Authors: Frank Anthony Polito
Band Fags!
Band Fags!
“For those of us who came of age in the '80s, reading Frank Anthony Polito's novel is like being teleported back to high school. Filled with pop culture references that will have you saying, âI remember that!,' this is a love letter to a time when happiness was a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, and every heartbreak could be fixed by listening to your Bonnie Tyler or REO Speedwagon albums. Most important, though, it is a portrait of a friendship between two boys struggling to find themselves without losing each other.”
âMichael Thomas Ford, author of
Last Summer
“With the Motor City running on empty in Reagan's America, Frank Anthony Polito's characters dance their mystery dance of teenage longing as if Motown never left for California. Sexy, funny, and wiser than it wants to be,
Band Fags!
pulses with a ragged beauty and bounces to its beat. I give it a 98.6.”
âThorn Kief Hillsbery, author of
What We Do Is Secret
“More than just a novel,
Band Fags!
is a virtual time machine that transports you smack dab into the cheesy heart of the '80s. It's like a queer
Wonder Years
as it follows Brad's and Jack's memorable journey through high school hell. Screamingly funny, surprisingly charming and, ultimately, truly moving, it's a fresh take on the importance of friendship during the worst/best years of your life.”
âBrian Sloan, author of
A Really Nice Prom Mess
and
Tale of Two Summers
“A consistently hilarious story of the best-friendship we all seem to have had, set in a time we can never seem to forgetâthe totally awesome '80sâ
Band Fags!
never misses a beat in its affectionate, moment-by-moment chronicling of the complicated journey we take from cradle to closet to what lies beyond.”
âMatthew Rettenmund, author of
Boy Culture
“
Band Fags!
is like the gay teen flick John Hughes never got around to making. Let's face it, there's a Band Fag in all of us and Frank Anthony Polito has his on speed dial. This book is a sweet, funny, deeply felt valentine to the wonder/horror of coming of age in the 1980s. You might just pee your parachute pants.”
âDennis Hensley, author of
Misadventures in the (213)
and
Screening Party
“These Band Fags march to their own quirky beat in a timeless tale delightfully syncopated against an '80s soundtrack. This surprisingly tender story of best friends locked in a tug-of-war of self-discovering is booby-trapped with Polito's pitch-perfect wisecracks and hilarious observations.”
âSteven Sorrentino, author of
Luncheonette
“This former 1980s band fag declares
Band Fags!
totally wicked awesome. With pitch-perfect dialog, and high stepping charm, Polito hilariously shows how not all hearts beat to the rhythm of the same drum major.”
âJosh Kilmer-Purcell, author of
I Am Not Myself These Days
“Frank Anthony Polito's
Band Fags!
plays like an eighties after school special; it feels like dropping right back into the oh-so-important questions of who sits where in the lunchroom, who “likes” who, and which friends might be “fags.” Polito absolutely captures the voice of a not-ready-to-be-gay-teenager in the eighties, and spins characters who face real problems, ridiculous concerns, and the meaning of friendship over the years.”
âAlex MacLennan, author of
The Zookeeper
To Grat Dalton,
my Best Friend since 7
th
grade.
In memory of his beautiful mother,
Linda Vickers-Dalton-Belfiori
First and foremost, I thank my editor, John Scognamiglio, for encouraging an actor-turned-playwright to flesh out a two-character world and for his guidance and friendship along the way. To everyone at Kensington for making me feel welcome, especially Joan Schulhafer, Maureen Cuddy, Adeola Saul, and Guy Chapman in publicity, all my friends in the “Bull Pen,” Amanda Rouse, Mercedes Fernandez, Peter Senftleben, Megan Records, Amy Pyle, Jenny Klion, and Colleen Martin; Doug Mendini in sales; Kristine Noble for taking my cover design and making it totally awesome, and, of course, Laurie Parkin, and Steven and Walter Zacharius.
Thank you to my mom and dad, Dawne and Frank Polito, for their constant support throughout the years, and to my brother and (soon-to-be) sister-in-law, Shawn and Judy Polito, my sister and brother-in-law, Julie and Dennis Drew, my nephews, Ryan and Matthew, and my new little niece, HannahâI love you all.
Thanks to Amanda Thousand, for tips on being Editor-in-Chief of
The Hazel Parker,
to my fellow Band Fags: Eva Rietz, Mike Rackov, and former HPHS Marching and Concert Bands director Mr. Paul Kline, for helping to jog my MSBOA Band Festival memory.
Special thanks to Brian Sloan for encouraging me to use the title
Band Fags!,
to Rich Kiamco, and my fellow ex-Detroiters, Mark LeGault and Kenneth Walsh, for putting me in touch with the “Giver Goddess.” And to Judy Tenuta herself, for allowing me to quote her hilariousnessâand for the potted meat product, way back when.
Last but not least, I thank my partner, Craig Bentley, for taking care of me for these oh-so-many years and for finally being The One. To him, I owe my every successâpast, present, and future.
1982â1983
“See the kids just getting out of school
They can't wait to hang out and be cool⦔
âThe Go-Go's
“Friends hold you back.”
This is what she tells me. Like it's the key to unlocking the Secrets of the Universe. Like they're some Magical Words of Wisdom I can't possibly afford to ignore. Like she's that crazy little psychic woman from
Poltergeist
telling Carole Anne to “Go into the light.”
Normally, Jessica Clark Putnam is the nicest teacher in the whole wide world. The kind that allows you to hang out in her office after school eating popcorn. The kind that takes you to Downtown Detroit to see the Symphony, along with every other kid in Band at Webb Jr. High School. The kind that talks to you like you're a Real Adultâ¦And not a 12-going-on-13-year-old.
She's one of the prettiest teachers, too. With short brown hair, curled back on the sides, kinda poufy on topâa slight wisp of gray at the temples. She's also got a nice smile. Full of straight white teeth. But at this very moment, the look on her face makes her totally unrecognizable.
“After everything I've done to get you that scholarship?” Mrs. Putnam asks in utter disappointment. “You realize what a wonderful opportunity this is, don't you? You'd be a fool to pass it up.”
I can't even believe this is the same woman who stands before us every morning in 2
nd
hour Varsity Band, flailing her arms about in 4/4 time, head nodding in rhythm, pounding the beat into our brains from high atop her podium. Like she's God.
I proceed to explain how totally grateful I am for the “wonderful opportunity” and all. But I really don't wanna spend two whole weeks at a stupid Summer Band camp all by myself.
“What about Bradley?” she reminds me. By whom she's referring to VB trombone player and my new Best Friend, Brad Dayton.
As outstanding 1st chair musicians, Brad and I have been awarded partial scholarships to attend the prestigious Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp. The only problem isâ¦BLFAC costs like $300 for a two-week session. And Brad hasn't explained to Mrs. Putnam how his parents recently got divorced and his Deadbeat Dad is refusing to pay child support for him and his three sisters. Which means no money for Brad to spend two weeks at an exclusive Summer Band camp.
Which is what I tell Jessica Clark Putnam. But she's not having itâ¦Not one little bit.
“Just because Bradley Dayton can't go to Blue Lake,” she informs me, “doesn't mean it should stop you from going by yourself.”
The other problem isâ¦I live in the Detroit suburb of Hazel Park. Better known as Hazeltucky to the folks who don't live there. And Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp is located in Muskegonâall the way on the
other
side of the state. And two weeks is a long time for a 12-going-on-13-year-old to spend away from home. Especially one who's never done it before.
Which is when Jessica Clark Putnam tells me, “Friends hold you back.”
She proceeds to explain how when she was a kid growing up in Rochester, NY, all she ever wanted was to be a Professional Flautist. For those of you not in the know, this means “flute player.” Which explains why she left home at the tender age of 18 after receiving a full scholarship to the University of Michigan. Never once looking back or contemplating for one moment the family or friends she left behind.
I have no idea what else to say. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's disappointing a teacherâ¦So I say nothing.
Ever so sweetly, Mrs. Putnam responds to my silence. “You
do
want to go, don't you?”
I nod my head. What kid in his right mind wouldn't? After all, this is a “wonderful opportunity.”
How I ever got myself into this mess, I have no ideaâ¦
I've gotta admit, being picked as 1st chair when 7
th
grade started back in the Fall came as a surprise to me. Out of the nine other trumpet players, I never expected to be The Best. Though I did practice my butt off for an entire week till I got every last note of my sixteen bars right. Let's just sayâ¦If my Dad had to listen to “Irish Folk Dance” one more time, he was gonna kill me!
One of the hardest things I've had to get used to about being in junior high isâ¦being
forced
to stay for Lunch every day. Back in elementary school at Longfellow, I used to go home on account of we lived right around the block. But at Webb, if you look around the cafeteria, it's like,
all
the boys sit together and
all
the girls sit together. At totally separate tables. Even the guys and girls that are going together don't sit with each other during Lunch. Sure, you see them walking down the hallways together all the timeâarms around each other's waists, hands in back pockets. But when it comes to eating lunch, they won't be caught dead at the same table! Which I think is totally stupid. I mean, I'm a guy and I'm
supposed
to like girls. Which is why I don't pay attention to those dumb rules. I sit with whomever I want.
In fact, sitting with a group of girls during Lunch is how I met my Best Friendâ¦
One afternoon in early September, I was sitting in the cafeteria with Ava Reese, Varsity Band 1st chair clarinet, Carrie Johnson, VB 2
nd
chair clarinet, and Katy Griffin, VB 2
nd
chair trombone. Even though she's super skinny, Ava's always on a diet and hardly ever eats anything. Which is why she was busy going around the table with her Sign-In Book, asking everybody the questions and marking down our answers with her trusty #2 pencil.
“Calvin's or Jordache?”
“Calvin's,” answered Ava's new Best Friend, Carrie. Though she barely opened her mouth since she
just
the day before got her braces tightened and they were killing her.
“Calvin's,” agreed Katy, as if there was no other choice. Which was kinda weird, if you ask me. Not weird-weird, butâ¦Katy's kind of a Tomboy and since I've known her, I've only ever seen her wearing Levi's or cords. In fact, when I saw her walk into the Band Room on the First Day of School, I totally thought she was a guy. Not that I'm saying I don't like her or anything, 'cause I totally do. Maybe it's her short feathered-back hair, I don't know. All I know isâ¦Boy can she throw a football!
“Ladies and gentlemen⦔ An adult male voice cut in over the cafeteria loudspeaker. Followed by the obnoxious sound of banging on the microphone. “Is this thing on?”
Lucky Mr. Grantâ¦He gets the honor of babysitting us every day during Lunch. His main job is to read Today's Announcements so we know things like when yearbook pictures are being taken. Or to remind us how important it is to sign up for fluoride treatments. Stuff like that. Though the girls I'm friends with would probably listen to Gorgeous George talk about
anything.
Personally, I don't get what's so great about him. I mean, he's got this totally cheesy mustache! Though I guess his hair's kinda cool. Sandy brownish-blond, feathered-back on the sides, kinda spiked on top. He's also got nice eyes. Bright blue. And a nice smile, I suppose. I guess he's
kinda
attractive. Not that I judge other guys, 'cause I don't.
“We interrupt this program,” Mr. Grant said, “to bring you another episode ofâ¦
Dear Bobby
.” He sounded more like a cheesy radio announcer than a junior high Social Studies teacher. Every day for the past week and a half, Mr. Grant had been reading us a letter he confiscated from one of our fellow 7
th
graders. He always started off with a recap from yesterday's installment. Which was what Gorgeous George was about to do at that very momentâ¦
“When we last left
Dear Bobby
,” he began, “Shelly had invited Bobby to meet her at the Roosevelt playground after school⦔
A chorus of hoots and hollers erupted from the Jock table at the far end of the cafeteria. Sitting among the group was the Star of the Show, himself. Though from the shade of red his face was turning, Bobby Russell was clearly
not
enjoying being the Center of Attention.
I don't think I've mentionedâ¦Bobby's also in Varsity Band. 2
nd
chair trumpet. Which means he sits right next to me. Which always seemed kinda odd that he could be like, Mr. Popular
and
be in Band. But somehow Bobby pulls it off.
“âMaybe we can make out on the curly slide,'” Mr. Grant read next. “âYou're a really good kisser, you know that?'”
And the crowd went wild!
With that, Bobby's blond head whipped around. He got up from his seat and sprinted across the cafeteria to a table over by the windows full of Cheerleaders. Sitting among the group burying her head in shame was his costar, Shelly Findlay. Who happens to be VB 1
st
chair flute, aka flautist. It was hard to hear what Bobby yelled at Shelly over the clang of silverware against molded plastic plates. But reading his lips I could make out something like, “You better get that f-ing letter back!” Though Bobby didn't say “f-ing letter.” He said the real word!
“Will Bobby make out with Shelly on the Roosevelt playground curly slide?” Mr. Grant continued, concluding today's installment. “Tune in tomorrowâsame time, same channelâfor another exciting episode ofâ¦
Dear Bobby
.”
And with that, we returned to our regularly scheduled programâ¦
“Calvin's or Jordache?” Ava looked at me, twirling a lock of her curly brown hair.
I took a swig of my low-fat chocolate milk, unsticking the PB of my PB & J on white bread from the roof of my mouth. I was
just
about to answer when I heard the plop of a puke-colored plastic tray on the table.
“Fuck those! I like
Sergio Valente
's better 'cause they make your ass look hot!” At which point, Bradley Dayton popped a freshly-dipped-in-ketchup tater tot into his mouth and squeezed in beside Carrie, directly across from where I sat. I noticed he'd chosen the hamburger over the grilled cheese option.
“Sergio's aren't one of the choices,” Ava told Brad, kinda snotty.
“Yeah,” echoed Katy, like she was Ava's own Personal Bodyguard.
“Who cares?” Brad retaliated. “Write it inâ¦Number 4.”
“Whatever,” Ava said. Then she wrote Brad's answer down and turned the page. “John Cougar or Rick Springfield?”
“Rick Springfield,” Brad chimed in. “Definitely.”
“I wasn't asking you,” Ava snapped back.
“Yeah,” echoed Katy.
“Number 4â¦Write it in.”
I noticed the words Eat Shit and Die! scrawled in red on a white quarter-sized button pinned to Brad's pink Braggin' Dragon polo shirtâworn with the collar up. Which is when I got a good look at him for the very first timeâ¦Reddish-brown hair, feathered back on the sides, with freckles on his cheeks and nose. Now that I think about it, he kinda reminds me of Ron Howard. Ron “Opie” Howard. Not Richie Cunningham.
Brad must have noticed my staring because he looked across the table at me and was all like, “Who the Hell are you?” Totally deadpan.
I was like, “I'm Jack.” Even though my real name's John, everybody calls me Jack or Jackie.
“Jack who?”
“Paternoâ¦Varsity Band 1
st
chair trumpet.”
To which Brad replied, “Oh.” Then he laughed.
“Smurfs or Garfield?” Ava continued, turning the page.
And that's pretty much the entire storyâ¦
How I Met My Best Friend.
By John R. Paterno.
Though it wasn't till almost an entire month later that I even spoke to him againâ¦
After weeks and weeks of hot pursuitâlove letter after love letter, phone call after phone callâLynn Kelly and I finally started going together. Like my Mom always says, “Good things come to those who wait.”
In case I haven't mentioned itâ¦Lynn Kelly is the girl I've liked since the day I got to Webb Junior High. First of all, she's totally pretty. With shoulder-length blond hair, curled back on the sides, and a nice smile. Secondly, she's very “developed,” if you know what I mean.
As 7
th
graders, we don't get to pick our schedules. They assign our classes to us and it just happened to work out that Lynn and I had the
exact
same schedule that semesterâ¦
1
st
hour: Science w/Mr. Davidson.
2
nd
hour: Varsity Band w/Mrs. Putnam.
3
rd
hour: Reading Lab w/Miss Blundell.
4
th
hour: Health w/Mrs. Strong.
5
th
hour: Math w/Mr. Nichols.
6
th
& 7
th
hour: Enriched English & Social Studies w/Ms. Lemieux.
Which was kinda weird, if you think about it. Not weird-weird, butâ¦Even if we could've chosen, Lynn went to elementary school at Lee O. Clark so we never even met each other till we got to Webb. It's like we were meant to be together and now we were.