Steven Glazer didn’t question why they were there for twenty minutes. Perhaps he was trying to figure out why he was diminutive with an acne-riddled face, or why he read on the third-grade level despite being 23 with his own apartment in his parents’ basement; in his most lucid moments, he was prone to self-pity and it was not attractive.
He was just sitting there until Moglin’s little sister woke up and, all of sixteen and yet the accountant’s failed offspring’s current would-be Madonna, Amy demanded that he go and ask Weinman why he’d led them there.
When Glazer went to knock on that Saturn’s window, he found not Weinman, but rather two annoyed teenagers: a boy teenager and a girl teenager, both annoyed. Both wishing he hadn’t followed them to Lover’s Cliff unexpectedly, or wherever that was, and then knocked on their Saturn’s tinted windows inexplicably.
“Do you know the way to Camp Shalom?â€? he inquired.
“No!â€? came the joint reply from within.
He dreaded moments like these.
They’d followed the wrong car…