Read Online The Trouble in Me by Jack Gantos - Free Book Online

it around to unclog his throat.
    â€œWhy?” I replied.
    He turned toward Gary and swallowed hard. “Did you tell him how to play this game?” he asked. “Because if he gets harpooned like Eddie the Whale when we played Olympic Moby-Dick, I don’t want to be arrested.”
    Gary shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said. “Here is the short description of the game.”
    He bent over and lowered the can of diesel fuel and began to screw the cap back onto the spout.
    â€œFirst I pour the plastic bucket of fuel on the pool and then give it a few minutes until it’s pretty much evenly spread over the surface of the water. Once I set it on fire,” he explained as he pointed toward the diving board, “then I turn off the pool light and go stand at the tip of the board, where you can now see that I already have that half box of twelve M-80s. You two Japanese mini-submarines dive into the water, and then I count to ten with my eyes closed and when I open them I light the fuse on an M-80 and throw it in such a way that it lands just above you and blows you out of the water and you surrender—end of game.”
    I was trying not to look afraid. The M-80 was the most powerful firecracker in the world. It would blow mailboxes to smithereens. Watermelons were turned into red rain. It was like a suburban hand grenade. There was no doubt that it could blow the top of your head off.
    Frankie must have seen the fear on my face. “There’s a trick to the whole thing,” he said casually. “Just stay belly-down on the bottom like a gator. The fuses are short and they blow up before they can sink down and get close to you.”
    â€œHe’s right,” Gary agreed. “Just hug the bottom.”
    â€œWhat do you do about breathing?” I asked, trying to sound practical.
    â€œI have my adjustable snorkel,” Frankie said, and shrugged. “And a tennis racket.”
    â€œI don’t,” I replied, and turned toward Gary.
    â€œA snorkel is for sissies,” Gary said derisively, and flashed his eyes at Frankie. “It just gets in the way of the strategy.”
    â€œWhat strategy?” I asked, eager for some survival tips.
    â€œWell,” he said, “let’s say I throw a lit M-80 at you when you surface to breathe—right away you have two options. Either you can dive for your life, or you can show some manhood and catch the M-80 in one hand and wing it back at me and hope to blow my face off and win the game.”
    I looked over at Frankie. He was getting impatient. He kept adjusting all his gear and fidgeting with this and that. Finally he blurted out, “No one yet has gone for the option of catching the M-80 because if it goes off in your hand they’ll soon be calling you Captain Hook. So I’ve now included the tennis racket.”
    Gary lunged forward and yanked the tennis racket from Frankie’s hand.
    â€œCheater,” he sneered, and threw the racket toward the canal. “I don’t like people who can’t play by the Pagoda Olympics rules.”
    â€œBut the racket gives me a safer option,” Frankie whined. “I can just swat it back at you.”
    â€œWe have already agreed to the established options,” Gary insisted, like a TV lawyer, “and there will be no deviations.” Gary then turned toward me. “Now, since you are the guest, Sailor Jack, you have the honor of kicking off the game.”
    Right away I liked being called Sailor Jack. It sounded cooler than Flame-Out and I figured a second nickname meant he already thought of me as a friend.
    It was a warm feeling that passed through me, and another feeling, too, one even better, was that Gary already preferred me over his own brother. I’d have to keep an eye on Frankie, I thought, to make sure he didn’t give away my hiding spots.
    â€œSailor Jack, you did a masterful job starting the grill, so you should enjoy