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

clutched her arms. “Oh! We can’t tell them! If it gets back to my mother she’ll stop me from seeing Martin!”
    â€œOh, right. Hey, Jo, maybe sometime we can go hear Roach at the Fillmore or the Avalon.”
    Those dance halls were famous for the Acid Tests that took place before October 6, 1966, the day LSD became illegal. Vats of Kool-Aid laced with acid had been offered to hundreds of people at a time, but now the trips were merely staged with light shows and psychedelic rock. Big-name bands like Big Brother and the Holding Company and Quicksilver Messenger Service were still featured at the dances, but you had to be eighteen to get in.
    â€œIt will be hard not to tell,” said Rena, still thinking about her role. “I want to brag to everybody.”
    â€œI’m just happy inside. Ever notice how if you tell something really good that happened to you to somebody who doesn’t care about you, it doesn’t seem as good to you anymore? I tried so hard to be popular last year, and Candy Lambert made fun of me so many times.”
    â€œDo you think kids would think she’s funny if she wasn’t Candy Lambert?”
    â€œWho cares? The person I was trying to be the last two years wasn’t me at all. This year I’m just going to be myself and not care what anybody thinks.”
    â€œIt’s not that easy,” said Rena, her eyebrows scrunched together. “When I saw Lisa and Candy at Denise’s wedding, I hated them and was dying to impress them at the same time.”
    At least Rena and I had each other. Since we couldn’t share our far-out news with anyone else, we developed a code to remind each other about it. Whenever we met or talked on the phone, Rena would say, “Her claws! She’s stretching her claws!” and I’d reply, “Rap, rap.”

Chapter
Six

    â€œNo wisecracks about her cooking, Dan,” said Mom from the front seat as Dad steered our blue Oldsmobile sedan over the Bay Bridge toward Berkeley. It was a Saturday night, and we were in our Sunday best. With her pink polyester knit dress, Mom wore a pillbox hat with a half veil and carried matching short gloves. Dad was in a business suit and tie. I felt sorry for my parents. They were so old they had nothing exciting to look forward to. Still, they seemed happy enough.
    â€œI’ll eat anything,” said Dan, who rode in the backseat with me. He had on slacks and a dress shirt. I wore my new plaid wool skirt that had a giant brass safety pin on the side, with a frilly white blouse, a scarf, and heels. It was a lot of effort to get on all that gear just to visit Denise and Jerry, but we always dressed up to go out to dinner.
    â€œNo rude comments,” said Mom. “I don’t want to see your sister in tears the first time she entertains us as a married woman.”
    â€œWho can wreck spaghetti?” asked Dan.
    â€œIt’s not as easy as it looks,” said Dad. “If you overcook the noodles, they turn to glue.”
    â€œWhich is why we’re going to be a half hour early. So I can oversee the operation,” said Mom. Poor Denise. She didn’t have a chance in hell of running her own show.
    Denise greeted us at the door of the tiny walk-up apartment,her face glowing with pride. Beneath her apron she wore an empire-waisted, floor-length floral-print cotton gown, with long sleeves that were puffed at the shoulders, a new fashion called a granny dress. Her long hair was drawn back by a leather headband across her forehead, and beneath her hem, pale pink ballet slippers peeked out.
    â€œHow can you even walk in that thing?” Dad kissed her on the cheek and handed her a huge fruit basket as a housewarming present.
    â€œWhere’re your real shoes?” Mom asked. “Those tight things will give you corns.”
    â€œSomething smells great,” said Dan.
    Jerry came out of the back of the apartment. Dad extended his hand to