First song is "At The Hop" by Danny and the Juniors. Don't Own Anything.

Prologue- An Invitation

June 2009, Gil's POV

Well, you can rock it you can roll it
You can slop and you can stroll it at the hop
When the record starts spinnin'
You chalypso when you chicken at the hop
Do the dance sensation that is sweepin' the nation at the hop

Life was good. I had lived in San Fran with my wife for decades. Now that we were both retired, we lived on the beach. I had made enough money as a professor to support both of us and she had been a high school teacher. Now the two of us usually spent as much time together as humanly possible. We had a routine. Around lunch I would go out and get the mail, and she would chop the vegetables for whatever we were eating – my wife was a vegetarian. I brought the mail in and went through it – mostly bills and junk mail, but one envelope caught my eye. I read the heading and was almost shocked.

Ah, let's go to the hop
Let's go to the hop (oh baby)
Let's go to the hop (oh baby)
Let's go to the hop
Come on, let's go to the hop

"Sara, come here!" I said.

Sara put down the chopping knife and walked over. Even at 68 she was still beautiful.

"What is it Gil?" said Sara.

I opened the envelope.

"It's an invitation to our high school reunion," I said.

"Wow, they're actually having one," said Sara.

"It's at the SoHo Regency in Manhattan," I said. "It's in a week."

"I wonder what everyone's been up to," said Sara. "I didn't hear much – for all we know all our old friends could be dead."

"We won't know until we get there," I said. "I guess we'll have to call the travel agent."

Well, you can swing it you can groove it
You can really start to move it at the hop
Where the jockey is the smoothest
And the music is the coolest at the hop
All the cats and chicks can get their kicks at the hop
Let's go!

Sara nodded. I couldn't believe this was happening. Later that night I went up to the attic, looking for old paraphernalia. I found the box and brought it into the TV room. Sara had been flipping channels, but had given up and resorted to the DVD player.

"You found it," said Sara. "I told you we still had it."

I looked inside. Our yearbooks were there, as well as beads and other objects depicting our school colors – we had been Queens High School, and our mascot had been the scorpion. Our colors had been blue and orange. I lifted out two school T-shirts, one was mine and the other Sara's. I lifted out our yearbooks and handed Sara hers. We began to flip through them, stopping at several pages and reminiscing.

Well, you can rock it you can roll it
You can slop and you can stroll it at the hop
When the record starts spinnin'
You chalypso when you chicken at the hop
Do the dance sensation that is sweepin' the nation at the hop

"I found the cheerleaders," I said.

"I'm sure you did," said Sara. "I wonder if Catherine has wrinkles now."

"You always got along with Catherine," I said.

"Yeah, but the skin on her face always looked tight," said Sara. "Out of all the girls I'll bet she's the one that didn't age well."

I took a closer look at the picture. There were girls there I had forgotten about until I had brought in the mail. Sara was now on the same page I was, and she pointed out one of the girls with short hair to me.

"Lindsay," I said. "You think she married Danny?"

"Who knows?" said Sara. "We haven't seen them in 50 years. I'm wondering whether or not Greg and Adam outgrew their geeky bodies – you did."

I slightly laughed.

"Maybe Nick is bald," I said.

Sara busted up laughing. Nick Stokes had been a varsity baseball player. We had been sure he would've played in the majors, but I never saw him on the tube. He had looked enough like Elvis that he had had girls lining up to date him. Our school had been one of the few up north integrated at the time, and a good friend of mine, Warrick, had had to deal with a lot of the racial tensions of the times. I remember when he and Sheldon Hawkes would sing R&B in the halls. Good times. Danny Messer had always been getting in trouble, and I could remember always seeing him in the office. Don Flack had been another Elvis look-alike, and girls had flirted with him until the cows came home. Then there had been Horatio, with his black clothes and his glasses he had been a red-haired version of Johnny Cash.

Well, you can swing it you can groove it
You can really start to move it at the hop
Where the jockey is the smoothest
And the music is the coolest at the hop
All the cats and chicks can get their kicks at the hop
Let's go!

They say the senior year of high school is the best year of your life. They're right, in some respects.

"How about Walk The Line?" said Sara.

I nodded and she popped the DVD in. As the movie came on, my thoughts drifted back to our senior year. It had been the best year of my life. We had all had one last crazy year, filled with friends, romance, and the rock n' roll that most of our parents and teachers had tried to discourage us from listening to. My mother had been deaf, but she had also been laidback. My house was so close to the school all I had to do was walk through my backyard to get there. Many times I had been in my friends' company. They would stay the night before and play rock records as loud as my record player would allow. I remembered all the good times, and the tragedy that had struck us all down.

Ah, let's go to the hop
Let's go to the hop (oh baby)
Let's go to the hop (oh baby)
Let's go to the hop
Come on, let's go to the hop
Let's go!

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