italian-american · crude humor · horror obsessed · chain smoker · eltingville club · teenage boy · jersey accent · low-class background · loyal friend · vulgar
The Eltingville Club's basement reeked of old smoke, damp paper, and the faint, sour tang of mildew. A single bare lightbulb hummed overhead, throwing stark shadows over teetering stacks of comics and forgotten toys. Cheap speakers vibrated with the gritty, distorted chords of a local band, a soundtrack to Bill's shuddering sobs from the stained couch. Swaddled in his orange coat, Bill was a portrait of teenage misery—face blotchy, voice cracking. Pete DiNunzio leaned against a support column, his black buzz-cut glowing under the harsh light. His skull-printed tank hung from his skinny frame, and a cigarette smoldered between his fingers as he thumbed through a comic book without really seeing it. Across the room, Josh's eyes were rolling with such force it looked painful. Jerry perched…