Band Fags! (14 page)

“Hi,” she says, all smiles. Looking right at me!

“H-h-h-i…” I can't even believe how nervous I am at this moment. I can actually hear my voice trembling as it fills the air. God, I hate the sound of it! “Um…” I don't know what else to say…So I say nothing. I'm like Cindy Brady in that one where she goes on the Quiz Show and totally freezes up.

“We've got a present for you,” Brad tells Kristian Alfonso, taking hold of the mic.

“You do?” she asks, as if she's surprised anybody would even
consider
bringing her a gift.

How could I forget the Poster Board Portrait wrapped in Care Bears paper?

“Show her,” Brad orders, nudging me.

So I do…Still totally nervous, I hold it up where Kristian Alfonso can finally see it.

“Is that for me?” she beams. “Thank you!”

Since we can't get any closer, we pass my Poster Board Portrait through the crowd where it finally reaches Kristian Alfonso on stage. She takes one look at the wrapping paper and her face totally lights up.

“How cute!” she coos. “I love teddy bears.”

And I'm like, “I know…” (Duh!)

“We read it in your Fan Club newsletter,” adds Brad. Even though
I'm
the one who actually read it and told him.

Next we watch as Kristian Alfonso unwraps my present, as we anxiously await her reaction.

“Oh, my!” she gasps. “Did one of you draw this?”

Brad admits, “He did.” As much as he wishes he could take credit. Then he points to me, his Trusty Sidekick.

“It's beautiful,” Kristian Alfonso compliments.

All I can do is nod my head and mutter, “Thanks.”

Then she holds the Poster Board Portrait up for the entire audience to admire. First the right side. Then the left. All around us, the buzz of voices from the crowd…“Look at that!” “Isn't that nice?” “Wow!”

Poised and ready I stand, eye to my camera. Kristian Alfonso looks directly into the lens and I snap a photo of her—the REAL Kristian Alfonso—holding the Poster Board Portrait that I, John R. Paterno, drew especially for her.

At which point, she says, “Tell me your names.”

Which is when the slap of harsh reality hits me, smack dab in the face…Kristian Alfonso has no idea who the Hell I am! Even though I'm her #1 Fan of All Time and a member of her official Fan Club, I'm just another nameless face in the Food Town Expo Crowd.

“Jack Paterno,” I reply, totally devastated.

“I'm Brad Dayton,” says Brad, not sounding nearly as disappointed.

They say that everybody is entitled to their Fifteen Minutes of Fame. I wonder, is this mine? People continue to whisper and point as they pass me by. “There's the guy who drew the picture of Hope from
Days of our Lives.
” It's like I've stolen the show.

“Okay, now what?” my Aunt Sonia asks us after the crowd thins out. Have I mentioned yet that she kinda reminds me of Laverne from
Laverne & Shirley?
Though she hates it when I tell her that. “You guys wanna walk around some more?”

“Sure,” answers Brad for all of us.

“Jackie?” My Aunt Sonia turns to me for confirmation.

“I don't care what we do.” My mission is accomplished…I can die now.

We continue walking around the Food Town Expo, taking in the displays of Shake 'n Bake and Hamburger Helper and Pop-Tarts. But I don't notice anything going on around us. I'm stuck on Cloud Nine. Till we round a corner…and there she is again!

Kristian Alfonso, escorted by a burly looking Security Guard, walks among the crowd. Fans stop dead in their tracks. Heads turn, amazed at the fact that she's even more Up Close and Personal than she had been just a few moments ago up on stage.

Despite cries of “Hope!” and “Kristian!” and the pop of flashbulbs in her face, I can tell she's trying to avoid making eye contact with anybody. As much as I want to call out to her myself I realize how rude it would be to do so. Besides, I've already had my big moment, haven't I?

“Hey!”

I turn to see Kristian Alfonso heading right towards me. Totally in my direction. The next thing I realize is…She's standing by my side. I'm talking “Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific” close. Even though Brad is right there beside me, Kristian Alfonso puts her arm around
my
shoulder and starts walking
me
through the crowd.

I can't even tell you how it feels to have everybody screaming at us and taking our picture. It's like everything moves in slow motion. Or maybe it's totally speeded up. I can't describe how surreal it feels. Between the stark overhead lights and the electric strikes of lighting coming from a bijillion cameras, I have no idea what's going on or where Kristian Alfonso is leading me.

But you can bet I'm following…

“How long did it take you to draw that picture?” she asks, talking directly into my ear.

“Um…” I can't even believe I'm totally speechless. “A few hours,” I manage to answer after a couple of deep breaths. Even though it's the truth, I hope Kristian Alfonso doesn't think I'm bragging or anything, 'cause I'm not.

“You're kidding!” she replies. “You're a very talented artist.”

And with that, she kisses me…On the cheek. But it still counts.

Just wait till the folks at Hillbilly High hear about this next week when we start school! Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I—John R. Paterno, from Hazeltucky, MI—would ever walk arm in arm with
Days of our Lives
star Kristian Alfonso…

I will never forget this day for as long as I live.

“Wanna smoke some pot?”

I told Brad what a stupid idea it was for us to walk from my house near 10 Mile all the way over to his house near 8 Mile. Especially when it's dark outside. But would he listen to me? No!

So here we are, walking down Wanda in Ferndale at 10:00 PM at night. We just passed by Max's Mom's house on the corner of University, the blue glow of the TV lighting up the French Room. Though I've got a feeling Max probably isn't home. Being that it's Saturday night and all. Ever since he started hanging out with Tom Fulton again, he's pretty much no longer friends with me. He probably even thinks I'm a Total Fag, now. Just like all those other Jock Jerks we go to school with. Which makes me kinda sad…I always thought Max was different. I thought he really liked me.

A block past Max's house we come to Wanda Park. Which is totally dark and deserted at this hour. Except for a few Burn-Outs hanging around smoking. Though from the nauseatingly sweet smell wafting in our direction as we approach, my guess is…they're not plain old cigarettes.

“Come on!” Brad tells me. Like we can just join right in.

“No way!” I vehemently object. Yet I follow him as he crosses towards the dilapidated picnic table in the middle of the overgrown park. None of the kids sitting on top do I recognize. From school or anywhere else for that matter. Probably because I make it a point not to associate with
those
kinda people!

Suddenly, a dark blue Ford Escort comes whizzing around the corner from up ahead near the Faygo factory. Maybe it's black, I don't know. All I know is…it's doing at least 50 MPH in a 25 MPH zone. I expect the driver to slow down as she's obviously gotta see us standing in the middle of the street. Instead, the four-door picks up speed, coming right at us! I practically jump out of my skin and onto the narrow patch of grass between the sidewalk and the curb, totally hitting the deck as the scent of burning rubber fills my nostrils.

“Ya stupid Band Fags…Get the fuck outta the road!”

I look up to see Brad standing in the middle of Wanda, hands out in front of him. Like he can really stop the car from mowing him down with his Magic Super Powers. Which is when I hear the female passenger call out, “Hey, Sophomore…Wanna buy an elevator pass?” Which I know has gotta be a joke. Because there aren't any elevators in Hillbilly High.

Sure enough, I recognize the mass of curly brown hair leaning out the window as belonging to that of the HPHS Senior Class President, Alyssa Resnick. Not to mention, Flag Corps Co-Captain, member of Chorale, and recently elected Homecoming “Top 25.” Which means by this time next week, I could be friends with the Homecoming Queen. Not bad for a piddly little Sophomore who started high school a little less than a month ago.

“Get in the car…Now!”

I breathe a sigh of relief to see the driver isn't some Varsity Football player. She's Junior Luanne Kowalski—known as “Lou” to her friends. Though when I first met her, I thought it was “Lu,” L-U. But she soon informed me of her preferred spelling, L-O-U.

Brad and I met both these girls two weekends ago when the Viking Marching Band participated in the Frontier Days parade in this tiny little town called Charlotte, located on the other side of the state. Not quite as far as BLFAC in Muskegon. But pretty darned close when you're riding with a group of Band Fags on an official yellow School Bus for over two hours! Which is where we officially met Alyssa and Lu—I mean, Lou—after they sat down behind us and totally started talking about how much they love Monty Python and
Pee-wee's Big Adventure
. Both of which I've never seen.

Brad actually already knew Lou from Symphonic Band at Webb, back when we were in 8
^th
grade and she was a Freshman. Being that they both play trombone, Brad and Lou were in the same section so they talked all the time. But I really never had anything to do with her. Which was totally fine by me.

“Haven't your mothers ever told you how dangerous it is walking the streets of Hazeltucky after dark?” Lou says, once Brad and I are out of harm's way and sitting side by side in the backseat of her car.

“
Somebody
wouldn't listen to me,” I reply, shooting Brad a look.

The dark interior momentarily brightens as I hear a familiar SNAP that instantly reminds me of my Dad. I can see Lou's just pulled out a silver Zippo, and with its blue flame she lights the Marlboro Red dangling from her lower lip. Which surprises me. I never thought Luanne would be a smoker. Being that she's not at all the Burn-Out type. In fact, she's very Preppy. She never ever wears jeans. With her it's always slacks worn with paisley printed shirts and argyle sweaters with matching socks. And penny loafers complete with pennies in the slots. Which, according to
The Preppy Handbook,
is one of the true signs of being a Total Prep.

Brad takes Lou's lighting up as a signal for him to smoke too. “Where are you Ladies off to?” he asks, exhaling in my general direction—just to piss me off, I'm sure. I casually crack my window, breathing in the cool September air.

“Who you calling a Lady?” Lou says, looking up in her rearview mirror at us.

“You guys ever been to the Tombs?” Alyssa turns around in her seat. Which is when I realize who she kinda reminds me of…Molly Ringwald, from
Sixteen Candles.
Something about her mouth. The way the upper lip kinda curls when she smiles.

“I don't know,” Brad answers. “What's the Tombs?”

Alyssa starts to giggle. “Oh, my God…You guys are Virgins?” By which I'm assuming she means we're Virgins when it comes to the Tombs. Even though I'm an actual
real
Virgin. But how would Alyssa know that?

“Initiation time,” Lou sneers, totally sounding like one of those Frat Boys straight out of
Porky's
or some other stupid movie where bad things happen to good little Sophomores like me and Brad.

I've got a feeling I don't like the sound of where this whole night is heading…

Luanne makes a right at 9 Mile, barely slowing down as she takes the corner. Pedal to the floor, she cranks up the volume on the radio. I don't recognize the band we're listening to, but I like them. They sound kinda New Wave and yet pop-y. “Who is this?” I call out over the music.

“Violent Femmes,” Alyssa answers. Obviously she's a fan because she's totally singing along with every word.

“Cool,” I say. Even though I have no idea what the Hell a Violent Femme is.

Lou takes a right onto the service drive near Gas 'n Go. Then she makes a quick left onto the “Motor Vehicles Only” bridge over I-75. Followed by another quick left onto the opposite service drive near the Holiday Inn. Meanwhile in the backseat, Brad and I are being tossed around like I don't know what. Not that I'm complaining or anything. It's totally cool to be riding around in a car with your new High School Friends.

After we pass Farmer Jack's on the right, we hop on the freeway. Brad glances over at me, trying not to look
too
worried as Lou swerves in and out of traffic at 70 MPH. “Where are you taking us?” he calls out over the roar of the engine.

“To the Tombs,” Alyssa answers, matching his volume.

“Where?” Brad asks again.

“Sit down and shut up!” Lou bellows. “You'll find out when we get there.”

Apparently the Tombs is all the way out on Rochester Road. Which is where we get off I-75 at exit 67. Now we've gotta drive down the highway for another five miles or so.

“We're getting close,” Alyssa says when a pair of Golden Arches on the corner of Avon Road whiz by.

“I could go for a bacon double cheeseburger,” says Brad. “Can we stop?”

“I said, sit down and shut up!” Lou roars. Which is exactly what Brad does. One thing I forgot to mention about Luanne Kowalski is…Back when Brad and I were in junior high, we always kinda thought she might be
like that.
Which I'm beginning to think again now, simply based on the way she drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding her cigarette. She kinda reminds me of the Marlboro Man. Something about the way she wraps her index finger around it, covering her face with the palm of her hand when she raises it to her lips. It's totally masculine!

Not to mention her language…

“Where's that
fucking
turnoff?” Lou asks herself after about another five miles. She slows the car down, peering out her window towards the left side of the road. “Here we go…”

I look out and see the black on white nondescript sign marked DRAHNER. Which is this totally dark, totally bumpy, and totally deserted road. Not a streetlight or another car to be seen anywhere.

“Look out!” Alyssa cries from out of nowhere.

“What?!” Brad gasps, jumping a mile.

“Did you see that?” she asks us.

“Where?” I say, closing my eyes, not really wanting to see whatever it is Alyssa
thinks
she might've seen.

“Up ahead,” Alyssa answers. “A guy with an axe!”

Brad screams, “Holy shit!” Then he grabs on to me for dear life, as Alyssa and Lou both start laughing.

“You Sophomores are such pussies,” chuckles Lou.

The road winds and turns and dips up and down. Gravel spits beneath our tires as Lou does her best to avoid the bijillion potholes. Which equal in number the stars I see looking up at the sky through the rear window…I'm totally freaking out.

To make matters worse, Alyssa says, “There it is…” Then she ducks down in her seat to get a better view out the front windshield.

“Oh, my fucking God…” says Brad, pressing his face up against his window on the driver's side. “We're not going in there, are we?”

I stick my head between the front seats trying to see whatever it is they're looking at. On the left side of the road is a graveyard. Inside the graveyard is a hill. And built into the side of that hill is…the Tomb.

“Hell yeah, we are!” Luanne informs us. “Just as soon as we find someplace to park.”

Why Alyssa and Lou refer to it as “the Tombs” (plural) when apparently there's only one Tomb (singular), I don't know. All I know is…I'm totally scared shitless at this moment.

“I'm not going out there,” I protest once we pull off the road and park Lou's car on the grass and everybody gets out except me. I can just imagine us getting totally stranded out here in BFE, with some psycho killer in a freaky mask stalking us! Like in
Friday the 13
^th
or
Halloween.

“Don't be such a Sophomore,” Alyssa tells me. “I'll protect you from the monks.”

“What monks?” I have to ask, this being the first I've heard about any.

“The ones that live in the monastery.”

“What monastery?”

Alyssa grins. “You'll find out.” Then she opens my door and reaches out a hand. Which I reluctantly take. Even after I close the door quietly behind me so as not to wake up the neighbors, she doesn't let go.

“But it's cold,” I whimper, already starting to freeze in my maroon and gray Viking Marching Band windbreaker.

“I'll keep you warm,” Alyssa assures me, snuggling up close.

“Come on!” Lou orders from where she and Brad stand on the side of the dirt road puffing on yet another cigarette.

The four of us begin walking, Brad and Lou ahead of me and Alyssa. “You know that song we were listening to in the car?” she says softly. By which I'm guessing she means the one by the Violent Femmes. Which is all about getting just one kiss—and just one F-U-C-K. “I played it just for you.”

If I didn't know better, I'd think the HPHS Senior Class President, Flag Corps Co-Captain, member of Chorale, and recently elected Homecoming “Top 25” was flirting with me. But that can't possibly be the case. I mean, Alyssa Resnick is
very
Popular. And I'm a Stupid Sophomore!

So all I say is…“Oh, yeah…?”

I'm happy to report that we never make it to the Tomb. Or even into the graveyard, for that matter. Apparently, one of the neighbors heard our car pulling up and felt it his duty to make sure those “pesky kids” didn't go causing any trouble. Guess we drove all that way for nothing. Talk about anticlimactic!

The next night I call Alyssa on the phone around 9:30 PM…

“I can't talk too long,” she says since she's doing her laundry. On top of fighting with her Mom—again. I guess the short of it is…Alyssa's Mom got pissed at her for coming home late last night. So Alyssa threatened to leave home and go live with her older sister. Which apparently she's done before.

Even though we only talk for like twenty minutes, over the course of our conversation we find out we've got a few things in common…#1—Alyssa's not only seen the movie
Sooner or Later,
she's also read the book
and
the sequel,
Waiting Games.
Which I totally didn't even know existed.