the Evil Villain everybody thinks is dead. But Bo & Hope are onto Stefano. They totally suspect he’s still alive and trying to get control of the prisms so he can take over the world. Which he totally is.
The actress who plays Hope is named Kristian Alfonso. K-R-I-S-T-I-A-N. She’s totally beautiful. With long, dark, curly hair, she’s also got a tiny little birthmark under her lower lip just above her chin. She kinda reminds me of Brooke Shields from The Blue Lagoon. I found out in Soap Opera Digest that she just started on Days of our Lives about a year ago. Which makes me so mad I didn’t tune in sooner because I’m totally in love with her!
I even joined her official Fan Club. For the modest fee of $12/year, I received: (a) a color 8" x 10" glossy photo, autographed in purple ink by Kristian Alfonso herself, (b) a T-shirt with a gorgeous black-and-white Kristian Alfonso on the front, (c) an “I
This past Summer, I actually thought about starting my own Kristian Alfonso Fan Club when I first started watching Days. Kinda like Marcia Brady did for Davy Jones that one time. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I secretly hoped one day Kristian Alfonso would show up at my front door and go to the Prom with me.
Too bad I was sadly informed of the existence of the “official” Kristian Alfonso Fan Club when I soon thereafter wrote to her in c/o Days of our Lives, asking permission to start my own. So I joined just a couple weeks ago, on August 24th.
Which brings me back to the Kristian Alfonso scrapbook…
“Sure,” Brad says. “Let’s see it.”
I reach for the 3" brown photo album sitting on my desk. I’ve been cutting out articles about KA from SOD and pasting them inside. I’ve even got a bunch of pictures of her taped up next to my bed. This way, she’s the last one I see before I fall asleep at night. My goal is to fill up the entire wall.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” I can’t help but beam with pride for the new Love of my Life.
“Totally,” Brad agrees. Though he flips through the scrapbook in a matter of seconds. Then he tosses it aside like yesterday’s Detroit News. “Okay…Now what?”
“Wanna listen to some records?” I reach for the brown faux-leather case where I keep my collection. Back in 5th grade, my Aunt Sonia bought me a $5 gift certificate for Harmony House. With it, I purchased such 45 RPM hits as “Centerfold” by J. Geils, “My Kinda Lover” by Billy Squier, “Keep on Lovin’ You” by REO Speedwagon, and my favorite, “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. Though to this day I still haven’t figured out where South Detroit is! I also really don’t listen to that kinda music anymore. I’ve since been adding to my collection with more New Wave-kinda bands. Like Culture Club, Eurythmics, Thompson Twins, etc.
“Lemme see what you got.” Brad grabs hold of the record box and begins pulling them out. One by one he tosses them aside, apparently not finding any to his liking.
“Careful with those!” I tell him. “You’re so destructive sometimes.”
To which Brad rolls his eyes. “I am not!” Then he exclaims, “Oh, my God…I totally love this one!” He hands me the record and I look at the label…“Johnny, Are You Queer?” by Josie Cotton. “Put it on,” Brad orders. “Today!”
As much as I hate to, I do as my Best Friend tells me. Though this song is definitely not one of my favorites, don’t ask me why!
Maybe it’s because I can’t stand the way Josie Cotton sings it. All nasal and whiny and annoying. Or maybe it’s because the song reminds me of the very first Fun Night way back in 7th grade when I first met Lynn Kelly, the Love of my Life, and thought we had a Future. Or maybe it’s because my real name happens to be John…Though nobody ever calls me “Johnny.”
It also doesn’t help when it gets to the “Johnny, are you queer?” part and Brad turns to me, singing along.
“Stop!” I demand that very instant.
The thing is…I’d never even heard the word “queer” or “fag” till two years ago. Before that, I was always the Most Popular Boy at Longfellow School. I always had girlfriends. Well, not “girlfriends.” But friends who were girls. Then I got to Webb and all of a sudden people think I’m a fag, don’t ask me why!
Maybe it’s because I used to sit with a bunch of girls during Lunch every day back in 7th grade—one of them being Lynn Kelly, the Love of my Life. Or maybe it’s because one time during Ms. Lemieux’s Enriched English & Social Studies, I finished my class work early so I wrote out the entire lyrics to that “Valley Girl” song by Moon Unit Zappa on the board. Or maybe it’s because I was at Lynn Kelly’s house one Saturday afternoon and she invited a bunch of her friends over and word got around I was the only boy hanging out in a group of girls…
Though shouldn’t that make me a Total Stud and not a Total Fag? I don’t know. All I know is…I know I’m not.
Who cares what anybody else thinks?
She Bop
“We-hell-I see them every night in tight blue jeans
In the pages of a blue boy magazine…”
—Cyndi Lauper
“You wanna see it or what?”
Like Max Wilson and Lynn Kelly, Brad also lives in Ferndale. Which means technically he’s not a Hazeltuckian. Like me. At this moment, his Mom’s over visiting his Grandma with his two little sisters, Nina and Brittany. While his older sister, Janelle, is at the movies with her boyfriend, Ted. Which means nobody else is home at his house so we can pretty much do whatever we want.
Unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot to do on the corner of Wanda and Webster at Dayton’s Depot. Which is what the wooden sign Brad made in 7th grade Woodshop says that his Deadbeat Dad hung above the front door. First of all, their TV is black-and-white and they haven’t got Cable. Forget about Atari or a VCR! I once offered to bring mine over. But when Brad asked his Mom if it was okay, I heard her say something about me being “arrogant.” So I decided to forget the whole thing.
“What?” I reply in answer to Brad’s question. Not like What? I didn’t hear you. But like What do you wanna know if I wanna see?
“You know what,” he says, giving me a look. Which he has every right to do.
I know exactly what Brad’s asking me if I wanna see…It’s the whole reason why I’m sitting here on his bedroom floor, futzing with a piece of fuzz or lint or something on the tannish-gray carpet.
“Where’d you find it, anyways?” I stall, looking around Brad’s bedroom. Which is just off the kitchen at the back of the house. Even though it’s a lot smaller than mine, at least he’s got his own room. But he’s got only the one single bed. Which is why I hardly ever spend the night over here ’cause I’m the one who gets stuck sleeping on the floor.
“Upstairs,” he tells me. By which he means in his sister Janelle’s bedroom. “I totally freaked out when I saw it.”
“Where’d Janelle get it from?” I can’t even believe she’s in possession of such a horrendous thing.
“Her Best Friend, Lydia Cardoza, gave it to her for her Sweet Sixteen.” Now Brad’s the one futzing with a piece of fuzz or lint or something on his bedspread where he sits. “I thought it would be fun for us to look at it together…You know what I mean?”
My answer to that question would have to be “N-O.”
“I always kinda wondered what they were like,” Brad confesses. “Haven’t you?”
I