Read Online Saturday Boy by David Fleming - Free Book Online

toilet instead of going in my pants. When I was done I washed my hands and went back to the kitchen where I found Aunt Josie rinsing out the mugs.
    â€œWhere’d Mom go?”
    â€œUpstairs to lie down.”
    â€œIs she okay?”
    Aunt Josie shrugged but didn’t turn around. She kept on rinsing out the mugs, running them back and forth under the water. They must have been really dirty.
    â€œNo,” she said. “Not really.”
    â€œIs she sick?”
    â€œShe’s sad.”
    â€œWhy is she sad? Did I do something?”
    I’d been pretty good lately. I mean there was the hat thing from this morning but I didn’t think that was it. And she hadn’t seen me peeing with the door open, either, and those were really the only two things I could think of.
    â€œAnd also? Aunt Josie? Y’know you don’t need to wash out those mugs. You can just put those in the dishwasher.”
    â€œI know that. I just need . . .” She turned from the sink and looked at me. Her hands were bright red from being under the hot water. They looked angry. “Why don’t you run up and do some homework before dinner, okay?”
    â€œBut it’s Friday. I don’t do homework on Fridays,” I said. “And besides, I didn’t even get a snack.”
    â€œSo get one.”
    â€œWon’t that ruin my appetite?”
    â€œI don’t know, Derek, will it?”
    â€œProbably.”
    â€œWell there you go, then.”
    â€œBut I’m a little bit hungry.”
    â€œThen get a snack! For Christ’s sake, what do you want me to tell you?”
    But I didn’t get a snack. I ran up to my room and slammed the door and locked it even though I wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t even care if the lock broke and I couldn’t get out. I almost
wanted
the lock to break. That way I’d be stuck in there and probably die of starvation and it would be all Aunt Josie’s fault for yelling at me.
    I lay down on my bed. I could hear Aunt Josie calling my name from the bottom of the stairs but I didn’t answer her. I went and got my desk chair and stuck it under the doorknob instead. Then I went back to my bed and lay down again and stared at the ceiling. I looked up at the Apache helicopter and thought about my dad. He wouldn’t have yelled at me like that.
    I got off the bed and reached under and felt around until I found it—an old plastic lunchbox that had a cool, black car on it with
Knight Rider
written underneath. It had belonged to my dad when he was my age and was filled with every letter he’d ever written me. I opened it and counted them out until there were ninety-one arranged on my quilt. I found the very first one and picked it up and opened it.
    Derek,
    Hello from Fort Benning!
    First of all—thank you for your letter. It was such a nice surprise! Please write me as much as you want, kiddo, I love hearing about what you’re doing.
    To answer your questions,
    Yes—basic training (BCT) is hard work. We wake up at 0500 (5:00 a.m.) and our bedtime is 2130 (9:30 p.m.). In between we do a lot of running, marching, shouting, and push-ups. It is VERY important to listen and follow directions—just like it is for you at school. We have classes, too, so it’s kind of like we’re going to school together. Pretty cool, huh?
    No—I don’t have my own bedroom. Instead, I sleep in a very big room with 49 other recruits who are all different ages and come from different backgrounds from all over the country. The guy in the rack (bed) to my right is an 18-year-old from a small town in West Virginia that only has 20 people in it! The recruit on my other side is also 18 but lives in New York City where he is one of millions! Yes—we have been given guns but we have not fired them yet. We are learning how to take care of them first. We take them apart, clean them, and put them back together again and again.