Smells Like Teen Spirit

We return to the age not of the nineteen-eighties but of the nineteen nineties to the highlands of Garrett Maryland on a fine early summer's day. A moment preserved in amber like a fossil on display at a museum. It’s early in the morning and the last day of school. For the Keystones, Keystone kids no longer, now they are the Keystone Teens, soon to be the Keystone Adults. In fact, for our noble adventurers it was the last day of school, ever. Sooner than perhaps they may have liked, they would for the most part be leaving their sleepy hometown of Garrett, for the bright lights and big cities of Chicago and Washington DC.

*Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm* by *The Crash Test Dummies* played from a fire engine red Jeep CJ-5 as it winds its ways through the early morning Garrett streets, along the tree lined suburban streets at the very edge of town, then along Main Street, pausing to take on a passenger at the coach house of the Mayoral residence, on Washington street. Where more luggage is loaded. finally pulling into the senior’s parking lot of Braddock High School, Home of the Spartans winners of the converted Maryland state championship for nearly a decade, as a banner proudly announced.

The Jeep was Just about the first car to get here, apart from the janitorial staff. If you looked closely you could still see where the gold lettering that said *Garrett Fire and Rescue* had once been on the side of the bonnet. The plates on the Jeep still read *Volunteer Firefighter,* just the same as it had when this was a Garrett Fire Department vehicle. Scarlet Blake was making firsts on and off the football field. Joining her father Chief Blake in the family business. As much as Scarlet liked *The Night Owl,* her father's vocation was where the action was. She wasn’t the only one that had developed a taste for it. Heather had the local police covered, working as a civilian volunteer for Ted Simmonds since they’d both turned eighteen. If anything even close to what happened at the Loop happened again. Scarlet and her friends were going to be ready.

The rear seats and small cargo area of the Jeep were loaded down with a football kit. Helping out with coaching as well as captaining the team required a lot of things. The roof and doors were off the car. To provide better ventilation without any AC. Mitch and Ricky had gotten around to upgrading Scarlet's shocks out of hours in the McKenzie Motors shop. Now engineering classes at college were keeping him from fitting the AC. Still, Scarlett would be needing heat before she needed AC in Illinois this fall.

Scarlet Blake hops out of the driving seat and begins loading up her fellow Spartan, Jessie Davis, JD to his friends, her loyal friend and passenger, with her kit to take into the locker room. JD sure was glad that he was going to Northwestern and not the University of Chicago. He could spend more time exercising his writing muscles and not his physical ones, only showing up for games and training. Not being the de facto kit manager for the team captain, as well as the wide receiver. He wordlessly lugged the huge amount of gear Scarlet had, as well as his own towards the school and the locker room. JD was taller, athletic but not exactly muscular. Perhaps still the quickest on the team. It was much easier to be on this team now that Tom Hoffman wasn’t the captain. Now that Coach Salts had been dealt with. JD didn’t resemble Scarlet. She was toned and all those eggs had paid off. She was clearly at the peak of her athletic prowess, wearing a team hoodie with the sleeves cut off. That look worked for Shannon. Scarlet had been shooting for the physique of FBI Agent Madelaine Bozzio ever since the day Heather had introduced them. When you didn’t have many friends it felt odd to Heather to introduce people, and have a person you respect so much idolise the new person. Mads seemed almost as broad as she was tall. An imposing six-foot blonde woman. Mads, as only her close friends called her, prided herself as being the person to kick in the door at the head of the FBI’s hostage recovery team. Very few Garrett Townsfolk remember them blowing in the door of Castle Grayskull five or so years back.

The sounds of *Kurt Cobain* and *Nirvana* cut through the morning air *Come As You Are* played from a vibrant yellow Datsun 280z with plates that read Maryland *Queen of N* as Heather Jones and her next-door neighbour Ricky Lewis pulled into the senior’s parking lot here at Braddock High. Ricky’s pride and joy, his 50’s Chevy truck was still at home, it was loaded with apple crates in preparation for the upcoming harvest. The low sleek Japanese sports car pulls into the bay next to the early seventies jeep. The bay read *Reserved For Class President*. Right next to the captain of the football team’s spot. Heather was most certainly not afraid of driving such a powerful car. She wasn’t that girl anymore. The girl who had a somewhat unique way of stopping her ten speed. The one who was afraid of anything that wasn’t in a bookbinding, she could close. In Heather’s extracurricular royal education, she had learned many things from her Aunt Susan. Focusing on that and academics, she felt she’d woken up one day and fear wasn’t her constant companion. At least not in the same way it had been before. Now it felt like becoming a law enforcement officer wasn’t a dream but an achievable goal. When people were afraid alone in the dark, she was going to be there. She would not be ignored. She wasn’t going to sit in silence or live in fear, as the lyrics to *You’re the Voice* went.

Sword fighting for instance was a core part of her Aunt’s curriculum and certainly for girls. If given a *vorpal blade* any time in the future Heather knew exactly how to handle one. That *Super Mario* business of a princess being rescued by some Italian plumber, or some prince was as far from her mind as possible. If Heather Jones could save Susan Pevesie anything was possible. Susan had patiently drilled each and every one of them in a combat speciality in line with the ones they’d used the the battle for the paperback Exchange. They’d all worked hard at pretty much every opportunity for the last four years.

There were now way more than seven friends in this new Narnian court. It had to be close to thirty. Even if they, the Keystones were following their friends, the Autobots footsteps in heading to college on the other side of the summer. Ricky was going to Agricultural college at The University of Maryland Garrett County Annex, then being very busy with all the labouring and work at the *Feed n Breed.* Mitch, Casey Mitchell was at The University of Maryland proper, commuting in his beloved fully restored black Pontiac Trans Am Firebird, which made him feel like trailer park royalty every time he turned the engine over. Even back when it was more rust than car. So if anything did happen, Miss Maggie, Susan MacLoud and the other adults of ALTA  would not be far from some youthful assistance as Susan might put it. Not that Susan acted like a woman of sixty-five. She continued to behave like a fit and active thirty-five year old. That wasn’t changing any time soon. Riding at dawn. Daily archery practice, often accompanied by Ricky, canne de combat, swimming, the list went on.

Heather hopped out of her car. Appreciating how it looked in the morning sun. She had to remember to take a moment to be grateful for all she had now. The Datsun had factory AC and the heat hit her rising up from the asphalt. Even though she was only wearing a *Heart* tour T-shirt with the Wilson sisters on the front, and dates and venues on the back over long linen shorts. Dressed for the weather not to have layers of armour to hide away in.

“Any comment for the press on your final day in office Madam President?”

JD asked Heather as she and Ricky went to grab some of Scarlet’s myriad of Bags.

“I’ll let my record speak for itself, Mr Davis. My Tenure has always been an open book for my friends in the fourth estate”

They joked speaking in a very formal press conference manner.

It was certainly Heather's last day as class president, JD’s as Editor at Large of the Braddock Herald, the high school newspaper. It would also soon be Scarlet's last game as the captain of the football team. A team that was now after tireless petitions to the league and protests, was officially mixed, and would always be that way. Not just an exception for the talented Miss Scarlet Blake. Ricky would still be popping into the Agricultural and Horticultural club of course. This time as a guest speaker. One of the area's most prominent farmers already. Given how much of the MacLoud Property he managed for Susan.

Heather hoped that her valedictorian address would go down well. Shannon Locke was a tough act to follow, even if it had been two years ago, though Shannon had been a lot of help even over the phone from her off-campus apartment in Boston. Neither of them really cared what most people thought of them. Heather had never planned to be the person with the highest GPA, class President, and if not one of the more popular girls in school, well not the most shunned outcast in the student body either. She knew she could be more like Aunt Susan if the occasion called for it. That wasn’t her comfort zone, and that was fine too. Leave lighting up every room she entered to the professional. It was like living in the *Siouxsie and the Banshees* Video for *Kiss them for Me*. All eyes were on Susan, in some shimmering designer gown, so it was easy enough to avoid attention in those situations. Not that attention from the right people was altogether a bad thing now.

The grades were aided by the fact that she pretty much lived in the Pevensie family library. With their books, and those bequeathed to Susan by the estate of Professor Digory Kirke. Heather was grateful that her bedroom was right next door to the library. That explained the GPA but the newfound social status? That was odd. She was the geeky friend of the captain of the football team, and the wide receiver. They always out with a Hayseed.

Maybe, just maybe, it was because this was the first time in her life Heather felt more comfortable in her own skin. She could do what she wanted, whenever she wanted, with who she wanted. Wear what she wanted to, read and listen to whatever she saw fit. If she wanted to listen to an album by *Bikini Kill*. Aunt Susan would just be found humming one of the songs in the scullery or the stable yard. Or it would be discovered that she’d learned all the lyrics by heart. So that was quite a large part of it. Not just by being the de facto richest girl at the school, with an Aunt with a taste for throwing lavish parties, with an extensive and inclusive guest list. Still, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree as her Aunt would say. Heather was a Pevensie she supposed, and mirrors confirmed it. She certainly took after Susan and Lucy in the looks department. They were the only family beyond her fellow Keystones where she had immediately fit in. Even if the family was what Susan would call an intimate gathering, in other words just the two of them.

Heather had been the only serious candidate in the race for class president. She had a well thought out manifesto, with manageable achievable goals. Funding for the library, more computers in the computer lab. Seeking sponsorship for the Radio Club. In addition, JD had refused to bow to any pressure from his father to stand for office. He wasn't about to give up his position at the school newspaper to become a politician. Or violate his ethics by trying to do both.

They'd really shown one of the cheerleaders, their odious leader Peggy Swanson who’d thought that class president would look good on college applications, and she’d easily win on popularity alone. Braddock high didn’t need a figurehead. Even Mayor Davis had to agree that his son's friend was the best candidate. Though of course, JD could never officially endorse Heather's candidacy. He remained impartial to report on the election for the Herald. Perhaps it helped that Heather’s campaign song had been *Heart’s* cover of *You’re The Voice.* Heather could listen to that song and feel like anything was possible. Even the public speaking required for the position of class president. Ask Heather to go toe to toe with *The White Witch* and the combined forces of *Charm*, and she’d say fetch me my sword! That seemed far less scary a prospect than addressing a school assembly. That’s a thing Susan had certainly taught her, you face your fears and you overcome them.

They entered the halls of Braddock High before almost anyone else. Not too many years ago this place has felt intimidating, like Captain Kirk or Piccard boldly exploring the final frontier. Just waiting for some Gorn-like high school neanderthal, Ollie Wight or one of his foul ilk, to try to stuff one of their number into a locker. Like some hideous monster from one of Rob Ott’s legendary Dungeons and Dragons’ adventures. Now this place was normal. A normal that each of them would miss. Even *Queen Manor* had seemed intimidating at first. Now it was just Heather's house. A place where they were treated like family, and all had standing invitations to stay over for the night and each had regular guest rooms. A place, full of memories, where you were assured perhaps of the warmest welcome in town whenever you stopped by.

Susan had been right. Heather needed this experience. The high school in her home town with her three closest friends. Until last year it had been just them. It had been with Mitch, Jerry, Rob, Ben and Butts. The year before that Shannon Locke stalked these halls. Their names were honoured here in the halls of Braddock High. On trophies they had won, pranks they had pulled, and wrongs they had helped right. Still, it would be summer soon and they'd all be travelling back to Maryland from various colleges across the country. They would never miss the Keystones graduation. This was this sort of time that should go down in Garrett history, we won and we went on “*to live deliberately*” as *Henry David Thoreau* would have put it. Here they were four of a handful of people who knew how close they’re insignificant seeming small town, without even its own branch of *McDonald’s*. How close it came to causing the end of everything, not just one Apocalypse but all of them at once as every universe in the multiverse imploded. Or just flickered out of existence.

What would be terrifying would be going to college where you didn’t have your closest friends for support. Scarlet was lucky not only did she exude confidence but she’d be at the University of Chicago and JD would be at Northwestern. They could get a two-bedroom together off-campus in the second year. Heather was still uncertain if Scarlet needed anyone? Was there anything she couldn't do?

Heather only really knew one person on the Columbia Campus, Dr Rose Tyler of the Psychology faculty. Wife of Director Tyler and architect of the FBI’s behavioural scenes division. Heather didn’t think it would be seen as “cool” to hang out with the lecturers at college. Heather didn’t really care though. People who cared about appearances could miss a person's true worth and character entirely.

They heard the wail of a Chevrolet performance exhaust system and soon after Benjamin McKenzie Junior Alumnus of the institution and heir apparent to the McKenzie motors of Maryland empire and friend to one and all strode into the main hall. A record bag over his shoulder chock full of music. Putting the keys to his pristine Corvette SS, inherited from his late father, into the pocket of his father’s Vietnam era combat jacket.

“You’re all here, we can start the show. Really rock the world of the cleaning and janitorial staff, just like old times.”

He beamed, flashing the horns in the style of Ronnie Dio. Then let himself into the Braddock High Radio club studio, like the old hand he was. Putting on a record *Shine* by *Collective Soul*. Of course the show this week wasn’t just going out over the PA but on Go 106.1  in the coveted *Martha in the Morning* slot, but for the whole state to hear. *Jackie “The Music”  Emrock* had long been the celebrity patron of the radio club. Ricky had taken over as chief engineer of the campus radio station from Mitch, yet they still worked on projects together a bunch with Mitch in town. Whether it was Mitch’s Trans Am or Ricky’s Chevy task force.

The Keystones were here to be the special guest and co-host of a very special edition of  *Bee McKenzie in the Morning*. Ben’s former multi-award-winning daily radio show, back by popular demand. Last year it had been heavily promoted around campus by his cartoon-style bee mascot. Jerry, his elder brother, was sending Ben Demos and a new CD from Seattle all the time, that he’d share with his colleagues in the club and his friends the Keystones. It was going to be a crossover with *Ricky Rocks*, Ricky’s late in the day rock slot, that he somehow managed to fit in between working both the Lewis and MacLoud farms, and helping Fred Holt at the *Feed n Breed*. The two biggest stars of the radio club of recent years presenting an eagerly anticipated show together.

Ben was in College for Business studies now. To one day accept the Mckenzie Motors mantle from his Mum. He was never truly far from Garrett. He was going to miss Scarlet, Heather and JD being here. They’d had him and his friends backs before they’d even all properly met, when it seemed like they had very few allies, and even that was changeable. Ben would never be able to repay them. Not even if he gave them all brand new top of line full loaded Chevys. Though his mother would start to ask questions. Even if friends of the family already got some sweetheart deals on things like Ricky’s sweet Chevy pick up truck. Also Heather’s immaculate Datsun through a dealer connection.

As Jackie Emrock always said the show must go on! Time to play some records and see what he’d missed of the events of this school year. There were only so many football games and town events you could show up for, particularly if they clashed with your late business studies lecture of the week. It wasn’t like Ben didn’t have a job waiting for him here when he graduated. He loved this town, and he had even found things to love in the weird alternate versions of this town that he’d visited with the other Autobots.

The On-Air light flashed and the intro jingle ran as the Braddock High FM takeover of Go 106.1 commenced. This time it was a legal one. Unlike the occasion, Casey Mitchell had promised to fix the school’s medium wave transmitter and had suddenly had the student radio playing on every frequency from here to Cleveland!

We travel over the airwaves, along with all the rock that is fit to spin, on the sonic energy and optimism of youth away from Garrett in mountain Maryland.  We pause to see Casey Mitch Mitchell turning up his radio, then getting out a buffer to add a final layer of wax to his prized Pontiac with the massive gold eagle on the hood, sitting outside the tumbledown garage at his parents older three story house on Somerset Drive overlooking *Trade Winds*. Out across the airways once again and out down across the lowlands of Maryland. Then to the east coast to just outside Boston, Massachusetts to Cambridge and the MIT Campus. Cutting to a loft apartment on the river towards Boston where Shannon Locke is preparing her Harley Davidson Motorcycle for the long ride home. It sits in the middle of her living room that opens to the street by large old wood doors as she loads the pannier bags. What might seem like a short flight to others will be a pleasure ride to her, as she tears up the asphalt. Not that she was any stranger to aircraft.

We cross the city of Boston in the blink of an eye to the subway outside Logan International. Rob Ott in his wide flares and vibrant shirt hefts his hiking backpack to his shoulder and steps off a bus and heads towards the terminal for internal flights, a ban the bomb symbol clattering with the ever-present crystals hung around his neck. He knows well enough to let Shannon, his oldest and closest friend on the east coast, have her road trip in peace. We move from coast to coast to Seattle International Airport on the very edge of Puget Sound where a plaid shirted stubbly chined long haired Jerry Baker checks in his luggage and guitar case covered in band stickers. Then back to New York City where George Butts parks his old Saab in the airport long-stay parking lot at John F Kennedy Airport, he weaves his way through the crowd and slips off his sunglasses to charm his way into the first-class lounge with a grin like a Cheshire cat on his face.