Read Online Dunk by David Lubar - Free Book Online Page A

he a friend of yours? He seems kind of crazy.”
    â€œI met him last fall when I went fishing in Texas. He was working the southern carnival route. He’s weird, but he’s not dangerous.” Doc turned away to shout at a kid who was kicking the change machine.
    â€œWhere’s he from? Is he really a teacher? Has he been a Bozo for long?”
    â€œWhat do I look like? The History Channel? Stop asking so many questions.” Doc scanned the arcade, then walked over to the old Street Fighter game, his belt jangling with a cluster of keys that must have weighed fifteen pounds. He opened the front panel of the machine and clicked a switch until I had a bunch of credits. “Here. Waste some more of your life. My treat.”
    â€œThanks.” I realized Doc was finished chatting. I played until I used all the credits. By then it was time to head back.
    Gwen still wasn’t at the Cat-a-Pult. Not that I was obsessed or anything.
    The air was heating up, getting pretty warm for this time of year. It felt even warmer because there was almost no breeze. The last thing I wanted to do right now was move boxes. I really didn’t feel like helping Malcolm, but I couldn’t let Jason down. Besides, I had this funny feeling that if I didn’t go along, Jason and Malcolm would be best friends by the next time I saw them.
    Maybe they already were.
    I found them sitting together on the upstairs porch when I got home. Jason leaned on the railing above me. “Hey, Chad, did you know Malcolm is going to teach at Baldwin this fall?”
    â€œI heard. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
    They came down and we walked over to Jason’s house. He got the keys from inside, then unlocked the Blazer. Malcolm climbed in the back. I rode up front with Jason. I think the person with the license was supposed to be in front, but it didn’t matter. Jason was a good driver. He swore he was driving in New York when he was ten. The way he handled himself in traffic, I believed him.
    â€œYou win them all?” I asked as we headed down the road.
    He nodded and told me the high points of his games. Behind us, Malcolm didn’t say anything, which was fine with me.
    â€œSo what’d you do after you left?” Jason asked.
    I nearly blurted out the news about the Bozo job before I remembered my plan to surprise Jason. He wasn’t the only one in for a surprise. I glanced back at Malcolm, who was staring out the side window, looking sad. I almost felt sorry for him. But I realized that his expression had nothing to do with his feelings. He could switch on anything. If he wanted us to think he was sad, that’s the way he’d act. I didn’t see how anybody could trust a person who could fake his emotions so easily.
    I turned away and passed the time telling Jason the highlights of my Street Fighter session. He listened, but he kept his eyes on the road, especially when we merged onto the Parkway.
    The next exit wasn’t far, and the U-Store place was right off the ramp. “It’s nothing heavy,” Malcolm said as Jason pulled into the parking lot. “Mostly boxes.”
    A lot of boxes, it turned out. We crammed as many cartons as we could in the back of the Blazer and stacked the rest of the stuff on one side of the rear seat. From the sound of them, half the boxes were probably filled with videotapes. There was also a small TV—the kind with a built-in VCR.
    â€œThis shouldn’t take long,” Jason said as he pulled up to the curb at my house. He hopped out and opened the back of the Blazer. Malcolm went ahead to unlock the door.
    Jason and I each grabbed, a box and followed him. It felt weird going upstairs. I mean, this was part of the house, but as long as someone else was paying rent, the apartment really wasn’t part of my home.
    Other than some furniture my mom had bought—a couch, a kitchen table, and two chairs—there wasn’t much of