Chapter Eleven
Saturday, November 22, 1980, 6:45 p.m.
Occupying several hundred acres and located six miles east of Hill Valley stood the Twin Pines Mall. The name was derived from the pine tree farm that had once prospered in the mall’s place. Twin Pines Mall was always booming with new stores and relocated establishments from the downtown area. In a few years, the city feared, most of the local businesses would be gone from the center of town, endangering the city's publicity.
While the mall was creating a problem for many residents, it was convenient for others. The mall attracted the high school kids, who mostly had nothing better to do than go to the mall and hang out. On the other hand, the younger kids were unable to go to the mall after school and made up a greater part of downtown’s business, mostly hovering around the café and the arcade.
Among the teen attractions at the mall, was the Twin Pines Cinema, a replacement for the old Essex Theater downtown, which had been shut down for years.
The theater was located on the far side of the mall; in fact, it was completely separate from the mall itself. When the boys arrived, there was an unusually long line extending from the door. Midway through the line, were the boys' dates. The boys spotted them from as Greg's mom dropped them off, a good distance from the doors. Greg thanked his mom for the lift as they got out of the car. Marty took a deep, apprehensive sigh.
“Are you nervous?” Greg asked him.
“Sorta.” Marty said in a cracked voice. Then he saw Brittany. She was wearing a striking pink dress and her hair was held back in a braid. “Wow!” Marty remarked approaching them. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Well, I’m no Hugh Hefner, but I’d say you’ve found yourself a keeper.” Greg said, jokingly.
“Who?”
“Never mind. Your mom would freak if you knew who that was.” They cut into line next to the girls
“Hi Greg.” Michelle said when she saw him.
“Hey Brittany.” Marty said. “You look great.”
“Thanks.”
Soon after introductions had been made, they decided upon seeing The Empire Strikes Back.
“Have you ever seen the first Star Wars movie?” Marty asked the girls.
“Yeah, I thought it was O.K.” Brittany said. “My brother watches it all the time. He’s a big fan.”
“Greg was sayin' he's heard this one's better than the first.”
“Yeah,” Greg jumped in. “Joe Callis said that, at the end—”
“Don’t tell me Greg!” Michelle stopped him. “I hate it when you give away the ending.”
“I know sweetie, I’m sorry.” He kissed her on the check. “Hey, Marty, how’s your ma doin’?” Greg said, changing the subject.
“She’s alright. She’ll be out of the hospital tomorrow.” Marty explained, and then added, explaining to the girls, “She had a heart attack on Friday. But she’s O.K. now.”
“That’s too bad.” Michelle said, with compassion. “My grandpa had three heart attacks. He’s getting better though, but he has to watch his blood pressure. Does your mom have high blood pressure?”
“I don’t know. She smokes a lot though, and that’s what the doctors thought caused it.” They were reaching the front of the line now. Marty looked around the lobby at the movie posters advertising upcoming films.
“Hey look!” Marty pointed to a poster of Burt Reynolds and Jackie Gleason. “Smokey and the Bandit 2!”
“How sweet it is!” Greg exclaimed and Michelle giggled.
Sitting in the theater, waiting for the lights to dim, Greg whispered to Marty, “When the lights go out, pretend to stretch and put your arm around her.”
“What?”
“Just watch me.” Greg said and Marty turned to Brittany.
“You look very pretty.” He said to her.
“Thanks.”
Promptly at 7 o'clock, the lights dimmed and the big white rectangular screen flickered to life. Everyone stopped talking and set their attention to the screen. While the previews of upcoming movies were shown, Marty noticed that Greg had his arm around Michelle already. Marty felt tempted to do the same. He stretched, and did the same as Greg. But Brittany gave him his arm back and smiled at him teasingly. He smiled back, feeling foolish.
The movie raced on. By the time Han Solo had been frozen in carbonite, both couples were holding hands. After the film, the four of them met in the lobby.
“Wait here, I'll see if my mom's waiting.” Greg explained to the others.
“I'll go with you.” Michelle said, leaving Marty and Brittany alone.
“Thanks for inviting me along, I had fun.” Brittany said, smiling.
“You're welcome.” He said. They walked to the glass doors in the front of the theater and looked for Greg. He came back and led them to his mom's car.
When Marty was dropped off in front of his house, he said good night to everyone and thanked Greg's mother for the ride. Then he snuck around to the backyard and climbed through his bedroom window.
Sunday, November 23, 1980, 7:00 a.m.
The next morning, Marty was practically pulled out of bed.
They drove to church in silence, on a day that was usually cheery when Mom was at hand to remind them how important it was to behave in church, to pray, and be thankful.
During the service, George requested a prayer for his wife. Afterwards, many people attending worship ensured their sympathy for Lorraine and wished her well.
Grandma and Grandpa Baines met them afterwards for brunch. They went to a restaurant on the north side of town called The Hilltop Homestead and from there, went to visit Lorraine, where they learned she could be released from the hospital in time for supper. She looked significantly better than a few days before. While they were visiting, George and the kids gave her a bouquet of flowers. She was able enough to sit up and smell them with awe.
Back at home, Marty immediately went to his room, eager to get out of his prim and proper church clothes, and reclaim his more preferred casual apparel. He had just switched to a pair of stone washed jeans and a red Izod shirt when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey Marty, it's Ned.”
“Hey Ned, what's up?”
“You wanna go skateboarding at the mall today?”
“Sure. What’s going on?”
“Frank built a ramp and he wants to try it out.”
“Cool!”
“He can drive us too.”
“O.K. What time do you wanna go?”
“How's one o'clock?”
“O.K. I'll see you then.”
Since the mall was always closed on Sundays, many of the local skateboard buffs used the huge parking lot as a stunt park. Among them was Ned's older brother, Frank, a sophomore in high school, and an expert at skateboarding. When they arrived at the vacant parking lot of Twin Pines Mall, Frank took out a homemade ramp from the trunk.
“Hey McFly, check this out!” Ned said with anticipation and excitement, as he and his brother set up the ramp.
“That's totally awesome!” Marty said. When they had set it up, Frank demonstrated his skating skills by doing a complex aerial off the ramp. He was able to catch some air without handling the board, and landed without slipping up. The younger boys watched with delight.
“How’d you do that man?” Marty asked.
“You have to put your foot down on the kick tail right after you leave the ramp.” Frank said, doing another ollie. But I don’t suggest you should try that yet. Ever do an aerial?” He asked, demonstrating a simple jump off the ramp, by catching the board when he was airborne.
“Sure, that’s easy.” Marty said, getting a head start. He hit the ramp and came down smoothly. Then Ned tried it. He did the same trick, and then began practicing a 360 spin on the pavement ahead of the ramp.
“Ever tow behind a car?” Marty asked when he saw that Ned was out of earshot.
“Sure. Lots of times.” Frank said, continuing his tricks. “But that's dangerous to do, ‘cause if the driver doesn't know you're there, he could knock you off real fast.”
“Yeah, I bet he could.” Marty said, recalling his first attempt.
“You have to stay kinda low, and make sure the skateboard doesn't flip over.”
“How do you, uh, coast away from the car after you let go?
“Well, you gotta remember to lean your weight on your heals to stay balanced.” Frank advised Marty. He nodded in understanding.
“Why’d you wanna know? You gonna try it sometime?” Frank asked him.
“Hey Marty!” Ned shouted before Marty could answer. “Can you do this?” He did a perfect 360 spin.”
Marty also did a 360 spin. “No problem.”
“Hey, I’m gonna put the ramp back if you guys ain’t gonna use it.” Frank said as the boys began to race the length of the parking lot. “The cops around here would bomb if they saw this baby.”
· · · ·
That afternoon, Lorraine returned from the hospital on schedule. She had recovered rather well from the heart attack, but the doctors told her she needed to be careful with her health. Everyone hoped the attack would convince her that she needed to stop being stubborn and really quit smoking this time.
Biff Tannen made an unwelcomed visit about an hour after Lorraine got back. She was lying down on the couch still a little tired and weak from the attack when Biff knocked on the door. Marty and Linda were sitting nearby, watching TV with her.
“How’s the wife McFly?” Biff said, as George let him in.
“She’s in the other room, trying to relax. Would you like a beer—?”
“Hey Lorraine, how’s the old ticker?” Biff said in an ill-mannered sort of way. She pretended to ignore him. “Hey! Why don’t you answer me?” Lorraine looked up at him but still said nothing.
“She doesn’t wanna talk to you, Biff.” Linda said bluntly. She didn’t like Biff or the way he treated her mom. He’d always come over, uninvited, hitting on her or making some sexual advance upon her. Of course, George would pretend he was helpless and ignore Biff’s rude gestures toward his wife, much like he was doing now.
“Hey nobody asked you Lola.”
“It’s Linda!”
“Whatever. How come you won’t talk to me, Lorraine?”
“Biff, why don’t you show yourself back through the front door?” Lorraine said unamused.
Biff looked from George to Lorraine then quickly replied, “How about that beer, McFly?”
Marty lost his attention from the TV show and went to his room.
He quickly absorbed himself into the music coming from his record player, playing and replaying Imagine, pretending to play the tune on acoustic and whispering the lyrics. A half an hour later, he heard his dad calling him for supper, so he stopped the record and went to wash up.
Lorraine was preparing dinner in the kitchen, and nursing a glass of wine. As Marty entered the room, he smelled the aroma of spaghetti boiling on the stove.
For Lorraine, the effects of drinking and smoking were clearly reflecting upon her image; she was always trying to rid her worries with alcohol or smoking.
This time it was her brother she was drinking to.
“Kids, I got another call from Joey's lawyer. He's going to prison for 2 years, and he has parole after that for six months.” She explained, hesitantly. Her trembling hands found her glass of wine and she sipped it with shame, to her brother's shocking mistake, and her own life-threatening habits.
“What's parole?” Marty asked. Everyone stared at him as if he shouldn't have said anything.
“It's after you go to jail and do time, you get to leave, but a cop has to watch you so you don't do anything illegal.” David explained. “Isn’t that right, mom?”
“Close enough.” Lorraine said dryly. She got up to pour herself another glass of wine. Everyone pretended not to notice.
“Kids, I want my illness to be a lesson for all of you. If I knew what smoking would have done to me when I was in high school, I never would have started. Now, each one of you has your whole lives in front of you, and when someone offers you a cigarette—”
“Yeah yeah ma, we know; Grandma gave us this lecture back at the hospital,” David jumped in.
“David! I’m speaking.” Lorraine scolded him. “Don’t interrupt. I know she did. Now I’m telling you because you can never be warned too much about this, it’s very, very serious,” She explained. David nodded and none of them said anything else.
Lorraine explained to her three children and George how the doctors told her that excessive smoking had stressed her heart and they recommended that she quit. Lorraine assured them that she would going on a program to help her quit, a process that would cost them a lot of money and a lot of time. When she was finished, Lorraine could only hope she had saved the future of her own children by putting hers in check.
Monday, November 24,
1980, 3:32 p.m.
After school, Marty headed straight for the Doc's shop. But as he skated down Main Street, he was tempted to try towing again.
He cut through the park in front of the courthouse and came out to the right side of the road across from the Statler Toyota Dealership. Up ahead, he saw a car parked on the curb, slowly pulling out. Marty skated faster until he could grab a hold of the bumper. When it sped up, he crouched down and held on, just as Frank had suggested.
Fortunately, the car stayed on the main road and onto JFK drive, past Doc's house (or garage, depending upon the way you look at it). When the lab came into view, Marty let go and remained balanced, coasting smoothly into Doc's circular driveway.
He let the board gradually slow down as he went up hill into the driveway. Stopping at the door, he paused to note an old pick-up truck parked outside. Don’t remember him owning a truck last time, he thought as he went inside. He went directly to the back room this time.
“Doc, I'm here!” Marty called out as he opened the side door of the garage. Einstein came scampering up to meet him.
“Hello,” someone's voice called back, but it wasn't Doc's. It sounded like a man younger than the Doc, much younger.
As Marty entered the garage, he was startled to see the new guy working on one of the Doc’s cars. The apparent owner of the truck was about 25 years old and dressed in grease-soiled overalls, boots and an old baseball cap.
“He's in his room, back there.” The man said, pointing to the door without looking up. Marty knocked on the door and slowly opened it. He was astonished by the quaint interior. The room was arranged much like a fancy hotel room, with small sections devoted to a kitchen, office, bathroom and living room. But still, for a garage, it was pretty roomy.
“I'll be right there, Marty.” He heard Doc say. He was sitting at a desk, filing an unorganized stack of papers.
“So you live in here, huh?”
“Theoretically yes. Ever since my mansion burnt down in the 1960's, this is where I've resided, closer to my inventions. I like it better that way. No running back and forth to the house to retrieve some blueprints or tools that I may have forgotten to take with me. I also don’t have to pay so much for land and property tax.” He explained as he sorted through the unfiled stack.
“That makes sense.” Marty pondered.
“Not many people around here have that same viewpoint. They don’t seem to acknowledge the fact that I’m comfortable living the way I do.”
“I understand it.”
“I know you do. Now,” He stopped and looked up at Marty, “We need to find you a broom.”
“A broom?” Marty echoed.
“Yeah. I'll start you off on your new job by sweeping the garage. Uh, the garage where Alex is working on my car.”
“Alex?”
“My assistant.” Doc found a broom, which he handed to Marty, who followed him out of the living quarters and back into the lab garage. “Alex, meet Marty McFly. Marty, Alex Barber.” Alex stuck his head out from under the car and nodded. “Alex is helping me out on my new car.” Doc explained. “He’s also a scholar and has been in two of my college classes.
Marty took one look at the car and said, “What's so new about it?” The car was clearly not new. There were rust marks forming in several places and the vehicle was relatively dirty.
“It's supposed to start by a remote control.” Alex explained, from under the vehicle. There was a hint of an acute Middle Eastern accent as he spoke. “But it’s not connected right now. It's gonna have a few other additions too, once we get to 'em.”
“We’re using a 1978 Buick LaSabre. Typical for my experiments.” Doc explained. “Simple and inexpensive.”
“Experiments?” Marty asked, confused.
“Yes, I'm—, Alex and I, —are adding some luxuries to this car.”
“You mean like the accessories that come in a new one?”
“Precisely. Except these will be accessories no one's ever seen before,” Doc explained. “Yet.”
“Cool.” Marty said, intrigued by the elderly scientist's child-like excitement.
“Say, Marty. Are you into any kind of music? I could put on a record while you sweep up.”
“Sure!” Marty brightened up. “Got anything by John Lennon?”
“Actually, I have the entire collection of his albums. Which one do you want to hear?”
“Imagine.” Marty said, without hesitation.
“Ah, Lennon's finest album to date.” Doc explained, amusing himself with knowledge.
“John Lennon and Yoko Ono have done a few interesting albums together as well. Have you heard about their new album?”
“Yeah! Double Fantasy. It rocks.”
Marty started sweeping the garage while the room boomed with music. His imagination ran away, as he thought of when he would be dancing with Brittany. After he swept the floor and sorted through some boxes, Doc paid him and asked him to come back on Wednesday.
He left Doc's with a smile on his face and 25 bucks in his pocket. Everything was going right.
Chapter Fourteen
Tuesday, November 25,
1980, 7:50 a.m.
The morning started for Marty, the same way an average morning seemed to start: later than it should. Once again, Marty got dressed and out the door at a fast pace to keep from being late. But it wasn't enough. When he got to school, his class had already started. And Mr. Fredrickson wasn't glad to seem him. When Marty opened the classroom door, the whole class turned to stare.
Mr. Fredrickson stopped talking about history when he saw Marty. “Sit down.” He said harshly. “You have a noon detention.”
Fredrickson continued his lesson.
“Hey Marty,” Ned tapped him on the shoulder and whispered, “Sorry I didn't wait up for you; I wanted to be on time, for a change.” Marty nodded.
“Ned, I also want to see you at noon.” Mr. Fredrickson snapped. “Anyone else want to interrupt my lesson before I continue?”
Everyone was quiet.
“Good. Now, let's move on.”
At noon, Marty and Ned ate lunch and strolled up to Mr. Fredrickson's room, on the third floor.
“Man, I shouldn't have done that, I might as well have been late.”
“On the other hand, when he chews me out, at least I won’t be alone!” Marty pointed out. “Thanks for bein' there for me, man.” Marty slapped him on the back.
“Shut up.” Ned smirked. When they reached Mr. Fredrickson's classroom however, they realized, much to their surprise, that he did not want them to serve their detentions at that time. It turned out he was giving several students makeup tests. Mr. Fredrickson shooed the boys away, telling them to serve their detentions on Wednesday.
“That figures.” Ned said, as they descended the stairs.
“This sucks. What's the point of going anyway? History is just dead boring.” Marty retorted.
“Hey, history isn't boring, it's the teacher. I actually liked history in elementary school.”
Marty looked at him, blankly. “Let's go play football.” He suggested and headed out to the field. “Are you going to the volleyball match tonight?”
“Nop, but I think Greg is though. Why? Are you?”
“Yeah, I told Brittany I would.”
Ned rolled his eyes. “You're still going out with that Val?”
“Yeah.” Marty said, surprised at Ned's remark. “You should find a date, Ned,” Marty nudged him. “You don't know what you're missin'!”
· · · ·
Marty didn’t find it immediately necessary to get his next class, Literature, when the noon bell rang. But he soon found himself bounding up two flights of stairs and sprinting across the hall 30 seconds short of ‘just in time’. The teacher, Ms. Gardner knew Marty’s reputation, but didn’t seem to notice him slipping into the back of the room and into his desk. Her means of punishment weren’t nearly as brutal as Fredrickson’s, and her discouragement was as equally slack.
Literature was neither his favorite nor his least favorite class. It was a sleeper class that allowed him to cool down and kick back after lunch. Plus, it was the hour right before Introduction to Music Appreciation, the only class he had with Brittany and he looked forward to seeing her. And while a normal discussion would seem to linger on during an average day, today Ms. Gardner was giving a lecture, which continued on for a hopeless eternity.
Marty was the first out of the classroom when the bell rang. He went down to the second floor, and crossed the hall in the direction of the music room. To his surprise, he passed Brittany in the hall, going the opposite way.
“Hey Marty, you wanna come along? We’re going outside.” She was with a small group heading in the same direction.
“You’re skipping Music class?” Marty asked, following her down the hall. She didn’t answer him, but he kept following, wondering what could be more important than music class. He began to get a bad feeling about the whole idea when they headed downstairs to the ground floor en route to the gymnasium on the far side of the school.
He followed them to the door at the far end of the gym. Outside that door was where, Marty had heard, students would hang out to smoke, so the teachers wouldn’t catch them. He was afraid to ask Brittany why she was heading there, even though he knew the answer.
His fears were confirmed when they went outside the gym. Marty was
shocked to see Brittany pull out a pack of cigarettes.
“Want one?” Brittany offered him, but he declined, still shocked. He couldn’t think of what to say without looking stupid. One of the kids offered her a light, and she took a puff.
“Uh, I’ll see you in class,” Marty said finally, knowing it was the wrong thing to say, since he was sure this was what she’d remain doing for a while. He opened the door and left the smokers, without looking back.
He was so preoccupied with the recent events that he didn’t catch himself from, quite literally, running into Doug Needles.
“Watch it twerp,” Doug barked.
“Shove it asshole,” Marty said, without thinking or considering what he was saying, or whom he was saying it to.
For once in his life, he just wanted to get to class.
He trudged out of the gym, confused and disappointed. Why was she doing this to herself? She’s gorgeous!
Had Marty been paying attention, he would have noticed that Doug, eager for a fight, was following him, and, in his own way, rolling up his sleeves. He grabbed Marty by the back of the shirt and spun him around.
“What did you call me?” Doug hissed at Marty, talking so close to his face, he was spitting into it. By this time, Marty was so angry that he felt he could have defeated Muhammad Ali himself.
Well, not really.
“I said you’re an asshole, bucky.” Marty said, hastily referring to Doug’s distorted overbite.
“You—.” He had a loss for words. Doug set his fist back, ready to pound it into Marty’s face. His other hand had a firm grip on Marty’s arm, one that couldn’t have been removed with a vice grip.
Marty didn’t have a prayer.
Time seemed to stand still. Yet, somehow, it also seemed to appear as a rapid blur of action. Within a nanosecond that Doug had cocked his fist back, Marty shot a quick glance over Doug’s shoulder, looked surprised and shouted, “Principal—!” He didn’t even have to finish the sentence. Doug slacked his grip, enough for Marty to get free and scamper away.
Doug watched him run off like a frantic squirrel. But he didn’t chase the fool.
He’d wait for the right moment.
1:35 p.m.
When Marty got to Room 209, Introduction to Music Appreciation, he paced his entrance to keep a low profile. His heart was still racing and his mind was disorganized with problems and conflicts, and how badly Doug would mangle his body after class.
He sat down in his chair before the teacher, Mr. Jenson, spotted his absence.
“What did I miss?” He whispered to the girl sitting next to him.
“Nothing.” She whispered back. “He hasn’t even started roll call.”
Sure enough, Mr. Jenson was sorting through papers, not tending to his class. Mr. Jenson had an entertaining sense of humor, making his classical music class surprisingly appealing. He was in his early thirties, and had jet-black hair and a full beard covering his cheery smile.
Finally finding what he was looking for, Mr. Jenson got out the class roster and began taking roll. Then, he handed out a handful of papers to the class.
“You have a pop quiz today,” Mr. Jenson explained to the protesting sixth and seventh graders. “But, good news! You get to do them in groups of twos or threes. So get into groups and I will explain the directions.”
Marty found himself grouping up with two girls, Erin Roberg and Sarah Radtke. The quiz was on all the musicians they had covered last week and the questions were either true or false or multiple choice.
“True or False,” Sarah read the first question. “Beethoven’s 5th Symphony was written in F Major. “
“Do you know, Marty?” Erin asked him.
“Well, I’m not too hot with classical music, but I was paying attention that day. It’s False; C Minor.”
“I think so too.” Sarah confirmed. “Music is my favorite subject.”
“Mine too.” Marty said. “Except I don’t really like learning about dead composers. I’d rather learn about dead rock artists.”
“No kidding.” Sarah agreed and Erin nodded too.
“Do either of you play guitar?” Marty asked the girls.
“No. I can only play piano.” Sarah said. “Erin plays the saxophone in band.”
“Hey, so does my friend Ned Hoffman.”
“Yeah, Neddy! I know him. He’s funny.” Erin giggled.
“He’s in my garage band.”
“Oh! You have a band?”
“Yep. Greg Richards and I started it. He and I switch between guitar and vocals ‘cause it’s his guitar.”
“Cool. Does the band have a name yet?”
“Yeah, but it’s kinda dumb though. The Neighbourhood Kids. Mike Thorson’s in it too. All we can really know right now is Imagine by John Lennon and a few other simple ones.”
“You like The Beatles?” Sarah jumped in.
“They’re O.K. I really just like the solo records by John Lennon. And a few by Paul McCartney.
“Cool. Paul is like my favorite Beatle! What else do you like?”
“Bob Seger, Billy Joel, Pink Floyd, Chuck Berry is O.K. too. We’ve tried playing Johnny B. Goode, but it doesn’t sound right because Greg’s guitar is only acoustic.” Marty explained. “But I know how to sing it.”
Marty, who rarely paid attention in most of his classes, knew almost every answer on the quiz. In fact, they were the first group to get done.
For the rest of the day, Marty watched his back for a surprise encounter with Needles. The only surprise Marty got however, was that Doug had apparently decided to let Marty live.
· · · ·
That evening, Marty and Greg went to the girls’ volleyball game at school.
They stopped at the concession stands and bought some snacks, then retreated to the top of the bleachers, overlooking the home team. Tagging along with some local classmates, they cheered and rooted for their school's JV volleyball team.
But despite the home team’s fans’ loud and obnoxious efforts, and Brittany's 11 points, Hill Valley lost three of their four games.
After the game, Marty went down to the lockers to commend Brittany on her attempt. But as soon as he saw her, he knew something wasn't right.
“Hey Brittany; congratulations on your points. You know, it doesn’t matter whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game.”
She smiled weakly. “Thanks Marty. Um, I need to tell you something.”
“What?” He asked, trying to stay at ease.
“Not here.” She said, taking him out the back door of the school, away from the crowds.
“It isn't working out.” Brittany said finally, after a deep breath and long silence. “You and me; we just have nothing in common. I'm sorry.”
Marty didn't say anything for a long time, but when he did, he choked on his words.
“You're, dumping me?”
“Brittany nodded. “If you still want, we can go to the dance together but just as friends. I'm sorry—.”
“Don’t be.” Marty said hastily. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“Sure. If you hadn’t said anything tonight, I would have broken up with you tomorrow anyway.” Marty turned to leave. But Brittany’s next words stopped him cold.
“You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?” Brittany said suddenly. You’re afraid that Doug Needles will come back and beat the crap out of you so you wouldn’t look at me anymore, aren’t you?”
“It’s not that I’m afraid—.” Marty started.
“Then what is it?”
He stared at her for a moment. “Did he stop me?”
Brittany didn’t answer him.
Suddenly he burst into laughter.
“I knew you were too good to be true.” He turned to leave again. Had he really
just said that out loud?
“Marty wait—.” She said sadly.
As he started to go back inside, Brittany stopped him. “Marty!” She whined. Marty turned to look at her one more time. She had tears swarming her eyes. “Thanks for coming to my game.”
“Yeah, right.” Marty said, feeling neglected and insensitive, and expressed it in his tone. He went back inside and found Greg. “I’m goin’ home.” He said to Greg, without making eye contact, nor did he wait for him, or his response.
“What happened to you?” Greg asked, suspiciously.
Greg turned and Marty was gone.
Wednesday, November 26, 1980, 12:35 p.m.
Before long, as rumors usually go, everyone in the 7th grade knew that Brittany Schroeder had dumped Marty McFly. At noon recess, Marty met up with Greg and Ned, who had heard the rumors third hand.
“I heard Brittany dumped you after the game.” Ned said with a smirk.
“Yeah, well, there's always someone else.” Marty replied, sarcastically.
“I told you she was too good to be true.” Greg explained, matter-of-factly.
“Shut up.” Marty said, with increasing rage. “You told me to ask her out.” He took a step toward Greg, almost shoving him away.
“Take it easy.” Greg said, trying to be supportive. “I'm just saying.”
“Well, don't bother!” Marty hissed and stopped himself.
“Jeez, I'm sorry.” Greg stepped back. “I didn't mean to piss you off.”
“Just forget about it.” Marty said. They joined the other kids and played football for the rest of the recess. Marty and Greg kept their distance.
After school, Ned and Marty served their detentions.
By then, Marty had blown off enough steam to discuss what had happened. But they didn't start talking until Mr. Fredrickson left the room to run some errands.
“I could see it coming a mile away.” Marty said, after he had briefly explained what had happened. “When I saw her smoking the other day, I knew it was all over.”
“Doug had nothing to do with it?” Ned asked.
“I’m not afraid of Doug.” Marty said quickly.
“Well man, I say you find someone else to go with you to the dance.”
“Yeah I know, but who—.” Marty stopped when he heard the teacher's footsteps renouncing.
After the detention, Marty rushed out of the school to get to Doc's. He hitched a ride on the back of a red sedan by skateboard, and made it to Doc's in record time, though he was still a half an hour late.
“Sorry I'm late, Doc.” Marty explained when he reached the wise inventor.
“That's O.K. Marty. You're mostly just sweeping the floor today. There aren't many new boxes to sort through yet. Choose a record while I get you your broom.”
Marty looked through the collection of records with amazement. This guy had everything! He pulled out Double Fantasy from the collection and placed it on the state-of-the-art turntable, complete with a pair of large subwoofer speakers. As the record began to play, Marty felt tempted by pleasure to sing along. But still, something wasn't right. The music reminded him of Brittany. He turned the record off as Doc came over with the broom.
“What's the matter?” Doc asked, handing him the broom. Marty didn’t answer him; he just shrugged his shoulders and started sweeping. He didn’t think Doc would want to hear about his problems.
But as Doc watched the young man slap the floor angrily with the broom, he tried to make sense of Marty’s sudden fury. Something was clearly wrong in the boy’s mind, and being that he never ignored something broken when it could be fixed, this was no exception.
“You know Marty, when I was a kid, I had a little Goanna, its name was Newton, I believe. Yes, after Sir Isaac Newton. Anyway, I would always talk to Newton whenever I had some persisting thought on my mind that kept me preoccupied. But even though all that Goanna would do is flick his tongue at me, it was good just to verbally explain the problem, and many times, I’d come to a feasible conclusion just by hearing myself speak. I sometimes do the same with Einstein here.”
“You’re not going to be able to solve my problems.” Marty said, hopelessly.
“No? Try me. What’s bothering you?”
Marty explained to Doc how he and Brittany broke up and how his mom had a heart attack and stayed in the hospital for several days.
He looked to Doc with a large amount of trust and respect. He admired the Doc and looked up to him, ignoring his critical reputation.
“I just, wish I could go back to the beginning before everything happened and change it all back to normal!”
“What would you do differently?” Doc asked without any intention of disagreeing with the boy. He could sense that Marty needed some guidance.
“Well, first of all, I wouldn't have asked Brittany out to the movies and then the dance next month. Even though she dumped me, she still wants to go to the Christmas dance, but—.” He stopped himself as he lost his sense of words. “And then there’s my ma’s heart attack.”
“When did that happen?”
“Last Friday. And on the same day, my uncle was arrested for something that made my grandma and mom real upset.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.” Doc said.
“You know, I’m glad I could talk to you about this, but I’m not seeing any solution to anything.”
“That’s because most of the problems that you’ve mentioned are things you couldn’t have stopped. They were already destined to happen.” Marty absorbed Doc’s reasoning but didn’t say anything. Doc continued. “Perhaps you could have changed certain events, like your date, but there are some things you had absolutely no control over. Your mother, for instance, even if you could go back and alter the course of her illness, she would most unfortunately be in the same condition, which she's in today, as a result of fate. Speaking of which, is she getting any better now?”
“Yeah, she's better, she just got out of the hospital Sunday night.”
“That's good to hear. You know Marty; some things were just meant to be. Like when my house burnt down; what was once a tragedy, has since become more of a blessing. I’ve learned to adapt to living in a smaller area, and soon found that I preferred this, to residing alone in a large mansion. Perhaps you'll learn something from breaking up with your girlfriend that motivates you to be wiser on your chose of interest in the future. Give it some more thought and maybe taking that girl to the dance won’t seem so bad. And perhaps your mother's experience will bring your family closer together somehow.”
“Yeah I guess your right.” Marty said. “In fact, my grandparents came over the first night and helped my dad out with dinner.”
“There you go.” Doc beamed at his own prediction. “Fate is working already. By the way, you and your family have my sympathy for your mother.”
“Thanks.” Marty said, feeling better about his situation, after explaining it to Doc.
“You’re welcome.”
As he swept the garage, Marty pondered over what he had said to Brittany the other night. He admitted to himself that he had been a jerk and it was too late to ask her if she still wanted to go to the dance. Suddenly Marty’s mixed feelings about Brittany changed.
“Get over her.” He mused. “There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s over.” He suddenly felt as if another page in his life had turned. He knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t go to the dance with Brittany, and didn’t care anymore.
He'd find another girlfriend.
· · · ·
Within the hour, Marty had finished his chores.
Doc handed him ten dollars. “Starting next week I'll pay you on Fridays.”
“O.K.” Marty said astonished by the large amount of cash he had earned. For an hour of sweeping and sorting, ten dollars was a lot!
“Have a good Thanksgiving and I'll see you next Monday.” Doc said.
“See ya.” Marty said. Suddenly he stopped short and turned around. “Say, Doc?”
“Yeah Marty?” Doc asked, stepping into his quarters.
“Well, I was thinking. Since you live here all by yourself, and, if you don't have any plans, I was wondering; would you like to come over for Thanksgiving dinner at my place?”
Doc stopped. “I don't know Marty, your mom just had a heart attack and she might not like having me over.”
“My grandparents are coming over to cook the turkey and I don't think they'd mind. We always have plenty of food.”
“I would be honored to go, as long as it's all right with your mother and father.”
“It will be. How's 6:30.”
“That sounds perfect. See you then.”
Thursday, November 27, 1980
THANKSGIVING DAY
Thanksgiving Day was turning out even better than planned. At 1:00, Grandma Stella and Grandpa Sam Baines came over and took care of the cooking. Early on, Marty had forewarned his parents that 'a doctor friend' was coming over for dinner, and Lorraine, impressed that Marty befriended a doctor, didn't object. But she didn't know what to expect either. When he was 9, Marty invited a homeless man named Red to Christmas dinner. While that wasn't really something Lorraine had been happy with, she admired her son for being thoughtful to someone who had nothing. Marty always seemed to show gratitude towards the strangest people. When Doctor Brown finally arrived, the entire family was astonished to see which 'doctor' he was.
The history of Doctor Emmett Brown was shrouded in mystery. After the disastrous explosion in his mansion, rumors flew abound with regard to Doc. Was he a crackpot? What caused the explosion? What does he work on all the time? And so on. Doc was never well respected in Hill Valley. Maybe it was because of his outrageous lifestyle, his residence in his own garage, his constant tinkering with electricity, or his odd taste in clothing. But one thing was absolutely clear; he was definitely strange in his own way, and no one in the history of the city could understand that.
The McFly’s were shocked as Doc pulled up in his classic 1957 Mercedes Benz. He opened the gullwing door and approached the front of the house, as the McFly’s witnessed such a rare vehicle for the first time.
“Mom, this is Doctor Brown. Doc, this is my mom.” Marty said as Doctor Brown introduced himself.
“Dr. Emmett L. Brown, ma’am, and I'm quite pleased to meet you, Mrs. McFly.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, too.” Lorraine said, skeptical of the rumors. “So, how did you happen to meet Marty?”
“He came to my shop, with a broken watch last week. It was nothing really, just a worn battery. Since then, he's been helping me out at my lab. He's been a wonderful assistant.” Marty beamed.
“Really.” Lorraine said, mystified. “He never seems to clean his room when he's supposed to.” Marty smiled.
Grandpa Baines, however, thought of Doc as the rumors suggest.
“Don't you live in a garage?” Grandpa muttered rather accusingly.
“Dad—.” Lorraine interjected.
“That's O.K.” Doc stopped her. “I'm sorry you have to know me by my reputation alone. I do reside in a garage, but with all the essentials like running water, and heat. I am a physics professor at the community college in Nevada City and I build most of my inventions as a hobby on the weekends.”
“He has a ton of clocks too.” Marty exclaimed.
“Yes, well, I repair and sell clocks too.” Doc said. “I have a shop, in the garage.”
“I apologize, Doctor Brown I—.” Sam Baines started to say.
“Apology accepted. You only assume what you've heard to be the truth. It's perfectly understandable. And please, call me Emmett.”
“Well then, Emmett, let's go sit down to eat. I believe the turkey is ready,” George said, showing him to the dining room.
After supper, Doc departed, thanking the McFly’s for their hospitality. Marty watched him leave in the gullwing with glee.
“Mom! Did you see that car? It's gotta be worth a fortune!”
“I saw it Marty, and I think he's a very interesting person, and a good role model for you too. He was very polite.”
Linda was obviously not convinced. “Mom, you've never heard of him? He's a mad scientist! He burnt his own house down and lives in some shack somewhere.”
“He does not!” Marty retaliated. “He lives in his garage, and it's huge. He has hundreds of clocks and inventions and a new record player with a rockin’ speaker system! Weren't you listening?”
“Kids, it's not worth arguing over. Linda, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. We all saw him and I think he appears to be a rather decent person. Don't you Dad? He's probably just a little misunderstood.”
“I think he's a decent guy now. A bit strange, but obviously sane.”
Doc’s words of advice had kept Marty preoccupied for well over a week
before he began to understand what Doc had been trying to tell him. The idea of
having an uncontrollable density lingered in confusion among Marty’s young,
heartbroken psyche. He kept telling himself that what had happened, happened
for a reason and there was nothing despairing about it. He couldn’t help but
wonder, what if she had never broken up with him? Would he have really ended
it? Or…
What if?
Monday, December 8, 1980, 7:00 a.m.
When Marty awoke that morning, the sky was gray and it was raining heavily. The rain rapped heavily against his window, and awoke him before his alarm clock could. The sky was dark and the streets were filling with water; creating puddles that made getting to school by skateboard a hazard, and an impossible task to stay dry. Marty mentioned this to his mom at breakfast.
“Mom, can Dad drive me to school this morning? It's pouring rain.”
“I don't know dear, your father's running a little late today.”
“He's always running late to work.”
“If you hurry maybe he'll give you a ride.”
Marty finished his breakfast and got ready as quickly as he could. He had his jacket on and was throwing his book bag over his shoulder when his father passed him in the hallway, and scrambled to the front door, with a chaotic handful of papers and books.
“Dad, mom said you'd give me a ride to school.” Marty said.
“O.K. But we have to hurry, I'm late as it is already.”
“You're always late as it is.” Marty muttered.
George dropped Marty off ten minutes later in front of the school. He headed for the gym, where the principal allowed the students to assemble when the weather was bad.
Inside the gym, Marty looked for his friends, checking between the students on the bleachers and those on the basketball court. Suddenly, his glance fell upon, none other than Brittany Schroeder, sitting among her friends. She noticed Marty, and they exchanged quick glances as he moved on. Finally, he found his friends a safe distance away, sitting on the bleachers.
“Hey,” Greg said as he climbed the steps to the top row. “How's it goin?”
“Just great.” Marty said. “I saw Brittany when I got here. And just the sight of her means bad luck to me.”
“Why?” Greg asked him. “Because Doug is her cousin?”
“It’s not that.” Marty said, thinking for a moment. “I guess she and I never made that connection, you know?”
“I know what your mean. When I first asked Michelle out I knew it something was there, but it didn’t happen right away. Then one day it’ll just hit me. Like a big bolt of lightning.”
“Do you believe in fate?” Marty said suddenly.
“Fate? As in destiny? Join me Luke,” Greg said in his best Darth Vader voice. “It is your destiny.” Marty smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, like Star Wars.”
“Sure.” Greg scoffed. “I don’t know. Do you?”
“I’m starting too.” He got up to leave.
“Where’re you going?” Greg asked him. “The bell hasn’t rung yet.”
“I have something to do.”
The worst thing about her was that she was related to Doug Needles. But he still had that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, telling him that he shouldn’t let that stop him.
She was sitting on the far side of the bleachers by the front of the gym, and after a deep sigh, he approached her directly. She and her friends saw him coming, and Brittany got up and walked down the hall. Marty followed her out of the gym.
“Don’t follow me.” Brittany said, without looking back at him.
“Just give me a chance.” Marty replied, catching up to her. He walked beside he until they got up to the girl’s washroom. “Wait.” He looked into her eyes with sincerity and said, “Look, Brittany; I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She looked away to keep him from seeing the dishearten look in her eyes.
“Forget about it.” She said staring at the floor. “I’m sorry too, about what I said with you and Needles.”
“That’s O.K. It’s just a sensitive subject.” She was standing closer to him now and was staring into his eyes.
“Did you still want to go to the dance, as friends?” Marty said in a soft voice. “I mean, if you haven’t—.”
“No.” She said, almost whispering. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal.”
“Alright.” Marty said trying to create a painless smile. He suddenly realized what Doc had meant. Brittany looked at him sympathetically as she extended her hand.
“Truce?” She smiled lightly.
“You bet.” Marty shook her hand.
Brittany Schroeder was all that Marty could think about as he and his friends filed into the arcade after school that day. The stormy skies that kept him from skateboarding to school earlier that morning, had turned the tables, now releasing a brilliant flood of sunlight from the cloudless heavens. It didn’t work out like he thought it would, but after considering the possibilities over the last couple days, he didn’t quite know why or how, but he felt her answer was simply for the best.
· · · ·
Later that evening, he got a call from Ned.
“Hey Marty, turn the TV on to CBS.”
“Why? Are we at war?”
“No, Just do it man, it's pretty wicked.” With the utmost curiosity of Ned's choice of words, Marty put the phone down and turned his attention to the TV, which was occupied by his father.
“Hey dad, could you turn it to channel 6?” George hesitated, and then turned away from his sitcom to question his youngest son. “Hurry! Somethin’s up.” Marty shouted before his father could respond.
Without further hesitation, George flipped the dial to 6. Suddenly, Marty and his family got the shock of a lifetime.
“John Lennon was brought to the emergency room, “ The reporter was saying. “He was dead on arrival.”
Lorraine, who was in the kitchen, gasped when she heard the announcement. Dave and George stared at the TV in disbelief. Marty picked up the receiver again, his eyes bolted to the TV set and his ears torn by the reporter's chilling words.
“I'll talk to you tomorrow,” was all he could say, and hung up.
Friday, December 12,
1980
Marty decided to avoid the Christmas dance; even the option of going alone was surpassed. Instead, he crashed at Ned’s, who was also dateless. They spent the evening reading comic books, watching movies and playing video games on Atari. At about a quarter after eleven, Greg showed up, exhausted from dancing. His dress clothes were ruffled and his hair was greased with sweat. He came in and immediately flopped down onto the living room couch next to Marty and Ned, and kicked off his shoes.
“How was the dance?” Ned asked then whispered, “Did you get some?” He and Marty laughed.
Greg smiled but didn’t say anything. “The dance was O.K. They ordered pizzas for us afterwards. They even played your song Marty.”
“Damn.” Marty said. “Imagine that.”
“So what have you guys been up to?”
“I beat out Ned’s highest score on Combat.” Marty bragged.
“Yeah, but you still haven’t beat Space Invaders.” He stretched and yawned. “You got your stuff, Greg?”
“It’s in the hall. Where’re we gonna sleep?”
“Downstairs. My ma’ll get us some sleeping bags.”
“Hey Greg.” Marty said, suddenly. “Was Brittany there?”
Greg nodded, as if delaying the disclosure of the facts. Marty could sense this. “Yeah, she was there.” Greg said finally.
“Was she—?”
“Henry Hilgenberg. They arrived together.” Marty face fell. “Don’t take it so personally Marty.” Henry Hilgenberg was first-string quarterback for the junior high football team.
“I’m not. It’s just that she never said anything about him to me, you know? ”
“C’mon.” Greg said. “She’s past history. There are more girls in the world than there are guys. You gotta move on.”
“Past history.” Marty said, deep in thought. “Yeah.
Whatever.”
· · · ·
Friday, December 19,
1980, 3:25 p.m.
A light blanket of snow fluttered though the skies of Hill Valley, waxing down the streets and leaving them slick. Numb from the bitter cold, Marty released his grip from the trunk of a red Dodge Sunfire as he passed Doc's garage and coasted awkwardly up the long, slippery driveway. Halfway up the hill, he picked up his skateboard and walked the rest of the way.
He entered Doc's garage, and was surprised at how warm the building was with the weather outside. He took off his jacket and left his stuff by the door. Doc was working on another new invention, a device that looked like an exercise bike with motorcycle features.
“Marty!” Doc exclaimed, as if the boy just returned from the dead. “How're you doing? How's your mom?”
“Fine and better.” Marty said. “There was a moment of silence this afternoon for John Lennon.”
“I know, I heard about it. That's really too bad about his murder. But at least they caught the bastard.”
“Yeah.” Marty said, staring at the funny looking exercise bike.
“What's this? A motorized exercise bike?”
“Not exactly.” Doc said. “Go ahead and try it out.”
Marty got up on the bike and began pedaling. Shortly following, a pair of table lamps nearby flickered to life. After a minute, he stopped pedaling and got off.
“That's pretty rad.” Marty said.
“I'm still working on it. The purpose of the lamps was to make sure the bike could generate enough power to make them glow, but later I'll hook it up to a TV or radio. So in order to receive a source of entertainment, one must be jogging at a steady pace, thus keeping the image on the screen to encourage a standard workout.”
“Cool.” Marty said.
“Actually, you'd stay quite warm, jogging at such a pace.” Doc said. “The television requires a lot more energy than those lamps.”
“Huh?”
“Oh. Never mind.” Doc said, realizing his mistake.
“You and Alex made this?”
“Nop. I built it myself. Alex is a mechanic. He helps mostly with the cars, but only once in a while he helps me run tests on my inventions, we two people are needed.”
· · · ·
Monday, December 22,
1980, 3:39 p.m.
In late December, Doc received Alex’s two-weeks notice, his reason being this was his last semester at college. When Alex notified Doc of his resignation over the weekend, he shook his hand, thanked him for his help over the duration of his schooling, and wished him Godspeed.
Doc would not be hesitant to offer the job of assistant to Marty when he arrived on Monday. In fact, he was enthusiastic of the idea. He enjoyed the young man’s company and felt he’d be able to rely him in the years to come, when he may be attempting more sophisticated inventions than a simple mounted bicycle and a small motor, a project that had taken him only a few hours.
When the boy arrived after school that day, Doctor Brown wasted no time in confronting him with the promotion. “What would I do?” Marty asked, casually sweeping the floor as the Doc explained the upcoming task.
“Some of the same things that Alex did, except you wouldn't be doing auto mechanics of course. You'd help me test my inventions, and help with odd jobs, but you'd still be working the same hours after school.”
“O.K.” Marty said. “I can handle that. When do I start?”
“As soon as I finish my next invention. Which, if my calculations are correct, will be sometime next month.” Doc explained. “I will inform you when it's ready. As you know, I don't come up with more than one invention a month and I normally work on them on the weekends. Even so, it takes a while to perfect each one. So you'd still be doing your usual organizing.”
“O.K.” Marty nodded.
While he worked, Marty played Pink Floyd's The Wall on the turntable and sang along with most of the album. Doc heard this and smiled.
“Are you in a vocals class?”
“Chorus? Oh, yeah. And my friends and I have a band that I sing for. I can play guitar a little too. When I get enough cash I'm gonna get one of my own.”
“Do you practice a lot?”
“We try to. But we always have problems getting everyone together. This summer though, when I get my guitar, we're gonna try to get together all the time.”
“Well, keep at it. If you want to be good at something, you have to keep working at it. Remember what I told you before?”
“What’s that?”
“If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.”
Chapter Twenty
9:55 p.m.
Sparks flew from inside the back seat of the gullwing as Doc welded a metal box-like device below the rear window of his 1957 Mercedes. He stopped welding and got out of the car to take a look at his work. Defusing the flare and putting it aside, he reached for his wire cutters and electrical tape without pausing to stretch his weary joints, before crawling back into the cramped old sports car.
Einstein, the Doc's the mellow and obedient companion, watched his master with concern. Tonight, he had been neglected for countless hours, as his master worked continually on his project without a moment's rest, ever since the young boy had left. Patiently waiting for his master to remember his humble dog, Einie remained quiet and attentive. But now, it was time to take action.
Einstein got up from his bed, and scurried up to his master whining for attention. Doc delayed for a moment before looking outside the car at Einstein.
“What's wrong Einie?” Doc asked. After a moment, he looked at his watch. “Great Scott! Einie, do you know what time it is? I have been working on this car for—” He stopped to mentally calculate the numbers. “—Precisely 6 hours, 35 minutes, and 23 seconds!” He ran to his quarters and grabbed his coat. “I bet you'd like to go outside, huh Einie? And then we'll get ourselves something to eat!”
After he got back from his walk with Einstein, and they had eaten supper, Doc returned to his car, somewhat ashamed of his obsession. But at the same time, he was eager to keep to schedule and get it working.
He sat down in the driver's seat and hesitated for a moment before double-checking that all the wires were connected correctly. Finally, he turned the engine over. The numerous lights and buttons, which decorated the interior of the vehicle, illuminated and flickered when the engine roared to life.
In the midsection of the seat, was one of the devices Doc had added that evening, a switch he called, ‘the time circuit control mechanism’. Above it was a keypad and three buttons to set the three different times. He flipped the switch.
With no more than a one second delay; the dashboard came to life, with three readings.
They were labeled vertically:
Destination Time
Present Time
Last Time Departed
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