John Dandy Boys Club

Chapter Three: The New Kid in Town and the Journalist Teen

Vion's POV

"Finished," I muttered, putting the last of my clothes in the dresser drawer before letting out a sigh and taking a look around my new bedroom of my new home- a single-story ranchette house. I still couldn't believe that I was now in Virginia and far away from Kenya's grasp. It felt like such a dream- losing my parents and unborn brother, dealing with Kenya's venomous words for not throwing her that house party that she wanted on the day I laid my parents to rest (I still didn't even after being paint-bombed), the pep talk from everyone, my final decision to come here, and the whirlwind of goodbyes and final visits from the people in my old neighborhood. Now, here I was in Stonehaven Pointe, a coastal town that had a certain charm- old-school beach-town vibes with a 21st-century cosmopolitan feel. From what Uncle Donnie told me on the flight to Virginia, the town was mainly based on tourism and the local manufacturing business. It was minutes away from the Hampton Roads area as well as Virginia Beach and was close to the main interstate. Stonehaven Pointe was a town that valued small-town businesses and offered escape from the city-living sprawls. It was perfect for families to roost in and also retirees.

There was something for everyone to do and enjoy- sports clubs, avid nightlife, and even family entertainment. But the springtime and summertime rushes were when the town really came alive as many people headed for the beaches or community pools to beat the heat. "You're very lucky to come to this town of ours," Aunt Mona had said as we made the journey to my new home. "Your mother told me that you never got out much and that girl didn't want you far away from her. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't take you away from her. Lord knows what might've happened if you got roped into staying in New Orleans."

I knew what might've happened: endless verbal abuse before Kenya got tired of me and had me put down like a dog.

I shook the idea out of my head, deciding to focus on my new room and how it was painted in shades of blue and black- my two favorite colors with the bedsheets matching everything. Uncle Donnie even had set up a bookcase with space for the new books and music albums that would soon arrive. He didn't even think twice when I told him that my music tastes included country and old-school R&B music and that I loved reading all genres of fiction books.

Smiling to myself, I stretched my limbs before deciding to head outside for a walk around the block since Uncle Donnie was out working at his meat-shop while Aunt Mona was out on errands. Grabbing my baseball cap and my newly-acquired house key, I headed outside and locked up the house before making the trek through the neighborhood and taking in the afternoon beauty of the late-summer glory.

Everything felt so alive yet had this chilled-out feel that contradicted everything back in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans. There, everything was too fast-paced and people had to hurry up yet play the waiting game. Here, suburbia was more of a lifestyle than a "fool's-gold dream (Kenya's words, not mine)" as the houses were straight out of the latest home-and-gardens magazine (I thought I recognized one of them that was featured in Southern Living).

I saw a family of five enjoying an afternoon barbeque session with the adults working their magic on the grill while the two girls were blowing bubbles and the youngest boy of the bunch was playing in his treehouse. At another home, I caught a man working on his lawn, his headphones silencing the loud motor of his lawnmower. He waved hello at me. I waved back before continuing the trek

I soon reached the downtown business district of Stonehaven Pointe where it was slightly busy with the people heading out and about while hurrying to enjoy an afternoon meal. I caught more and more smiling faces of the people, a few of them stopping me to introduce themselves to me (I guess news of my arrival traveled fast since they knew who I was). Feeling a bit hungry with my feet needing some repreive, I ducked inside a retro-themed ice-cream parlor/diner named Slade's, my ears being tickled by Harry Nilsson's "Everybody's Talking."