Steamed

know.”
    “Hey, I’m cute. Where are my special pancakes?” demanded Owen.
    “Aw, I’ll share mine with you,” promised Adrianna while pouring syrup all over her plate. “Thank you, Stein.” She beamed at him.
    Last night, the desserts. Now, the pancakes. I’d never noticed the phenomenon before. How general was it? And were plain-looking people doomed to spend their lives being served food that was unfairly unspecial?
    “So Stein, what are the Godzilla Babies?” I asked. “I’ve seen them on the menu and always wondered. Are they just little burgers?”
    “Yeah. They’re three-ounce burgers, but they never really caught on. We don’t even have them anymore, but we used to have special little buns for them and everything.” He shrugged. “I thought they were kinda cute.”
    Stein went back to deal with the unruly and very hungry college crowd while we worked our way through our heaping plates.
    “So, Josh,” I wondered aloud, “is Stein’s name really Stein?”
    “No,” he laughed. “It’s Mark.”
    “Mark Stein?”
    “No, Mark Seland. Stein’s a nickname. Just look at his belly.” Josh grinned. “I come in here all the time to make fun of him.” His comment didn’t come across as mean. On the contrary, it sounded like the kind of ritual insult that little boys exchange only with good friends.
    When I’d been to Eagles’ before, it had always been for takeout, and, of course, the deli hadn’t yet enjoyed the romantic association it now had, so I’d never really looked at the place. There was a jukebox in the front corner, flowering plants filled the window, and memorabilia covered the walls. I asked Josh about all the pictures.
    “Oh, those,” he said. “Well, a lot of times girls from Boston College will send in pictures of themselves from for-mals and stuff and ask if they can be on the wall. All the girls around here have crushes on Stein, so they’re always sending in pictures of themselves all dressed up and stuff. And then there’s one over there of Steven Tyler. He came in one day by himself and let them take his picture. And I guess Joey McIntyre showed up at a party around here, so the girls sent in that picture of them all huddled up with him.”
    “Watch out.” I warned Josh. “Adrianna might try to take that home.”
    “I would not!” she insisted angrily. “It was a fleeting crush I had years ago, and I’m properly mortified about it, okay?” Poor Ade had fallen prey to a New Kids on the Block infatuation, an embarrassing addiction that was replaced only by the wretched release of the Spice Girls CD.
    “Ade used to have a severe dependence on boy bands. And everything else irritating from the nineties.” I giggled. “Her mom wouldn’t let her watch Party of Five , so she used to come over to my house and pretend we were studying.”
    “Shut up! That was a good show!” she practically hollered at me.
    “And then,” I continued, “the famous night of Bailey’s intervention, she showed up at my door with a backpack full of Corona she’d stolen from her parents. We hid in my room and drank beer while Claudia whined that she’d always loved Bailey best out of all her siblings and that he’d better get help for his alcoholism or she’d disown him as a brother.” I made a connection. “Hey! And now you’re going out with someone named Owen! Just like the little brother on the show!”
    In an attempt to defend her honor, Adrianna tried to maintain a serious face. “I don’t know how we all started making fun of me, but Chloe was just as bad. Yeah, she thought she was so cool pretending to listen to No Doubt and Alannis. But I know about that Jon Secada CD hidden in your bedroom, so don’t act all high and mighty like you weren’t listening to crap music and watching crap TV, too. And my dating someone named Owen is just a coincidence.” She frowned. “I think.”
    “All right,” I surrendered, finally composing myself. “We were both products of popular culture, so we shouldn’t blame ourselves for bad taste. Not that we’re much better now.” Ade and I eventually quit teasing each other and called a truce by vowing never to mention shows like Melrose Place or songs like “Tubthumping” again. Owen, who wasn’t part of the peace accord, kept humming “Rhythm Is a Dancer” under his breath so persistently that Ade and I found it nearly impossible to finish eating.
    Josh, still smiling, looked over at the crowd still waiting to