Read Online Firecracker by David Iserson - Free Book Online

since I got kicked out of Bristol.
    There were about five gym teachers. I focused on the oldest, manliest one and said, “I can’t do gym, sir.”
    â€œWhy is that, young lady?”
    I didn’t have a creative answer, but I had one that usually made men uncomfortable: “My period. I’m having my period.”
    But he didn’t get uncomfortable. He just responded with, “Me too, dear.” The oldest and manliest gym teacher was a lady. And then she insisted that I sign up for the basketball unit.
    â€œBut I don’t like basketball. Honestly, I don’t know anything about it. We didn’t have the same sports at my last school. I assume you don’t offer equestrian dressage in this gymnasium. Is there something in gym that involves sitting?”
    â€œThat’s the reason you have to play basketball. It might surprise you. I think you might be a great basketball player.”
    That moment changed everything. The rest of this book is about how I became an incredible basketball player. I was a hero to the whole school. I won the big championship. I then became a professional basketball player and basketballed all over the world. But you already know that because I’m so famous for my basketball skills.
    THE END
    Okay. This is not a book about how I realized I was a great basketball player. Though I did realize something else: that if I just stood there, no one could really force me to do anything with the basketball. This was my goal for Cadorette in general: if I just stood there, people couldn’t really give me any problems. At Bristol, I’d been different. I was always moving. I always had a plan and a reason. It was never to do homework or study or to maintain good grades but to intimidate everyone I disliked. I was trying to win at life. My family was already rich and powerful, and I’d been given a massive head start. But instead of winning, I’d just ended up at Cadorette. I didn’t know how to win anymore. This place worked in entirely different currency. My wallet was stuffed with Confederate money. In a way, I’d already lost.

L ucy lived in a row of houses that all looked alike. They were beige and brick, and the only identifiable feature of hers was the cluster of balloons tied to the mailbox. Two balloons apparently meant “party time” in the Redlich house. The party started at six, which is ridiculously early, but I got there around eight. That was fine because the invitation told me it ended at ? , which meant that time was open to interpretation. It could last years.
    I had my driver turn the car off, and I sat and thought for a minute about why exactly I’d come to Hair Eater’s birthday party. I was not a fan of the idea of birthdays. There’s no reason to celebrate the aging process. Birthday parties were like having breathing soirees or heart-pumping galas. They were celebrations of the mere act of existing. And I found that stupid.
    After several minutes of me sitting, a very small car about the size of my outstretched arms pulled in front of the house. A little door opened. Noah stepped out and looked around.
    â€œDrive!” I said to the driver. “Take me home.” But then I quickly said, “Stop!” Noah was looking straight at the car, so my cover was blown. In the future if I wanted to be stealth, I probably wouldn’t have a three-hundred-thousand-dollar, chauffeured Rolls-Royce slam on its brakes in the middle of a suburban housing development.
    I got out and walked over to Noah. I tried to play it casual by making a joke about his tiny car. “When men have really ridiculous flashy cars, it usually means that they have small penises. Your car, I guess, points to a very big penis.”
    â€œIt’s my mom’s car,” he said. “She lets me borrow it.”
    â€œYour mom’s penis must be enormous,” I said.
    â€œI didn’t expect to see you