January 21st, 1959. 11:42 am, The Bus Depot
Buddy and I pull up to the bus depot and I sigh. I'm not mentally prepared to spend the next twenty four days with people.
We climb out of the car and pop the trunk, grabbing our bags.
Dion sees us and runs up. "Hey!"
"Hey, Dion!" I smile, putting down my bags and hugging him.
We let go of each other and he smiles. "Y'know, we really should spend more time together. We live in the same city!"
I nod and pick my bags up again. "We do end up third-wheeling Buddy... which I don't feel bad about." I laugh. Dion and I are like siblings, we just seem to understand each other. Not in the same way that Buddy and I do. Buddy and I are almost like the same person at this point. We spend so much time together that we've rubbed off on each other. We're on the same mental wavelink. While Dion and I just get each other. We aren't the same by any means, but we just kinda click, I guess.
"BFFs, am I right?" Dion smiles and takes my bigger bag. "Wow, heavy."
I laugh and nod. "BFFs forever!"
He leads us over to...Jesus Christ, a yellow school bus. This is going to be a very, very long tour. Dion puts my bag under the bus and motions for Buddy and I to hand over the other bags. He's such a sweet guy. I keep my purse. I would die without my chapstick or lotion and whatever other junk I keep in there.
A younger looking guy comes over to us. I recognize him as Ritchie Valens. He's only an inch or two taller than me, but he's definitely not done growing.
"Hi, I'm Ritchie Valens. It's great to meet you." Ritchie holds out his hand to Buddy.
"Buddy Holly, love your music." Buddy smiles and shakes his hand.
"And I love yours." Ritchie turns to me. "Hey, I'm Ritchie."
"Ritchie. I'm Violet, great to see you." I smile and he takes my hand, much more lightly shaking it.
We stand there and chat for a while, the four of us.
"I want a newspaper." Dion mentions.
"Oh, I can go grab one. There's a stand across the street and down about half a block." I smile. I want to leave them alone. They're talking about things that I don't quite understand.
Dion reaches in his pocket and fishes out a quarter. "Here."
I let go of Buddy's hand and start over to the stand.
I get there and wait for the clerk to come over. He comes out from behind one of the racks. "What can I do for ya?"
"Uh, one copy of todays paper, si vou- I mean, please."
"A quarter." The man states and reaches below the counter, grabbing a paper.
I hand him the quarter. He smiles. "What were you gonna say?"
"Si vous plaît..."
"Please in French? My grandmother spoke French."
"Thats cool! Well, thanks for the paper."
"Thanks for your business."
I walk down the street and pull to the side and look at the paper.
Holy shit.
Is Violet Holly the New Beauty Icon?
No fucking way.
I scoff and accidentally say "Nope!" outloud. My face is plastered on the front of the news paper.
I hear someone behind me. "Excuse me, but Violet Holly is gorgeous." A masculine voice says.
My eyes widen and I turn around. I hold the paper next to my face and smile like I did in the picture.
"Oh my God. You're her!" The man has dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. He's wearing a leather jacket and his hair is slicked back. Greaser.
I nod. "That's me."
"Don't you have a sister?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"What's her number?"
"She's married with kids. Nice try, though."
He shrugs. "Well, you're stunning. Too bad you're married. I woulda snatched you right up otherwise." He winks and turns and walks away.
I decide against reading the rest of the article and just to head back to the bus.
When I get back, more people are there. I just walk up to the group I was with before and I hand Dion the paper.
"Thanks, Vi." He looks down at it and gasps. "Holy fuck." He whispers. "You're the next beauty icon?" He hands Buddy the paper.
Buddy looks down at it and laughs. "I already knew that, you are okay lookin'." He smiles and pulls me over to him.
"Can I see?" Ritchie asks.
Buddy hands over the paper.
"You are really pretty, in a not weird way." Ritchie laughs. He's a cute boy. Not like a 'I want to kiss you' way, but more like a puppy.
I blush slightly. "Thank you."
"Did ya read the article?" Buddy asks, draping his arm around my shoulders.
I shake my head. "Just looked at the front page."
"You should really read the article." Richie passes back the paper.
I look down and cringe at my face. I don't think I'm ugly by any means, I just don't like seeing myself in the media. At least I'm not just referred to as Buddy Holly's wife.
Could Violet Holly be the next beauty icon? Violet Rosline Holly is the wife to the famous rock 'n' roll star, Buddy Holly.
There it is.
Many young girls have claimed to style their hair and makeup after her, saying that she has an 'effortless' and 'alluring' nature to her. Her long, dark red locks and perfectly curled bangs is a look that many lust after. Her bottle green eyes have a certain glint to them that make people of both genders swoon. There's no doubt that Violet is a natural beauty. Her unique style of Euro-chic is drop dead fabulous. Her thin yet curvy stature is jaw dropping. Her cinched waist and larger bust and backside are all envy worthy. She has an influence today's style; however, Violet Holly is certainly going to keep rising as a role model and a fashion superstar. She certainly is going to be the next beauty icon.
I laugh and roll my eyes. "Euro-chic? They said that I have a 'unique style' of euro-chic! I dress like every other woman in the country. I don't think the author of the article knows what a compound sentence is, either. Most of them are choppy and...weird."
Dion takes the paper and scans it. "I mean, I'd say you're alluring, I guess? And both genders are swooning?"
I shrug. "I have no idea what's going on with this. They did a really shitty job at describing me."
Dion nods. "Yeah, geez. You're more than just your looks."
"Ha! Barely. Your looks are the only reason I married you!" Buddy jokes and kisses the side of my head.
"I totally only got with you for your money!" I respond.
"Yeah, I had oh so much of it when I was sixteen."
"You guys were sixteen when you went together?" Ritchie asks.
"Mhm." I nod.
"Maybe I'll be with Donna forever, too. I miss her..." Ritchie looks dreamily at the sky. I can tell that he really likes this girl. I think he wrote a song about her. I swear I've heard it.
A bigger guy in a leopard print jacket walks up to us. I recognize him as the Big Bopper.
"Hey, I'm J.P." He has a very kind smile.
"I'm Dion."
"Ritchie."
"Hey, I'm Violet."
"I'm Buddy, nice to meet ya."
I look around, I think everyone is here. I see the Belmonts over by a car, Waylon Jennings is with them. Tommy Allsup was already on the bus when we got here, and a guy that I have yet to be introduced to. I think he's the driver, I don't recognize him at all. I glance at Dion's watch. 12:03, we'll be leaving any minute. I can't say I'm excited. Right on cue, the man who I think is the driver whistles and does a weird "round up" gesture with his hand.
We all piled into the bus. All of us sat in the middle, not the front, not the back, but the middle. Buddy and I obviously are sharing a seat. He let me have the window seat. He knows I'll end up zoning out and staring out the window. If I wasn't near the window, I would accidentally end up staring at a person.
I look at my lap and cross my feet. Jesus. It's all men. I'm pretty used to talking to mostly men, I think I'll be fine.
The man was the bus driver! He's handsome. Dark skin, eyes and hair. His hair is in a buzzcut and he wears thin rimmed glasses. He turns around. "First stop'll be in a few hours. Let's get this show on the road!"
10:19pm, The Bus
I drift between listening to the conversations and my mind going blank. I'm partly listening to the conversation about the best guitars and the best drums.
"Ay, can you turn on the radio?" Dion asks the driver. I learned that his name is Anthony.
Anthony doesn't miss a beat when he taps the radio knob. 'I Wonder Why' fills my ears. It's really loud. I look up to Dion and smile. He's beaming and so are the Belmonts. I still can't tell them all apart, and they don't even look similar. I think the tall one is Angelo? No, wait, Angelo is in the Navy. Is the taller one Fred or Carlo? No one will ever know.
Anthony turns the volume down and looks back quickly. "Ain't that one of youse?"
"Yeah, that's us." Dion gestures to himself, Carlo and Fred.
"I do like me some of youse music."
"Thank you! It means a lot." Dion smiles and nods.
I stop listening. I'm trying to think what to say to Koch if we ever find him. In these couple of months. I've been putting off finding him. I don't know what I'd even do if I did. Would I just say thanks for all that he's done? Would I even end up calling him? Is he even alive?
April 18th, 1943. 4:21 pm, The Orphanage, Paris
*Underlined is spoken in French, bolded is German*
I'm sitting in the courtyard itching my head. We had to bleach my red roots today, it burns. I notice a shadow come over me and I look up.
"Hey little Violet." Koch smiles.
I stand up and look around. After determining that no one was around, I hug him. I'm barely up to his waist. He's really tall. He puts his big hands on my back and pats it. "I have some bread."
I pull away and smile. I'm so hungry, we don't get very much food. Today we had some sad vegetable soup.
Koch kneels down and takes off his backpack. He unzips it and there's an entire loaf of bread! He hands it to me and tells me to run inside and give it to Madame Martin.
I take the bread and turn to run inside. When I get to the door, I turn around. Koch is pretending to patrol. He does the march thing around the gates.
I open the big door and run inside to the kitchen. Madame Martin is cleaning some dishes.
I tug on her skirt and she turns around. I show her the bread. She grins and motions for me to put it on the counter. "Koch?" She asks
I nod.
"Go back to him and work on your German." She turns back to the dish.
I run back to the door and I peak my head out, making sure that no one came around. I run out and Koch stops marching.
"Madame Martin told me to work on my German." I cross my arms and sit down.
Koch sits next to me. "I think you're very good at German, little Violet." He smiles and pats my back. "Fluent."
I nod. "I know I'm fluent, but she never believes me."
"I believe you." He smiles. He had neatly combed blonde hair and stirling blue eyes. "I believe you because you speak to me in it perfectly everyday."
"Thank you."
"I really wish I could adopt you and your siblings." Koch looks over at me and frowns. "I would if I could."
"I want you to."
"Someday in the future, our paths will meet again, little Violet."
"How do you know?"
"I just do."