“Hitting on her is the problem.”
“Hitting on her?” Brown repeated, frowning. “You didn’t mention beating her up. I thought George was supposed to beat you up.”
“It’s an expression,” Marty explained. “Hitting on a girl means trying to me her, you know…”
“Yes. Take liberties. What’s so terrible about that?”
“She’s my mother!”
“Not yet, she isn’t.”
“That doesn’t make a difference.”
“All right. I see your point. But if you consider it from a strictly practical standpoint, you’ll be a lot closer to her than whatever you do tonight.”
“Yeah, but as a baby. Don’t you see, Doc? This is the kinda thing that could permanently screw me up!”
“How?” Doc Brown asked. “Pardon my denseness.”
“What if I get back to the future and end up being gay? It sounds like a little thing, but copping a feel from your mother could change a guy’s whole life.”
“I see,” Doc nodded. “But there’s a difference. Copping a feel for pleasure is one thing. Copping a feel to accomplish a serious and moral purpose is another. Therefore, I don’t think you have to worry about a damaged psyche. Especially if you put the feel in the same category as setting her leg after an accident…”
Marty brightened a bit. “Or performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” he added.
“Sure,” Doc replied. “Whatever that is. Now you better get going.”
Marty nodded, took a step and then paused. Once again, with morbid fascination, he took out his wallet and looked at the family snapshot.
Every bit of his sister Linda was gone except her feet.
“Doc,” Marty said slowly. “I just had another thought. Suppose I start fading out on this picture sometime before we’re finished? Do you think when the head goes in the photo my brain will cease to function?”
Doc Brown looked Marty directly in the eyes and responded without the slightest hesitation.
“Beats the hell outa me,” he said.
? Chapter Twelve ?
“Enchantment Under the Sea” was well underway. The Hill Valley High School gymnasium still looked basically like a gymnasium, but there were enough displays and artifacts to create a pleasant illusion. The lighting was blue with silver sparkles created by glass mobiles cut in the shape of fish. Against the walls were various papier-mâché attractions—a sunken ship, undersea caverns, a treasure chest, masses of seaweed, and a diver suspended by a long cable stretching to the ceiling. As an example of contemporary humor, a single school locker labeled “Davey Jones” occupied one corner of the huge room.
Onstage was the band, Marvin Berry and the Starlighters.
All five men were black, consisting of drummer, piano player, sax and bass, with Marvin himself playing guitar and singing. Now he was rendering the popular melody from the motion picture Three Coins in the Fountain. On the dance floor, several hundred young men and women, elegantly dressed, leaned against one another and moved in torpid-time to the music.
Watching them, wearing artificial smiles of enjoyment, were three chaperones appointed by the school—the inevitable Gerald Strickland, standing stiff as a ramrod with his eyes darting quickly back and forth; a chubby algebra-geometry teacher named Dexter Gore; and Miss Deborah Chambers from the library. Strickland’s chief occupation seemed to be looking out for trouble or hands that moved suggestively; Gore seemed most interested in glomming refreshments while no one was looking; Miss Chambers took it upon herself to get the wallflowers up and circulating.
“Walk around and at least talk, ladies,” she said at frequent intervals. “Remember, a body in motion is more exciting and enticing than a body just sitting there.”
One of the male wallflowers was George McFly, looking distinctly uncomfortable in a tight collar, white tux, and bow tie. Most of the time, George just stood and watched the other dancers, but every once in a while he bopped out of time to the music. He tried not to think too much about Lorraine, who looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. He also tried not to think too much about the scenario that was supposed to take place at nine o’clock.
“How the heck did I get involved in this?” he sighed. “I wish I was home.”
Of course, he could have left, but Marty had already seen him and winked knowingly. To have walked out after that actually required more courage than staying, so George hung around. Over and over he thought: it’ll be done with soon. Maybe it’ll work and maybe it won’t but it won’t be any more embarrassing than some of the problems you’ve had with Biff.
The selection ended and was immediately followed by a faster number. On the dance floor, Marty looked at his watch. It was 8:45, time to start the ball rolling.
“Let’s sit this one out, O.K.?” he said to Lorraine.