"That was our hit 'Polka Polka Polka' - thank you very much," the musician spoke into the microphone. Two people in the audience clapped while the other two dozen were busy arranging their Bingo cards for the coming game. "We'll turn over the..." Gus Polinski continued until the microphone was taken away to be used at the Bingo caller's table "...the mic now," he finished.

He turned to address the rest of the Kenosha Kickers band. "Last call on the breakfast buffet before we pack up!" he quickly said before depositing his accordion on the floor and hustling his large frame towards the serving area in the rear of the senior cafeteria/auditorium.

Kevin McCallister put away his percussion instruments and followed, finally settling at a table opposite the leader of the polka band. At least he assumed the leader sat opposite him - it was hard to tell behind the pile of pancakes, sausage and more pancakes. "I thought we were in a hurry to get to the next gig," Kevin questioned.

"We are," Gus confirmed as he poured more syrup on his hotcakes "but I learned a long time ago that you have to keep your energy up on the road. Can't do that on an empty stomach," he said as he shoved a forkful into his mouth.

Although it looked to Kevin like Gus made it a point to do so whether he was on the road or not, he had to admit the man DID have a lot of energy. He spied a few Styrofoam cups and grabbed two, pouring some milk from a carton into each and keeping one of the cups while pushing the other across the table. "Here."

"Thanks Kevin." Gus to a big drink and slowed down a little. "So, how do you like being a musician?" he asked.

"I don't really think I'm a musician," Kevin said with his brows knitted. "I beat on things while you guys play."

"Yeah, but you should have heard us before. George could never keep time with this clarinet until you came along; everything came out like a spider trying to do a waltz. Always too few or too many steps, heh heh. But enough about George. How are YOU doing?"

"I'm okay."

"Miss your folks?"

"A little. Some. Do you guys miss your families?"

"Sure! Some, I guess. After the holidays are over we all manage to head back home and check in with our families until the summer tour. Well, if you want to call two weeks in June the summer tour, that is. It's nice to have a bed and people to go back to though."

"At least they miss you," Kevin mused as he reached for the milk to refill his cup.

"Wait - move your thumb," Gus said suddenly.

Kevin pulled his hand from the carton. "There's plenty for both of us."

"No, it's not that; you just kinda look like this kid on the milk carton," Gus said while studying the container. He spun it around after a moment so Kevin could see. "He's even got your name."

Kevin scrutinized the side panel of the carton. It was his school picture from eighth grade, alongside an artistic rendering of what he might look like as an adult. He thought the tattoo and pierced nose were a bit much, but the Van Dyke looked cool - he instantly considered growing one for the first time. "It's me."

"Yeah. You DID tell your family you were leaving, right?" When Kevin remained silent, Gus repeated the question. "RIIIIGHT?"

"Um...I might have left a note. Somewhere."

Gus threw up his hands. "You didn't actually TELL them you were leaving? No wonder they're looking for you! You've been with us two weeks and already they put your face on a milk carton. How many times have I told you to call home?"

"None."

"That's right! I gave you your independence, and this is how you thank them. Geez, this has got to prove they miss you!"

"Oh yeah, they miss me. They have to use a picture that's over four years old," Kevin said with a smirk.

"That's not the point! Here, look at this..." Gus said as he leaned over and dug his wallet out of his pocket. Flipping through the contents, he pulled out a picture and showed Kevin. "There's me and the misses. Yeah, it's about ten years and about fifty pounds too for both of us - but that doesn't mean I don't love her. I LIKE this photo." He took it back and stared at it for some time before putting it away. "You don't like living at home? That's fine. You have too many relatives? I can understand. You abandon your family and pretend they don't exist? That isn't the Kenosha Kickers way," he said while shaking his head.

Kevin looked at the other members of the band in their satin yellow jackets. Joe had fallen asleep in his hashbrowns and George was drooling milk down his chin. "Are you sure?"

Gus looked at the others and got a pained expression on his face. "Well...it's not MY way. Now I like you, Kevin, and I think you're a good kid. I'll cut you a deal. There's a pay phone outside. Here's two bucks in change," he said as he dug out some coins from another pocket. "You call your mother and let her know you're okay. Then, I want to be introduced to her after our concert in Chicago Tuesday."

"But..."

"But nothing. That will prove to me you really did call them. If you don't, I'm calling this phone number on the carton and then you can have the WHOLE family at the concert. It'll be the biggest audience we ever had outside Sheboygan, but that's the deal. Just your mom...or EVERYBODY." Gus gave Kevin a smile that held just enough menace in it to prove he wasn't kidding.

"I still get to travel with you?"

"Sure! I don't think you want to do this for a living, but it's something while you have a chance to breathe and think about what you really want to do. Deal?"

Kevin considered. He really didn't know what he wanted to do with his life yet - more time to think about it would be great. "I guess it would be the least painful option. Deal." He stuck his hand out over the table.

Gus grabbed it and shook it solemnly. "Deal. Finish up those flapjacks and we'll load up. You know, deals and polka go a long way back. Did I ever tell you the story about the deal that created the first accordion? It started out..."

The End