Late April, 1990

Geneveve (she liked her new name, even though Kim had recently told her it meant she had to wear all white during any gig they got) had reported back empty-handed to the rest of the band for about a month now. She was getting frustrated, and also worried that she’d get kicked out. Meeting people wasn’t her forté, and when she did meet them, she usually scared them away.

            Out of desperation, she turned to the most social person she knew. An ex-boyfriend of hers, Ryan Westwood; and she decided right away that Kim would never find out a boy had gone recruiting for their band.

            Her direct request was for anyone who could play an instrument, but drums were preferable. Ryan hadn’t wanted to help her at first, claiming he’d probably do a worse job at it than her, but her threats and long, sharp nails got him going.

            He raided his school band to find someone who was just as much of a bitch as Geneveve; those were her specific instructions. He was used to her pride in her bitch-factor, as he’d known her for years, and he knew that nothing about her had changed except her name.

            There was only one girl in the school band that struck Ryan as being at all like Geneveve, but it was a side of her he hadn’t seen since they broke up. This girl, Nicole Reiner, was hyper and alive. She spoke a mile a minute, losing consonants and crashing words together; she was scrawny, short (with short, spiked hair to compliment her stature), and a smile was eternally etched on her face. She also played a bari-sax, which was more than half her size.

            The second Ryan had said the words “punk band,” Nicole had practically knocked him over and had been near mauling him since.

            “I’ve always wan’ed’ahbe in a punk band! They’re lookin’fer girls, righ’? Ima girl, in case that wa’n’t obvious a’ready.”

            “Uh, yeah. It seems that they’d prefer bitches, but--”

            “Oh, Ima bitch awrigh’! Well, I can be if I wan’ta’. If they wan’a bitch, Ima bitch.” She held up her hand, instructing him to stay there, then ran to the back of the band room where the instruments were stored. She disappeared into the area blocked off by metal mesh, then reappeared with a big saxophone that hung down to her knees. “This ‘ere’s m’ saxy. She’sa good girl, she is. Real funta’ play with. An’ I guess’m good with it, since I’m th’ only one still in th’ band.”

            “Well, Jenni -- Geneveve’s my contact in this punk band, and I’m meetin’ her in about a half hour. Think you can wait that long?”

            “Huh, since there’s nah practice afte’ school’m all set to leave whenever. No class’n’all, y’know. I could wait a halfer if ya’ need me ta.”

            The half hour passed rather painfully for Ryan, as he discovered just how hyper and too cute that Nicole could be. He gladly passed her off to Geneveve, who wasn’t exactly impressed with his find. She was worried that Kim and Elke would both gang up to kill her when she brought this little girl back with her.

            “How old are you, Nicole?”

            “16. I kin drink, I kin do anythin’, so I’m not all tha’ young, now ’m I?

            Geneveve sighed and braced herself mentally for the presentation of this hyper child to the others.

 ***

 Kim was stunned when Nicole burst through the door with Geneveve trailing behind her, looking rather exhausted. Nicole bounced around the room for a while before she thrust her hand at Kim, talking so fast she could barely understand a word she said. “Hey, ‘m Nicole an’ you mus’ be Kim, I mean ‘cause you’reso, well like Gen said ya’were, and y’know, I jus’ pictured this real strong’n cool chick, an’ there yer standin’, so yeh.” Nicole’s focus flicked over to Elke in an instant. “An’ yer Elke, sure as bloody ‘ell. Tha’sa cool name. How’dya’ get a name like tha’, anyway? My paren’s were so borin’!”

            Kim exchanged a long look with Elke, then a longer one with Geneveve. She was about to march the latter out of the room and ask what the hell she’d brought back with them, but Nicole tugged on her shoulder then started fidgeting.

            “What is it?”

            “M’name’s Nicole.” She was speaking slower. “I got picked up t’ be in a punk band that wants bitches. That’s all I heard abou’ it, but I can tell you that if ya’ want me ta’ be, I’ll be a bitch.”

            “What instrument do you play?”

            “Swear ya’ won’t laugh?”

            “I won’t laugh.”

            “Bari-sax. It’s actually a really cool’un, it’s just tough ta’ get into. Ya’ can do a lot with a sax, an’ le’s face it, there ain’t so many punk bands with saxes out there, so ya’ve gotta’ give me some originality points.”

            Kim took a breath, thinking. “Can you make it scream?”

            “Uh huh. That’s mostly wha’ I do with it. I can really play i’, but y’know, it’s just not as fun.”

            “What do you think, Elke?” Kim looked over Nicole’s head.

            “I think she’s too cute for words.” Elke was grinning. “We need a cutey.”

            “’Ey, I’m no’ a cutey! I’m jus’ ... well, rather darlin’, I guess.”

            “Awright, darling Nicole, I have one question to ask you before you can be initiated into my band.”

            She perked up, shining her insatiable smile up at Kim. “Wha’?”

            “Give me your opinion on boys.”

            “Like how?”

            “Just boys in general.”

            “The lot o’em are all pricks. I hate ‘em. Well, ‘cept the cute ones... ‘Ey, Gen, that boy you sent t’ pick me up was a cutey! Y’ got ‘is number anywhere?”

            Kim looked at Geneveve and mouthed “boy?” Gen ducked her head and muttered, “I’ll tell you later.”

            “A’yway, I think we still need a few ‘round, ‘cause life jus’ wou’n’t be the same wi’out. Y’know, we only need a few around; only need ‘em t’ fuck.” She nodded, pleased with herself, then sped across the room to where Elke’s guitar was propped against the wall, and she started oohing and ahing over it.

            Kim, still slightly shell shocked, took Elke and Gen with her into the next room. “Opinions?”

            “She bloody well scares me,” Geneveve muttered.

            “Too hyper for words,” said Elke.

            “I like her.” Kim looked at both of them, daring them to say anything bad.

            “Well, I’m not sure if I can take her in more than very small doses.” Elke shuddered, looking back over her shoulder to the doorway, where Nicole’s squealing about the guitar was coming into the room.

            “She won’t always be like that. We can always just tell her to go blow her sax. I like her attitude. We need someone perky, awright? We’re all a buncha’ bitches, and ya’ need that to be countered by somethin’.”

            “She’s only 16, luv,” Elke pointed out.

            “You can drink at 16, you can join a band. You’re not that much older, little miss 17, and neither are you, Gen. Look, as the oldest and the founder, I say she’s in.”

            “Well, then, what’s her name?” Gen leaned back against the wall.

            “Something Darling, that’s for sure. Let’s ask her what sort of name she wants.” Kim led the way back into the other room. “Nicole, you’re in, but we need to rename you. I am Kim Kissably, having left behind Kimberly Standen. Geneveve Hardly used to be Jennifer Coleman, and Elke Fairness used to be Alexandra Stark.”

            “There’s this name I heard a long timeago, it’s some weird foreign thin’ o’sorts. Chatha. It means an ending, or sumthin’ like that, and y’know, I figure this’d be an endin’; an endin’ o’ my old life, to become part o’ this band.”

            “Then it’s set. You’re Chatha Darling.”

            Happy with the band and how it was turning out, Kim told the girls that she’d hold off on being a bitch to them if the rest of the band was gotten together by graduation. Chatha asked if that meant by her graduation, and if so, that was a lot of time to get a band together. She also offered up the prospect of her best friend, who was apparently great with keyboards.

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