Status: Discontinued.
Sleeping Beauty: A Modern Retelling
Part Two
Chorus class was required for at least one year of high school. Bam and his court had decided to get rid of the affliction freshman year. The first day was nothing but the teacher randomly calling students forward to sing a few lines and determine their voice rang. Without only 150 students in the class it would only take the rest of the week, creating a large study-hall-meets-rave-meets-orgy in the chorus room.
Bam and his court took up station in the back of the room, about five feet from a boy who looked to be sleeping. He wore eyeliner, eye shadow, and something that made his lips shiny.
“He’s queer.” Ryan said, all-knowing. The statement wasn’t said with distaste, for it couldn’t be. Ryan was known to dabble in the affairs of older boys. “I heard it from some junior. And he’s from Europe.”
“What’s his name?” Bam asked, opening his bag and pulling out a bottle of soda.
“V-somethin’.” Ryan said, shrugging.
“It’s Ville.” the boy, who was apparently not sleeping, said. “And I’m from Finland. And would you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to sleep off a hangover.”
“Shut up, Ville.” a blonde-haired girl said, coming over and nudging the boy with her foot. “People will think you’re a perseenreikä.” She laughed. Not a very female voice, but the boys had heard stranger at the skatepark.
“A perseenreeking whatta?” Novak asked.
“Asshole.” the girl said, smiling brightly. “Which he is. But he’s good in bed so I put up with it.”
“But I thought you were gay.” Bam said, frowning at Ville.
Ville cursed in his native tongue, sitting up. “I’m gay. So’s he. Pretty boy might look like a girl, but he’s got a dick, ‘kay? He’s not my bloody boyfriend, I just use him for sex. Now I drank too much last night and I’m going to rip your fucking head off if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Jonne teased. The masculine voice made sense now, but the blonde-haired boy still looked like a girl you might find posing in a beer ad that you beat off to as you flip through the pages of Playboy. “You’ll be in . . . AA before you graduate, yes?” His eyes flipped toward the other boys.
Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Was that a question?”
“He just wants to make sure he’s talking real English.” Ville said. “Pretty boy can’t speak it as well as Finnish. Now shut up.”
Jonne rolled his eyes and pulled Ville up by his arm. “Pussy. Stop whining and I’ll take you home.”
They left Bam and the court quite suddenly and the court continued to talk about them long into the rest of the day. After school the chariots made their way to the park and then home.
Bam’s room was not befitting of a prince. Three posters of scantily clad women and two of skateboarders flanked his walls. A picture of the Empire State Building at night hung behind his alarm clock. The floor was a mess of clothes, magazines, and junk mail. The quilt on his bed was blue, the carpeting was green, and the walls were white.
The only thing that was organized was the bookshelf in the corner. It was small, but it contained volumes of vampire novels, murder mysteries, drugged out boys having realizations and getting clean, and a book on what to do when you feel like killing yourself. Each had been read so many times it was hard to make out the titles on the spines.
In this sense, he showed the breeding of The Socialites.
Ville had the breeding of Finnish Socialites. And he would have denied it to the end had it not been for the gallows.
* * *
Ville was not hungover in class the next day. Instead he was busy trying to see just how far he could get his tongue down Jonne’s throat. They were in the back corner once again, Jonne giggling and Ville fierce. Either uncaring or secretly interested in watching, Bam and the court took the same spot they had the day before.
“All right, all right.” Jonne said, pulling away and giggling through his gasps. “That’s enough of that. You know what the scary American boys would do if we went looking for a quickie in the locker room.”
Ville laughed. “All American boys are closet queers, pretty boy.” He looked at their audience. “No offense, but if you weren’t you wouldn’t be staring.”
“But it’s almost lesbian porn.” Ryan said, smiling to let them know he was joking.
Ville smiled back and Jonne gave another giggle.
“Why are you in America?” Bam asked, abruptly changing both the tone and subject of the conversation in five words.
“Because Finland sucks.” Jonne said immediately, voice dark.
“Because our parents care more about who designed the light fixtures in our rooms than if we were in them by curfew.” Ville said. “They can’t miss what they never really had in the first place.”
“You ran away?” Novak asked, clearly impressed.
“Relocated.” Ville said. “Running away is when you get pissed at your parents and run away to a club or your friend’s house for a few days or until the police pick you up. We’ve been here for almost two years.”
“What if they find you?” Bam asked.
“If they look I’ll die of shock.” Ville said, blandly. “Did your mother ever look for you after she put you up for adoption?”
Bam jerked back in shock. Only a handful of people in the town knew he was adopted: his family, the court, and his doctor. “That’s different.” he said through clenched teeth. “She didn’t have a choice.”
“And neither did I.” Ville said. “So we’re in agreement.”
“You’re a prick.”
“He knows.” Jonne said. “He doesn’t care. When you’re born an elitist your flaws become strengths.” Ville looked at him, apparently impressed by the flawlessness of the vocabulary. Jonne lowered his eyes. “Literature class.”
“Still true.”
“That’s why I said it.”
“Of course.” Ville turned back toward Bam and the court. “How does that American saying go? ‘Nice guys finish last?’”
“It doesn’t change that you’re a prick.”
“I wouldn’t want it to.”
* * *
Jonne and Ville skipped school the next day. But as Bam and the court took their chariots to the park, they saw the pair smoking outside of a convenient store. Jonne had a cut on his cheek and Ville’s hand on his back.
“They’re almost like really gay brothers.” Ryan said as they skated past.
“Probably European inbreeding.” Novak said.
“You don’t even know what inbreeding is.” Ryan said, snorting. “You probably think it’s fucking indoors.”
“How would you know? You’ve never fucked inside or outside.”
“Fucker.”
* * *
“You like him, don’t you?”
Ville shrugged. “Maybe.” He took a drag off his cigarette.
“Don’t ‘maybe’ me. I’m not stupid, Ville. You always act this way when you fall for someone. Again.”
Ville rolled his eyes. “Maybe I just want to fuck him.”
“Liar. I’m the only person you ‘just fuck’, remember?”
“Of course, darling.” Ville gave Jonne a quick kiss on the cheek. His eyes caught the son of Queen as he drove his chariot past. “You’re always right.”
“He likes you back.”
“That’s always their first mistake.” Ville put his cigarette out and took Jonne’s hand, leading him down the sidewalk toward the gallows.
Bam and his court took up station in the back of the room, about five feet from a boy who looked to be sleeping. He wore eyeliner, eye shadow, and something that made his lips shiny.
“He’s queer.” Ryan said, all-knowing. The statement wasn’t said with distaste, for it couldn’t be. Ryan was known to dabble in the affairs of older boys. “I heard it from some junior. And he’s from Europe.”
“What’s his name?” Bam asked, opening his bag and pulling out a bottle of soda.
“V-somethin’.” Ryan said, shrugging.
“It’s Ville.” the boy, who was apparently not sleeping, said. “And I’m from Finland. And would you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to sleep off a hangover.”
“Shut up, Ville.” a blonde-haired girl said, coming over and nudging the boy with her foot. “People will think you’re a perseenreikä.” She laughed. Not a very female voice, but the boys had heard stranger at the skatepark.
“A perseenreeking whatta?” Novak asked.
“Asshole.” the girl said, smiling brightly. “Which he is. But he’s good in bed so I put up with it.”
“But I thought you were gay.” Bam said, frowning at Ville.
Ville cursed in his native tongue, sitting up. “I’m gay. So’s he. Pretty boy might look like a girl, but he’s got a dick, ‘kay? He’s not my bloody boyfriend, I just use him for sex. Now I drank too much last night and I’m going to rip your fucking head off if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Jonne teased. The masculine voice made sense now, but the blonde-haired boy still looked like a girl you might find posing in a beer ad that you beat off to as you flip through the pages of Playboy. “You’ll be in . . . AA before you graduate, yes?” His eyes flipped toward the other boys.
Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Was that a question?”
“He just wants to make sure he’s talking real English.” Ville said. “Pretty boy can’t speak it as well as Finnish. Now shut up.”
Jonne rolled his eyes and pulled Ville up by his arm. “Pussy. Stop whining and I’ll take you home.”
They left Bam and the court quite suddenly and the court continued to talk about them long into the rest of the day. After school the chariots made their way to the park and then home.
Bam’s room was not befitting of a prince. Three posters of scantily clad women and two of skateboarders flanked his walls. A picture of the Empire State Building at night hung behind his alarm clock. The floor was a mess of clothes, magazines, and junk mail. The quilt on his bed was blue, the carpeting was green, and the walls were white.
The only thing that was organized was the bookshelf in the corner. It was small, but it contained volumes of vampire novels, murder mysteries, drugged out boys having realizations and getting clean, and a book on what to do when you feel like killing yourself. Each had been read so many times it was hard to make out the titles on the spines.
In this sense, he showed the breeding of The Socialites.
Ville had the breeding of Finnish Socialites. And he would have denied it to the end had it not been for the gallows.
* * *
Ville was not hungover in class the next day. Instead he was busy trying to see just how far he could get his tongue down Jonne’s throat. They were in the back corner once again, Jonne giggling and Ville fierce. Either uncaring or secretly interested in watching, Bam and the court took the same spot they had the day before.
“All right, all right.” Jonne said, pulling away and giggling through his gasps. “That’s enough of that. You know what the scary American boys would do if we went looking for a quickie in the locker room.”
Ville laughed. “All American boys are closet queers, pretty boy.” He looked at their audience. “No offense, but if you weren’t you wouldn’t be staring.”
“But it’s almost lesbian porn.” Ryan said, smiling to let them know he was joking.
Ville smiled back and Jonne gave another giggle.
“Why are you in America?” Bam asked, abruptly changing both the tone and subject of the conversation in five words.
“Because Finland sucks.” Jonne said immediately, voice dark.
“Because our parents care more about who designed the light fixtures in our rooms than if we were in them by curfew.” Ville said. “They can’t miss what they never really had in the first place.”
“You ran away?” Novak asked, clearly impressed.
“Relocated.” Ville said. “Running away is when you get pissed at your parents and run away to a club or your friend’s house for a few days or until the police pick you up. We’ve been here for almost two years.”
“What if they find you?” Bam asked.
“If they look I’ll die of shock.” Ville said, blandly. “Did your mother ever look for you after she put you up for adoption?”
Bam jerked back in shock. Only a handful of people in the town knew he was adopted: his family, the court, and his doctor. “That’s different.” he said through clenched teeth. “She didn’t have a choice.”
“And neither did I.” Ville said. “So we’re in agreement.”
“You’re a prick.”
“He knows.” Jonne said. “He doesn’t care. When you’re born an elitist your flaws become strengths.” Ville looked at him, apparently impressed by the flawlessness of the vocabulary. Jonne lowered his eyes. “Literature class.”
“Still true.”
“That’s why I said it.”
“Of course.” Ville turned back toward Bam and the court. “How does that American saying go? ‘Nice guys finish last?’”
“It doesn’t change that you’re a prick.”
“I wouldn’t want it to.”
* * *
Jonne and Ville skipped school the next day. But as Bam and the court took their chariots to the park, they saw the pair smoking outside of a convenient store. Jonne had a cut on his cheek and Ville’s hand on his back.
“They’re almost like really gay brothers.” Ryan said as they skated past.
“Probably European inbreeding.” Novak said.
“You don’t even know what inbreeding is.” Ryan said, snorting. “You probably think it’s fucking indoors.”
“How would you know? You’ve never fucked inside or outside.”
“Fucker.”
* * *
“You like him, don’t you?”
Ville shrugged. “Maybe.” He took a drag off his cigarette.
“Don’t ‘maybe’ me. I’m not stupid, Ville. You always act this way when you fall for someone. Again.”
Ville rolled his eyes. “Maybe I just want to fuck him.”
“Liar. I’m the only person you ‘just fuck’, remember?”
“Of course, darling.” Ville gave Jonne a quick kiss on the cheek. His eyes caught the son of Queen as he drove his chariot past. “You’re always right.”
“He likes you back.”
“That’s always their first mistake.” Ville put his cigarette out and took Jonne’s hand, leading him down the sidewalk toward the gallows.