(The Happy Ending Is over now, was the title of the first chapter. But John is still with Alex---and the plot thickens already (go here for the previous teaser)---because Ben has called, the other guy John met last week. Here's the beginning of the next chapter. The boys are about to meet Juliette and Taylor, both pivotal characters to the plot of Part II:)
We are about to turn the corner of Nick’s Restaurant but are held back by a bunch of kids coming from Georgia Avenue. Teens, mostly, tribal in appearance, piercings, pipe jeans, one or two Cherokee heads, overnighted mascara and a discordant air of nerdy-ness that I haven’t seen since I visited MIT once; some of them even wear oversized glasses. They look at us, we look at them, Alex’s arm is still on my shoulder. There’s something exploratory about their body talk, and one or two are homophobic (if I read them well (I’ll have to relativize this later)). “You know where the beach is?” a pale-faced girl without piercings asks Alex (we are standing on the boardwalk). Alex explains about the beach (“This is the beach”).
 |
| "This is the beach." (This is the beach of Rehoboth Beach, DE, seen from the vantage point of Peggy Noonan's statue) |
“You locals?” Yes we are. They’ve just arrived per overnight ride in second-hand passenger vans still misparked on the main street, they explain. “Where’s the festival?” The festival is on the grounds of Surfside Field, between Lake Gerard Park and the beach, half a mile to the north, at least that’s where it was in the past.
“That’s where the gay beach is?” one of the homophobes asks. He’s dressed for the occasion, black cape and artificial fangs that shine in the sun when he opens his mouth (if they are artificial, that is). The horn-rimmed, oversized glasses don’t fit; perhaps he need them.
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| "Taylor, come on, you can do your sodomy thing later." |
“Taylor, come on,” his pal says, “you can do your sodomy thing later, when your penis is grown.” Alex is patient, he explains about the gay beach.
“You guys are gay?” the girl asks.
“You guys are vampires?” Alex asks back.
“Yup,” the second homophobe says.
“Real ones?” Alex asks.
There’s some tribal confusion, they haven’t decided yet.
“Yup,” Taylor insists.
“You should be lying in your coffin,” Alex says and points at the sun.
“That’s so yesterday,” the girl replies, “you should read Twilight.”“Twilight?”
“Yes, the saga.”
“Where are your fangs?”
“I’m still a virgin, “she says. “What’s your name?”
“Alex,” he replies, “What’s yours.”
“Juliette.” And, having said this, the virgin touches Alex’s pecs (he’s still top-naked, the T-shirt dangling from his right hand), makes a seductive step forward—she’s quite a bit over the top, perhaps the strain from the night ride or peer pressure from the tribe, this doesn’t look like her normal routine—and asks, the voice a bit slower: “Alex, will you buy me an ice cream.”
“Ice cream is not good for virgins,” Alex replies.
“I’ll do anything for ice cream.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he says. He turns to me: “Let’s see where this goes, let’s buy her an ice cream.”
“We have no money,” I say. “We didn’t bring any money.” The tribe erupts in laughter.
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