Author Andy V. Roamer and IndiGo Marketing returns to promote the latest release from the Pizza Chronicles, Why Can’t Freshman Summer Be Like Pizza? (The Pizza Chronicles #2)! Learn more and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!
Title: Why Can’t Freshman Summer Be Like Pizza?
Series: The Pizza Chronicles, Book Two
Author: Andy V. Roamer
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: June 1, 2020
Heat Level: 1 - No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 50200
Genre: Contemporary YA, LGBTQIA+, YA, contemporary, family-drama, interracial, gay, immigrant family, high school, mentor, coming of age, coming out
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Synopsis
RV, having successfully completed his
freshman year at the demanding Boston Latin School, is hoping for a great
summer. He’s now fifteen years old and looking forward to sharing many languid
summer days with his friend Bobby, who’s told him he has gay feelings too. But
life and family and duties for a son of immigrant parents makes it difficult to
steal time away with Bobby.
Bobby, too, has pressures. He spends
part of the summer away at football camp, and his father pushes him to work a
summer job at a friend’s accounting firm. Bobby takes the job grudgingly,
wanting to spend any extra time practicing the necessary skills to make Latin’s
varsity football team.
On top of everything, RV’s best friend
Carole goes away for the summer, jumping at an opportunity to spend it with her
father in Paris. Luckily, there is always Mr. Aniso, RV’s Latin teacher, to
talk to whenever RV is lonely. He’s also there for RV when he inadvertently
spills one of Bobby’s secrets, and Bobby is so angry RV is afraid he is ready
to cut off the friendship.
Excerpt
Why Can’t Freshman Summer Be Like Pizza?
Andy V. Roamer © 2020
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One—Summer Solstice
I used to love summer. The long, languid
days. No school. No homework. Sleeping late. Going to the beach. Staying out
later in the evenings and watching the sun set over the hills into the
darkening glow of the horizon.
Wow. Am I starting to sound like a poet
or just a pretentious a-hole? What’s wrong with the paragraph I just wrote?
There are no pretentious words in it, are there? Well, maybe “languid” is. I
like “languid.” I don’t know where I picked it up, but I think it perfectly
describes summer. Where everything is a little more s-l-l-o-o-w-w-w and
easygoing. Where life seems good and there’s no homework. Yup, I’ll stick with
languid. Hey, there has to be a benefit to liking words the way I do. I’m not
just a nerd, but a poetic nerd.
Ha ha ha. Maybe it has something to do
with being bilingual. I never used to think about it much before, but I guess I
am officially bilingual. Talking Lithuanian at home. English in the outside
world. Just kind of always accepted it, didn’t I? But I wonder what speaking
two languages does to someone. Kind of like being split into two people. My
Lith life and my English life. Are there really two people inside me? Scary
thought. One of me is bad enough.
Luckily, Bobby Marshall doesn’t seem to
be bothered by it, so why should I be?
Ahh, Bobby Marshall. I still can’t
believe we’re friends. Or should I say “special friends”? I’m still afraid to
even think about it. Me, RV Aleksandravičius—nerd extraordinaire, spawn of
Lithuanian immigrants, word lover, nervous worrywuss, possible gay
person—friends with one of the biggest jocks in school. The world truly is an
amazing place.
But, as I was saying, I used to love
summer. That was before I had to work. This summer I’ll be toiling away like
the rest of humanity. And I’m not just talking about working with the Computer
Fix-It company I started last year with Carole. That business has been kind of
rocky lately. I’ll blame it on the bad economy, since everyone always blames
everything on a bad economy.
No, I’m working at my first real job. I
turned fifteen last week. I used to love my birthdays. The end of school. The
start of summer. But not anymore. Dad has a friend at work, Mr. Timmons, whose
brother, Ed, owns a garage and gas station. Dad was talking to him and lo and
behold (another pretentious choice of words?), Mr. Timmons told him his brother
was looking for someone to help with chores around the place. Since I’m not
sixteen yet, I’m not supposed to work in the garage itself. But I can dispense
gas and work around the store that Ed has attached to the garage. Nothing heavy
duty, Mr. Timmons said. Ed just needs someone fifteen to twenty hours a week
helping in the store and cleaning around the place. A great way to earn a
little pocket money.
Fifteen to twenty hours! Dad, bless his
parental heart, volunteered me. Said it was a great way to learn about “real”
life. And to “round out my skills.” What, my skills are too flat or something?
But Dad doesn’t stop. “Too much time with your nose in a book isn’t healthy.”
“Develop some skills.” “A young man needs more than book learning.” On and on
and on. Says it in the Mother Tongue, of course, but that’s how it translates
into English.
Except it sounds more serious in
Lithuanian. “Per daug laiko praleidi su nosim knygose.” “Išmok ką nors
naudingo.” “Jaunam vyrui ne tik knygos naudingos.” Wonder why that is. Because
it’s what we talk at home? Our “real” language? To Mom and Dad, English sure
isn’t real. Even though they speak it, Mom much better than Dad. What is real
to me, then?
Oh, well. In whatever language, I think
Dad wants to have a macho son like the other guys at work brag about. Well,
sorry, Dad, not all of us can be macho. And not all of us can be like Bobby
Marshall either. A jock. Smart. And nice. Yeah, nice. He likes me. I still
can’t believe it sometimes. He says I’m fine the way I am. Okay, Bobby, if you say
so. I’ll believe you. I have to believe you. Have to believe someone likes me
the way I am.
Oh, RV, stop feeling sorry for yourself.
There are people who like you besides Bobby. Mom, for example, though Mom
doesn’t really count because moms usually love their kids no matter how screwed
up they are. But then there’s Mr. Aniso, my Latin teacher last year. Good old
Mr. Aniso. He’s been great, especially when I’ve told him my worries about
being gay. We’re becoming real friends. But he’s an adult. Adults only go so
far for a kid. We need our peers to like us.
So what about Carole? You’ve gone
through a lot with her, RV, and she’s still sticking by you. Yeah, that’s true.
She’s a good egg. No, a great egg! I love you, Carole Higginbottom!
And what about Ray? Brothers are usually
close, aren’t they? But not Ray and I. Too bad. He’s just off in another world.
I’m sure he thinks it’s a cooler world than the one his nerdy older brother
inhabits.
So there’s Bobby. He’s a guy. A regular
guy. Something I’ve always wanted to be, but will never be, alas! (Another one
of those words! Where are all these pretentious words coming from?). Anyway, if
Bobby really likes me that would be amazing. I still can’t believe it happened.
There I am thinking about him again. But
that’s okay, right? I mean, after all, we kissed and everything.
!!$$#*&!! Did I just write that?
Yes. GET OVER YOURSELF, RV! YOU KISSED A GUY AND YOU LIKED IT. What’s wrong
with that? You’re not hearing thunder from heaven, are you? This computer isn’t
blowing up because you wrote those words, is it? So you might be gay. Chill
out. Or you might be bi. After all, you enjoyed making out with Carole until
she started falling for that zit-faced Tim— Whoa! Whoa!
I have to stop worrying about
everything. Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe too much time on the keyboard, writing
down my thoughts, isn’t good. But I like keeping this journal. Helps me sort
things out. When Mom and Dad gave me this computer they said they wanted me to
make good use of it. I think I have. Maybe not the way they’d want me to, but I
think they’d be proud of me for writing so much. And I kept it up all school
year. That’s good, isn’t it? Even if Mom and Dad would be shocked at some of
the stuff I wrote here. I hope I keep up the writing during the summer. After
all, I should have more time in summer, even if those languid days are cut by
fifteen to twenty hours a week.
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