The Boy Recession by Flynn Meaney Page A

pumpkin and try to check out the bottom side.
    “Well, I think your stock is up,” my dad tells me. “I think you’re growing into your looks,” he continues.
    Uh… What? Seriously, Dad? What is that, the consolation prize of compliments?
    My dad’s comment does remind me of something Eugene said last night, though. When we were waiting for his X-rays, he told me Bobbi’s friends have been talking about me. “Some of them are hot for you, Huntro,” he told me. “They said your hair was cute.” Then he corrected himself. “Well, they called it ‘messy cute.’ ”
    I didn’t know if “messy cute” was good or bad, and I didn’t really believe Eugene anyway, but then later at the party, Diva Price sat on my lap. Diva is one of Bobbi’s friends, and she’s kind of loud, but she’s not too bad-looking.
    I didn’t hook up with her, though. I had just chugged a beer, and I was still walking that tightrope between puking and not puking.
    “… So if you ever need any advice,” my dad is saying, “you know the guy to come to. I think I had some moves, back in the day….”
    Then my dad goes off on some tangent and ends up talking about the guy from the Old Spice commercials, and I realize that my dad’s not going to murder me or give me the sex talk. He just wants to bond. My dad’s been really into bonding with me since he lost his job. I think it makes him feel like he’s doing something. Like, even if he’s not making any progress finding a job, at least he’s getting some quality time with his son. Walking through the pumpkin patch, I find the biggest one in the back row and roll it all around to make sure it looks good. Then I point it out to my dad, who picks it up by himself, which is impressive.
    “Wow, yeah, this one looks good!” he says. I grab the other side, and we start backing up. It’s a long-ass way back to the table where you pay for stuff, and my arms hurt already.
    “You know what we need?” he says. “Did you see, on the table, those huge carving knives? We should go crazy with carving this year….”
    My dad needs to find a job soon, because I need a break from the quality time. I can’t lift stuff like this anymore.

CHAPTER 12: KELLY
    “Gold-Digger Guys: Warning Signs”
    “The Boy Recession©” by Aviva Roth,
The Julius Journal
, November
    K elly! Hey, Kelly!”
    The last class bell just rang, and Bobbi Novak is chasing me down the hallway, her heels clicking and squeaking against the tile floor. I turn around to talk to her, mostly because I want to get close enough to check out her necklace, a sparkling light blue stone dangling from a thin gold chain resting in the deep chasm of Bobbi’s cleavage. The much-talked-about necklace is a gift from Eugene, who is now officially Bobbi’s boyfriend. Her Facebook profile picture is the two of them, taken last week, when they dressed up as Hugh Hefner and a Playboy Bunny for Halloween.
    “I’m organizing Open-Mic Night this year, and I’d love you to be part of it!” Bobbi says.
    “Oh, I’m definitely coming. Aviva and Darcy and I go every year.”
    “Actually, I was hoping you would perform!” Bobbi says. “You’re so amazing on the flute, and everyone would love it if you’d play something!”
    I seriously doubt that. I can’t imagine getting up on the Julius stage on a Friday night and serenading a rowdy, half-drunk audience with a Mozart aria.
    “Maybe next year,” I say. “Have you asked Amy to perform? She’s an amazing dancer.”
    “I have her name right here!” Bobbi says, pointing to her clipboard. “She’s leading our new stomp group. I’m so excited to watch them! But you should—”
    “Sorry, I’ve gotta run in here and get something! Sorry!” I say, cutting Bobbi off. I back up against the band room’s door and escape inside.
    When I go to the cubby to take out my flute, I see Hunter. He’s sitting on the first level of the bandstand. I’ve noticed that he almost never sits on