and he heard footsteps and laughter.
"Hey, Aage," Lasse held a towel and a coverall. "Let's hose you off again."
Aage frowned. "Where's Concetta?"
"She's round the other side of the van." He smirked. "Want me to call her?"
Aage's eyes widened and he waved his hands. "No! No, no, no. I just didn't see her." He looked at the towels and coveralls again. "Where'd you get those?"
"Concetta brought them."
Every time Aage stepped, his wet underwear shifted and clung to his body. The briefs slowly tried to climb up the crack between his buttocks, aiming to be the world's worst wedgie. With the van behind them, there was no way Aage was going to reach back to free his briefs.
Concetta was behind him. The only girl he knew that had seen an MG-TD. Heck, the only girl he knew who could drive. She had driven one. This goddess of the road was behind him, watching his scrawny legs pick their way down the driveway. Aage wrapped his arms around himself and shivered again.<
In a fuel-cell world (in Sweden?) Aage is in love with a hydrocarbon-wasting sportscar. He works after school at the pig pens shoveling poop for recycling. Pig poop is almost the third main character in the story. The other two are Aage, a 16 year old boy, and Concetta, the slightly older girl he's in love with. The writing is workmanlike.
I'm a little baffled why this story needed to be told, or what I'm supposed to carry away from it.
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