Joe and Biff slowly trudged along the wet roadside.  Neither boy felt like talking as the thundershower rained on them mercilessly; each lost in his own thoughts.

Finally Biff broke the silence:  “Where is all the traffic?  I didn’t know this road was so desolate!”

Joe shrugged and wiped the mud out of his eyes.  “Well, it is Saturday morning – maybe no one else in their right mind is up yet!”

Biff laughed, hearing the scowl in Joe’s voice more than seeing it on his face.  “True, but at the very least Phil should be driving along sometime.  He was going to the farm as well!”

“Maybe,” Joe speculated, “unless he passed by while we still upside down.  We were running a bit behind, if you recall,” the younger boy reminded his friend, his tone taking on a sour note.

“I suppose that makes this my fault then, does it?” Biff demanded, and then reached out to stop Joe, by grabbing his arm, when the other teen gave a shrug.  “Wait, you are blaming me for this, aren’t you?”

“Actually,” Joe said, his voice tinged with anger and not backing down, although his friend was a good deal bigger then he, “It is your fault and you know it! If we didn’t have to stop at that stupid store then we wouldn’t have been running behind!  And right now we’d be at Chet’s place…instead of stuck on the side of some stupid road in the pouring rain!”  His voice had gotten louder and louder with each word until he was practically shouting in his friend’s face.  “I’m cold! I’m wet!  I ache in places you’re not supposed to ache on Saturday mornings!  For what, Allan?  All for what?!”

Now Biff knew Joe was truly incensed – he never called him Allan!

Before Biff could answer, Joe continued, fully warmed up now!

“For beer!  Something you’re too young to be buying and especially drinking, anyway!!!  Why the hell didn’t you get ID’d anyway – you are nowhere near 21!?  That guy’s going to lose his license—”

“Joe,” Biff cut in, trying to calm his agitated friend down, “It’s not for me!  Dad wanted—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Joe yelled.  “Friends don’t lie!  Your dad would never send you to a beer and wine store – for jeepers sake, you’re only sixteen!!”

Biff couldn’t meet his eyes, and Joe snorted and shook his head.  “So let me guess….It’s for a party tonight at Davis Getty’s house, isn’t it? And they asked you to bring the beer – in fact, probably told you that if you did bring the beer, it would make you cool…one of the gang. Isn’t that right?”

The larger boy paled.  “How— how’d you know?” he stammered, dumbstruck because Joe had hit it on the head.  Davis Getty was eighteen years old, the star quarterback for Bayport High, and every bit as popular as his beautiful younger sister.  He was everything that Biff aspired to be – handsome, popular…a jock!

So when the dark-haired teen had approached him and complimented him after football practice on Thursday, Biff had been elated…and then when Davis called him last night to invite him to this party....Well…he couldn’t say no!   Even if it meant he had to bring a case of beer to show how serious he was about being their friend; and how he wasn’t just another big, dumb kid…he was a someone!

So they dropped into the store after they left the Hardys’ house, over an hour earlier; he bought the beer, and Joe had hardly said two words to him until they saw the truck.

“I’m not stupid,” Joe hissed, as he pulled his arm away from Biff’s grasp and started walking again – where was all the traffic?

“I saw Davis talking to you after practice….I saw the look on your face.  And I know about his parties – hell, Biff, it’s all over the school! Everybody knows what goes on at those parties!  And just exactly what were you going to do when you were there?  Were you going to have one too…just to be ‘cool’?”  He tried to look Biff in the eye but the bigger teen glanced away, and Joe shook his head in disappointment. 

“You were going to, weren’t you?  Biff, I thought you cared about yourself more than that!”

“Joe—” Biff started to follow his friend to explain, but Joe whirled back around and pointed a finger at him, making him step back involuntarily.

“Don’t you ‘Joe’ me!  Do you know what the first thing is that I’m going to do when we get back?”

Biff shook his head.

“I’m calling your Dad!”  Joe couldn’t remember the last time he was so angry at anyone.  But this was Biff – his best friend; almost like a brother…he wasn’t about to just stand around and let this happen, “Then I’m going to tell my dad about the guy who sold you the beer!” He wasn’t about to split hairs over the fact that his father might not be home….

“You can’t!”  Biff’s eyes were wide.  “That’d be tattling!”  He knew it was a flimsy argument but he was grasping at straws!

“So what?” Joe snarled.  “How you going to explain the case of beer in the trunk of your car, anyway?  They’re going to know!”  He started to walk away again.

“Joe! Wait!”  Biff hurried to catch up, but Joe just started to walk faster.

“Biff…just don’t talk to me right now, okay?”  the younger teen said, not in any mood to listen to any of his excuses.  “I’m so mad, I could spit nails!”

“Okay Joe, I was stupid,” Biff continued, “and I’ll…I’ll take the heat from my dad.  But please!  Don’t tell your father who sold me the beer.”

Joe didn’t say anything, but he clenched his teeth so hard they hurt.

“The guys will think I ratted them out!”

The younger teen stopped in his tracks, turned around to look back at Biff again and snorted.  “Unbelievable.  You actually care about what they think of you?”

The big teen shrugged, looked at Joe for a moment, and then glanced away. “Joe. I just want them to like me…you know, so everyone will think I’m cool or something.  One of the ‘in-crowd’…”

“Davis Getty is not cool.  He’s a big, dumb jerk,” Joe snapped, and then he paused, and sighed.  And when he spoke again his voice was no longer angry but hurt.  “I’m sorry that being my friend isn’t ‘cool’ enough for you, Biff.”

“I never said that!” Biff refuted, but Joe just gave him a sad, smile, further accentuated by his drowned rat impersonation.

“Yes you did.”

Before Biff could say anything else, they heard the sound of a car horn and saw Phil Cohen driving towards them!

* * *

Frank hung up the cell and smiled, relief erasing the worry on his handsome face.  “That was Chet – Phil called.  He’s got them!”

Lily glanced over and gave him a bright smile before turning her attention back to driving.  “That’s good.  Are they okay?”

“Well, Chet didn’t have many details, yet.  But I’m sure they just ran into car trouble or something.  Biff’s car tends to be a bit temperamental,” Frank explained.

“Ah,” Lily said, and then sighed dreamily, “I really do love rainstorms.” A clap of thunder punctuated her remark.

Frank glanced across at her, a bit surprised by her admission – but he figured he shouldn’t be, she’d been surprising him all morning!

“When I need to think, I like to go to the top of Cliff Heights to watch the thunderheads come in,” Lily continued.

“Really?” said Frank, thinking about it, “Yeah, I guess it makes sense. Very nice view of the bay.”

“Very nice,” Lily agreed, and then gave him a shy look.  “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

“Not really,” Frank admitted, actually anxious to try and find an excuse to keep this morning from never ending.

“Good,” the girl smiled, “I want to show you something!”

Ten minutes later, the car was parked on top of Cliff Heights overlooking the bay, and Lily turned to Frank. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

But Frank wasn’t looking at the view; he was looking at her.  “Yeah – very beautiful.”

The girl laughed and it was like music in his ears. “Why don’t I think you’re talking about the view?”

“Would that bother you?” he asked softly, extremely shocked by his own forwardness.

Undoing her seatbelt, Lily leaned across the seat, and put a warm hand on his cheek; her own voice soft.  “Not in the least.”

An unexpectedly loud clap of thunder startled the girl, and immediately Frank’s arms went around her.  “It’s okay, Lily.”

She stared at him for a moment.  He blushed and started to withdraw.  “Sor—”

Lily cut the apology off with a finger on his lips.  “Shhh, don’t say it.” She laid her head against his chest and felt his arms encircle her again. 

Sighing contentedly, she listened to the steady beat of his heart, and felt the warmth of his strong body against hers.

This was working out even better than she had planned….

* * *

“What the heck happened to you guys?” Chet asked, pulling his hood up against the rain, as Phil stopped his car and Biff hopped out.  “And are you okay?” he followed up immediately, when he got a look at Biff.

“Tell you about it, inside,” Biff said, already brushing past Chet and going into the house.

Chet looked at him strangely for a moment and then noticed that neither Phil nor Joe looked like they were going to get out.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his concern increasing when he got a good look at Joe.

“I’m taking Joe home,” Phil explained, “Some jerks ran them off the road a couple miles back. Can you give Biff a lift, later?”  The sandy-haired teen had offered to drop their other friend home too, but he’d refused, saying he just wanted to go back to Chet’s for a while.

“No problem,” Chet said, and then looked at Joe again.  He looked terrible – wet, muddy…and was that blood?  “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” came the lackluster response.

“Okay then – can’t paint in the rain, anyway,” Chet said, “not that we would, now.  Give me a call later.”  And then he slammed the car door and stepped away so Phil could pull out.

Frowning, he turned and hurried after Biff – there was definitely something going on, and he was determined to find out what.