One block north of Dullsville's downtown square sat Hatsy's Diner--a quaint fifties restaurant complete with teal blue and white vinyl booths, a black-and-white-checked tile floor, neon Coke signs, and a menu of cheeseburgers, atomic fries, and the thickest chocolate shakes in town. The waitresses donned red diner uniforms while the waiters dressed as soda jerks. Occasionally Becky and I would frequent Hatsy's after school when we managed to scrounge enough change to cover an order of onion rings and a mediocre tip.
Alexander and I arrived at Hatsy's. A few families and young couples were scattered around the diner. The soccer players were already gulping down malts and fries at two large tables. All eyes turned to us as we walked through the clean, crisp, bright diner in our usual blackness.
A surge of excitement shot through me--I felt like a gothic princess on the arm of her handsome gothic prince, although I knew the stares were from ridicule rather than envy. Alexander studied the framed Bobby Darrin, Ricky Nelson, and Sandra Dee records, too engrossed in his new surroundings to feel self-conscious.
Matt and Becky were sitting alone in a corner booth.
"Hey, guys, we're over here," Becky called.
Alexander and I nestled into the booth.
"I thought you'd be sitting with the rest of the soccer team," I remarked as we grabbed the menus resting behind the chrome napkin holder.
"We thought it might be cozier if it were just us," Becky said.
A tall waitress with an hourglass figure, a brunette beehive, and white cat's-eye glasses approached our table, chomping on a wad of pink bubble gum.
"Hi, my name is Dixie," she said, cracking her gum. She pulled out an order pad from her white apron. "What can I get you?"
"Two vanilla shakes and an order of atomic fries," Matt said.
"And we'd like the same, but make the shakes chocolate, please," Alexander said.
Dixie blew a big bubble and popped it with her front teeth.
Then she sashayed off toward the kitchen. All the guys in the diner gawked at her, even Alexander and Matt.
"When I grow up, I want to look just like that," I said to Alexander. "You already do," he said, putting his arm around me and giving me a squeeze.
Alexander's eyes lit up as he spotted the vintage tabletop jukebox. "This is cool," he said, flipping through the menu of fifties tunes. "I've only seen these in movies."
I'd forgotten that my boyfriend spent so much of his life hidden away in his attic room, far from the mundane musings of mortals. I got goose bumps seeing him so fascinated in his new surroundings as he examined the list of titles and artists.
"Elvis rocks," he said, elated.
I dug my hand into my purse and placed a quarter in the jukebox.
A moment later, "Love Me Tender" played over the speakers.
Alexander smiled a sweet smile and squeezed my hand. His leg was touching mine, and I could feel him tapping his combat boots to the beat of the song underneath the table.
"So what have you guys been up to lately?" Matt asked.
"Hunting for coffins," Alexander said.
Becky and Matt looked at us oddly.
"The usual," I said, smiling.
Matt and Becky laughed.
"So how was your game?" Alexander asked Matt as he put his napkin on his lap.
"We kicked butt. But only because Trevor played."
"No," Becky defended. "You scored, too."
"I thought he was sick," I said. "Well, he managed to show up and score a few goals. As much as I hate to say it, we're not a winning team without him."
"Did he go home?" I asked.
"No, he's over there," Matt said, pointing behind me.
I turned around. Trevor was in the far end of the diner, playing pinball.
"He shouldn't be out at night," I declared.
Becky looked perplexed.
"I'm using him as my project for health class. The night air isn't good for a cold. Excuse me, I'll be back in a sec," I said, awkwardly scooting out of the booth.
I could feel eyeballs on me as I walked across the diner, but not for the same reason they had been looking at Dixie.
I tapped on Trevor's shoulder. "What are you doing here?"
My nemesis glanced at me and rolled his eyes. "Looks like I'm playing pinball."
"You're sick. You shouldn't be out where you can pick up more germs."
"Believe me, with you standing next to me, I've already picked up several diseases," he said, pressing the flippers with gusto.
"You should be at home," I ordered.
The ball hit a bumper, causing the game board to light up. "You left Monster Boy to talk to me?" he asked. "You've been to my house twice. I'm beginning to think--"
"It's best you don't think. Did you take your garlic?"
"I had a game, not a date," he said, tilting the machine. "You should be resting."
"You sound like my mother," he said, banging on the flippers.
"Well, maybe you should listen to her."
"Why, so she can tell me not to see Luna? Has my mom been talking to you?"
"She doesn't approve?" I asked, curious.
"What do you think?"
"Your mother is right this time. Luna isn't your type. You need a girl with a tiara, not a tattoo."
"But do I really? Luna dresses like you and you've been trying to convince me for years that you are not a mutant. Did you ever think it wasn't your clothes that led people to think you were a freak?"
"So what do you see in her?" I interrogated.
"She's the new girl, beautiful and mysterious. Kind of what you liked in Alexander."