Chapter Eight
--Ralph--
“I know you’re not going drinking,” I say as I catch up to Max, who is passing by the fountain.
“I know you know I’m not going drinking. You know very well where I’m going.” He is storming out of the place, hands in his pockets.
“I had a feeling that we were going to go there eventually, so I saved my leftover tickets from last time and their in my pocket. We can probably split them.” I open up the door for him and he calls a taxi.
“Sure, thanks. But that’s not really what I’m going there for.” He kicks a nearby rock as the taxi arrives.
“What are you going there for, then?” I get into the cab with him and he tells the taxi cab driver where we’re going.
“To the nearest Chuck-E-Cheese, please.”
--Veronica--
We arrived at the airport at one. Dhani was searching around for the nearest Subway. “I AM STARVING!” She yells as she pushing an Irish guy to the side.
“There’s one over there.” I grab her and pull her over there, where a very attractive blond man is the cashier.
Dhani shakes her head. “God, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Ralph. Ralph Laurent Christoph Gaston is the absolute worst.”
The man looks up. “Wait, you know Ralph?” He asks us.
“Yeah... do you?”
The man nods. “Oh yeah. I’m his cousin. He isn’t that bad, is he?”
“Well...” Dhani gasps. “Are you Canadian?”
“Yup. Fifty percent, eh. Ralph’s and My dad are both one-hundred percent Canadian. They come up here every summer and visit us. But, this last year they didn’t...” he says gloomily.
“Wait...” I start, trying to fit the pieces together. “Ralph says he hates Canada.”
“Well, he came out to our family the last time they were there and my dad slapped him. Hard. Ralph started to cry and my dad told him to stop being such a faggot and start acting like a man. Ralph was heartbroken and he’s hated my dad ever since. That’s why he didn’t come up this year. His dad hasn’t been any better.” He asks us for our orders and starts making them. “His dad is in the army, and the only reason he isn’t as bad as my dad is because he’s gone the majority of the time. Ralph moved to LA with his mom in the fifth grade because his classmates were teasing him for having his favorite color be pink and little stuff like that. He had lived in Montreal for the longest time, though. It was like their home.”
We only stare at him. We’re not exactly sure what to say. “But...” I search for words. “he said that he used to live in Texas.”
“Nope. He hates Texas more than Canada. He says anywhere where they were tacky cowboy hats he hates.”
Dhani raises an eyebrow. “That’s not all of Texas.”
He shrugs. “Well, that and he hates the Dallas Cowboys.”
“What’s your name, good-looking?” Dhani asks randomly, paying him. I guess it was a good way to end an awkward conversation.
He blushes and gives a Gaston smile. “Garth. Garth Brooks.”
“Garth Brooks?” We say in unison.
“Garth Brooks Gaston. My mom really likes him. She would play the song, ‘Friends In Low Places’ to Ralph and me all the time.” That would explain Ralph’s go-to karaoke song. “I like Tim McGraw more.” He shrugs. “Oh well.”
