Read Online Perfectly Good White Boy by Carrie Mesrobian - Free Book Online Page B

bug you about this, but it’s really important you don’t say anything.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œYou heard me on the phone behind the store, right?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œOkay, about who I was talking to.”
    Great. We’d have to go through this dumb little quiz game, circling around the situation.
    â€œRight. Tristan. Tristan Reichmeier. Hockey guy.”
    â€œShit.”
    â€œI won’t say anything,” I said, sitting down on my bed. Otis started scratching at the door, and I opened it up for him. He instantly jumped up next to me and started snuffling around my crotch.
    â€œGoddammit,” I said, pushing him away.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œI can’t hear very well on the phone,” Neecie said. “Sorry. That’s why I texted you.”
    â€œOh. Okay.”
    â€œWell, thanks, Sean,” she said. “I know it’s weird, but just . . . thanks.”
    â€œIs he like your boyfriend or something?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYour boyfriend,” I said, louder and clearer.
    â€œNo,” she said. “It’s not like that. It’s kind of . . . I don’t know. It’s just like, you know. Hooking up. I guess.”
    â€œYou have sex with him?” I said. Blurted, really. Whoops.
    â€œUmm, well . . .,” Neecie said. “I guess. If you want to put it like that. Yeah. But it’s just sex. Not a real thing or anything. Okay?”
    â€œOkay.”
    Neither of us said anything for a minute. I was being silent, punishing myself for blurting. I worried for a minute that she’d hung up. Like she was one of those people who don’t say goodbye and just hang up when they’re done talking. Brad was like that.
    Then she said, “I mean, it’s just stupid drama. And it’s, like, no big deal to me that you know. But it’d be worse if other people found out. Just Ivy knows, so far.”
    Ivy Heller was this girl Neecie was always hanging around with. She was one of those chicks who barely talked but always dyed her hair weird colors like purple or blue and then, if you looked at her for one second, being that you couldn’t really help looking, since most people don’t have purple or blue hair naturally, she’d give you a shitty evil glare like you were being discriminatory or something.
    â€œSean? You there?”
    â€œOh, sorry. Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s cool. I won’t say anything. I mean, I don’t really know the guy, anyway.”
    She didn’t say anything. I wondered again if she’d hung up. I wondered if she’d even heard me.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œSorry,” she said. “I’m here.”
    â€œWhat’s your name short for?” I asked. Because I’d just thought of it. Blurting still happening, I guess. But it occurred to me, talking to her, imagining her on the other end, what she was looking like, and whether her family was around her, like her mom and dad or whatever, and wondering what made them name their baby daughter Neecie. Like, it had to be a nickname, obviously. Nobody named a baby “Neecie.” It’d be like naming a baby “Bill” or “Vicky” or something like that.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing, it’s nothing,” I said.
    â€œOkay, well . . .”
    More silence. I didn’t know if I should bother repeating my dumb question. Now that I was super curious.
    â€œI have homework, so I better go,” she said. “Again, sorry to bug you.”
    â€œIt’s fine.”
    â€œOkay. Bye then.” Then she clicked off so quickly I felt a little surprised. Weird. Neecie was weird. And not just her name.
    Then, it was like I’d just drank a whole can of Amp. I just felt hyper. Like I could run around the goddamn block. Except we didn’t live on a block anymore.
    So I rolled on the floor and did some push-ups. Then some crunches. Just to knock off