Read Online Freak the Mighty by Rodman Philbrick - Free Book Online
Authors: Rodman Philbrick
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wouldst thou do us all a big favor and fall upon thy sword?” And I’m laughing so hard
I can hardly breathe.
Everything is pretty much okay after that. One thing we don’t do, though, we don’t
talk about my father, good old Killer Kane. Which is fine by me.
School.
For the last week or so it’s like getting jabbed with a little needle every time I
hear that word. Gram is trying to pretend how excited she is I’m finally in the eighth
grade, like this is a really big deal. Which is a joke, because the only reason I
got passed from seventh grade is because they figured this way the big butthead can
be — quote — someone else’s problem, thank God, we’ve had quite enough of Maxwell Kane — unquote.
Gram takes me out to the mall to get new clothes, which is about as much fun as going
to the dentist, except maybe worse because at least at the dentist you’re mostly just
in the chair with the door closed, where at the mall with Gram it’s like hello, world,
here I am, take a good look.
This girl at the shoe store, she’s got a little smirk and she goes, “Thirteen triple
E? Do they make shoes that big?” and Gram goes, “I’m quite sure they do, dear, you
go ask the manager.” And then she looks at me and she goes, “Maxwell, this is not major surgery, so you will please, as a special favor to me, wipe that wounded look
off your face and try to be polite.”
Yeah, right. The manager, when he comes out with these Brand-X running shoes, he wants
to help me take off my old shoes, like he’s pretty sure I can’t do it by myself, but
I give him this look and he backs off and lets me do it myself.
“I wish you’d tie those laces, dear,” Gram says when I’m squishing around in the new
shoes.
“That’s the fashion,” the manager says with this heh-heh-heh laugh. “Actually, they’re
designed that way. You don’t need to lace up.”
Just to prove what a jerk he is, I tie up the laces and that makes Gram happy. Which
is funny sometimes, how little it takes to make her happy, except you can’t really
figure what until you’ve already done it. Does that make any sense?
Finally we escape from the mall and I’ve got enough new clothes to last me, as Grim
points out, a week or so.
“You could just keep letting down his cuffs,” Grim says. “Except they don’t have cuffs
now, what am I thinking?”
“I think he looks quite handsome,” Gram says. “Maxwell, please turn around. And keep
your shirttail tucked in.”
“Ah, leave him alone,” Grim says. “He’s not a fashion model.”
“I just can’t get over it,” Gram says. “Our little Maxwell is growing up.”
“Growing is right,” Grim says. “The boy is certainly growing.”
The deal is, Freak and I get to be in the same classes. He made the Fair Gwen go in
and see all these people at the school, because I wasn’t supposed to be in the smart
classes, no way, and finally they all agreed it would be good for Freak, having someone
to help him get around.
Gram acts kind of worried about it and she doesn’t want to sign the papers, like she
thinks the L.D. class has done me a lot of good or something, and being in the genius
class is just going to make me slower and dumber than ever. But one night I come up
the cellar stairs real quiet and Grim is saying, “Let’s give it a try, nothing else
has worked, maybe what he needs is a friend, that’s the one thing he’s never had with
all those special teachers.” And the next morning she signs the papers, and when we
get to school the first day, Freak helps me find my name on the list and it’s true,
we’re in all the same classes.
At first all the other kids are so into looking cool and acting cool and showing off
their new outfits, they hardly notice us in the hall, Freak riding high on my shoulders,
or the deal where his desk is always right next to mine. That wears off, though, and
by the time we leave
I can hardly breathe.
Everything is pretty much okay after that. One thing we don’t do, though, we don’t
talk about my father, good old Killer Kane. Which is fine by me.
School.
For the last week or so it’s like getting jabbed with a little needle every time I
hear that word. Gram is trying to pretend how excited she is I’m finally in the eighth
grade, like this is a really big deal. Which is a joke, because the only reason I
got passed from seventh grade is because they figured this way the big butthead can
be — quote — someone else’s problem, thank God, we’ve had quite enough of Maxwell Kane — unquote.
Gram takes me out to the mall to get new clothes, which is about as much fun as going
to the dentist, except maybe worse because at least at the dentist you’re mostly just
in the chair with the door closed, where at the mall with Gram it’s like hello, world,
here I am, take a good look.
This girl at the shoe store, she’s got a little smirk and she goes, “Thirteen triple
E? Do they make shoes that big?” and Gram goes, “I’m quite sure they do, dear, you
go ask the manager.” And then she looks at me and she goes, “Maxwell, this is not major surgery, so you will please, as a special favor to me, wipe that wounded look
off your face and try to be polite.”
Yeah, right. The manager, when he comes out with these Brand-X running shoes, he wants
to help me take off my old shoes, like he’s pretty sure I can’t do it by myself, but
I give him this look and he backs off and lets me do it myself.
“I wish you’d tie those laces, dear,” Gram says when I’m squishing around in the new
shoes.
“That’s the fashion,” the manager says with this heh-heh-heh laugh. “Actually, they’re
designed that way. You don’t need to lace up.”
Just to prove what a jerk he is, I tie up the laces and that makes Gram happy. Which
is funny sometimes, how little it takes to make her happy, except you can’t really
figure what until you’ve already done it. Does that make any sense?
Finally we escape from the mall and I’ve got enough new clothes to last me, as Grim
points out, a week or so.
“You could just keep letting down his cuffs,” Grim says. “Except they don’t have cuffs
now, what am I thinking?”
“I think he looks quite handsome,” Gram says. “Maxwell, please turn around. And keep
your shirttail tucked in.”
“Ah, leave him alone,” Grim says. “He’s not a fashion model.”
“I just can’t get over it,” Gram says. “Our little Maxwell is growing up.”
“Growing is right,” Grim says. “The boy is certainly growing.”
The deal is, Freak and I get to be in the same classes. He made the Fair Gwen go in
and see all these people at the school, because I wasn’t supposed to be in the smart
classes, no way, and finally they all agreed it would be good for Freak, having someone
to help him get around.
Gram acts kind of worried about it and she doesn’t want to sign the papers, like she
thinks the L.D. class has done me a lot of good or something, and being in the genius
class is just going to make me slower and dumber than ever. But one night I come up
the cellar stairs real quiet and Grim is saying, “Let’s give it a try, nothing else
has worked, maybe what he needs is a friend, that’s the one thing he’s never had with
all those special teachers.” And the next morning she signs the papers, and when we
get to school the first day, Freak helps me find my name on the list and it’s true,
we’re in all the same classes.
At first all the other kids are so into looking cool and acting cool and showing off
their new outfits, they hardly notice us in the hall, Freak riding high on my shoulders,
or the deal where his desk is always right next to mine. That wears off, though, and
by the time we leave
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