Read Online My Beautiful Hippie by Janet Nichols Lynch - Free Book Online

come down, and you’re the same, with your same problems.” He swept his arm across the expanse of the headlands, the bay, the city. “Look at this place. Why go mind-tripping and come back thinking it’s not as good as before you left it? Bummer!”
    â€œI still want to try it once.”
    â€œThen do it.”
    The sky was completely dark when we made our way back, but the steady stream of cars across the bridge lit our way. It was still early, around nine, and I knew I could sneak home before my parents returned. Martin gave me a long hug good-bye.
    â€œIt was good rapping with you,” he said.
    â€œThanks for dinner.”
    I looked deep into his lovely eyes, searching for something totake away with me. I hoped he would offer some future plans, but he merely whispered, “Peace,” his breath warm on my ear. Then he was gone, across the street and behind the gate, leaving me alone in the dark, hoping some Hells Angels gang rapists wouldn’t come along before my trolley did.
    Even as the streetcar rattled across town, I was far from peace. I was already gone, gone, gone on Martin, and yet he had not even mentioned getting together again. We had talked about a lot of things, but he was as mysterious as ever. What next?
    I was bursting to tell Rena my news, but it was too confidential to report over the phone with my mother possibly listening in. The next afternoon Rena and I got away for a walk in Golden Gate Park. I thought there couldn’t be anything more exciting than my visit with Martin and meeting Gus Abbott of Roach, but Rena assumed her news was more important than mine.
    She had landed the part of Susanna Walcott in the ACT production of
The Crucible
. “I’ve got six lines,” she said proudly, “and some of the girls don’t have any. In the courtroom scene we pretend Mary Warren is possessing us, and I say, ‘Her claws! She’s stretching her claws!’ ” She raised her arms and bent her fingers, ducking her head fearfully. I was getting worn out, waiting for my turn to talk. Finally she asked, “Did you go see that hippie guy?” I started to tell my story and she blurted, “I knew it was Gus Abbott! Your boyfriend is his brother? Far out!”
    â€œHe’s not my boyfriend!”
    â€œWell, you went on a date.”
    â€œNot really a date. We just went for a walk and rapped.”
    â€œYou rapped?”
    I laughed at the way Rena screwed up her face, as if I had just confessed an obscene act. “That’s what Martin calls talking.”
    â€œThat’s so funny! Does Roach all live together in one house like the Grateful Dead?”
    â€œI don’t know. But it’s a big house. It seems like lots of people live there.”
    â€œOh, take me to meet Gus!” Rena jumped in front of me, clasped her palms together, and pretended to flop to her knees.
    â€œSure.” I didn’t want to talk about Roach. I wanted to talk about Martin. I began again and Rena interrupted again.
    â€œDid you find out how old he is?”
    â€œHe said age didn’t matter, that we’re all just people.”
    â€œWhat school does he go to?”
    â€œNone.”
    â€œThen he is old! Did he try to make love to you right there on the beach?”
    â€œRena, no! Keep it down!” I exclaimed in shock, looking around to see if anyone had overheard her loud, dramatic voice. “He didn’t even kiss me. I wanted him to, but we just talked. He knows a lot.”
    â€œMaybe he was homeschooled. Homeschoolers get to think what they want, not the way teachers say we’re supposed to. I may need to be homeschooled if my acting career takes off.”
    Six lines in a play didn’t sound like stardom to me, but I didn’t say so.
    â€œJust wait until Candy and Lisa and those guys find out I’m a professional actress with ACT and you’re friends with Gus Abbott.”
    I stopped and