Band Fags! (17 page)

“Can I bum one of those?” Audrey asked. She helped herself to one of Max's Marlboro Lights, holding it tight between her lips.

“Since when do you smoke?” I wanted to know, totally disgusted.

“Since when is it any of your business?” I was told, as Audrey lit up.

At that moment, Kevin Ebersole returned. Audrey immediately hid her Cancer Stick beneath the table, shooing away the evidence with her opposite hand. “Sorry about that,” he apologized, placing a small ceramic dish filled with yellow citrus wedges in front of me.

“No problem,” I assured him. Even though it was, I wasn't about to say so.

“Just don't let it happen again,” teased Alyssa. “Or else.”

Or else what?
I couldn't believe she was blatantly flirting with another guy right in front of me! I knew for sure I'd have to do something about it once we got over to Lou's house later that night.

Around 11:00 PM we found ourselves sitting around the Kowalski living room…

Personally, I wanted to watch Dick Clark on TV. But nobody else seemed to appreciate the importance of a structured New Year's Eve countdown. Instead, we listened to some tape of a band I'd never heard before called Echo & the Bunnymen. Thank God Lou's Mom had a headache from drinking too much champagne and asked if she could take a rain check on the Tarot Card reading. Which was totally fine by me. Like I said, the last thing I wanted was to have all my Deep Dark Secrets exposed in front of all my friends.

“Party time!” Lou announced. She returned from the kitchen, a humongous green jug of Carlo Rossi white wine held high. I'm not even joking when I say…This thing was huge! Like the size of a gallon of milk, if not bigger.

“Crack that puppy open,” Alyssa demanded enthusiastically. Despite being ultrareligious, I guess she doesn't have a problem with underage drinking.

Even though I knew my Mom would
kill
me if she found out, what was I supposed to do when the humongous jug-o-wine found its way into my hands? Not take a drink and embarrass myself in front of everybody? But who knew I'd end up so wasted so quickly? Don't get me wrong, I had a Total Blast…At least what I can remember.

The highlight of the evening came when Audrey lit a cigarette off the stove in Lou's kitchen and completely singed her bangs. Talk about a stink! I told her she always wears way too much hairspray. Besides, Audrey knows she shouldn't be smoking in the first place. Then Brad totally cracked us all up when he disappeared and we found him outside in Lou's front yard lying flat on his back in the snow making angels!

“I am sooo drunk!” he groaned, staring up at the twinkling stars.

“And you're gonna be sooo sick!” I informed him. Not that I'd ever had a hangover before. A gentle snow fluttered down and I felt the urge to catch the flakes on my tongue, à la Linus Van Pelt. After all, it was officially January so Sister Lucy should have no objection.

It felt good to be alive.

Though not so much so this morning…

“I am
never
drinking again!” Brad groans from the bottom bunk beneath me. “What time did we go to bed?”

“Late,” I reply, half-asleep and not nearly ready to wake up. Truth be told, I don't remember what time we even got home. I was pretty darn wasted.

Brad says, “I still can't believe it's 1986…We are getting sooo old!”

“Tell me about it…”

Then out of the blue he asks, “Are you gonna have a Sweet Sixteen party this year?”

To which I inform him, “Boys don't usually have Sweet Sixteen parties, Brad.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know…They just don't.”

“Well, that sucks! Why do girls get to do
all
the fun stuff?”

I choose to say nothing, hoping he'll get the hint I'm trying to go back to sleep…But he doesn't.

“They get to go out on dates and make the guys pay,” Brad rambles. “And they never even have to work, unless they want to.”

I start fake-snoring. But it still doesn't shut him up.

“They're especially lucky when it comes to having sex…I mean, it must be easier for a girl to get laid, 'cause guys are so horny
all
the time…I know I am! I think if I was a girl, I'd probably be a Big Whore. I'd have as much sex as I wanted to, with whatever guy I wanted to.” Then he adds, “Sometimes I'm so horny, I don't know
what
I'm gonna do.” Followed by, “I gotta find a girlfriend soon or I'm gonna explode!”

“What about Luanne?” I say, knowing that she and Brad spent a lot of the time hanging out in her kitchen at the party last night.

Which is when he informs me, “I don't think Lou thinks of me in that way, Jack.”

Which is why I take the opportunity to say, “Maybe we were right about her all along?”

“Meaning?”

“Maybe she really is…You know.”

“Is what?”

“Like that.”

Brad replies, “You know I don't like to believe rumors.”

“I'm just saying…” I'm not to trying to be a jerk. I just figure if anybody would know anything about Luanne it would have to be Brad. He spends the most time with her. Even more so than Alyssa does lately.

“Why would I know?” he asks me, sounding kinda defensive.

I can't even remember how many times I've called over Brad's house and had his Mom tell me, “He's out driving around with that Luanne Kowalski girl.”

But I say, “Forget I said anything.” Then I roll over and close my eyes.

After a moment, Brad says, “What's up with you and Alyssa, anyways? Are you guys officially going together now or what?”

“What makes you think that?” I ask. Even though it's true—Alyssa and I
are
officially going together—it's none of Brad's business.

“Because you guys spent over half the night making out in the bedroom!” he reminds me.

“So?” I reply. “I was drunk…Besides, Alyssa attacked me.”

“You make it sound like you don't really like her,” says Brad, giving me what's beginning to sound like the Third Degree.

“I do…”

“So what's the problem?”

“For one thing,” I begin, “Alyssa's a Senior…”

“And do you know how many Sophomore guys would kill to be in your position?”

What I try to explain to Brad is…Despite being totally nice and very Popular, Alyssa Resnick is no Kristian Alfonso. Not that I'm not saying she's not pretty, 'cause she totally is. But she's a little on the bigger side. Like most of the girls I've known who've liked me. And for once in my life, I'd like to date a girl who's smaller than me. Is that so wrong?

“Alyssa was on the Homecoming ‘Top 25' and everything,” Brad reminds me, as if I don't already know this.

“But she's so religious,” I say. “She's
always
listening to Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith…Sometimes just being around her makes me feel guilty.”

“About what?”

“I don't know…I always feel guilty about
everything
I think or do.”

“Well, what kind of things are you thinking or doing?” he asks, getting all
Murder, She Wrote
on me.

“Nothing!” I cry. “Forget I even said anything.”

“It's not like you're a Big Fag,” says Brad, pressing on. “Are you?”

Even though Alyssa and I are officially going together so I have
nothing
to worry about anymore, I don't wanna lie to my Best Friend.

Which is why I say, “You of all people should know the answer to that.”

But the big question now is…What
is
the answer?

Wanna know what I
hate
most about Valentine's Day?

Besides the fact that it's been totally fabricated by some guy at Hallmark in order to sell greeting cards and boxes of chocolate and flowers to totally stupid people all in the name of L-O-V-E, in all my 15-going-on-16 years of being alive, I've
never
had anybody to call “My Valentine.” So why should 1986 be any different?

In case you're wondering what happened to Alyssa…We broke up. From what I've heard, she's dating that guy Kevin Ebersole now. Remember, the waiter from Big Boy's on New Year's Eve? To which I say, “Good for her.” I hope she's happy.

Even though it lasted only like six weeks, we had some good times. Especially making out in the backseat of her car out at Quarton Lake in Birmingham. But it was pretty much inevitable. Considering I'm a Sophomore and Alyssa is graduating from Hillbilly High come June 12
^th
and heading off to Central Michigan University in the Fall.

On top of the fact that I'm now totally in love with somebody else…

“Attention, s'il vous plait!”

Nobody wanted to be sitting in French on the first day back to school after Christmas Vacation learning to conjugate “irregular” verbs. Except for straight-A students Betsy Sheffield and Jack Paterno. We were about the only ones paying Mrs. Carey any
attention
—as per usual. So she pretty much directed all her comments at us from where she stood in front of
la classe
before
le tâbleau.

Don't get me wrong, Mrs. Carey's a very nice woman. But a lot of kids like to take advantage of her. And not because she's the only black teacher at Hillbilly High. It's more like she's kinda clueless. Like, somebody will walk in totally late for class and be all like, “I'm sorry Mrs. Carey.” To which she'll reply,
“Bien, bien.”
And she won't even mark them tardy or anything.

Brad's also got Mrs. Carey for French I. He told me this girl in his class, Stacy Gillespie, was sitting in the back of the classroom the other day using her hairspray and lighter to make a torch! But Stacy's a Punker, so what do you expect? With her short dark hair sticking straight up and off to one side, she looks like she got hit on the back of the head with a board.

But I totally like Mrs. Carey. She's helping me translate my collection of
Arnold
comics into French, beginning with
“Il y a un poumon dans le potage!”
In which Arnold informs Bertha the Lunch Lady to turn in her hairnet after finding a lung in his soup.

“Je voudrais vous presenter un nouvel étudiant…”

The scent of pine filled the room as the door opened and the aforementioned new student entered. The tall, dark, and oh-so-clichéd but handsome guy stood silently before our class, basking in Polo by Ralph Lauren. Believe it or not, he kinda reminded me of Donny Osmond circa 1976.

“Cool pea coat,” Betsy leaned over to whisper in my ear.

At least 6' if not taller, he wore this navy blue pea coat over a pair of light blue Guess? jeans, cuffed at the bottom. Though upon closer inspection, I could see his pants weren't just rolled up the way we used to roll them back in 6
^th
grade. This guy folded the legs over at the bottom
before
he cuffed them. So they were supertight around his totally bare ankles, drawing attention to his loafers—complete with shiny new copper Abe Lincolns in the slots. I could totally tell Betsy thought he was cute. As did most of the girls in our class, which had suddenly fallen silent. Even the Popular Guys were paying attention to their new competition.

“Bonjour…Comment ça va?”
We all listened as the New Guy spoke, in quiet—yet totally perfect—French.
“Je suis heureux de faire votre connaîssance.”

To which Mrs. Carey said, “Tell everyone your name, Dear.”

To which New Guy replied,
“Je m'appelle Joey Palladino.”

Of course, I was like,
No fucking way!

After four years of living way out past 30 Mile in Bum Fuck Clarkston, Joey Palladino had returned to Hazeltucky…Not that I wasn't happy to see him, 'cause I totally was. I just never expected his parents would get divorced after almost sixteen years of marriage and that he and his Mom would move in with his Grandma over on Carlisle. Right next door to the house he lived in back when we were Best Friends at Longfellow.

“Bonjour, Joey!”
Betsy said shyly when her turn for introductions came around.
“Je m'appelle Betsy Sheffield.”

“Bonjour, Betsy!”
Joey replied, a smile on his face as Betsy's clearly the cutest girl in our class. Not to mention the Preppiest, with her Oxford shirt, plaid pants, and cordovan penny loafers.

I can't even believe how totally nervous I was as I got ready to speak next. As far as I could tell, Joey hadn't recognized me. I mean, it had been over three years since I saw him last at his Grandpa's funeral. I remember feeling awful seeing Joey sitting in the front row of the Ashley-Scott Funeral Home crying the entire time. I remember totally wishing I could reach out and put my arms around him and make everything all better…But I couldn't.

“Bonjour, Joey,”
I say, taking my turn.
“Je m'appelle Jack Paterno.”

I watched Joey's face closely as he made the realization that we already knew each other. Though I don't know if the look he gave me meant he was happy to see me or not. All I know is…At that moment, I was totally psyched!

I should probably point out that while we were indeed Best Friends back at Longfellow, Joey Palladino and I were also each other's worst competition. Beginning in 3
^rd
grade when our parents signed us up for a league at Hazel Park Bowl, we would constantly keep an eye on each other's score. Most of the time mine was higher—not that it mattered since we were on the same team. And on Track and Field Day, we'd battle it out to see who could run faster or jump farther and/or higher. Which usually ended up being Joey. But being that we were both straight-A students, it wasn't as easy to compare us when it came to schoolwork. Though our classmates would often try, taking polls as to who was the smartest and/or waging their bets when it came time for the annual Spelling Bee.

“So how come you're still not in Band?” I asked Joey as we cut across St. Mary's Field on the way over to my house after school. Back in 6
^th
grade, we both started playing trumpet together. If I remember correctly, Joey was pretty good. Though I was always better.

“I got sick and tired of being called a Band Fag,” he told me.

Joey and I got to talking after French and I invited him over so we could have a chance to catch up. Though I didn't mention it to Brad when he asked if I wanted to go to the movies with him and Max on account of I didn't want him getting jealous. I didn't bother to invite him along either, 'cause he never met Joey before and I really wanted it to be just me and him…like Old Times.

Once we got to my house, I kicked my little brother out of our room. Then I dragged an old photo album from my closet that was filled with pictures my Mom took the last time Joey had been at our house before he moved away. Back before I started school at Webb Junior High or had ever heard the name Bradley Dayton. Which seemed kinda weird to think about. Not weird-weird, but…It's hard to remember what my life was ever like without Brad in it.

“Look what a dork you were!” Joey squealed, flipping through the photos.

To which I replied, “Look how fat
you
were!”

“I was not fat.”

“And I wasn't a dork.”

We plopped down on the floor, side by side, the photo album on our laps between us. Okay, so maybe I did look a little dorky back then with my over-the-ear feathered-back hair. And maybe Joey was indeed a little chubby. But judging by the looks of him now, you'd never guess he was once that same 12-year-old kid in the photos.

“Is it hot in here?” Joey asked. Then he took off his navy blue V-neck sweater.

When it got caught around his head, I reached over and gave him a hand. I couldn't help but notice the vein popping out from the center of Joey's bulging bicep and how totally chiseled his chest looked beneath his white V-neck undershirt.

“So I take it you've started lifting.” By which I meant weights.

“A little,” he admitted. “I got a bench set up in my Grandma's garage…You wanna come over sometime. I'll show you a thing or two.” Then Joey grabbed hold of my puny little arm and held it a moment. “Not bad, Paterno.”

If I didn't know better, I would've thought Joey Palladino was flirting with me. Not that I think Joe's
like that
, 'cause I know he's not. But even if he is, why should I care? He's still my friend.

At that moment, the telephone rang…

“You wanna get that?” Joey asked me.

“My Mom'll pick it up in the kitchen,” I told him.

Sure enough, a moment later my Mom called out, “J-a-a-ckie…It's Alyssa!” Why she couldn't just take a message, I don't know. All I know is…I picked up the phone, totally annoyed.

“Hello?”

“I'm gonna kill her!” Alyssa groaned. “Kate is being a Total Bitch…Again!” She began rambling on about how much she can't stand her Mom and how she can't wait till June 13
^th
when she turns 18 and can move out of the house and never have to see her ever again.

To which I totally wanted to reply, “Dah-dah, dah-dah.”

“I need to get out of here for a while,” she told me. “Can I come over?”

I answered, “Um…I'm kinda busy right now.”

“I'll watch
Days of our Lives
with you…I don't care.”

I informed Alyssa my friend Joey was over and we were in the middle of something.

“Since when do you have a friend named Joey?” she replied, kinda snotty.

I proceeded to explain the
History of Jack & Joey.
Not that it was any of Alyssa's business. I also explained that I'd already made plans and couldn't just send Joey home after he walked all the way over here with me in the freezing Michigan cold.

Which is when she said, “He sounds like a cool guy…I wanna meet him.”

Again I said, “Um…”

And Alyssa said, “Um, what? You don't want me to meet your friend?”

I suggested, “Can't you go over Cheri's?” Which didn't go over too well.

“Forget it!” And with that, Alyssa hung up on me…

“What's up?” Joey asked after I returned the phone to its cradle.

“Nothing important,” I told him. Then I said, “So when can I start lifting with you?”

“Soon as you want,” he answered, flashing his toothy Donny Osmond grin.

And that's when it hit me. After all these years…I'm still in love with Joey Palladino!

Whenever he's not around, I can't stop thinking about him. When I wake up in the morning, all I do is wonder when I'm gonna see him next. Though it's usually not till Lunch when Joey meets me in the Junk Food Line where we both order a package of King Dons and a chocolate malt. Then we sit alone together at our favorite table by the windows, overlooking the courtyard where this past Fall we took our Marching Band photo out in front of the fountain.

I don't even care if Alyssa's stopped talking to me. So what if Brad and Lou get pissed off 'cause I don't wanna eat with them in the Band Room. All they ever wanna do is hang out in there with all the other Band Fags and I am sooo over that! About the only person who even likes Joey is Audrey. Though I'm beginning to think she likes him-likes him. In that way. And unfortunately for her, I know Joey doesn't feel the same. But for now, she's the only friend I've got that I can even mention Joey's name in front of without pissing off.

So today is Valentine's Day…

I was planning on spending it alone in my room watching yet another episode of—what else? “
Like sands through the hourglass…So are the Days of our Lives.
”

After months and months of planning, today's the big double wedding of Pete Jannings to Melissa Anderson and of Mickey Horton to his ex-wife, Maggie. But no sooner than I've crawled up into my bed and hit PLAY on my VCR remote, the phone rings.

“Ja-a-ckie!” my Mom calls from the other side of my flimsy accordion-fold door.

I don't know how many times I have to tell my friends…What's the first thing I do when I come home from school? I don't care who you are, you don't call between the hours of 3:30 and 4:30 PM.

“What's up?”