Woodstock Day One #2
Now what? The guys might not have been aware of my fury, but Livy sure was. With a slight tightening of my eyes, I glowered at her, shooting her a deadly hairy eyeball just like the ones I was famous for in my family.
Right away she hooked an arm inside mine, pulling me away from the earshot of the boys. “I’m so freaked out about not finding my boyfriend” was the first thing out of her mouth.
“You embarrassed the crap out of me” was the first thing out of mine. I spoke to her through gritted teeth; she could hear the anger in my voice.
“I’m sorry,” she said, laying a hand over her heart. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was an accident.”
An accident? How does someone say something like that by accident? It reminded me of the day she accused me of spreading her deepest, darkest secret—the first time she betrayed me.
Back at Central High School, Livy and I had been known as the Duet. Everybody had called us that, and it had driven Marianne Gentry insane. Livy was the most beautiful girl in school—worshipped by all the boys—and Marianne couldn’t stand it that I was her best friend.
I wasn’t dumb. I knew I gained my acclaim from Livy, but Marianne never missed an opportunity to remind me.
“Livy’s the reason you get invited to the cool parties,” she often said when Livy wasn’t around.
Marianne got invited to the cool parties because of her outside.
On the inside, she was a black widow spider.
Why Livy would confide in that venomous vixen was the question.
She’d already confessed to me that she accidentally, regretfully, went all the way with John Dearing our junior year.
She had sworn me to secrecy. Even made me place my hand on their family Bible.
It wasn’t necessary. Never in a million years would I have told anyone.
It would be locked inside my vault forever.
But the word got out, and it spread like wildfire.
“You’ve got to believe me,” I’d pleaded, the day Livy confronted me. “It wasn’t me.”
She was stretched out on her bed, frantically flipping through the latest copy of Tiger Beat. She would hardly look at me.
“Livy, please. Look at me,” I said. “I’d never betray you. You know that.”
She slapped the magazine down on her lap and peered at me. “Marianne swore to God, up and down, on the Bible that she didn’t start the rumor. You two are the only ones I told.”
“She’s a big liar!”
“She’s never done anything like this before.”
Hot lava spewed from my lips. “Neither have I! Can’t you see she’s jealous? All she wants is to have you to herself. She’s a black widow, Livy.”
“I guess it was an accident,” she said with her eyes on the magazine. Not me.
Now, all these years later, Livy was calling her words an accident. I almost asked if it was an accident that she’d believed Marianne over me. But it wasn’t the right time. Certainly not here, in front of Leon and Johnny.
At some point, though, we were going to have to talk about it. Not discussing it in the first place had put a strain on our friendship.
The rumpus from another helicopter made me reasonably sure the boys couldn’t overhear; nevertheless, I kept my voice as low as possible. “Don’t ever. Embarrass me. Again.” It came out like a command. Like I was Dad.
“I won’t. Forgive me?” Livy’s remorse seemed genuine. It helped but didn’t mend it completely.
I gave her a slight nod, followed by a weak smile. I was still angry.
“Leon is beautiful, by the way,” she said, her way of diffusing the damage.
“He’s even nicer than he is beautiful,” I whispered. “I like him, Livy. A lot.”
Johnny strolled up behind us and stuck his head in between our faces. “We better get to the information booth, ladies.”
Livy whipped around. “You’re coming with us?”
“If you want.”
“Yes, we want,” she said.
Leon, who had also joined the conversation, folded his arms across his chest. “I have a better idea. Let’s scope out our spot first. If we don’t claim it now, we’ll be watching from the top of the hill.”
There were no open spots, none that I could see. It seemed we’d have to sit pretty far back.
Seconds later, some random clean-cut strolled up to us with his eyes fixated on Livy. He wore a blue button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves. “Hey, guys, wanna sit with us?” He pointed to his friend, twenty feet back, who gave us a friendly wave.
“Are you serious?” Livy asked.
“I wouldn’t lie,” he answered.
It was quite an offer. We’d be able to see moles on the performers’ faces if we said yes. We wouldn’t be smack-dab in the middle—we’d be off to the side—but so what? We’d have some of the best seats in the pasture.
Livy’s eyes danced at the chance. “Thank you, man. What’s your name?”
“Dave.”
By the smile she gave him, you’d never know she’d been crying a few minutes earlier. Or that her boyfriend had seats for us elsewhere.
“So, Dave, we need to go to the information booth. Would you mind if we put our stuff down with yours before we leave?” Livy pressed her hands together like she was praying.
“Sure. Whatever you need.”
Leon and Johnny beamed at each other. It seemed they were quite pleased with the way things were working out.
Livy led the way as the four of us meandered behind Dave, once again tiptoeing through humans, blankets, and coolers.
Once there, we met Slim, a tall slender clean-cut with greasy hair, who cleared spots out of nowhere.
Instead of being irritated that four more people had crowded in, the people seated around them greeted us with friendly hellos.
All seemed happy we were there. One guy even passed Johnny a bottle of wine.
Turns out, Slim and Dave were brothers from Connecticut—at Woodstock to “experience Hendrix.” Along with fifty thousand others, they had arrived four days early to make sure they got to see him up close.
Now, because of their generosity, we had snagged the perfect viewing spot.
A stroke of luck I’d never seen coming. All thanks to Livy’s beauty.
Leon turned to Johnny. “I’ll hang out here and guard the spot.”
I did not want to wait for Nick at the information booth; I wanted to stay with Leon. Besides, I needed a little space from Livy. Mustering all my courage, I asked, “Okay if I hang out here with you?”
“Sure,” Boy Beautiful said.
Thrilled, I placed a hand on Livy’s shoulder. “Nick’s gonna be there waiting. I just know it.”
Her face fell. I could tell she would rather have me come along, but she didn’t object.
“He better be,” she said before dropping our bag, and her purse, on the ground.
She stuffed her cigarettes in the back pocket of her cutoffs, dug inside the front pocket for her Pink a Pale, and applied a fresh coat.
Within moments we heard the page. “Nick McCarthy. Livy is looking for you. Please go now to the information booth to meet her.” The announcer chuckled, adding, “The key word is now.”
Livy jumped in place. “Hurry, Johnny. Let’s go.”
“Right behind you, love.”
Yet again, Livy Foster had another cute boy chasing after her.