Read Online Regular Guy by Sarah Weeks - Free Book Online

face that said “Yeah, yeah this is just like any other day at the Smiths’ house.”
    â€œBob-o!” I shouted. “You’re alive!”
    Bob-o quickly pulled his finger out of his nose and smiled at me. I was so relieved to see him on his feet that I ran over and hugged him in spite of where his finger had been.
    â€œLook at that, Wuckums,” my mother said, pointing at Bob-o. “It didn’t work.”
    Buzz, who’d been completely silent since Bob-o had appeared, did something I thought only damsels in distress in fairy tales did. His eyelids fluttered for a second; then his eyes rolled up into his head…and he fainted.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    M y dad and Mr. Smith carried Buzz over to the couch, and we put a cold washcloth on his forehead. He wasn’t out for very long, but it was still scary seeing my best friend all limp like that. Mrs. Smith brought out the coffee and a plate of crackers, and we all sat down to sort out the truth about what had been going on.
    â€œThere was no Humanities project, was there, Guy?” my father said.
    I shook my head.
    â€œI don’t know where to start,” I began, but before too long I’d managed to tell the whole story about how I’d figured out about Bob-o and me being switched at birth. Buzzsat up long enough to put in his two cents about the fact that babies all look alike when they’re first born. My mother listened very carefully, and for once she didn’t even interrupt, which was pretty surprising. Mr. and Mrs. Smith just sat there having not much of a reaction, which was not very surprising at all. At one point I saw Mr. Smith crack open his magazine and try to read a little when he thought nobody was looking. Bob-o sat on the arm of the couch near Buzz’s feet combing his hair with his fingers until whatever semblance of a hairdo my father had created for him was a thing of the past.
    When I was all through telling my story my mother looked at me with this really weird crooked smile on her face and said, “Do you honestly think that I’m not your mother, Guy?”
    â€œWell, yeah, I guess I think it’s possible,” I said. “I mean these things do happen sometimes.”
    â€œMarie,” my mother said, turning to Mrs.Smith, who was busying herself putting coasters under everyone’s coffee cups and arranging more crackers in a pinwheel on the plate even though no one had eaten any of the ones she’d put out there to begin with. “Do you have a family photo album?”
    â€œMmm hmm,” she said, and moved to the bookcase, where she pulled a large leather-bound photo album from the shelf.
    â€œI’d like to show Guy a picture of Bobby when he was a baby,” my mother said quietly.
    Mrs. Smith leafed through the book until she found what she was looking for. She handed the book to my mother.
    â€œCome with me, Guy.” My mother took the book and carried it out onto the front porch.
    At first I hesitated. After all, the woman had been pointing a knife at me only an hour before. Then I figured it was probably safe to follow her, since she obviously hadn’t killed Bob-o and she didn’t have the knife anymore. I went out onto the porch and sat downbeside her on the top step.
    â€œBefore I show you this picture, there’s something I need to say to you, Guy,” she said.
    Oh, God , I thought. Here it comes. She’s gonna tell me she’s known all along that I’m not really her son . I felt like I was going to throw up.
    â€œI’m really sorry about the baseball cards.”
    â€œHuh?” I said.
    â€œI should never have taken them out of your album without asking you. I’m sorry. Sometimes I just get carried away. Your dad is looking into finding replacements for the ones that are already glued down. The Reggie Johnson—”
    â€œJackson,” I said.
    â€œThe Reggie Jackson is fine, and I put him back in the