Read Online The Downside of Being Up by Alan Sitomer - Free Book Online Page A

mean, of course I want to kiss her, but, well . . . I wanna ask her because, you know, I kinda like her.”
    â€œYou kinda like her?” Finkelstein said. “Like, you mean, as a person?”
    â€œYeah, is that so abnormal, you dipstick?”
    Finkelstein looked at me like he was just figuring out something he’d never quite realized.
    â€œWhat?” I said.
    â€œYou got it bad for this little blueberry pancake, don’t you?”
    â€œShut up, Finkelstein.”
    â€œ He-hurrggh, he-hurrggh . You gotta ask her, Bobby.”
    I leaned up close to the wall like one of those undercover cops in a detective show and peeked back around the corner.
    â€œNo way.”
    â€œYes way.”
    â€œNo way.”
    â€œ Yes way.”
    Allison brushed a strand of hair behind her ears.
    Jeez, just looking at this girl gave me the tingles. Weak stomach. Unsteady legs. Fuzzy brain. And I’d really never had the tingles before. Not like this. Just the sight of her made my cranium spin.
    I gazed at Allison for a moment more.
    â€œYa think?” I said to Finkelstein. “Ya really think I should?”
    â€œI know you should,” he answered. “Trust me, chicks love it when you take firm control.”
    â€œAnd how do you know that?”
    â€œSunrise and carrots, bay-bee. Subconsciously, it’s a color scheme that communicates power.”
    Finkelstein licked his thumb and then brushed back his eyebrows with spit.
    â€œThey’re gonna lock you up one day. You know that, right, Finkelstein?” I said.
    â€œ He-hurrggh, he-hurrggh . Just go ask her.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œGo!” he said, pushing me into the hall.
    â€œAll right,” I answered. “Don’t push, don’t push.”
    I stumbled up to Allison. Godzilla-size butterfly wings fluttered in my stomach. “Um . . . hi,” I said.
    Jennie and Pam, the two softball players she was talking with, left us alone to chat after a small giggle.
    â€œSee ya later,” Allison said to them.
    â€œBye,” they said in singsong reply.
    Allison and I stood there for a moment in awkward silence, the buzz of kids goofing off and chatting in the halls all around us.
    â€œUm, hi,” I said.
    â€œHi,” she answered.
    There was a pause.
    â€œYeah . . . um, hi,” I said again.
    â€œYou already said that,” she replied. But she said it with a smile. Allison Summers had the kind of teeth dentists would use in Super Bowl commercials.
    â€œI did?” Somebody lightly bumped me with their backpack and then walked on.
    â€œYes, you did.”
    â€œOh, well, I just wanted to make sure you felt hello-ed enough,” I told her.
    â€œHello-ed enough?”
    â€œUm, yeah,” I said. “Hello-ed enough.”
    â€œExplain.”
    â€œExplain?”
    â€œUh-huh.” Allison shifted her books from one arm to the other. “Explain.”
    â€œOkay.” I took a deep breath, not having any idea what I was about to say. “See, sometimes people don’t really say hi all that well. They just kinda jump into conversation and start rambling and you can’t hardly follow them at all. But a good hi at the start of the conversation prevents people from getting too far off track. That’s why I wanted to make sure you felt hello-ed enough, to stay on track and not ramble and be a good hello-er.”
    Well, it was a good relationship while it lasted, I thought, but now that I had just proven to be the biggest putzwad she’d ever met, I guess it was back to the Land of I-Have-No-Idea-How-to-Talk-to-Girls for another few hundred years.
    Allison wrinkled her nose. I wondered if Guinness World Records had a category for the shortest relationship in middle school history.
    A teacher walking down the hallway checked his cell phone. A girl with curly hair and glasses took a drink from a water fountain. Time stood completely still.
    â€œOh,” said