and can’t talk.”
“I can talk.”
“Well, that’s obvious.”
“Actually, I’m trying very hard not to be retarded.”
“Oh. That’s admirable.” Aleah stared at me hard.
“Yeah. It’s hard work.”
“Yes. I know.” Aleah stared at me harder.
“I have to deliver more papers, okay?”
“Okay.” Aleah stared at me so hard I thought my head might catch fire.
“You play piano really, really, really well,” I said, saying the final “really” really slow so she could tell I meant it.
“Thank you.”
“I know too because my little brother is the best piano player of his age group in…in the world, I’d guess, and he isn’t even close to as good as you.”
She walked a few steps closer, across the living room. She spoke slowly. “Is his name Andrew?”
“Yes.” I backed up a step, out the door.
“Do you know your mom called here?” Aleah got to the door and put her hand on the screen to hold it open.
I backed to the edge of the stoop.
“Yes.”
“Then maybe you know that me and my daddy are coming over to your house this afternoon.”
“I do. I’m going to deliver my newspapers, Aleah.”
“And you know my name,” she said.
“I do. I’ll see you later.”
I turned, jogged to my bike, got on, and pedaled away.
“Wait,” she called. “I don’t know your name.”
“Felton,” I called back.
“What?”
But that was enough. Man. Then I delivered all the rest of the papers in mere minutes because I was on beautiful fire.
When I got home, the sun was exploding orange in all its glory over the bluffs east of town, and Jerri was out on the stoop drinking coffee.
I forgot my pledge to not talk to her.
“Good morning, Jerri,” I said.
Jerri squinted at me. Maybe she made a similar pledge she hadn’t forgotten.
“Umm,” she said.
Okay.
I went in and ate two enormous herb bagels I found in the fridge. I ate them with mounds of cream cheese. The bagels were great. Super fresh. And the sun was bright and the sky clear, and I actually talked to a girl, a pretty and talented girl, without running away immediately, which I hadn’t done since fifth grade when Abby Sauter was actually my friend for a few weeks. I mean, what a great morning!
Then I remembered Cody Frederick and breathed deep and fought the response to be worried.
Weights. Coach Johnson. Maybe Ken Johnson? That chuckleheaded fat fart Jason Reese for sure. Fine. Fine. No problem. You can do it.
Then Jerri walked in and looked in the fridge. “Did you eat both bagels, Felton?”
“Yes.”
“One of those was for Andrew. You’re selfish.”
Then Andrew walked in and shouted, “You ate my bagel? You ass brain jerk!”
I continued to chew and look out the window. Aleah Jennings playing piano in a white nightie—that’s what I thought about. And also this: My family is nuts. I’d better not be here when Aleah comes for her visit. It will likely be a complete disaster.
After my breakfast, I checked email again. Gus had not returned my message. I wrote: listen up…a beautiful girl our age plays piano in your house and sleeps in your bedroom.
I didn’t really know where she slept but hoped that bit of info would at least pique his interest.
It didn’t seem to.
CHAPTER 15: SO BIG!
I say this respectfully because Cody Frederick is probably the best person I know, seriously, but Cody’s truck smells vaguely like pee in the same way he smells vaguely pee-like. Sorry. Maybe my nose is just super-smelling, which is bad?
At 9 a.m., the vaguely pee-smelling Cody Frederick came by the house and picked me up in his vaguely pee-smelling pickup truck, which was sort of cool. I’d never ridden in a pickup truck, pee-smelling or otherwise. You get to ride really high in the air compared to the low Hyundai Sonata that Jerri drives. You get to see stuff. I considered the possibility that I should buy a pickup truck after figuring out how to get my permit and then getting my driver’s license (and saving
“I can talk.”
“Well, that’s obvious.”
“Actually, I’m trying very hard not to be retarded.”
“Oh. That’s admirable.” Aleah stared at me hard.
“Yeah. It’s hard work.”
“Yes. I know.” Aleah stared at me harder.
“I have to deliver more papers, okay?”
“Okay.” Aleah stared at me so hard I thought my head might catch fire.
“You play piano really, really, really well,” I said, saying the final “really” really slow so she could tell I meant it.
“Thank you.”
“I know too because my little brother is the best piano player of his age group in…in the world, I’d guess, and he isn’t even close to as good as you.”
She walked a few steps closer, across the living room. She spoke slowly. “Is his name Andrew?”
“Yes.” I backed up a step, out the door.
“Do you know your mom called here?” Aleah got to the door and put her hand on the screen to hold it open.
I backed to the edge of the stoop.
“Yes.”
“Then maybe you know that me and my daddy are coming over to your house this afternoon.”
“I do. I’m going to deliver my newspapers, Aleah.”
“And you know my name,” she said.
“I do. I’ll see you later.”
I turned, jogged to my bike, got on, and pedaled away.
“Wait,” she called. “I don’t know your name.”
“Felton,” I called back.
“What?”
But that was enough. Man. Then I delivered all the rest of the papers in mere minutes because I was on beautiful fire.
When I got home, the sun was exploding orange in all its glory over the bluffs east of town, and Jerri was out on the stoop drinking coffee.
I forgot my pledge to not talk to her.
“Good morning, Jerri,” I said.
Jerri squinted at me. Maybe she made a similar pledge she hadn’t forgotten.
“Umm,” she said.
Okay.
I went in and ate two enormous herb bagels I found in the fridge. I ate them with mounds of cream cheese. The bagels were great. Super fresh. And the sun was bright and the sky clear, and I actually talked to a girl, a pretty and talented girl, without running away immediately, which I hadn’t done since fifth grade when Abby Sauter was actually my friend for a few weeks. I mean, what a great morning!
Then I remembered Cody Frederick and breathed deep and fought the response to be worried.
Weights. Coach Johnson. Maybe Ken Johnson? That chuckleheaded fat fart Jason Reese for sure. Fine. Fine. No problem. You can do it.
Then Jerri walked in and looked in the fridge. “Did you eat both bagels, Felton?”
“Yes.”
“One of those was for Andrew. You’re selfish.”
Then Andrew walked in and shouted, “You ate my bagel? You ass brain jerk!”
I continued to chew and look out the window. Aleah Jennings playing piano in a white nightie—that’s what I thought about. And also this: My family is nuts. I’d better not be here when Aleah comes for her visit. It will likely be a complete disaster.
After my breakfast, I checked email again. Gus had not returned my message. I wrote: listen up…a beautiful girl our age plays piano in your house and sleeps in your bedroom.
I didn’t really know where she slept but hoped that bit of info would at least pique his interest.
It didn’t seem to.
CHAPTER 15: SO BIG!
I say this respectfully because Cody Frederick is probably the best person I know, seriously, but Cody’s truck smells vaguely like pee in the same way he smells vaguely pee-like. Sorry. Maybe my nose is just super-smelling, which is bad?
At 9 a.m., the vaguely pee-smelling Cody Frederick came by the house and picked me up in his vaguely pee-smelling pickup truck, which was sort of cool. I’d never ridden in a pickup truck, pee-smelling or otherwise. You get to ride really high in the air compared to the low Hyundai Sonata that Jerri drives. You get to see stuff. I considered the possibility that I should buy a pickup truck after figuring out how to get my permit and then getting my driver’s license (and saving
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