I was suddenly sitting down, panting. I heard many voices, all muffled, as if coming over a long distance through a water-filled tunnel. There were Dad's and Mom's faces, moving around me. And others in the background. I was weak. Dizzy. Panting for breath. I was hot, all but my freezing cold ass.

I gulped for air, for stability. I fought to stay awake, for sanity.

"Son? Alex?" Dad was saying, though still a bit muffled.

"Hon? Are you okay?" Mom's worried voice asked.

I don't know why, but I nodded.

"Lay him out flat," someone said. "Keep his blood supply to his brain moving. And put up his legs."

I was moved, laid flat, my legs lifted, knees bent.

A cooling breeze blew across my face. Someone was waving the broom at my face.

I sucked in several deep breaths before I could control my arms. I held my forehead.

"You okay, son?"

I nodded again.

"Dizzy."

"What did you have for lunch?" Mom asked suspiciously. "Air?"

"No. Sandwich and soup. French onion. With melted Swiss on top. Roast beef sandwich."

Yeah, that was right. In the entertainment room with the twins. Skipped breakfast, but thankfully she didn't ask about that. What the hell is going on? Why am I laying down?

"Yup," Brent said from the side.

"Did he finish it?" she asked, still suspiciously.

"Sure did. Made sure," Ryan replied.

I noticed something warm on my neck. I slapped at it. It was a hand.

"Strong and steady pulse, seventy or better," Tom said. "Color's comin' back, too. He just fainted. Almost did, anyway."

There was a little laughter.

"Hey! Alex. How many fingers?" he asked.

"One. And put it away or I'll break it."

More laughter.

"You wanna throw up? Feel like you gotta?"

"No."

"Headache?"

"No."

"Push yourself up? Go easy."

"Are you sure, Tom?" Mom asked worriedly.

"Yeah. If he vomits, there's any pain, or he acts or talks funny, not just a faint. Should keep an eye on him, anyway. Especially if he can't stay awake during the next few hours. By six, anyway."

"Who made you a doctor?" I asked caustically.

"Sports medicine last semester. And we know your noggin' is okay. You just got worked up just now, is all. Both eyes are equal and normal. You're breathing good, pulse is good, no signs of anything but a faint. Your folks should let your doctor know, though. He might wanna check ya out, but you just fainted. Almost."

While he talked and held his hands nearby, I got up, slowly, unsteadily. There were many hands on or near me as I gained my feet. I whooshed out a breath as I straightened up.

"Oh, man, that was weird."

"We were supposed to surprise you!" Jeff said from next to me, grinning.

I did a double-take. He didn't look the same, and he sounded different, but it was Jeff. Then I did another double-take at Tom near my other side. Only then did it sink in that he was there, that both of them were there. Mom and Dad were directly in front of me, looking worried. I looked around. The twins were there, too. And Eric and Todd. The whole Circle. And David.

For a moment, I nearly panicked. Seeing David there with the Circle guys immediately triggered paranoia and worry. Thankfully I also saw the twins, and remembered how he got tangled up into being there right then. I had only myself to blame.

"Let him sit down," Doctor Tom said, moving the others away from the van so that I could sit in the open side of it.

"Son, how do you feel?" Dad asked, sitting next to me.

Mom took my other side, feeling my forehead.

"Better. Not so dizzy now."

"A little shaky? But not bad?" Tom asked.

I nodded.

"Normal for a faint."

"He feels a little cold," Mom said.

"He feels hot, though, huh?" Tom said, taking to one knee in front of me.

"Yeah. I do. How'd you know?"

"Typical low-blood-pressure faint. Shock, extreme surprise, emotional distress or extreme emotional state. When you started to go out, blood was directed to your brain and organs, away from your skin. Makes the fainter feel hot, but your skin feels cool to the touch. And makes you look pale. But your color is coming back. Lips are red again, too. Almost as cute as always."

He stared at me. I blushed. He laughed.

"Had to see if you blushed normal. Sorry. Could've pinched ya instead."

"Wish you would have. Ass-hat."

Some of them laughed softly.

I was surprised neither Mom nor Dad admonished me for my language. I was also trying to feel comfortable with Tom and Jeff around, especially at the same time as David.

"He seems pretty normal to me. As normal as he ever is, anyway," Tom said, standing. "He seem okay to you guys?" he asked my parents.

"What day is it?" Dad asked.

So familiar.

"The day I made an idiot out of myself by fainting," I said. "Sunday."

"Ask a couple other questions, make sure his brain isn't scrambled, make sure he's getting good blood supply."

"Why did you come out to the garage?" Mom asked.

"Heard a scratch at the door. Dad said it was an animal again. We came out to chase it out."

"What's your locker number?" Eric asked with a snicker.

There were at least two other, very familiar snickers.

"Don't ask," I said, hiding a grin.

I had never told my parents that, and I was embarrassed to.

"Alex," Mom warned.

I sighed, making note to take revenge on Eric, soon.

"I, sixty-nine."

A lot of the guys snickered.

"Oh, it is not!" she said firmly.

"I'm going to kill you, Eric."

"Big talk from the guy who faints when someone goes, boo."

I sighed in resignation.

"Are you feeling okay, now?" Dad asked.

Actually, I was. For the first time in days, I was starting to feel okay. In more ways than one, and in ways that I hadn't in many days.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just surprised to see... "

I spun around. I touched the carpet. I looked around at the interior.

"It's real!"

They laughed at me.

"Duh," from Eric.

"How?"

I stood and climbed inside. It was all red and black velvet and blonde, knotty pine. New, fresh, clean, perfect. Even the front seats, the engine cover, the dashboard. As if it were fresh out of the factory, but better.

"Freaking how?"

In back, the sink was cleaned, scrubbed, but likely the same one. The mirror above it was new. The bed was newly upholstered, all black with red piping. The red lantern lights were all lit and working.

"Freaking, how!?"

"Your friends," Dad explained. "They got the auto shop teacher to take it on as a class project. They found parts at junk yards, got them at parts stores on discounts, even got some donated. What we needed that Tim didn't have in one of those boxes or the other."

I sat in the driver's seat. The dashboard was pale wood grain, black edged gauges and knobs. Wooden steering wheel, also light wood. Black carpet, walls, and headliner, red, cushy trim and curtains.

"But, how? All the work!"

"The shop guys, and the baseball team, and anybody else who wanted to help out," Jeff said.

I turned in the seat to look at him half-kneeling on the floor. Tom had taken the passenger's seat. The twins and David were half-sitting behind Jeff. It was so familiar.

"You said the fire gutted it," I said at Tom.

"Gutted can be... relative," he said with a snarky grin. "The dash was all melted and burned, and the seats and carpet. And the windows were all caked over. Everything was just covered in extinguisher stuff. We tore out the dash and seats and almost everything in back."

"Your knuckles!" I said suddenly. "Mornings?" I asked.

He nodded.

"And after school. And weekends."

Holy shit, was all I could think.

"Turn and face front," he said.

I complied. He reached for something between us, just under my seat.

"Now turn."

The seat rotated.

"Cool!"

He spun his so that we both faced the back of the van.

"So cool!" I declared. "Jeff? You too? Mornings?"

He nodded, grinning, holding up his marred and stained hands.

I wondered if any language at any time throughout history had a word or phrase for the level of fool I had been.

I could now see all of them crowded into the van. Tom, Jeff, Todd, Eric, Brent, Ryan, and David.

"Why I wanted to drive to school at the same old time. Give me an hour every morning in the auto shop. But, no-o-o-o! Somebody has to sleep in late," Tom joked.

The auto shop. That was why I got those funny looks when I went to the computer lab there! And why I was watched. And why Eric...

"I caught you on your way there, didn't I?" I asked him.

He nodded.

"I thought I was nailed! Everybody kept sayin' I'd be the one to give it away, and then you go and find me walking to it!"

Oh, my God! No wonder he looked so freaked out and ran away!

No, no language at any time, on any planet.

"But, I heard you guys talking at the union last night. About... "

"About what?" Tom asked.

"You guys said, that... "

Most of it made sense then. All but one or two things, and I put them on back burners for later, as they obviously didn't mean what I had assumed.

"Forget it. I got it all wrong," I said, feeling like a complete idiot, and a heel.

"Told you so, ye thick bastard," David said with a grin.

His words last night, that he was so sure that Tom wasn't trying to get away from me, was in fact, being a better friend than I knew, came back clearly.

"You were in on it, too?"

He nodded, blushing all shyly and cutely.

"Whole band knew we needed you out of the way for a while," Tom said. "Seemed perfect to have you get in with them, and they needed a keyboard player, anyway."

Tears threatened, but were easily held in check. I was in absolute awe.

"Holy shit," I said softly.

They all laughed.

"It took most of the baseball team to pull it off," Jeff said. "And the entire Auto Mechanics classes, all of 'em. And the band guys, the Circle guys, even some of the guys at the breakfast table."

"Who?" I asked suddenly.

"Rob and Paul, they worked after school in the shop. And a couple other guys figured out something was up and started asking questions and had to be told what was what so they wouldn't spill."

"Shit. Anybody else?"

"Charlie Derek-" Tom started, ticking off a count on his fingers.

I stopped him immediately.

"Derek?"

"Sure. He worked on it in the shop every day. And he heard you and Darrel Myers that day."

"Oh. Oh, shit. You didn't have to hit him!" I said when another set of puzzle pieces fell into place.

"The asshole deserved it. Tried to stop him, but he moved fast," Jeff explained, still sounding a little strangely. "He was through the doors and on Darrel before Charlie and I could follow him."

I saw that I shouldn't have been so stunned. It was Tom, after all. My knight.

I looked at him. He grinned his, "Oh, geeze," grin and shrugged.

He continued, "Darrel Myers," ticking off a second finger with an expectant grin.

I stopped him again, as I knew he knew I would.

"Darrel Myers?" I asked disbelievingly, as he knew I would, and I knew he knew I would.

"Sure. Once he knew how we had heard you guys from next door, and what we were doing, he helped out."

I rolled my eyes.

"Three?" I asked.

"Erich Mays."

"Okay, he was at the table every morning, and with me every afternoon, how did he help?" I asked, afraid to ask, but having to know.

"His uncle owns an auto supply shop. Got us cheap or free parts galore," Tom said, grinning his grin that told me he knew I had been expecting some other answer, thereby telling me that he knew more than he should.

"And he kept you busy and out of the way," Jeff said with the same grin.

Oh, they know. Either Erich told them, or they pried it out of him, or Erich couldn't hide it, which was most likely. But, they know. No secrets in the Circle. Damn it.

"Surprised you didn't get him here, too," I said.

"Oh, he'll be here. So will Meyers and Derek. And some others who helped out," Tom explained.

"You're shittin' me?"

"Nope. And the band. They should start showin' up around four or so."

"Who else?" I asked quickly, not delineating if I meant who had helped or who was coming, as it wasn't necessary to do so.

"Most of the baseball team,"

"And how did you get them to help out?" I asked Jeff.

Jeff said, "I got contacts," as if bragging about how he made a fortune on Wall Street.

His new way of speaking seemed fake, or practiced, or something. It was surely different. I didn't like it much. It reminded me of Trey, and that was no good thing.

"Ooh! Contact! I need a buzz. And not just a contact high, either!" Eric said.

Damn his big mouth! I thought.

I looked for my parents.

"They been gone since you sat down there," Brent said.

I relaxed.

"Oh. Not that it matters. They know I get high," I bragged. "I just don't like mentioning it in front of them," I said, looking meaningfully at Eric.

"I saw them leave," he said peevishly.

Tom pulled several joints from his coat pocket and held them up. "Fire in the hole! Time to break-in the van! Let's have some tunes, see how the sound system sounds."

I turned to the dashboard and turned on the radio. It was a new Craig, and totally digital. It looked awesome sitting in the blonde pine. I hit the power button. Nothing. I reached for the key to turn the switch to accessory. I paused. The medallion was there. The Styx medallion that Tim had left on the key ring. I had forgotten about it. It was identical to the one I had given Toby that first summer together. After exposing him to Styx, and other music I loved, he had loved Paradise Theater as much as I. I had given him that medallion to remember me by, not knowing if we would ever see each other again. Seeing it again gave me an odd mix of sensations; frightening, horrible chills, and a warm, comforting flush.

"Don't worry, it won't explode into flames," Tom said, smirking.

He was testing, I knew. And I knew he would report to my folks.

I wasn't worried, I didn't fear the van. Much.

"Mom and Dad said the keys went with the van to the junkyard, that the medallion went with it. I thought it was gone."

I moved the medallion aside and turned the key with a nod and a grin. And a chill.

"Mister Roboto," came from eight speakers. Clear, crisp, clean, loud. I turned it up. The van vibrated with the bass. Tom lit a joint. Nearly everyone sang along. The songs were good, and the heavy use of synthesizers had me wondering how hard they were going to be to play. "Cold War," came next. Strong, powerful, and a lot of synthesized notes and effects. Some I had no idea what it took to create. "Don't Let It End," and it didn't hurt. Much. Not with my friends filling the van and singing along to it. "High Time."

For the first time, the music paused. In the silence, I realized that no station played four in a row without a liner, and never from the same band. I noticed the cassette then, peering at it in the slot. Tom handed me the case to Kilroy Was Here.

"I knew you didn't get a chance to get it yet. If you want the album, get your ass there yourself."

I grinned. Knight hadn't changed.

"No eight-track player," I said, suddenly noticing.

"Man, join the eighties," Jeff laughed.

"But I got so much good stuff on eight-tracks!"

"Tape them over to cassette," Tom said simply.

I nodded. I could do that on my stereo. And Jeff had given me a ten-pack of good, metal cassettes for my birthday that I hadn't opened yet.

"Tickets for the Auditorium show go on sale Monday," Tom said flatly. "You going to be able to get them?"

My spirits sank a bit as I shook my head.

"I need a real job. The thing for Mister Broft is cool, earning those books and shit, but I can't ask my folks for money for the tickets after all they've spent lately."

How could I? Maybe before the van, and all the expenses of repairing it, but never now.

The B side began, and I listened to Kilroy Was Here for the first time, with all of my friends, in the van. Most of my friends. My van.

The album was remarkable, and the sounds and melodies created with the synthesizer were new and fresh, complicated at times, clear and simple and soaring at others. I was looking forward to figuring them out, though I still doubted that some of them would ever be possible for me alone.

Others began showing up right on time. The band arrived first, and were just sitting down when Erich arrived, easily heard pulling into the driveway. Eric was curious as to what kind of car could make such a racket, yet still be mobile. He looked out one of the small windows in the garage door as Erich walked in, waving his hands that were now free of their gloves.

"Hey, nice Mustang Two," Eric piped up.

I hoped Erich took what was coming well. I was fairly sure he would.

"The blisters on your hands from pushing it here?"

Most of us cracked up.

"Who's the Handy Andy doll with an attitude and a death wish?" Erich asked, a bit offended.

"That's Eric," Ryan said. "He grows on ya. Like a fungus. Smells worse, though."

"About as smart," Brent tossed in.

"Ha-ha. The fugly twin speaks," Eric said with a finger upraised. "But seriously, you ever get it to start without pushing it?" he asked Erich. "Or you got the new Flintstones floorboards mod?"

"He's just messin' with ya," I explained around a laugh.

"Yeah, part of being in with this circle of dip-wads," Jeff explained further.

"Eric! Bad, Eric!" Tom said as if scolding a dog who had just shat in its owner's shoe. "Lay down and be quiet, or you're cut off!"

Eric was quiet, but not without another single finger salute, this time at Tom.

"Guys, who don't know, this is Erich. He sits at my table in the mornings, at lunch, and is in my German and Chemistry classes. Erich, these are the other guys. Eric the big-mouth, you know now. The twins, Brent and Ryan, who also are the new drummers in the band. You know Tom and Jeff. The short shit over there is Jeff's little bro, Todd."

He waved at everyone.

"This is the band?" he asked, indicating Kevin and the others.

"Like you don't know," I didn't ask.

"No," he said simply. "Wil and Riley I know, sorta, from school and classes, but the others, not so much."

Well, he looks like he's being honest. Kevin and the guys look like they don't know him. Damn. He isn't the mystery keyboardist, is he? Well, shit.

I introduced them all.

"So, how's the old mitts?" I asked.

"Not so bad. At least they work," he said, waving them a bit.

"So, if the blisters aren't from push-starting your car, are they from-"

"Bad, Eric!" Tom said quickly.

It was a great time, sitting in the van, my van, with my friends and the band guys. It was a little strange to be there with all of them together, though. Over the next few minutes, other guys began showing up too. Most of the guys from the breakfast table, lunch table, and even some of my classes. Most, if not all, of them had a hand in working on the van, or keeping me from noticing. I felt like a complete dupe, but it felt great, too.

Charlie Derek arrived. He needed no introductions. Several joints were already in circulation, and he started one of his own to add to the flow. Marie arrived and left quickly, staying only long enough to check out the van and give Tom a kiss for his efforts.

Talk turned toward Darrel Meyers, and that day in the wood shop, next to the auto shop. While we were in mid-discussion of that topic, Darrel arrived. He joined in on the smoke and the conversation. I learned that he knew Charlie pretty well, and that they had a record of confrontations. It seemed that working on the van together had quelled that a bit, and they were friendlier with each other now.

Not long after Darrel left, most of the baseball team came, all together. They stayed long enough to check out the finished van and accept my thanks for their work. Many of the guys from tables or classes went home early, a few staying a little later. By eight, it was down to Jeff, Tom, Eric, Brent, Ryan, Todd, Charlie, Kevin, Wil, Terry, Riley, Bill, Adam, David, and Erich. Everyone was either in the van, or on chairs just outside the side door of it, or more chairs behind the open rear doors.

Kevin asked, "So, this is the infamous Circle?"

"How did you hear that?" I asked, deeply curious, and suspecting Tom.

"Jeff's in my World History class," he said with a shrug. "We've been talking a lot the past couple weeks."

"Oh, have you?" I said meaningfully, turning my gaze onto Jeff.

"Hey, he wanted to know what kind of friends went through so much for one," Jeff said with his half grin, his braces missing.

"You got your braces off!" I said suddenly, realizing why he sounded so odd.

He shrugged.

"Been a fucking busy couple of weeks," he said, then grinned too widely in order to show off his now perfect teeth.

"You look boring, now" I said. "Guess the chicks will turn out in droves, though."

He looked confused momentarily, then nodded knowingly.

"Uh, yeah," he said with a fake grin that would only fool the band members and Erich.

"Well, I guess I know why there wasn't any practice, now," I said.

"I almost blew it, didn't I?" Kevin asked.

"Almost? You blew it. I knew something was up. Just didn't know what."

"Shit," he said, heavy with disappointment.

"Don't bug it. The twins over there got plenty of practice, but were giving off a vibe a dead man could read."

"Us?" Brent asked disbelievingly.

"You," I replied.

"Not us," Ryan said firmly, his grin breaking again.

"And you guys got plenty of practice, but still couldn't hide it. David wasn't any help, either."

"I'm new to this whole, tricksy, load of bollocks," he complained with a grin.

"Get used to it," Jeff said, then held up his bottle of soda, and said, "Welcome to the Circle."

Tom and the rest of the Circle guys echoed him.

Welcome to the Circle? I thought with considerable surprise. I don't even get asked? I don't get a vote in new members anymore? No vote at all even?

"Welcome to the Circle," Tom said, lifting his soda bottle at Erich.

"Erich, welcome," Jeff said, also saluting him.

He was followed by the other Circle memebers.

Erich too? What the hell?

Erich raised and took a drink from the bottle of Mason's that he held in his bare hands.

Then it occurred to me that I had nominated him with that prank on Tom and Jeff.

"Rolled Thunder, welcome to the Circle," Tom said, toasting at them.

The rest of the band, too?

"So long as they can pass the initiation," Jeff said menacingly.

Jeff glanced at me. I read him clearly. I knew what he said.

"Uh, initiation?" Kevin asked.

They all looked suddenly worried.

"What initiation?" Erich asked.

"Oh, I think you done passed," Jeff said with a snicker.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He shrugged, kept grinning.

"When? What did I do?" Erich asked, looking confused.

"Don't ask," I said firmly. "Just, go with it. You passed."

I tried not to blush. I knew the guys meant the joke after school, when I had hopped into his car to pull a prank on them, but I worried they might also know more than they should.

"With flying colors, I imagine," Tom said with a snicker.

Oh, well, crap. The guys know. They so know. How, I don't know, but they know.

"You, too, David," Jeff added. "Just the band guys yet got to prove themselves."

"What did I do?" David asked, sitting straight up, curious, worried.

"I'll tell him," I said quickly.

I motioned at David to come up front between Tom and myself, then whispered in his ear for long moments.

I sat back. He was motionless, then nodded.

"You can close your mouth," Tom said flatly. "He's not kidding."

"What?" Kevin asked.

David looked at Tom, who shook his head.

David sat back down and said nothing, but started to grin.

"What?" Kevin asked again.

"You'll never know," David said firmly, smiling a little, then took a long drink.

"Ever," David and I said together.

"Oh, that's just creepy," Wil intoned with a grin. "You'd think the twins would pull that."

The twins looked at each other, smiled, then shrugged slightly at each other, then acted as if they had never done any such thing.

"Just what kind of initiation are you talking about?" Riley asked, himself looking worried.

"What makes them think we want to be part of... whatever it is, anyway?" Terry asked, also looking worried.

"David?" I asked him without looking his way, instead, staring at the band members.

"Oh, you have no choice, now. Not now that you know," David said smoothly.

Every one of them looked very worried. Not a one of them noticed Eric slipping quietly away, let alone the subtle signals I had given him that had sent him on his way.

"No one can leave, not once they know," David added solemnly, all on his own.

I was proud of him. He passed. With flying colors. I wondered if any of the band members recognized the movie those lines were from. I doubted it.

Most of the band guys followed Kevin's lead and looked ready to head for safety.

"Uh, it's been real, it's been fun-" Kevin started, putting down his bottle of Mason's.

"But the real fun is just beginning," Jeff said meaningfully.

Eric locked the garage door to the side of the house very loudly.

Everyone's heads snapped that way.

"Umm... "

Kevin seemed out of words for the first time ever.

Eric walked quickly to the ax that was now kept in the garage since the van fire, picked it off the wall, then walked to the door to the kitchen and sat down against it, the ax in his hands and across his knees. He grinned. He was always very good at being theatric and at grinning chillingly.

"Uh, Kev?" Wil asked, looking at him worriedly.

"You ever feel like you were somewhere you shouldn't be?" Kevin asked none of the other band members in particular.

"We got enough for all of 'em?" Tom asked conspiratorially, without looking away from the band members.

"Only takes a few drops," Jeff said menacingly, also keeping his eyes on them. "Should be kicking in real soon now."

"Maybe we should've used a little more on them. So they can't remember," I added, raising one eyebrow.

"We can give 'em a hit or two of acid, too, while they're out. That should keep the memories in check," Ryan said.

Wil swallowed loudly enough to be heard. Riley accidentally knocked over an empty bottle. It clanged loudly against the concrete floor, startling them all.

Todd lost it and snickered. He recovered, but the spell was cracked. That caused Brent to momentarily show a grin.

Kevin's eyes narrowed. Wil's eyebrows raised and he cocked his head to the side a tiny amount. Bill's and Adam's eyes widened, their lips starting to lift. Riley and Terry caught on last.

Todd and Brent were both trying to hide their grins, and that only caused the rest of us to start losing our own dour countenances.

"Oh, shit! You guys fucking suck!" Kevin said with a smile of relief.

The other band members began laughing slightly, not quite sure. We experienced Circle members let loose.

The newest members picked up their bottles of Mason's and toasted back with us older members. All but one. But he was there, too. I was sure.

Joints were rolled, passed, smoked. Jokes were made. Kilroy Was Here played again and was discussed, along with the rapidly approaching concert.

The first Circle meeting in a long time was underway. It wasn't the same, old, familiar one, but it was one, with the same, old, familiar one at the core.

Familiar, yet new.

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