“Why did she transfer?”
Yvonne’s eyes widened. “Her mother had this boyfriend. Her parents are divorced, right? So her mom’s dating this young guy. And Josephine’s sleeping with him. And one day the mom comes home and catches them. So she tries to kick the guy out, but it’s his place, right? So the mom has to move out, across the city. It was a total scandal last year.”
“It’s all just gossip,” Fern said.
“Maybe,” Edgar said. “But everyone knew about it.”
I had been to Josephine’s apartment a few times. Her mom had always been at work, so I’d never met her. And there had never been mention of her mother having a boyfriend. Josephine had only mentioned that her parents divorced when she’d been really young.
“How old was the mom’s boyfriend?” I said. “I mean, she was fourteen last year; wouldn’t that make him a child molester?”
“Yeah, you’d think so,” said Yvonne.
“Not if the chick wanted it,” Craig said from the front seat.
Fern and I shrieked angrily at the same time. “Shut the fuck up, Craig. That’s fucking horrible,” Fern said. I wanted to back her up, but I didn’t know these people very well, so I felt uncomfortable with the idea of yelling at the guy driving. Instead I raised my chin. Surprise! Craig was an asshole. It wasn’t news to me.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Yvonne said. “Like the show. Remember those guys from last time?”
Edgar scoffed. “Yeah. I really, really hope they show up tonight.”
“I’d like to see them try something,” Craig said.
“See, last time we went to a show in St. Charles, these skinhead guys were there,” Yvonne said to me. “You know, really racist dudes.”
“Oh,” I said, nodding. I didn’t know anything about skinheads.
Edgar laughed bitterly. “I guess they have a problem with black guys who are into metal.”
Yvonne nodded. “They tried to start some shit with Edgar.”
“That’s stupid. The guitar player in Goreceps is black,” I said.
“No shit. Some people are just fucking assholes,” Edgar said.
“Anyway, they got all up in his face,” Yvonne continued. “Talking some real shit. Like they were going to kick his ass.”
“I’d like to see them try,” Craig said. “If they show up tonight, we’ll see.”
We flew up the highway, music blasting. We chatted about bands. Every time Craig added something to the conversation, I ignored it. But I was having a great time. It felt amazing, sitting next to Fern, talking and laughing. We cruised past other cars, and sometimes Yvonne would make stupid faces at the passengers in them. We passed a car full of baseball cap–wearing jock guys, and Yvonne rolled down the window, shoved her upper body outside, and gave them the finger with both hands. We all howled with laughter and sped past them. It felt good. I felt like we were unstoppable.
I’d been to St. Charles a few times with my family on day trips over the years, and driving into the city always filled me with excitement. The skyscrapers and high-rises, the video billboards, and of course the Bay Tower looming over it all. Even the slow-moving traffic. It was that feeling of driving into the big city, with the sun glistening on Charles Bay, sailboats gliding over its surface. I’d looked out the window of my family’s car when I was a little kid, loving the feeling of being here, knowing the day would be full of crowded streets, musicians performing for change, street vendors and, when the sun went down, neon lights and glowing fountains.
I had the same childish feeling of excitement now, but this was the first time I’d been here without my family, so it was heightened. I felt adult. Tonight would be a new experience for me. As we drove into the city the sun was setting, turning the water in the bay orange, sparkling.
TWELVE