over transportation. But here we are! How's business?"
Sammy took the door from Walt and pulled it open wider. "Take a look." The three of them entered and surveyed the scene. Vintage music blared. Some customers were milling around the games, while others attempted to visit. The new customers brought a surge of energy to the scene. Several of Walt's friends were scurrying through the crowd. Sammy noticed one old man push his way past another, nearly knocking him down. A surprised look flashed across John's brow, mirroring Sammy's reaction.
Within minutes the Colony ladies huddled outside the restroom, giggling like junior high girls. One of the grandmas caught Sammy's glance and gave him a shy wave, took a second look at him, and turned away to whisper to her friend. Perhaps he had reminded her of someone. Before he could slip back into hiding, three ladies raised their heads to stare at him. He felt totally out of place; then he remembered: he was. This was, after all, senior night.
At the top of the next hour, Mr. Lanton signaled the boys to return to the office. John followed Sammy, holding an envelope containing a few more dollars Walt had collected. "Lively set of folks that came in last," Lanton remarked. "One of them asked me where I found the stale music. He even offered to loan me one of his CDs."
"It looks like they're having fun," Sammy said. He'd noticed the mood change created by the new arrivals. There was a feeling of competition and hurry. They dominated the games with a fresh excitement typical of the nights when Sammy and his friends played.
"Oh, they're having fun all right," he said with some disgust in his voice. "I know it wasn't part of the deal, but do you boys mind sticking around here awhile. I'm a little short-staffed, and this new bunch might be more than I can handle."
"Sure thing, Mr. Lanton. We can stay till nine," Sammy said. Sammy's worst fears had surfaced; mixing resort seniors with town seniors was not a good idea. They had a reckless, almost immature attitude that he couldn't explain.
John added, "Walt's taking his folks home by nine, anyway."
"I appreciate it. Just hang around near the back and keep your eyes open."
Security work. Their job description was getting longer.
The back was Sammy's preferred place; he knew John liked mingling, teasing the old ladies who shared their coupons with him so he could show them how to play the games. Both boys kept busy watching the crowd.
"Get a load of that." John pointed toward the far pinball machine. Two customers were working the pull knob together, hand over hand. "Old Walt's got himself a lady friend."
The thought hadn't occurred to Sammy that Walt might have a date; he might even be married. The old gal holding his hand could actually be his wife.
"There's more spice in this room than in my grandma's chili," John said as he headed onto the open floor. Soon he was shooting wild turkeys and getting pats on the back from one grandma or grandpa after another. Sammy slipped into the men's room. A short, stocky old man from the Colony was leaning against the wall by the wastebasket. Sammy rushed to him, intending to ease him to the floor. The old man hadn't fainted, but was holding a pen, and there were fresh ink marks scribbled on the wall.
"What's going on?" Sammy demanded. The man quickly slipped past him out the door. Sammy was incensed. What kind of people live at the Colony? Were all those stories about them true? He followed the culprit, determined to inform Walt, whom he saw at the refreshment stand.
A familiar old lady edged up behind Walt and patted him on the shoulder. She flashed him a very resistible smile, which he ignored; he turned toward Sammy and walked his way. Sammy pitied the lady for a second, until he saw her approach another stranger from the Colony to say, "Hello, my name's Edna."
"Sammy, what's up?" Walt asked.
"What kind of customers did you bring us, Walt?"
"Some of them haven't been out for a while,"
Sammy took the door from Walt and pulled it open wider. "Take a look." The three of them entered and surveyed the scene. Vintage music blared. Some customers were milling around the games, while others attempted to visit. The new customers brought a surge of energy to the scene. Several of Walt's friends were scurrying through the crowd. Sammy noticed one old man push his way past another, nearly knocking him down. A surprised look flashed across John's brow, mirroring Sammy's reaction.
Within minutes the Colony ladies huddled outside the restroom, giggling like junior high girls. One of the grandmas caught Sammy's glance and gave him a shy wave, took a second look at him, and turned away to whisper to her friend. Perhaps he had reminded her of someone. Before he could slip back into hiding, three ladies raised their heads to stare at him. He felt totally out of place; then he remembered: he was. This was, after all, senior night.
At the top of the next hour, Mr. Lanton signaled the boys to return to the office. John followed Sammy, holding an envelope containing a few more dollars Walt had collected. "Lively set of folks that came in last," Lanton remarked. "One of them asked me where I found the stale music. He even offered to loan me one of his CDs."
"It looks like they're having fun," Sammy said. He'd noticed the mood change created by the new arrivals. There was a feeling of competition and hurry. They dominated the games with a fresh excitement typical of the nights when Sammy and his friends played.
"Oh, they're having fun all right," he said with some disgust in his voice. "I know it wasn't part of the deal, but do you boys mind sticking around here awhile. I'm a little short-staffed, and this new bunch might be more than I can handle."
"Sure thing, Mr. Lanton. We can stay till nine," Sammy said. Sammy's worst fears had surfaced; mixing resort seniors with town seniors was not a good idea. They had a reckless, almost immature attitude that he couldn't explain.
John added, "Walt's taking his folks home by nine, anyway."
"I appreciate it. Just hang around near the back and keep your eyes open."
Security work. Their job description was getting longer.
The back was Sammy's preferred place; he knew John liked mingling, teasing the old ladies who shared their coupons with him so he could show them how to play the games. Both boys kept busy watching the crowd.
"Get a load of that." John pointed toward the far pinball machine. Two customers were working the pull knob together, hand over hand. "Old Walt's got himself a lady friend."
The thought hadn't occurred to Sammy that Walt might have a date; he might even be married. The old gal holding his hand could actually be his wife.
"There's more spice in this room than in my grandma's chili," John said as he headed onto the open floor. Soon he was shooting wild turkeys and getting pats on the back from one grandma or grandpa after another. Sammy slipped into the men's room. A short, stocky old man from the Colony was leaning against the wall by the wastebasket. Sammy rushed to him, intending to ease him to the floor. The old man hadn't fainted, but was holding a pen, and there were fresh ink marks scribbled on the wall.
"What's going on?" Sammy demanded. The man quickly slipped past him out the door. Sammy was incensed. What kind of people live at the Colony? Were all those stories about them true? He followed the culprit, determined to inform Walt, whom he saw at the refreshment stand.
A familiar old lady edged up behind Walt and patted him on the shoulder. She flashed him a very resistible smile, which he ignored; he turned toward Sammy and walked his way. Sammy pitied the lady for a second, until he saw her approach another stranger from the Colony to say, "Hello, my name's Edna."
"Sammy, what's up?" Walt asked.
"What kind of customers did you bring us, Walt?"
"Some of them haven't been out for a while,"
Similar Books
