mason rattling on about Shakespeare, and how Hamlet would be on their final for the year, Sam looked over at the young lady that he had spent the prior evening with. Stephanie looked completely off in la-la land, staring down at the floor with a far-away look in her eye. 

"I’ve reviewed your Shakespeare essays. There is some very good work here, and there is some very sloppy work here." Ms. Mason said as she looked at the group. "Ms. Zanoani, I'd like to see you after class." The bell rang causing the group to rise from their seats. Ms. Mason motioned for Stephanie to come to her desk.

Stephanie drew in a deep breath as she got up from her desk and headed toward Ms. Mason.

Sam wandered outside of the classroom, quickly put up his books and stood by the railing of the stairwell, waiting for Stephanie to come out of the English classroom. As she came to his side to start going down the stairs, he began, "I guess she didn't like your paper." 

Stephanie held out the paper and shook it, telling him with a whiny voice, "I have to write the whole thing over again."

"You want some help?" He asked her.

"I don't know." She said rather irritated.

"Think it over. It's not a difficult decision." He said as he continued down the steps leaving her behind. 

"I’ll think about it." She said as she watched him walk away. 

Hours later, after school was over, Sam met Stephanie at a restaurant to help her with her Shakespeare essay. Sitting down at the table, she ordered a hamburger, fries, and a drink. After placing her order, she looked at him. "I don’t normally do this bad in English. I’ve just got other things on my mind." She said as she looked at her reflection on the back end of the spoon.

"Anything that I can help you with?" Sam asked, concerned for a brief moment.

"No. It’s not with school. Forget it. Let’s get this over with." She said as she motioned to the paper in his hand. 

"All right." Sam said as he glanced down at the paper. It was odd knowing that it was probably himself, as the Cool Rider, she was thinking about and she didn't have a clue. "Where do you want to start?"

Stephanie already had her mind on other things again. "It’s this guy!" She said as she tossed down the spoon that she had been playing with.

"What guy?" He asked knowing full well exactly whom she was talking about.

"Oh, forget it." She motioned sideways with her hand trying to brush off the topic.

"I’m trying to, but you’re not making it very easy," Sam said pointedly.

Stephanie be-bopped her head around for a moment. "I had this idea about Mr. Right, remember? Which is a stupid idea, right?" she questioned him softly.

"Right," Sam said as he leaned his left arm against the back of the chair and got better situated to look at her again. 

"And then out of nowhere, he shows up. Like some kind of dream or something," she said excitedly.

"Who?"

"Mr. Right."

"Oh, right," Sam said as he grinned at her.

"And the crazy thing is that I’ve seen him twice and both times he’s wearing these goggles and helmet! I don’t even know who he is!" she said her voice rising as she talked as she thought about this mysterious man that had come into her life.

"Mr. Right?"

"Right."

"Right." He followed along.

"Don’t you think that’s weird? Not weird, weird. But like, exciting weird?" she asked her voice softening as she thought about how his lips had pressed up against hers as she looked back down toward the floor.

"So, what’s the problem then?" Sam asked trying to see where she was coming from.

"Well, the problem is - what if he’s not all that I imagined? What if behind those goggles he’s just like some ordinary guy?" She asked him as well as herself.

"What if he is? Eh?" Sam queried as he felt Michael take over again, pushing him to the side to where he became an observer and not the person talking.

"What if maybe we get back to the Shakespeare essay?" She said as she thought about his words, not exactly liking the aspect of what he was saying.

"Stephanie . . ." He began.

"You know, I’ve figured out what his big problem is." She said as she pointed to the paper in his hand talking about Hamlet. "His big problem is that he has no laughs. The guy’s got to lighten up, right?"

"Right." Sam said reflexively. Sam frowned then glanced up at her. "Whom are we talking about now?"

"Hamlet." She said matter-of-factly wondering where his mind was.

"Oh, right." Sam looked back down at the paper in his hand and began to read it. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the words he saw and began to read it aloud. "Hamlet went totally nuts when he caught his mother doing it in the sack with his uncle."

"Not so great, right?" She said as the waitress brought her food. Smiling up at the woman, she took a bite of a French fry.

"You seem to have the right idea. But what you could say is; 'Hamlet was tormented by this mother’s incestuous relationship with his uncle'." Sam said as he brought his hand up to his cheek to lightly scratch it.

Stephanie began to laugh. "Incestuous relationship . . . oh gawd!" She giggled more. "Ms. Mason is going to flip when she reads this." Pulling the paper from Sam, she wrote on it. "In-cest-u-ous." She said as she spelled the word. She looked up at him. "You’re a really smart guy. You must think that I’m some sort of dummy."

"Actually, I think you’re kinda terrific."

"Get outta here." She said as she leaned over to push at his arm and blushed at the complement. "You’re the terrific one here. You understand this junk."

Sam grinned at her. "I don’t understand this junk any more than you do," he lied. "I just know some big words to impress English teachers, like our friend Ms. Mason."

"Well, you impressed me. And I give credit to who I want. Okay?" Stephanie said with a smile.

"To whom." Sam corrected her grammar.

"To who . . . to whom . . . to you that’s whom. So learn how to take a complement, all right?" 

"All right." Sam said with a grin.

An hour later, after giving her more pointers on her essay and having several laughs as well as a hamburger, Sam walked with Stephanie outside. As they walked, Stephanie said, "I bet there’s a lot of girls at Rydell who would like to go out with you."

Sam saw his chance for Michael to actually try again as himself. "What about you?" 

"That’s all I need right now." She murmured under her breath. "Are you kidding?" 

"No, I wasn’t." Sam said honestly as he looked into her face, his expression one of sadness and awe at her bluntness.

"Gawd . . . I didn’t mean anything wrong by it. We’re just two different types, that’s all." She tried to explain but wasn’t making a lot of sense.

"Different types?" Sam questioned her. "What do you mean?" He asked as he leaned back against the wall looking at her.

Stephanie finally got her back against the wall and stammered, "There’s a Pink Lady Code, okay?"

He had talked to Dolores several times about the Pink Ladies and their codes and rules and remembered her exact words: ‘You gotta be a biker, or a biker’s old lady. It pisses me off.’ "According to Dolores, the code stinks," Sam said. With those words said, he walked away from her and toward his bike just as Johnny and Goose drove into the parking lot and stopped next to her. 

The Imaging Chamber door opened and Al walked out. Looking around he watched as Sam stomped away from Stephanie. "Hey, you should be walking to her, not away from her."

Sam shook his head and motioned for Al to follow him over to the motorcycle. Leaning against it and crossing his arms, he watched the trio talking, hearing every word that was said.

Stephanie was torn between going to Michael and going up to talk to her comrades. Decision made, she approached the T-Birds. "Hi." 

"So, what is this nerd setout?" Goose asked Stephanie as he moved his hand up and around in the air motioning to the restaurant.

"What are you? A cop?" Stephanie asked sarcastically.

"You sure have picked up a lot of new friends, Zanoani. I guess the T-Birds ain’t the class act no more?" Johnny asked as he glanced over at Sam.

"Yeah, I guess we ain’t the class act no more." Goose aped.

"Goose." Johnny looked over at him.

"Yo, Johnny." 

"Wait for me inside." He motioned toward the restaurant as he looked at Stephanie once more.

"Johnny, I don’t want to eat alone." Goose divided a glance between Johnny and the restaurant.

"Will you go on?" Johnny motioned toward the diner his voice a tad higher indicating his annoyance with his friend, who finally moved off.

"What do you want, Johnny?" Stephanie whined as Goose walked away.

Johnny looked at Stephanie and sighed. "Yeah, well . . . ah . . . I just wanted you to know that I . . . I’m officially declaring us as an item officially over."

Stephanie looked at him in awe with her mouth open. "You’re 'declaring'?" She asked as she changed her stance making her look fidgety. 

"Yeah." Johnny murmured.

" Okay. You’ve declared it. It’s over." She snapped, trying to move past him. "Can I . . . can I go now?"

Johnny looked at her with a mixed expression of sadness and awe. "So . . . just like that, huh?" He watched as she closed her eyes and shifted yet again under his gaze. "Well, there’s just one more thing I need to tell you. That jacket you're wearing is T-Bird property. You wanna leave the party? Drop the jacket at the door on the way out. I’ve got a rep to protect. You don’t damage the rep, we don’t damage new friends, dig it?"

Stephanie glared at Johnny as he rattled off to her then walked away from him toward her car. She yanked the car door open, got inside and drove away. 

Sam and Al watched as Johnny stood in the parking lot for a moment then walked toward the restaurant. As Johnny approached the door, Goose stepped out toward him. "So what happened? She take the nerd's brains over your brawn?" 

Johnny grabbed Goose by his jacket and slammed him up against a metal bin outside of the diner. "Look, I dumped her and not versa visa!" He exclaimed hotly.

Goose held up his hands. "Right. Sure, Johnny." As Johnny let go of him, Goose straightened up his jacket and followed Johnny inside. "Don’t worry about it."

As Al watched the boys walk inside, he looked down at the handlink and the percentages that Ziggy had been spitting out every ten minutes for him. "Well, according to Ziggy, you’re dropping the odds, Sam. You need to act now. You should have gone after her."

Sam shook his head. "No, Al. I think she needs to figure this one out on her own. I guess I just need to play the part, tomorrow night. The Midnight Marauder, or the Cool Rider, will have to save the day, I suppose." He swung his leg over the seat of the motorcycle and pushed down the pedal to kick-start the bike. Glancing at Al as the motorcycle kicked over, he quipped, "I scoff at the odds." Revving the engine, Sam winked at Al then rode off again leaving Al behind.

Al shook his head as he looked down at the handlink at the odds once more. He frowned. "I hope you know what in the hell you’re doing, Sam."
 
 

PART FOUR

May 19, 1961

The morning classes quickly went by as he tried to concentrate on the words that the teachers were saying, but it was difficult. Michael’s personality was becoming overpowering to him. As he sat in class, he found himself drawing hearts over and over again as he looked over at Stephanie. 

"All right." Ms. Mason said softly. "Get out a piece of paper. Your assignment is to write a poem of what your feeling right now. Every feeling. Let’s go . . . come on." A groan that went through the class, but they complied. Ms. Mason stood up and walked around the room monitoring the assignment. 

Sam pulled out a piece of paper and began writing what he was feeling; or rather, what Michael was feeling since he was over-powering him. 
 

I’m all dressed up in my finest attitude, pretending I don’t care. Guess I really messed up, by trying to be two, when only one heart can be there. 

Why can’t I be, just what I am and speak my mind without any shame? Why can’t she see what I am, is a costumed fool, trapped in a tragic game. 

Oh please don’t mind me for falling at my hardest as I paint upon the air. You won’t find me because it’s a portrait of the artist as a man, who isn’t there. Charades and pretty lights, they hide what’s deep inside me. 

Charades conceal me, but can’t you feel the real me, the real me behind my charades. Have I lost the real me, behind my charades?

Ms. Mason looked down over Sam’s shoulder as she read his poem then lightly placed her hand on his shoulder. "Very good, Michael. Nicely done." 

Sam smiled up at her but looked back at Stephanie and sighed, hoping that he knew what he was doing. 

Al meandered back through the corridors back to his quarters. He yawned tiredly as he ran his hand over his shoulder and his neck feeling the stress that had been put there during the day so far. He hadn’t checked in on Sam yet, but he knew that his friend was probably doing better than he was. 

Opening the door, he found Beth lying down on the bed. "Beth? Are you okay?" He closed the door behind him and approached the bed. 

Beth had her arm up over her eyes covering it from the faint light that was in the room. "Oh, honey, I’m fine. I just have a headache." She moved her arm and glanced up at him as he made it to the bed and stood over her. "I’ll be just fine. I took something for it a while ago. It’ll go away."

Al leaned down, licked his lips and placed a tender kiss on her lips. "I’m sure that it will." He smiled down at her before he moved to the other side of the bed and lay down beside her. Spooning against her, he wrapped his arm around her and looked up at the ceiling. "Ziggy, wake me up in approximately 4 hours. By that time, it should be ready for the talent show to start . . . and I don’t want to miss it."

"All right, Admiral." Ziggy purred softly.

Al then took a deep breath and cradled his wife and slept.

"Admiral Calavicci?" Ziggy asked a barely lit room. "Admiral. It’s been four hours and the talent show is about to begin."

Al slowly awoke and yawned tiredly making an o sound as he did so. "Okay. Thanks Ziggy." He lightly kissed Beth on the shoulder and rolled away from her, doing his best not to wake her.

He stretched out his arms and headed out of the room. Once in the corridor, he asked, "Ziggy, what are the odds now?" 

"The odds have decreased on previously stated scenarios. However, there is a now 70 percent chance that Dr. Beckett may die from a jump."

"What?" Al asked quickly as his steps hurried toward the Imaging Chamber.

"Dr. Beckett may die from making a jump on Michael Carrington’s motorcycle near Dead Man’s Curve."

"Well, that ain’t going to happen." Al said then shook his head. "Isn’t going to happen. I’ve been listening to Johnny Naugarellie a bit to long," he mumbled as he moved down the hall.

Upon entering into the Control Room he quickly grabbed the handlink and looked at St. John. The programmer nodded at Al and began to bring the Imaging Chamber online. "Just a moment, Admiral." 

Al walked up the ramp and entered the Imaging Chamber. Within a minute, he saw Stephanie Zanoani, dressed in a fetching black sparkling dress as she walked down some steps. Sam drove up on Michael’s motorcycle, decked out in black once more. 

Sam smiled up at Stephanie then once again heard the sound of approaching motorcycles on a side street. He reached up and tapped her chin. "I’ll be back."

"Sam!" Al yelled to him trying to get his attention, but Sam either didn’t hear him or didn’t see him as he started off again. "Dammit, Sam!"

"Johnny! It’s that guy!" Goose yelled as they rounded the corner and saw Sam take off once again.

"This time we get him, Zanoani!" Johnny hollered at Stephanie over the noise of his bike.

"Johnny . . . no!" She called back as Johnny and the other guys turned their bikes around to go after Sam. "Johnny!"

A pink car that carried the rest of the Pink Ladies pulled up to the curb right on the bikers' tail. Stephanie raced over to it. "Rhonda! Rhonda! They’re gonna kill him! Come on. Go after them!" Stephanie said as she hurried over to the side door. "Scoot over Sharon! Go, Rhonda!"

"Who’s killing who?" Paulette asked, confused, as Rhonda took off after the guys. 

The girls raced after the motorcycles. Rhonda moved quickly in and out of the traffic making the other girls in the car swing from side to side as they yelled at her to slow down. "Oh my gawd!" Sharon screeched, frightened.

"What?" Paulette asked as she leaned over the front seat to look at Sharon, who sitting in the middle of the seat. 

"We’re going to die and I’m wearing my mother’s underwear!"
 

Sam raced through the streets ahead of the pack and turned down another street that had a lot of construction on it. He was still running hard and fast when Al popped in beside him. "Sam!" Al called out to him. "Come on buddy, you’ve got to listen to me! You’ve got to stop! Sam! Are you listening to me!?"

Sam gunned the motorcycle, pushing it even faster. He popped a wheelie as he cut through several of the warning hazards in his way. 

"Sam! Come on! Stop this! SAM!" 

Sam twisted the accelerator all the way. He saw the end of the roadway with a small hump of dirt before it. Standing up on the foot pegs, the motorcycle hit the dirt pile and went into the air, engine racing.

"SAM!" Al yelled out to him as he watched Sam sail over the space between the roads, clearing it, and landing on the other side of the road, the bike exactly as it should be. Sam continued on down the road only to stop several yards beyond the obstacle, hiding off road. Al shook his head, amazed, still standing at the ramp. "Well, I’ll be dipped. Humph."

The Observer turned his attention back to the group that arrived just a moment after Sam disappeared. He watched as Davey quickly ran up the dirt pile, following the tire marks on it. "I figured the guy to slow up." He swallowed hard as he looked out into the night then turned back to his friends. "Right?"

Johnny, Goose and Louis quickly got off of their bikes. Louis raced up to stand beside Davey. "Yeah. It ain’t our fault if the guy don’t slow up, huh, Johnny?" 

Johnny came up to him and looked across the gap to the other side. "It’s at least a hundred feet to the other side." He whispered.

"Yeah, it is, Johnny," Al remarked to the young man. "And my buddy made it! He made it." Al said proudly. "Not only can he leap in time, he can jump a motorcycle over a hundred-foot gap."

"Hey?" Louis asked as he tapped Johnny on the shoulder. The girls had just showed up in the car.

"Yeah. Yeah. What can I say?" Johnny turned around as the girls got out of the car and hurried up to them.

"If he did make it, he ain’t gonna look to pretty." Goose said as he looked toward the other side.

Stephanie pushed past Johnny and looked down into the gap. She glanced back to Johnny and the other guys, knowing that they had done something to him. "Where is he?" She asked when she didn’t see anything.

Louis walked toward her at her question and looked down into the hole. "He ain’t down there." He stated.

"I know he ain’t down there." Al grinned at the young man. "He’s over there probably scared half to death, but alive." He gestured towards the bushes.

"What do you mean he ain’t down there? Where’d he go? Biker heaven?" Johnny asked as he also went to look down into the hole.

"Oh my God... I know..." Stephanie stated as she began to cry. "He’s dead."

Johnny looked into the hole, then looked back at the dirt piled up, then back across the gap. "It’s obvious. He made the jump. He made the jump. I can make that jump. I can make that." He said trying to convince himself more than anyone else to ease his conscious.

"Yeah, you can do that, Johnny." Goose said nodding his head.

"Let’s go." Johnny said as he grabbed Stephanie’s arm.

She roughly yanked her arm away from him. "I’ll never see him again." She said through her tears.

"Yeah you will, honey." Al stated as he came around to face her. "He’s fine. Don’t cry. Ahhh jeeze, Sam, you made her cry. Why’d you do that?"

Johnny motioned to the guys. "Come on." He blew off Stephanie and the other girls and the boys hurried to their bikes. 

The girls gathered around Stephanie trying to reassure her. 

"What have I done?" She asked as she wiped at her tears.

"Nothing, Steph." Sharon said as she placed her hand on Stephanie’s arm.

"He’ll be okay." Paulette said softly.

"Steph, nobody rides like him!" Rhonda said trying to perk her up.

"Come on, we gotta get you outta here. You can’t stay here." Paulette said as she pulled on Stephanie’s arm.

"Come on, or we’ll be late." Sharon said as she headed back toward the car. 

Paulette walked with Stephanie back to the car, her arm around her crying best friend. "Remember, he jumped a cop car at the Bowl-a-Rama and that was a really big jump. He’ll be fine."

Al popped in beside Sam and shook his head at him. "That was an amazing jump, Sam! Are you okay?"

Sam looked up at him, his breathing still ragged from what he had just accomplished. "Oh God . . . Al, I couldn’t stop him. Michael had control the entire time, racing through the cars and it was like I was sitting back to the side not knowing exactly what was going on, but watching…..oh . . . I don’t want to go through that again. Ever."

Al grinned at him. "Well, you have them confoozled that’s for sure, but you made Stephanie cry."

"Why?" 

"She thinks that you died." 

"Oh great." Sam sighed. "I guess I better hurry up and get changed. The Talent show goes on, huh?" 

"Yup. You better get." 

"Talk to you later, Al." Sam smiled at Al then shot off into the dark.

Al looked down at the handlink and punched in the code to move him to the Talent Show. He knew that it would take Sam several minutes to get back and get things together to be ‘Michael’ once again, so he hung out backstage watching from the sidelines. His eyes just about popped out of his head and his jaw hit the floor when Paulette Rebbchuck came out of the dressing room dressed in a white, lacy Summer costume. "Oh boy!" Was all he could say.

She walked through the crowded sidelines with a pretty smile on her face. Seeing Johnny sitting on a chair to the side, she gave him a brilliant smile. "Hi, Johnny." She said as she started down the back end of the stage to cross to the other side.

"Hi, Paulette . . . " It took him a moment before Johnny did a double take. "Hold it!" His voice squeaked.

"What?" She asked as she approached him, looking confused.

"What? Are you crazy, Paulette?" Johnny asked as he quickly turned around and held open his leather jacket to try to cover her. "I told you before! You can’t go out there like that!"

Paulette’s confused expression changed to another brilliant smile. "Oh, I know that. I’ve got to put ‘a little something’ on my face." She started away from him once again but Johnny quickly turned around and pulled her back to the side once more. 

"No. You’ve got to put ‘a little something’ on your body." 

"But I’ve got to wear this Johnny. I’m Summer." She explained as she shook her head at him.

Turning, he found the clothing rack beside him and began to pull items from it. "Put on a pair of galoshes," he handed her the galoshes, then pulled out a red cape and wrapped it around her. "A snowsuit scarf and be . . ." He pulled out a red feather boa and wrapped it around her as well. "... and be Winter. And that is Johnny Naugarellie’s final word." As he turned to move past her, he flipped up the collar of his jacket up and crossed his arms.

"Are you really going to let him treat you that way?" Al asked her as she looked at herself in astonishment.

Then Paulette dropped one of the galoshes and started after Johnny. "Yeah? Well, you wanna hear my final word Mr. Push-Everyone-Around Naugarellie?" She said as she hit him with the other boot.

"Ow! Be cool here, Paulette." He said softly to her as he backed away from her approach. 

"Maybe you can bully some of the chicks in this school, but this chick has been bullied by one Johnny Naugarellie for the last time." She said as she continued to walk toward him, hitting him with the boot several times as she spoke, each time hearing him holler out ‘ow’ every time it connected. "I may not be the classiest chick in this school, but I’m the best you’re ever gonna get! So take it or leave it!" She gave him a final shove out onto the open stage where someone was singing. Embarrassed that she was seen dressed in the now odd looking outfit as well as arguing with him, she quickly walked away leaving Johnny out on the stage to take care of himself.

"That a girl," Al said as he puffed on the cigar. "You get him!" Al looked across the stage and saw Sam hurrying over to the side to watch everyone set up. Al picked up the handlink once more and popped in beside him. "You okay, Sam?"

"Yeah, I’m fine, Al." Sam was still pale from the jump that he had made. He shook his head slowly and watched Johnny and his pals on the stage as they sang their song, ‘Prowling’. "You know, Al, this really has nothing to do with Michael. I think that this really has to do with those guys out there just accepting him, and for Stephanie to make up her mind."

"But there’s still that thing with Ballmuedo," Al reminded him and watched as Sam dropped his head forward and shook it slowly. He then looked down at the handlink and read the information across the screen. "Hey... are you ready for the Loni-K-Loni Luau?"

"The What-K-What Luau?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"The Loni-K-Loni Luau. The seniors had a Luau this year instead of a carnival to celebrate their graduation. According to the newspapers, the Luau was crashed by a biker gang. They crashed everything and caused a lot of havoc. The kids had to leave the Luau because of that, and they weren’t able to really celebrate their graduation like all the other kids before them."

"Let me guess. Ballmuedo?" Sam asked.

"Yup." Al nodded. "Ballmuedo."

"Great. Just great."
 
 

PART FIVE

May 20, 1961 

8:00 pm

As the sunset on the Class of 1961 Loni-K-Loni Luau, they lit the torches that surrounded the above ground pool in which their king and queen of the Luau would float while they were recognized and saluted. The teens were scattered around the football field at the small booths, eating and drinking, and dancing to the Luau music that was beating loudly.

The Imaging Chamber door whooshed open and Al walked through the door dressed in Bahama shorts, and a gaudy Hawaiian shirt. He be-bopped his head to the music and 'ooh' and 'ahhed' at several of the girls that walked by in their colorful half-shirts and grass skirts. He twirled around, looking for Sam, knowing that he should be around here somewhere since he had told St. John to center him where Sam was. 

He continued to search the teens but couldn’t find Sam. 

"And now," the principal called out over the overhead speakers, "would the Loni-K-Loni King and Queen take their appointed positions on the Pool Of Enchantment, please?" Al turned to see eight muscular young men pick up the platform that had both Stephanie Zanoani and Johnny Naugarellie reclining on it, dressed up in their own Hawaiian garb. 

Al put the handlink under his arm and clapped approvingly at the two of them, but noticed that Stephanie didn't look very happy at all. In fact, she looked very complacent and moody. She must still think that her Cool Rider is dead, Al mused to himself. I wonder when Sam is going to prove her wrong? 

The handlink under his arm blurped and beeped loudly, nearly causing him to drop it. Even before he could read the information that was being sent through the tiny machine, the nearest booth crashed to the ground as a biker in a black leather jacket rode through it. Laughing, he twirled his arm in the air, signaling his buddies in. 

In the Pool Of Enchantment, Stephanie and Johnny were having their own battle. When they saw the bikers appear, they pulled up the oars that were on either side of them and began to row to the side of the pool. They weren’t making very good time of it, especially since Stephanie was rowing one way and Johnny was rowing the other way. Instead, they stayed put in the middle. 

"Stephanie! Stop that and help me row!" Johnny yelled at her. Stephanie tried to raise the oar in her hand to bop Johnny in the head with it, but she managed to tangle her oar with his instead. "Help me row and get to the side!" Johnny yelled at her again. "Stop it!"

The bikers careened into several of the booths, knocking food and decorations to the ground, while other riders rode around scaring the teens and making them scatter in several directions. They finally met in the center of the football field, near the Pool Of Enchantment. As they gathered, laughing, at the misfortune of the others around them, Ballmuedo grinned at his group.

"HEY! BALLMUEDO!" 

All heads turned to the young man standing up on one of the booths, looking down at them. He was decked out all in leather, with black helmet and goggles. 

"It’s him." Stephanie whispered as she looked up at him with amazement. "He’s alive!"

"Sam!" The Observer did a double take as the handlink squealed at him. "Get off of there! You’ll break your neck!" Al yelled. 

"Hey! That’s the guy that jacked me!" Ballmuedo called out to his gang. "Get him!"

Sam jumped off of the booth and landed beside his motorcycle. Hopping on it, he revved the engine as Al popped in beside him.

"Sam! What are ya doin'?"

"What I'm supposed to do! I've got to stop Ballmuedo….somehow…so if you have any ideas, now's the time!" Sam began to move away, and Al waved him to a stop.

Sam's kick starting the bike gave Al an idea. "Sam! I got it!" He waved at the pool. "Embarrass him!"

"What?" Sam yelled, throwing a worried glance at the approaching bikers. He returned his gaze to Al, who was making a motion with his hands in the direction of the Enchanted Pool. Then it hit him what the hologram was suggesting, and he grinned broadly, gunning the engine and shooting away. Taking off from the booth, he saw the other guys following him. Sam was just enough ahead to have the advantage of maneuverability. Turning quickly around, he picked his feet up off the pegs and raised them, making two of the bikers move so that he could sweep them off the bike and fall to the ground with a thud. It looked like a modern-day joust.

As Sam raced around on the football field, teens and one cheering hologram watched as Sam out maneuvered them. One by one they fell while he stayed on the bike, proving who was the better biker with each move. Ballmuedo was the last still on his bike. Sam grinned as he raced back down toward center field, back toward the Pool of Enchantment. He gunned it and hit the small ramps on the sides of the steps and jumped the pool just as Stephanie and Johnny made it to the side. They watched him sail over their heads in awe. When the bike touched down, Sam pulled the bike into a tight circle and laid it gently on its side. He stepped away, showing to all that he was in full control, as he looked back at the pool to see if Ballmuedo would take the unspoken challenge. 

Ballmuedo hesitated, then tried the same jump. He didn’t have enough speed to even get half-way across the pool, and landed smack dab in the middle of the pool with a huge splash. Sam grinned as he watched Ballmuedo emerge, a wet mess, from the pool. Then he took the opportunity to sweep off the helmet and goggles in front of everyone.

"It’s Michael!" Someone yelled out.

"Yup! That’s my buddy! You did it Sam! It looks like you beat Ballmuedo at his own game! Slick. Embarrassment is always the way to beat a teenager!" Al grinned as he read the handlink. "Now... the other two items..."

"Michael?" Stephanie said softly as she stood up on the platform and looked down at him. After a moment of shock, she joined the other teens as they swarmed around him.

"You?" Davey asked as he looked at Sam in awe

"You made that jump?" Louis asked amazed.

"Shakespeare?" Goose questioned looking at him up and down with a shake of his head.

"You." Stephanie finally made it through the crowd to Sam and gazed at him, her face one of awe and complete surprise. "I thought you were dead!"

Johnny, who had been the last to get off the float as well as the last to get up to Sam, began pushing through the crowd. "Move it . . . Move it . . . I’m gonna rearrange his . . ."

"Hey!" Paulette called out to Johnny.

"What?!" He asked her hotly.

Paulette quickly swallowed hard and stared at him. "Nothing." She said lightly as she put her hand to her chest trying to catch her breath from all the excitement.

Johnny motioned upwards with his arm, looking from side to side. Then he glanced at Stephanie, and then to Sam. His eyes flashed, then he laughed lightly. "Noooo," the amazed teen said slowly as he looked Sam up and down.

"Yeah. Yeah Johnny," Sam said softly as he looked at the guys around him. 

"Yeah, well . . . you got one more jump . . . Mr. Ah . . . Cool Rider . . . Shakespeare . . . uh . . . Carrington." Johnny rushed forward and grabbed Sam’s collar, ready to rough him up, when Stephanie came forward. Sam lightly pushed her back out of the way, not wanting her to get hurt.

"Wait a second." She panted. "Haven’t we had enough of this?" 

"She’s got a point, Johnny." Davey said stepping forward, making Johnny release his grip on Sam and raise his hands to try to talk to him, but Louis interrupted him.

"Davey’s got a point there, Johnny," Louis said as Johnny turned to him.

"Look . . . " Johnny began, but Goose interrupted him.

"Lou’s got a point about Davey’s point." 

"SHUT UP ALL OF YOUS!" Johnny said throwing his arms up in the air as he turned back to Sam. "I’ve got a point to make here, too!!" He took several deep breaths then snapped his fingers. "Jacket!" He held up his arm in an expectant manner as he stared into Sam’s eyes.

"One T-Bird jacket." Davey said as he picked up the jacket and tossed it toward Johnny. However, it skimmed underneath Johnny’s arm and landed into Paulette’s hands. She gasped, worried about how Johnny was going to ask her for it.

Johnny closed his eyes, glanced at Davey, then turned and looked at Paulette. Softening his eyes and his tone, he said, "Jacket."

Paulette smiled brightly at him. "Jacket!" She said as she handed it to him sweetly.

Johnny straightened out the coat then looked up at Sam. "For starters, let’s see how it fits." 

The teens that had expected a fight seemed to sigh at once. Sam turned around in front of Johnny as Johnny helped him into the leather garment. Once it was on, he turned back around to Johnny and held out his hand. Johnny grinned, then reached out and shook his hand. Sam looked at the rest of the T-Birds and cupped his hands out for them as they did for their sacred little group shake and they did their part in return, accepting him into the group.

Al grinned. "Two down, one to go!" 

Sam smiled at them as they all started laughing then walked away to be with their girlfriends. Sam turned to Stephanie and looked down at her. He started to step toward her to talk to her in a more quiet tone when Dolores Rebbchuck quickly butted in between them.

"I gotta talk to you," she said as she moved her hand back and forth between the two of them. "We can’t see each other anymore. I got another man on my hands." She glanced toward Davey who looked more embarrassed than anything else. He glanced around at the all of them with a nervous look.

Sam leaned down and lightly kissed Dolores on the cheek, then whispered into her ear, "I’m going to miss being around you, sweetie."

Dolores smiled and clicked her tongue together as she pointed a finger at him. "That’s the breaks."

Sam smiled at her and watched as she walked off with Davey. He once more looked to Stephanie. Stepping closely to her, he let her re-arrange the collar of the leather jacket, pulling it up around his neck. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her lips that deepened.

"What’s everyone looking at? Disperse!" Johnny said to the crowd.

"Saaaammmm..." Al began to admonish him, noting the gleam in his eye.

"I thought that you’d never kiss me like that if you knew who I was." Sam told her softly as he looked down into her eyes.

"Are you crazy?" She asked with a grin, her eyes sparkling. "I got two for the price of one!" 

"You did it, Sam! You got everything covered here on this end. They end up getting married and having five kids. So, get ready to leap." Al said as he walked up to his buddy.

"Are you certain?" Sam queried.

"I’ve never been certainer." Stephanie said as she looked warmly into his eyes.

"Sure I’m certain. Ziggy told me. Sam? Saaaammm?" Al said as he glanced up at Sam again. "You know? You’re starting to get a lot like me!"

"More certain." He corrected her softly as he ignored Al.

"The certainest." She said with a giggle.

"Certainest, I like that. I like that a lot. I’d love to kiss you again." He said softly to her.

"Sorry, Sammy-boy. Say goodbye." Al said even as Stephanie lifted her lips up to his.

The tingling sensation spread through Sam’s body. Before Sam’s lips pressed against Stephanie’s, the wave of electricity flowed through him, picking him up and sending him into the light blue that always awaited him. Whatever was leaping him around in Time didn’t leave him suspended in that brilliant blue for long. He felt the oncoming leap coming almost as soon as he leapt out.
 
 

EPILOGUE

The leap-in haze began to fade from his eyes, his body became solid once more, and the first thing he knew for sure was that he was hot and soaking wet. Shaking his head, Sam blinked, then blinked again and wiped away the trickles of sweat stinging his eyes. 

Gradually the world around him became sharper, but not much brighter. And it smelled, too. Smelled of unwashed bodies, the earthy scents of dirt and somewhere nearby vegetation. "Jeeze, it feels like I landed in the middle of a jungle!" he muttered. But he couldn’t tell. 

"English," a voice said in a strong Asian accent. "Anh, you know better." A figure walked around and past him, a glimpse of brown and green clothing. "Unless you are speaking with the prisoners." The figure turned to look at Sam with narrow eyes. "What are you doing out here anyway? Wanted to watch?" 

"Uh...yes," Sam answered hesitantly. Watch what? By the way the figure was eyeing him, he thought he’d better put a little more enthusiasm in his voice. "I was told I could watch," he went on. "As long as...I didn’t get in the way." He waited, not sure what to do now.

The man gestured him to follow. "Then don’t keep me waiting," he replied in what sounded like Vietnamese before walking into a clearing and heading straight for a vertical contraption that resembled something that had come straight out of the Spanish Inquisition. A barely dressed man hung limply from it. 

Sam knew his mouth was hanging open as he stared at the emaciated figure hanging on the structure ahead. My God! Where have you dropped me this time? 

(This would be the sequel to the movie "Grease".  Specific scenes were taken verbatim from the movie "Grease 2" for authenticity and accuracy.)