Free Vampire Beach: Legacy by Duval Alex Page A

all fresh shaved.’ Priesmeyer ran his hands over his gleaming scalp. ‘Today is the day to make my fantasy come true. I’ll catch up with you.’ He veered off toward the brightly colored tattoo tent.
    Jason and the other four guys kept walking. They paused for a few minutes by an outdoor weightlifting area. ‘Muscle beach,’ Harberts explained. ‘This is Brad’s fantasy. Watching oiled-up musclemen in Speedos.’
    Brad slapped him on the back of the head. ‘We stopped for you, Harberts.’
    Harberts gave a snort and moved on down the boardwalk. Jason and the others fell in beside him.
    ‘Well, here’s my fantasy,’ Van Dyke said. He jerked his chin toward Sausage Kingdom. ‘Jody Maroni’s sausages. And lots of them.’ He sat down at one of the empty tables outside the food stand.
    ‘Eating some sausage and watching the rollergirls. Not bad for a Wednesday afternoon,’ Harberts said.
    ‘Not for you, Harberts. You should stick to a wheat grass smoothie or something,’ Brad joked. ‘Your time in the medley has been crap. You don’t need any extra weight dragging you down. In fact, I’ve been meaning to suggest you start shaving your head like Priesmeyer to get a little less drag in the water.’
    ‘I was thinking of suggesting you shave your legs,’ Van Dyke added. ‘Me, I think I should pack on a few pounds. Just to make the competition interesting. It’s so dull when I have the best time meet after meet without really trying.’
    He handed Harberts a fifty. ‘I want an apple maple, a sweet Italian, and an orange-garlic-cumin.’
    ‘Why am I waiting in line for you?’ Harberts complained.
    ‘Because I’m holding the table. And I can swim your ass off,’ Van Dyke said. ‘And while you’re at it, get an assortment of the finest for my friend Freeman here. My treat. The rest of you bozos are on your own, though.’
    Jason grinned, appreciating the gesture from Van Dyke. Not that it helped take his mind off Sienna. All the sausages on the planet wouldn’t help
that.
His name engraved on a grain of rice wouldn’t help. A couple of dozen supermodels on skates wouldn’t help. It was an impossible task. But still, it was good to know that his friends were there for moral support.
    ‘Thanks for arranging this,’ Jason told Adam. ‘But you know, you’re actually going to have to help me with French at some point, right?’ he continued. ‘Because I will seriously not pass if somebody doesn’t help me.’
    ‘After school tomorrow. My place,’ Adam promised. ‘French will be conjugated and otherwise humiliated. It’ll be good for me too. Get me ready for the ladies. You know how they all go crazy for French – the language of
lurve
and all.’
     
    ‘Please open your French textbook to page one hundred and three,’ Adam instructed the next afternoon. He and Jason sat in the Turnball kitchen, a jumbo bag of seasalt and vinegar chips open in front of them and a couple of Mountain Dews to wash them down.
    Jason obediently opened his book and saw the little story about Jacques and Pauline at the Tour de France. ‘Crap!’ he exclaimed. ‘Everything makes me think of Sienna. Even page one hundred and three of my French book.’
    ‘How’d it go today – with the friend thing?’ Adam asked.
    ‘She and Belle went someplace off-campus for lunch,’ Jason said. ‘So I only really saw her in European History. Cauldwell has us doing these group projects, and I’m not in her group, so . . .’
    ‘Got it,’ Adam said.
    ‘It’s probably better that way. Easier,’ Jason added.
    Adam nodded, but it didn’t look like Jason had convinced him. Which made sense. Jason hadn’t actually convinced himself.
    ‘OK, I’ve decided that we’re going to use the same method to study French as I did when I taught myself Klingon in the fourth grade,’ Adam explained.
    ‘Oh, my God. You have just revealed a whole new level of nerdiness,’ Jason told his friend.
    ‘I had to learn it to do the voices