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delinquent, the town was popping. Take Buffy’s, for example. How did I not know it was there? Because to get to it you had to go through a nondescript parking garage on Jefferson, down three flights of stairs, over a cement retaining wall, and through an unmarked door, that’s why.
    Once we got inside, Johann was quickly surrounded by a league of super skinny girls dressed head to toe in Zombie Apparel atrocities. Short shorts over black fishnet stockings with plunging see-through V-necks over ripped-up tank tops—exactly the look half the cheerleaders were trying to cop this summer. Ugh. But, for a guy who nearly gave himself a hernia hitting on me, he was surprisingly uninterested in the Zombie Love Attack! taking place around him. The delegationof Johann lovers whispered in his ear and clung to him like ants on a stick but he extracted himself from their lair and sidled up to me instead.
    “What’s with the love zombies?” I asked.
    He laughed. “Ah, love zombies! That is a funny one, Yosie. That is what I will call them from now on. You are very delightful.” He grabbed my hand and planted another cold, dry kiss on my knuckles. I wrenched it away. Then he leaned against the counter where the crowd ordered sodas, energy drinks, and coffee from three baristas dressed all in white. Johann leered at me and said, “Would you like to dance, Yosie?”
    “Dance?” I didn’t know whether to be grossed out or to laugh.
    “Perhaps the rumba or a tango.” He pressed one hand against his belly and swiveled his hips in the most nauseating way. “Or do you like the disco?” He struck a pose and I nearly threw up in my mouth.
    “Johann, are you for real?” I asked.
    “What do you mean, am I for real?” He looked a bit wounded.
    “It’s just that everything you say and do make it seem like you’re trying to hit on me and the way you look at me…”
    “Do you feel my power?” He gave me the cheesy, one-eyebrow-up grin.
    “Look, Johann, no offense. I know we just met and all, but it ain’t going to happen.”
    His shoulders slumped.
    “What’s the prob, homie? Lady troubles again?” Avis asked, slapping Johann on the back. Then he handed me some kind of iced mochaccino concoction with whipped cream. Yummy.
    Avis flashed me a knowing grin. “Don’t take Yo too seriously, Josie. He can’t help being on the prowl.”
    “Ack, what good does it do me?” Johann shrugged his shoulders in a way that reminded me of my grandfather. “In the old country, at the discotheques, I had the women eating out of my palm.” He stopped with a gleam in his eyes.
    “Mind games,” Avis said with a knowing glance, only I couldn’t imagine Johann being slick enough to mess with anyone’s mind.
    Then Johann sighed and waved his hand dismissively. “But with you?”
    I licked whipped cream from my lips. “Dude,” I said. “What about all the other girls in here?”
    “Meh,” he said with a shrug.
    “Or the love zombies?” I pointed to the skinny club who sat staring blankly at Johann from across the room. “Go dance with them.”
    He nearly shuddered. “No thank you.”
    “Who are they?” I asked.
    “Messed up, that’s who,” Avis said with a cackle.
    I followed Avis and Johann to a table where the rest of the group dug into baskets of deep fried goodness. “We didn’t know what you’d like,” Tarren said, “so we ordered one of everything to share.”
    I grabbed a stool and pulled it between Helios and Avis. “Thanks,” I said, loading up a plate with fried mushrooms, French fries, some kind of puffy cheese ball things, and what appeared to be deep fried mini Snickers bars. Johann sat across from me, looking glum and not eating a thing while everyone else snarfed down the snacks.
    “Do any of you have to do community service?” I asked between bites.
    “Ah, yes,” Helios said. “The rehabilitation model. Criminals should be cured rather than punished. It’s as old as Plato himself.”
    Seriously,