In Between the Music
A coming-of-age serial set in the 1980s that captures the rush of first love and the quiet spaces between songs where the smallest moments mean everything.
Tap the graphic underneath each chapter heading to read the chapter.
You’ll see a Liner Notes section under the chapter caption. These are basically my notes on something particular about the chapter or my memories. I’ll continue to add and update the Liner Notes for each chapter as I go along.
Chapter 1: High School Orientation
Meet Ben, Trev, and Greg as they navigate freshman orientation, skate talk, and one unforgettable girl.
The first chapter of In Between the Music is drawn almost directly from my own memory of high school orientation. None of us knew what we were in for, but the nervous energy was impossible to contain. I was scared and anxious, but also filled with hope for what was ahead. Like Ben, I had some great friends growing up, and the trio in the serial is really an amalgam of a few different close friends from that time. I never had trouble making other friends and drifted in and out of different circles, but I always returned to my closest buddies. Those close friends are the same ones who remain my best friends today (more on that as the book goes on!)
Then, of course, there was the girl. My first high school crush unfolded in much the same way as Ben’s: kind of a love-at-first-sight thing. It wasn’t dramatic, it wasn’t perfect, but charged with feelings that, at fifteen, felt like the most real thing in the world. Looking back, I realize those moments weren’t about knowing everything. They were about learning to live in the silences between the big songs of life, the pauses where hope, fear, and possibility all hum together.
Chapter 2: First Day Of School
Ben navigates the nerves of his first full day of high school, from locker chaos to lunchroom jitters, all while trying to keep an eye on the girl who won’t leave his mind.
I don’t remember much from the first day of high school… or really the first day of any school year, for that matter. What stands out most is how difficult it was just to get around with a new schedule. Our high school was built more like a college campus, with different buildings for each grade, plus the gym, cafeteria, machine shop, library, etc. Add to that the scramble of trying to find your friends, doing awkward icebreakers in every class, and then the audacity of a few teachers who actually tried to teach on the first day! It was nerve-wracking! I remember one year when none of my close friends ended up in any of my classes. That was the worst. (Though honestly, since I wasn’t the best student, I was probably better off without the distraction.) The lunch period assignment was always the most important though. As long as you had people you could sit with at lunch, your day was made.
Although, much of IBtM’s first day is a mixture of memories over my four years of high school, I do specifically remember having Chemistry with her. And in that room, I was suddenly hyper-aware of everything I did and said, self-conscious in a way that made every lab and every glance feel harder than the actual schoolwork. I tried to make Ben’s inner dialogue reflect that.
Ben’s Lester Kasai deck that I had (in different print colors):
Photo of me doing some sort of foot plant move circa middle school with that board:
Chapter 3: Lunch Table Divide
Freshman first week continues as Ben wrestles with courage, spilled chocolate milk, and the girl he can’t stop watching.
One year, my closest friends all landed in the same lunch period: Lunch B. Every day they would tell me how great it was, and every day I had to listen to their amazing stories about Lunch B. Lunch B had it all: the set tables, the inside jokes… they even played music over the PA system! My lunch period didn’t get that. Instead, I found myself bouncing between tables, sitting with a few friends who came late or left early. It wasn’t bad, but it was never settled. Lunch B was set. To this day, those friends still call “It Takes Two” by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock the Lunch B song. Talk about FOMO!
Food-wise, I wasn’t much better off. School lunch cost $1.35, and my parents gave me exactly that every day. But instead of buying the tray lunch, I’d blow it all on one giant chocolate chip cookie (it was about four or five inches across) and a carton of chocolate milk. That became my “meal” more days than I’d like to admit. Looking back, it’s funny how those small rituals like missing out on the legendary Lunch B or turning my lunch money into a cookie and milk, stick with you just as much as the big moments.
Chapter 4: Friday Night Lights
Bleachers, glances, and a fumbled chance. Ben feels the weight of high school nights when the words don’t come.
Ben, Trev, and Greg really feel the age gap here. I wanted to capture what it was like to be a freshman at a high school football game in the ’80s, when everyone else seemed so much older, more confident, more grown up. We were just starting out, still figuring out who we were, and yet surrounded by people who looked like they had it all together. Of course, we didn’t realize then that everyone was fighting their own battles. That’s a truth that only comes with time. The movies of that era (Sixteen Candles, Some Kind of Wonderful, Can’t Buy Me Love) all played with this idea of freshmen feeling small in the shadow of upperclassmen. But living it was different.
For Ben, the tension is real: standing there with his friends, his crush nearby, and an upperclassman in the mix. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her, but he also wants to look cool. A nearly impossible balance when you’re fifteen. That mix of fear, frustration, and hope is just part of growing up, and Friday night football games were the stage where it all seemed to play out.
Chapter 5: The Halfpipe Pact
Between halfpipe dares and food court confessions, both Ben and Mel feel the pull. Courage is still the missing piece.
My buddy and his older brothers actually built a full-size halfpipe in their backyard. It was the kind you’d expect to see at the X Games. It had everything: a roll-in, a foot of vert, metal pipe for the coping, etc. On weekends, it became the spot. The older kids would crank up the music (usually JFA, Black Flag or some other punk band,) take their runs, bail out, and go again. Not many could pull off more than a rock-n-roll or a frontside slide, but that didn’t matter. The vibe was electric.
My friends and I could never quite work up the courage to drop in. The ramp stood at least ten feet tall, maybe more, and even fully padded with a helmet, standing at the top looking down was absolutely terrifying. So I stuck to smaller ramps and street skating. We’d round up some guys and head out while the halfpipe crew kept at it. Later, we’d circle back, grab food, and just hang out on the flat bottom of the halfpipe, talking until dark. Over time, the ramp needed more and more TLC, and eventually it was left to rot—a monument to a chapter of our youth. Here’s a photo from back then of me and a few friends in my buddy’s driveway at the house where the halfpipe stood in the backyard. He’s second from the left (R.I.P. Brian):
Chapter 6: Flower Power
Mel finds support in Jen, but one careless flower in the wrong hands makes her second-guess everything.
Flower parties were actually a thing back in the ’80s. Are they still? They weren’t organized by the school, but usually held at someone’s house, often a member of the homecoming committee. The idea was simple: make tissue-paper flowers for the floats. You’d head down to a basement with a bunch of friends, grab some wire and a stack of tissue, twist it tight in the middle, and fluff out the sides until it resembled a carnation. They needed hundreds and hundreds of them, so the more hands, the better. But really for us, the parties were just an excuse to socialize… sometimes outside your usual crowd. If a friend got invited, you’d ask, “Hey, is so-and-so gonna be there? Mind if I tag along?”
My buddies and I ended up at one where she was. I don’t remember ever being as self-conscious as I was that night. Every attempt at a joke or something cool to say just seemed to fall flat. In a moment of desperation, I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea: a triple flower. Three different colors of tissue, carefully arranged to make the fullest, most impressive flower I could manage. After about ten painstaking minutes, I finally worked up the courage to give it to her. She smiled politely, said, “Aww, thanks,” and then tossed it in the box with all the others like it was no big deal. I was crushed. I tried not to let it show, slinked back to the couch with my friends, and went right back to twisting tissue paper. No one ever said a word about that awkward moment—but it’s one I’ve never forgotten.
Chapter 7: Before the Music Starts
Ben says yes to a date. Mel says yes to someone else. Neither says what they want.
We seemed to have a lot of dances back in the ’80s. Of course, there were the big ones: Homecoming, Winter Formal, Sadie Hawkins (do they even still do that one?), and Prom, but we also had plenty of smaller ones sprinkled in. I still remember a “Generic Dance” where everyone had to wear black and white! Those smaller dances were always more laid back, and most people went with friends or ‘just as friends,’ but even then it sometimes felt like one more reason to make high school life complicated. The thought that went into going to a dance: the who, the how, the what if. It was brutal for both girls AND guys.
I went to almost all of the dances, usually with a girl I was friends with. That made things so much easier—less stress, less obsessing, and more fun. Christie, Ben’s Homecoming date in the book, actually came directly from one of my good high school friends (Chrissy); we went to one Homecoming together and had a blast. I had a few other friendships like hers: Sue, Leslie, Missy, Jill, Beth. These were girls I never dated but deeply valued. Looking back, those friendships made life so much more calm when things could have easily felt more overwhelming than it already was. More about the Homecoming dance in the next Liner Notes!
Here’s a great shot of two of my friends in their Homecoming dresses! I’m still looking for the photo of Chrissy and I…
Chapter 8: The Homecoming Dance
For one heartbeat at the punch bowl, it feels like everything might change. By the end of the night, nothing has.
As I mentioned before, the actual dances were a big deal in the ’80s. I’m sure they still carry some weight today, but at least from what I’ve seen with my sons, they don’t seem to have quite the same sense of urgency they did back then (besides the proposals to the dances so they can put those on social media!) I talked earlier about the close female friends I went to many dances with over the years, but I never mentioned her. The truth is, I never actually went to a dance with her. I only worked up the courage to ask her once, and she said no in the most “un-no” way possible. Somehow, she convinced me that it would be better if we just went with our groups of friends so we didn’t have to figure everything out separately. I agreed, and strangely enough, I was okay with it. Looking back, our relationship was complicated, and I’ve poured a lot of that dynamic into Ben as the story goes on. Of course, Ben is fictional, so I can shape his experiences differently than my own, but the hints of me are still there.
This chapter also shifts back to Mel’s point of view, something I continue to do throughout the serial. I found that I loved writing her. Mel transformed from the rough sketch I first imagined into something so much richer and better than I could have planned. That’s one of my favorite parts of writing: you create an outline, draft character profiles, think you’ve got it all figured out, and then, BANG! The characters come alive and start taking on personalities you never expected.
Chapter 9: The Mixtape Incident
A secret mix becomes a confession on cassette. Mel listens, Ben waits, and neither knows what comes next.
Mixtapes! Yes, they’ve become a total 80s trope, but that’s because they really were everything. They weren’t just tapes with a bunch of music on them. They were time, effort, emotion, and sometimes straight-up heartbreak wound onto spools of magnetic ribbon.
It started simple: a blank tape, a tape recorder with a handle, and the radio. I’d sit for hours, finger hovering over the record button (you’d have to push the small, red, square Record button in unison with the Play button!), waiting for just the right song to come on and praying the DJ wouldn’t step on the intro (spoiler: they usually did!) Later came the upgrade: the dual cassette deck. That was when the artistry kicked in. I made hundreds of mixtapes on my Sony stereo system: New Wave mixes, hair band mixes, “greatest hits” collections, and of course, the most important kind of all, the one made for someone special.
Ben sitting on his bed with cassettes scattered everywhere, scribbling possible track lists on scrap paper? That was me, exactly. Nothing was ever written on the J-card until the mix was finalized, and then I’d break out my “artistic skills” to decorate it just right. A mixtape wasn’t just music; it was a gift, something personal you handed to someone with your heart quietly tucked inside.
And let me tell you, giving a mixtape to a girl was like stepping into the lion’s den. You’d hand it off with the trite line, “I made you a mixtape” and then you’d wait. Sometimes it was days, weeks even, before you’d hear back. Sometimes it came through a friend. Sometimes it never came at all. Either way, it was an act of courage. You risked the agony because of the possibility. That “what if” was what kept you coming back to the pause/record buttons again and again.
Here’s a full page song list I made for a dB’s album, complete with doodles! This would’ve been folded up and inserted into the cassette instead of filling out the J-card. I’m not sure if I never gave this to someone or if it was returned to me??
Chapter 10: Winter Break and What-Ifs
Mel can’t stop pressing play. Ben can’t stop overthinking. Winter break turns into a season of almosts and maybes.
Everyone looked forward to Winter Break! No homework, no real responsibilities, just gifts, holiday food, and time that felt endless. What I looked forward to most wasn’t Christmas morning, though. It was piling into my buddy’s basement (the one with the halfpipe), where entire days disappeared in a haze of Nintendo marathons, skateboards balanced under us on the couch as we practiced ollies, empty pizza boxes, and sleepovers that stretched until the next sunrise. Those friends were everything. They were your biggest supporters, your safety net, the people you could talk to about anything: skateboarding, weekend plans at the mall, life’s mysteries and of course, the girls we liked.
And then there was The Mall. If you grew up in the 80s, you know what I mean. It wasn’t just a shopping center, it was the hangout, and for us, the arcade was home base. We’d walk the three miles to get there, cutting through woods, trolley tracks, sewer lines, and backyards like it was our own secret passageway. With only $2–$5 in our pockets, we made it last. Quarters stretched across Gauntlet, Karate Champ, Double Dragon, Galaga, or whatever game we were hooked on that week, with just enough left for a soft pretzel or a Coke. I can still picture the glow of those machines and the sound of them all going at once, my buddy dominating whatever game he touched (he was our Greg, the one who just had that natural knack).
That arcade meant so much to me that I’ve rebuilt a little piece of it in my basement. As a hobby, I restore those old machines. I still love flipping the switch and watching the glow come back to life. And every now and then, those same friends from back then still come over, drop a quarter in, and for a moment, it’s like we’re right back there. Here are a few pics of my basement arcade set up:
Chapter 11: New Year, New Nerves
The Holiday Dare follows Ben back to school, and this time there’s nothing to hide behind. A crowded hallway, a mixtape between them, and twenty seconds of courage.
For the first couple years of high school, I was definitely shy when it came to girls I liked. I guess that’s pretty normal, but I felt particularly self-conscious around them. I probably tried too hard most of the time. This is why I wrote Ben in the way I did for this encounter. I got the line, “twenty seconds of courage,” from some movie I can’t remember, but it really does relate. That’s all it takes… give yourself twenty seconds and blurt it out. The rest will usually fall into place. I’ve given this borrowed advice to my two sons and it has served them well. I wish my dad would’ve instilled some wisdom into me back then when it came to girls!
The truth is, I never could work up those twenty seconds of courage to tell her how I really felt. I took the “just friends” route, and it was emotionally painful for most of high school. All in all, I liked the way Ben and Mel’s conversation went here. It was awkward but sincere, both content just to share the moment. Obviously, they’re interested in each other and that’s the ultimate hope. You work up the courage, and if it pans out, you’re golden.
Here’s me outside of Building 1 Freshman year:
Chapter 12: Hallway Heartbeats
One hallway, one mixtape, one word: perfect. Sometimes that’s all it takes to turn maybe into something more.
I wanted to highlight how much their conversation meant to Ben and Mel separately in this chapter. Those minutes that played out made both their weeks! This illustrates how classes in high school were, for me, more about socializing than learning. I was a solidly average student (somewhere in the middle, floating around a 3.0 GPA) but I never really applied myself the way I could have. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after high school, so my time in class was mostly spent drawing, daydreaming, cracking jokes, and trying to make the people around me laugh. The moments that stand out most aren’t the lessons or the tests, but the times when you got to talk, really talk, to someone. Whether it was your best friend, that girl you liked, or just someone sitting nearby, those little conversations about life beyond the classroom somehow meant more than anything on the chalkboard ever could have.
I turned out fine, by the way. Went to college, started a business, closed the business, went back to college and graduated, entered the real world and lived happily ever after.
Chapter 13: February Static
Sadie Hawkins season hits Briar Peak and suddenly, silence isn’t safe anymore. Ben freezes, Mel hesitates, and Britt makes the first move.
As I mentioned before, I was in my head all the time around girls. Maybe that’s just part of being a teenager, but I remember feeling like I was always two steps behind… replaying every glance, every word, like a scene I couldn’t quite get right. I’d watch the confident guys move through the world with ease and think, How do they do it? My focus on her only made it worse. I was so caught up in what could be that I never really let myself live in what was.
She dated other guys, even one of my good friends, and I never blamed him. I couldn’t. I hadn’t done anything to change my own story with her, how could I be upset with him? While other guys were out there doing their best Top Gun impressions, singing the Everly Brothers’ “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” to win a girl over, I was quietly hoping life would hand me a moment like that instead of realizing I had to create it.
Looking back, I see that my hesitation wasn’t really about her. It was about me. About wanting to be someone I wasn’t ready to become. Confidence isn’t something you suddenly have; it’s something you earn by stepping forward, even when you’re shaking. I didn’t know that then. But maybe we never really do until much later, when the moments we missed start to mean something more.
Chapter 14: Sadie Moves
Under winter’s chill and hallway stares, Mel asks the question she’s been rehearsing for weeks. Ben says yes and suddenly nothing feels the same.
I have really fond memories of the Sadie Hawkins dances. I think they’ve mostly fallen out of style now, but back then, they were a highlight. Mostly because, for once, the pressure was off the guys and shifted to the girls. My favorite one was with Missy, probably around ninth or tenth grade. We were both into the same darker, New Wave music, and she was one of those effortlessly fun, outgoing people who made every moment feel like a good time. She asked me, and I said yes right away because I knew we’d have a blast.
Of course, like Ben in the book, I also remember trying to avoid a few girls I heard might be planning to ask me. It wasn’t out of malice, I assure you. It was just the awkward calculus of being a teenager and not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings while still hoping someone else might ask first. Looking back now, it feels a little mean, but at the time it was all part of the confusing, funny, and fleeting chaos of growing up.
Chapter 15: Say Anything
One song, one slow dance, one perfect moment. For Ben and Mel, the night doesn’t need words, it already says everything.
Ben and Mel’s awkward moments at the dance (and even in the car to and from) capture what so many of those high school events were really like. Looking back, I can remember flashes of conversations, the nervous laughter, the uncertainty of where to stand or how to act. Those small, cringeworthy nuances that seemed huge at the time, but that’s what made them so memorable. Nobody really knew what they were doing, and yet we all tried our best to make it look effortless.
There’s a certain charm to that kind of teenage awkwardness. It’s funny now, thinking about how much weight we put on a single song, a single glance, or a single moment on the dance floor. Those imperfect memories are what make those times so real and honest. The awkwardness, the hesitation, the little stumbles… they were all part of figuring out who we were, and maybe that’s why they still stick with us!
Chapter 16: What Comes Next
Weeks after the dance, they’re no longer just two kids circling a moment: they’re in it. A relationship unfolds in late-night calls, easy silences, and the soft promise of what comes next.
Although my wife didn’t go to my high school (we didn’t even meet until we were graduating college), and much of this story isn’t even about her, I realized as I wrote it that pieces of her found their way into the pages anyway. The more I explored Ben and Mel: how they see each other, how they fumble through their feelings, and how their connection deepens over time, the more it started to mirror how the relationship with my wife began. I was smitten, but I had a bit more confidence by then and I went for it. I wasn’t sure how she felt about me early on, but then she asked me to her sorority formal. I can say the rest is history from there! It wasn’t intentional, but little by little, the story began to take on the heart and authenticity that my wife brings into my life every day. Those amazing, little bits crept into Ben and Mel.
I think that’s one of the beautiful things about writing. You start out trying to capture a memory, an idea, or a feeling from long ago, and somewhere along the way, it transforms into something even more personal and present. Ben and Mel may have been born out of my teenage experiences, but they grew into a reflection of something real and lasting. In a way, writing their story reminded me just how far those early moments of uncertainty, hope, and young love can carry us… even into the lives we’re still building many decades later. Love you Babe!
In Between the Music Character Profile
Meet Ben, Trev, Greg, Mel and the other Briar Peak High School students from IBtM
Author Notes
I started writing In Between the Music as a way to keep writer’s block from creeping in while working on the sequel to Hope Beyond Ash. What began as a side project quickly grew into its own story—a serial that surprised me by taking on a life of its own. Much of it is drawn from my own experiences back in the day. The awkwardness, the friendships, the moments that linger longer than they should… and writing it has given me a chance to revisit those feelings in a new way. At its heart, it’s something I hope my wife will read and enjoy (since she can’t stand Sci-Fi!), but it’s also become a space where I can explore characters, emotions, and moments differently than in my other writing.
If you are enjoying this story so far, please share it with your friends and anyone else that likes a good mix tape from 1987. Thanks again!
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