“It sounds plausible, but perhaps that might be pushing them a little. I think it would be better if we started them out on something a tad less erotic.”
“I agree, but what?”
“Well, they’re your parents. You must know them. What are their common interests? What do they like to do together?”
“Just the two of them?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing.”
“Hmmm.”
The school hallways were nearly deserted now, the vast majority of the students having gone into their next period classrooms. Doc Brown paused before a large bulletin board, hoping he would see something that would stimulate his imagination.
“Aha!” he said finally.
“What?” Marty asked.
“There seems to be a rhythmic ceremonial ritual coming up. Have him take her to that.”
“A rhythmic ceremonial—”
“Dance, to you.” Doc Brown smiled, pointing to a handpainted banner which read:
ENCHANTMENT UNDER THE SEA…THIS SATURDAY NIGHT…ADMISSION $1
.
Marty grinned and slapped his hands. “That’s right!” he cried. “They’re supposed to go to that dance—'Enchantment Under the Sea.’ That’s where they kiss for the first time. It’s perfect.”
“All right, then. Make it happen.”
Marty frowned. “That’s the problem,” he murmured. “How can we get that yo-yo to summon up enough courage to ask her?”
“And how can we get her over the hots for you so she’ll accept?” Doc Brown added dourly.
“I think we got our work cut out for us.”
They were still considering the problem an hour or so later when George McFly entered the cafeteria, found himself a table in the corner, and began eating his lunch. For a few minutes, he just read; then he took out a pad and pencil and started writing as he finished his sandwich.
Marty and Doc Brown sauntered over to him. He barely noticed them as they pulled up chairs and sat at the same table.
“Hi, George,” Marty said after a while. “What are you writing?”
“Stories.”
“Any particular kind?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind?”
“Science fiction.”
“That’s interesting. I didn’t know you were into that. What’s it about, people visiting strange and faraway planets?”
“No. As a matter of fact, it’s about visitors from other planets coming to Earth.”
“I never knew you did anything creative.”
“What do you mean, you never knew?” George asked in a rare display of any emotion other than resignation or despair. “You’ve only known me for a couple of days.”
“That’s right. I keep forgetting. Anyway, how about letting me read one of ’em?”
“Oh, no,” George replied, shaking his head decisively.
“Hey, you said no,” Marty smiled.
George looked at him blankly. Doc Brown also directed a blank stare at him.
“It’s the first time I’ve ever heard George McFly say no,” Marty said. “I guess it’s a joke between me and myself. Forget it.”
George looked as if he was getting ready to bolt.
“Wait a second,” Marty said gently. “I’m just interested in you, that’s all. It isn’t often you meet a writer who’s so young. I should think you’d like to have somebody read your stories.”
“Oh, no,” George muttered. “I mean, what if they didn’t like ’em? What if they told me they were no good, that I was no good?”
Marty had the feeling he had heard these words before—himself complaining to Jennifer after he’d been turned down by the YMCA dance committee.
“This must be pretty hard for you to understand, huh?” George asked, obviously having noticed the slight smile on Marty’s face.
“No, George,” Marty replied sincerely. “It’s not that hard at all.”
It was a breakthrough moment. Something in his father’s vulnerability and desire to create touched Marty; for the first time in a long time, he found himself not only liking the man but understanding some of his anxieties. Suddenly he wanted to help George McFly not only because it would be beneficial to himself but to George as well.
“Listen, George,” he said. “You know that girl I introduced you to—”
“Lorraine.”
“Yeah. She really likes you.”
George shook his head.
“It’s true,” Marty persisted. Doc Brown added his nod as well.
“I don’t believe it. She didn’t even look at me. I felt invisible.”
As they were discussing her, Lorraine and some girl friends walked into the cafeteria. She did not see either of the young men.
George spotted her first. After a brief expression of adulation, his face melted into a mask of terror. He lifted the writing tablet above the lower part of his face as if he wanted to hide.
“I’m telling you she likes you,” Marty continued. “Now why would I say that if it wasn’t true?”
“To embarrass me,” George replied quickly. “Like Biff when he plays tricks on me or those guys who put ‘kick me’ signs on my back.”
“Well, I’m different,” Marty said. “I’m the one who saved your life, remember? Would Biff or those other guys have jumped in front of a car for you?”
George shook his head, partially convinced that Marty was on the level. Nevertheless, years of being used as a punching bag had taught him to be super-cautious. This guy Marty acted sincere enough, but he was decidedly a strange type. He seemed to know a lot more than most kids his age…He also seemed to show up out of nowhere, wearing strange clothes (like a sinister visitor from out of space who got his time periods mixed up, George thought). And why was he hanging around with the man some people derided as the “village idiot”? No, he thought warily, it would not be a good idea to trust this newfound friend completely.
“I appreciate your saving my life,” he said finally. “But that doesn’t mean you’re right about Lorraine. You saw yourself how she looked right through me.”
“Yeah,” Marty nodded. There was, after all, no sense trying to deny the obvious. “But she’s shy…”
“She overcompensates,” Doc Brown added.
“She’s very shy,” Marty continued. ‘That’s why she asked me to come over here and tell you she’d like nothing better than to go with you to the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance.”
“Really?” George asked.
“Yep. All you gotta do is go right over there and ask her.”
“Now? Right here, in the cafeteria?”
“No time like the present.”
“But she’s with friends. There are lots of other people around! What if she bursts out laughing? Or just says no? I’d hate to be rejected in front of all those…”
He trailed off, a nervous mess.
“George, I’m telling you, if you don’t ask Lorraine to the dance, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life…and I’m gonna regret it for the rest of mine.”
“Why you?” George asked.
“Uh…Let’s just say I have a rooting interest in you and Lorraine getting together.”
“You mean, like a bet?”
“Something like that, only more important.”
“I don’t know,” George temporized. “I’ve got a feeling she’d rather go out with somebody else.”
“Anyone in particular?”
George nodded.
“Who?”
“Biff,” he replied miserably.
Marty blanched. Was George’s assertion a product of his overdeveloped paranoia or a fact? The very thought of his mother going out with a first-degree creep such as Biff Tannen made his flesh crawl. He had never considered her a mental heavyweight, but she did have a certain amount of common sense and taste. Even allowing for youthful ignorance, Marty simply could not imagine Lorraine at any age being attracted to an insensitive clod like Biff.
“I don’t think so,” he said simply.
“He’s with her now,” George replied.
Marty looked across at Lorraine’s table. Standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders was Biff. His mother did not look happy, however. Turning sideways to avoid him, she wrestled his fingers loose. Smiling roguishly, Biff replaced them.
“He’s there, but I don’t think she wants him there,” Marty said.
Getting up, he walked across the cafeteria until he was close to Lorraine’s table.
“Quit pawing me, Biff!” he heard Lorraine say. “Leave me alone.” And once again she pried his fingers loose.
She spoke in a rasping whisper, as if trying not to attract the attention of others nearby. Biff made no effort to play down the scene. Putting his hands back on her shoulders, his voice was embarrassingly loud.
“Come on, Lorraine,” he said. “You want it, you know you want it, and you know you want me to give it to you.”
Still the same old subtle swine, Marty thought.
“Shut your filthy mouth,” Lorraine replied. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Maybe you are and just don’t know it yet,” Biff leered.
“Get your meat-hooks off me!”
“Come on, you love these meat-hooks.”
Marty took several steps forward until he was standing right next to Biff, close enough to tell that the greasy hair tonic he wore was a different brand than his own…close enough to see the mottled complexion and couch his warning in a firm but intelligible whisper.
“She said to get your hands off her.”
Biff turned, his jaw slack and eyes full of anger. “What’s it to you, butthead?” he said.
“Never mind. Just clear out.”
“Says you and what army?”
“Just me.”
“You know, you’ve been looking for—” Biff began, his body coiled as if to strike. In midsentence, however, he paused; his eyes avoided Marty’s, instead looking over his shoulder. In fact, they were focused on the domineering figure of Gerald Strickland, who had entered the cafeteria and, having sniffed out a trouble spot, was walking inexorably in their direction. Biff’s expression softened from hostility to abject terror.
“Since you’re new here, twerp,” he muttered, “I’m cutting you a break today. So why don’t you make like a tree and get outa here.”
Marty, not seeing Mr. Strickland approaching, simply stared at Biff. Lorraine, also unaware of the despot’s entry on the scene, looked at her hero with wide love-filled eyes.
Biff turned and walked off.
“Oh, Marty!” Lorraine cried. “That was so wonderful! Thank you!”
Marty shrugged.
“What did you say your name was?”
The voice was the familiar rasp of Mr. Strickland, who was now at Marty’s side. Marty coughed, looked into the eyes which resembled a pair of slit trenches.
“Marty,” he said.
“Last
name.”
“Uh…Brown.”
“Well, here’s some friendly advice for you, Mr. Uh-Brown. Don’t slack off in my school.”
“Slack off, sir?” Marty murmured, his tone questioning.
“In the vernacular, that means don’t screw around,” Strickland said. “Understand?”
“Yessir. And thank you, sir.”
Strickland turned and marched away just as the bell rang. Lorraine hopped up, collected her books, and ran over to Marty.
“Thanks again, Marty,” she smiled. “Maybe I’ll see you later?”
It sounded more like a prayer than a suggestion. Marty nodded and pretended he was late for class.
Returning to Doc Brown, he noted that once again George McFly had flown the coop.
“He said he had a class,” Doc Brown explained. “But he looked like he was getting ready to have a good cry, if you ask me.”
“This is getting ridiculous, Marty murmured.
“That’s the way life is, my boy. Try to be a hero or impress somebody and everything goes wrong. But when you’re not trying, you can fall down the toilet and come up with gold.”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s next?”
“I guess I just have to keep after George. He’s the key. Until we can get him to ask for the date, nothing’ll happen.”
“Maybe we can get your mother to ask him,” Doc Brown suggested.
“No. That won’t work.”
“How do you know?”
“Because girls in 1955 never asked guys for dates. At least that’s what Mom says. They never called them on the phone, asked them out, or did anything that was fun until the boy thought of it.”
“Hmmm.”
“I’ll grab him again after school,” Marty said. “It’s the only thing we can do.”
Doc Brown nodded. “You know, it might be better if you took a shot at him alone,” he suggested. “It could be he feels cramped with both of us around, particularly since I’m an old guy of thirty-five.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Marty shrugged.
“I’m gonna go back and study those tapes you made,” Doc said. “They may tell me something I need to know about how the time machine runs. If we’re gonna blast you back to ’85 Saturday night, I’ll have to know everything possible about that boat and how she operates.”
He waved and started for the door, his steps light. Marty knew Doc was happy now, anticipating tinkering with the machine he would invent someday.
The afternoon went slowly. Marty wandered around the halls, did some reading in the library, and spent the last period looking in classrooms for George McFly. When he finally located him, he leaned against the wall until his father came out.
When their eyes again made contact, George looked as if he wanted to run. Who is this person, he thought, and why has he been put on earth just to harass me?
Turning away, he tried to make it to the door by walking briskly and pretending he hadn’t seen Marty. But his guardian angel soon caught up with him.
“Hiya,” Marty said. “I’m sorry that thing in the cafeteria turned out the way it did.”
“Me too,” George replied. “That Biff Tannen is a real jerk. I hated to see him paw Lorraine that way. If only I’d had the—”
He paused, sighed.
The words ending the sentence rushed through Marty’s mind. Nerve? Courage? Guts? Whatever, they all meant the same. George McFly simply had no stomach for conflict, mental or physical. He wanted a soft warm cocoon to crawl into and spend the rest of his life, preferably asleep. Much as he disliked him for having that attitude, Marty was now dedicated to helping George dispel his fears and anxieties. Until he summoned up the courage to ask Lorraine for a date he was doomed to a life of self-loathing and unhappiness. And unless the two fell in love, Marty had no future at all.
As they walked, Marty tried to think of a new and exciting approach. Nothing came. The best he could manage was suggesting that he ask Lorraine for George, a la Cyrano, but he knew that wouldn’t wash. Even George McFly had some pride.