Read Online The Other Normals by Ned Vizzini - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ned Vizzini
Tags: General Fiction
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He’s quite timid.”
“Hey!”
Gamary picks up his ax and heads for the door. “I’m sending one of my interns to look after you. Just in case.”
“Who? Your punk kid?”
“He’s a good kid.”
Before he leaves, Gamary has final words for me: “Princess boy, I’m not a centaur. I’m an okapicentaur .” He puffs his chest out. “That’s part man, part okapi, like the African ungulate. What are you, racist?”
I can’t think of a good answer in time, so he leaves shaking his head. I don’t think I’ve earned his respect.
31
“I’M NOT GOING BACK TO CAMP, OKAY? I’d like to make that clear. I’d also like a full explanation of what’s happening,” I tell Mortin and Ada.
“No problem. Get up here,” Mortin says, hitting a lever. A wooden table swings out of the wall and chunks into place. He pats it like doctors do when they want you to sit for an examination. As I consider heading over versus making a run for it, the door reopens and a new visitor enters.
He’s a guy, not a centaur, but not quite human. He looks like Ada: light-blue hair, pointy ears. He seems about my age, in a leather vest with a getma over his crotch. He has streamlined muscles, pale arms full of spiral tattoos, and a lip ring. I always hated lip rings. His sneer is familiar; I’ve seen it on the faces of people who make fun of me in school, all the way back to Justin Racho and Jacoby Myers. It’s the sneer of a bully. Ada glares at him. Mortin scowls at him. I see that neither of them trust him, but under Ada’s dislike I suspect an appreciation of his triceps.
“Don’t mind me; I’m just here to make sure you all observe protocol.”
“Ryu, good to see you,” Mortin says.
“Ryu? Hold up. Ryu like at camp?”
“Excuse me? Don’t speak to me, tweak.”
“What’s a tweak? That’s rude. Do you have to be rude?”
“You are a tweak. It’s not my fault you don’t know it. I can call you whatever I want.”
“No, you can call me Perry. Pleased to meet you.” I stick out my hand. I’ve been shaking a lot of people’s hands lately. “I’m from New York. Brooklyn. Well. My parents are divorced—”
Ryu ignores my hand but perks up at the word Brooklyn .
“Do you know the Beastie Boys?” he asks.
“Uh … I know some of their videos.”
“You don’t know them personally?”
“No.”
“Then what do I need you for? You two carry on; send him back.”
“On the table,” Mortin reminds me.
“No, wait, stop!” I stand my ground. “How am I meeting two people named Ryu in one day? That’s not normal.”
“You’re still concerned about normal?” Mortin asks.
“You got a problem with my name?” Ryu presses.
“Look: I get punched in the head by a kid at camp named Ryu, and now there’s a Ryu here with blue hair? That’s not a coincidence. Dreams are used to store memories. Is that what’s happening right now? I don’t want this to be a dream because it’s a lot better than my real life, but I need one of you to start explaining. If my parents find out I’ve been kidnapped to the ‘World of the Other Normals,’ they’re going to find their lawyers—”
“Didn’t your parents leave their lawyers in the woods?” Ada asks.
“How do you know that? I assume they picked them up—”
“Perry,” Mortin says. “All we want to do is check out your ankle. How does it feel?”
I touch it—after all the itching and subsequent excitement, I forgot about it, but now it throbs. “Hurts.”
“Good. Where there’s pain, there’s life.”
Mortin pulls another lever on the wall. A system of pulleys squeaks to life, and the room’s ceiling slides back like a mechanical football dome. It reveals a gargantuan pool of water above, held in by clear glass. I shield my eyes. The water stretches up far enough to erase any chance of gauging its depth. Light pours in from the top. It’s bright and blue and clear, with no fish or plants of any kind. As soon as I see it, I hear a
“Hey!”
Gamary picks up his ax and heads for the door. “I’m sending one of my interns to look after you. Just in case.”
“Who? Your punk kid?”
“He’s a good kid.”
Before he leaves, Gamary has final words for me: “Princess boy, I’m not a centaur. I’m an okapicentaur .” He puffs his chest out. “That’s part man, part okapi, like the African ungulate. What are you, racist?”
I can’t think of a good answer in time, so he leaves shaking his head. I don’t think I’ve earned his respect.
31
“I’M NOT GOING BACK TO CAMP, OKAY? I’d like to make that clear. I’d also like a full explanation of what’s happening,” I tell Mortin and Ada.
“No problem. Get up here,” Mortin says, hitting a lever. A wooden table swings out of the wall and chunks into place. He pats it like doctors do when they want you to sit for an examination. As I consider heading over versus making a run for it, the door reopens and a new visitor enters.
He’s a guy, not a centaur, but not quite human. He looks like Ada: light-blue hair, pointy ears. He seems about my age, in a leather vest with a getma over his crotch. He has streamlined muscles, pale arms full of spiral tattoos, and a lip ring. I always hated lip rings. His sneer is familiar; I’ve seen it on the faces of people who make fun of me in school, all the way back to Justin Racho and Jacoby Myers. It’s the sneer of a bully. Ada glares at him. Mortin scowls at him. I see that neither of them trust him, but under Ada’s dislike I suspect an appreciation of his triceps.
“Don’t mind me; I’m just here to make sure you all observe protocol.”
“Ryu, good to see you,” Mortin says.
“Ryu? Hold up. Ryu like at camp?”
“Excuse me? Don’t speak to me, tweak.”
“What’s a tweak? That’s rude. Do you have to be rude?”
“You are a tweak. It’s not my fault you don’t know it. I can call you whatever I want.”
“No, you can call me Perry. Pleased to meet you.” I stick out my hand. I’ve been shaking a lot of people’s hands lately. “I’m from New York. Brooklyn. Well. My parents are divorced—”
Ryu ignores my hand but perks up at the word Brooklyn .
“Do you know the Beastie Boys?” he asks.
“Uh … I know some of their videos.”
“You don’t know them personally?”
“No.”
“Then what do I need you for? You two carry on; send him back.”
“On the table,” Mortin reminds me.
“No, wait, stop!” I stand my ground. “How am I meeting two people named Ryu in one day? That’s not normal.”
“You’re still concerned about normal?” Mortin asks.
“You got a problem with my name?” Ryu presses.
“Look: I get punched in the head by a kid at camp named Ryu, and now there’s a Ryu here with blue hair? That’s not a coincidence. Dreams are used to store memories. Is that what’s happening right now? I don’t want this to be a dream because it’s a lot better than my real life, but I need one of you to start explaining. If my parents find out I’ve been kidnapped to the ‘World of the Other Normals,’ they’re going to find their lawyers—”
“Didn’t your parents leave their lawyers in the woods?” Ada asks.
“How do you know that? I assume they picked them up—”
“Perry,” Mortin says. “All we want to do is check out your ankle. How does it feel?”
I touch it—after all the itching and subsequent excitement, I forgot about it, but now it throbs. “Hurts.”
“Good. Where there’s pain, there’s life.”
Mortin pulls another lever on the wall. A system of pulleys squeaks to life, and the room’s ceiling slides back like a mechanical football dome. It reveals a gargantuan pool of water above, held in by clear glass. I shield my eyes. The water stretches up far enough to erase any chance of gauging its depth. Light pours in from the top. It’s bright and blue and clear, with no fish or plants of any kind. As soon as I see it, I hear a
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