Two minutes later the sister came back with this guy named Justin. Seemed like a cool enough dude. Longish hair. Little round glasses. He was carrying a big long shiny silver case that ended in a sharp point on one end.
“Justin, this is my little brother, August,” said Via. “And that’s Jack.”
“Hey, guys,” said Justin, shaking our hands. He seemed a little nervous. I guess maybe it was because he was meeting August for the first time. Sometimes I forget what a shock it is the first time you meet him. “Cool room.”
“Are you Via’s boyfriend?” Auggie asked mischievously, and his sister pulled his cap down over his face.
“What’s in your case?” I said. “A machine gun?”
“Ha!” answered the boyfriend. “That’s funny. No, it’s a, uh … fiddle.”
“Justin’s a fiddler,” said Via. “He’s in a zydeco band.”
“What the heck is a zydeco band?” said Auggie, looking at me. “It’s a type of music,” said Justin. “Like Creole music.” “What’s Creole?” I said.
“You should tell people that’s a machine gun,” said Auggie. “Nobody would ever mess with you.”
“Ha, I guess you’re right,” Justin said, nodding and tucking his hair behind his ears. “Creole’s the kind of music they play in Louisiana,” he said to me.
“Are you from Louisiana?” I asked.
“No, um,” he answered, pushing up his glasses. “I’m from Brooklyn.”
I don’t know why this made me want to laugh.
“Come on, Justin,” said Via, pulling him by the hand. “Let’s go hang out in my room.”
“Okay, see you guys later. Bye,” he said. “Bye!”
“Bye!”
As soon as they left the room, Auggie looked at me, smiling.
“I’m from Brooklyn,” I said, and we both started laughing hysterically.
