Candy-Sticks, Chapter Two

The music which struck up at once couldn’t have made a more apt accompaniment to such sugariness as already suffused the room. Sentimental and saccharine, its first swirl was like frosting on meringue. Mini-Flash Juniper, embarrassed but still laughing, let go Mini-Flash Pseudangelos’s hands and tossed her head.

Tonight’s the night I’ve waited for,

A singer’s voice, perfectly pitched, but oddly high for a man.

Because you’re not a baby anymore;

Juniper, pink from cheekbones to thighs, swished her straight sheet of silky hair and swayed.

You’ve turned into the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen;

Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen...

Quietly Mini-Flash Robin walked over to the table where everybody else had gathered, and making sure to smooth his skirt tidily underneath him, took the offered seat next to Gorm. That one looked like he was trying not to snigger, either at Robin’s primness, or his reluctance to dance, or perhaps some other mysterious source of mirth. Yon on the other hand was focused on the show, and it struck Robin that as handsome a crew as this was, about Yon in particular was a decided goggliness. Just now, in fact, he suggested to Robin one gigantic eye.

What happened to that funny face?

My little tomboy now wears satins and lace…

Actually, they were all a bit like that. Robin hadn’t noticed it before. Mawkishly the song drivelled on and at length found itself at a bridge.

When you were only six, I was your big brother;

Then when you were ten, we didn’t like each other;

There was just no getting used to that reedy unmasculine register.

When you were thirteen, you were my funny Valentine…

This last, whining, like a plea.

But since you’ve grown up, your future is sewn up;

Lasser was mouthing softly along with the words.

From now on you’re gonna be mine…

Yet for all this, whenever Robin turned to gaze on Mini-Flash Juniper, his heart ached. Flawlessly her bare feet tapped out the rhythm on the boards, an achievement to which stumbling Pseudangelos hadn’t thus far proved equal. What rose from Juniper was for Robin headier than the exhalation of those loaded bowls, something that wouldn’t merely dissolve on the tongue like spun confection. A phalanx of spotty bikinis and bouncing brown bunches would barely have distracted him. It was the fair flushed girl in tiny T-shirt and panties, these stretched far broader than her classmate’s dots, who at the heart of this inane creaky ballad had worked her way to a motion that mocked at Robin’s rest.

Huraeas clumped to the jukebox in his biker-boots and switched it back to noisy mood-music. Mini-Flash Juniper meanwhile steered her dance-partner to the table, plonking her down in the chair beside Lasser’s. One way or another it was looking like Mini-Flash Pseudangelos wasn’t going to remain upright much longer.

“Well,” Juniper then declared, in the tones of one who didn’t habitually dance in her knickers for the entertainment of strangers. “It's nice to see you making new friends, Pseudangelos. You always were popular. But we’ve obviously called at the wrong time, so…”

Mini-Flash Robin was up at once, reaching gladly for the letter in his pants. He couldn’t wait to hand it over and get out of here.

Lasser’s laugh was an incredulous cackle.

“Not until after we've played truth or dare!” he insisted from his throne.

Next second Hamaunji was slipping a masterful arm round Mini-Flash Juniper’s waist. He was stealthier than Huraeas. With practiced precision his calloused finger-pads brushed soft white cotton as he finished the job. Juniper, blinking and astonished, was sitting before she knew what had happened.

So Robin sat too, this time very cautiously.

Lasser reached for the nearest bowl. His zippered leather jacket was sleeveless, and the tattoo on his bicep read “Motor Cycle.”

Three sweet sticks disappeared into Mini-Flash Pseudangelos’s obedient waiting mouth.

“Dare,” Lasser decreed. “For the guest of honour.”

END OF CHAPTER TWO