Joey came home one day with a bloody nose and a rip across his new shirt because a couple of punk kids saw him leaving play practice and decided to call him a fag. Joey knew well enough to clean himself up before his mom came home, but he figures she must have found it in the trash because two weeks later she announced they were moving to Orlando.

Joey doesn't care about the bloody nose, he knows he's not a fag. Or, really, he knows he's not gay because he would never say the word "fag" and he can't even think it in his head. He likes to sing, he likes to dance, he likes to perform but those things don't make him gay. His friend Richie is gay and he loves collecting comic books and bottle caps. Joey loves to sing and he loves to dance and he loves it even more when the girls watch him and when they clap and cheer. He's not gay.

Joey isn't gay and he doesn't want to move to Orlando. And he doesn't see how things are going to get better if he has to move away and leave his girlfriend behind.

And he says so, loudly, except the part about not being gay, and when that doesn't work he says he'll run away from home and move in with Carmine. When that doesn't work, he slams his door and refuses to come out for dinner. At school the next day, Carmine says, "I don't know, my ma says my grandma is gonna have to come live with us because she can't make it up the stairs to her apartment anymore," and Joey starts to accept that he's going to have to leave Brooklyn.

He doesn't ask Richie if he can move in with him because Richie's apartment is barely big enough for him and his mom. When he tells Richie the news, he says, "That sucks. But, hey, Orlando, that's like Disneyland, right? Lots of movie stars and stuff, that'll be cool." They're sitting in Richie's room after school and Joey watches as Richie slips this week's comic book store purchase into plastic sleeves with carboard backs.

"No, man," Joey says, kicking his foot against the dresser, "Disneyworld is in Orlando. Disneyland and all the movie stars, they're all out in LA."

"Oh."

"Nothin' in Orlando but dolphins and volleyball, you'd probably see more famous people on the F train," Joey says bitterly.

"You'll be back," Richie says, and pats him on the shoulder. Richie uses hand lotion before he handles his books, he says it keeps them from being contaminated by dirt and oils and stuff. His hands smell like vanilla almost all of the time.

"Sure I'll be back," Joey says, "I'm gonna be on Broadway, I'm gonna be famous, right? Nobody gets famous in Orlando. I'll be back before you know it, and you'll see my name in lights."

"Your name in lights," Richie says, and nods.