Storky (9 page)

Sydney stood near my locker today after school, but I pretended to be in a big hurry to get home. I’m not asking her to the Snowball or anywhere else.

So tired. I laid awake most of last night stressing over the Rex Incident. For all I know, Sydney wrote up the whole story for the school paper or broadcast it all over the Internet. I was half expecting to find Rex’s picture in the San Diego newspaper today, with the headline Local Boy Finds High School Exciting.

I’m also tired from eating so much. Mom ordered a big Thanksgiving dinner from Albertsons and invited all these people over, and I pigged out. Albertsons sure is better than Mom’s cooking. Duke was supposed to come, but he has strep throat. If I was a decent human being, I’d go visit him.

 

 

 

I wonder what it’s like at Golden Village tonight. I hope they served turkey. And a Jell-O mold thing for those dentally challenged.

I hope Duke’s okay.

Saw Dad without his bimbo delight tonight. The Thighmaster wants him to lose 10 pounds. She’s got him on this diet. Dad has a little tire belly, but it’s not like he’s fat. Since The Thighmaster wasn’t there tonight, me and Dad went to Burger King and each ordered a Double Whopper, fries, onion rings, and a chocolate shake. Sure beats the rabbit food restaurants he’s been taking me to lately.

He seemed so happy to eat normal food, I got up my nerve to ask him the question. “Dad. Once I turn 15 and get my permit, will you teach me to drive?” He said, “No problem.” Yes!

I even thought about telling him stuff like my crush on Gina, and my poetry report, and the Rex Incident. But, I don’t know. It seemed like too much work. I wasn’t sure where to start, or how, or why. Plus he didn’t really ask.

I wish I had something good to say. Like, Hey, Dad, right after I scored the winning soccer goal at the home game, 2 cheerleaders asked me to the Snowball simultaneously. That he’d be interested in.

We mostly just talked about the food and football.

I hope Sydney Holland keeps her mouth shut about the Rex Incident. She stood by my locker after school, twirling her frizzy hair. I gave her this mini-wave, to let her know I saw her but wasn’t exactly thrilled.

Luckily I had Nate with me. We were going to bike to his house. He had leftover sausage pizza, plus the TV.

When Nate and I walked off, she rushed after us, going, “I really want to talk to you, Mike.” At least she didn’t call me Storky. Or something worse, like Stiffy or Woody. I said, “We’re in a hurry,” as if the pizza would explode if we didn’t get there in precisely 9 minutes. And she goes, “I just need to speak to you about something private.” Nate offered to wait by the locker, but I went, “No, no, we have to go.” And I rushed off.

When Nate caught up to me, he asked, “Why did you blow her off? She’s so into you.” I didn’t say anything. Nate said my face was red. He goes, “I bet you like her, but you’re too scared.” I didn’t tell him she saw me with a boner and I think she wants to blackmail me.

What a mess. I’ll deny everything. I’ll say, What was Sydney Holland doing staring at my crotch? I’ll say my johnson’s so big it just looked like it was hard. Oh, man, she better not tell anyone.

I’m never seeing Duke again. And it’s not because he scored 403 points in Scrabble and did a victory lap in his wheelchair with the old geezers cheering him on. Even though that totally bugged.

On his way back from the victory lap, he goes, “Don’t be glum, son. If I can stay alive another decade, you might win a game.” Hahaha. What a laugh riot. I told him, “Lucky you, I’m not your son.” It was supposed to be a joke, I guess, but it didn’t come out that way. More like pathetic.

He got all serious and grabbed my hand in his wrinkly one, which was even worse than Berman’s hand in my hair. He goes, “Your parents should consider themselves quite fortunate. I know your mother does.”

I wanted to say, Spare me. And my hand. Sure, the 1 percent of my time I spend at Golden Village, Mom beams like a flashlight. But the other 99 percent of my time, when I didn’t visit you when you were sick, or when I’m watching TV or inhaling the refrigerator or holed up in the bathroom with that Natalie Portman picture Nate got off the Internet, Mom isn’t high-fiving herself on what a great son she raised.

I told Duke, “Mom likes everyone. Even that hard-ass nurse you say reminds you of Kathy Bates in
Misery
. Mom said she just went into the wrong profession.”

Then he tightened his pruny hand around mine and goes, “It’s your father, isn’t it? You think you haven’t earned his respect. He deserves better than you, right?”

Where did he get that anyway? From Mom? Was she psychoanalyzing me behind my back? Or maybe he just knew I’m too geeky a kid for a dad to be proud of.

It doesn’t matter how he knew, because I’m never seeing him again. I don’t need his crap. I have more than enough adults in my life. Mom. Dad. The Thighmaster. Berm. I don’t need to bike to a nursing home to get harassed about my dad not liking me.

I pulled my hand out and said, “I’m just here for the Scrabble tips.” Then I left so fast, I didn’t even look at him. I hope Duke’s face got as glum as he always said mine was.

Just finished the greatest book in the world. Berm gave it to me.
Catcher in the Rye
. It’s about this teenage guy who’s really smart and doesn’t fit in at school. He goes off on his own one weekend and meets all these phonies and keeps saying
goddamn
and then goes crazy.

Like the whole time I read it, I went, Yeah, that’s right, so true. He had so many observations that I always think about in the back of my mind. He got put in the nuthouse, but it was like the whole universe was off and he was the only sane one.

I’m not telling Berman how much I liked it. He’ll get all proud of himself for giving it to me.

Totally awesome night! I’m so psyched I can’t sleep. I rescued Gina. I’m going on a date with her. I’m like her hero now maybe. Gina might even be writing about me in her journal right now.

It all started when I was sitting on my bed leafing through my old comic books. That’s how bored I was. Amanda and Mom were both out—not together, of course. So when the phone rang, I picked up. I’m so glad I did.

As soon as I said hello, I heard Gina crying on the other end. She said “Mike,” or more like sobbed it, like a 4-syllable name. Mi-i-i-ike.

I go, “What’s wrong?” and then I just heard her gulping. Every time she tried to talk, she kept crying or gulping. Finally, she got out that she’d had this fight with Hunk, and she’d walked by herself in the dark from his house to Denny’s, and she was calling me from the pay phone, and she didn’t want to tell her parents, and she didn’t know what to do.

So I said, “Wait right there, I’ll get you.” Like I could drive. Or owned a car. Or knew when Amanda would be home.

After I hung up, I laid on my bed totally blanking out, going, What did I just say? But I couldn’t let Gina down. I felt sorry for her, but also it was my big chance to be Captain Sensitive, especially with Hunk acting like such a jerk.

So I thought, Taxi, and leapt out of bed and started searching for money. I had $16.25 in my wallet. I grabbed the $2 bill and the Susan B. Anthony dollar I was saving too. I didn’t know if that was enough. It’s not like I take taxis every day. Then I remembered all that change in the junk drawer, so while I waited for the cab, I went through the junk and dug up another $4.13.

The taxi driver didn’t say anything on the way there except, “Vas di address?” He had this really thick accent.

Gina looked so sweet in the Denny’s booth, her makeup all smeared under her dark eyes and a big stain on her blouse. I think it was coffee.

I gave her a hug, and she hugged me back, real long. I should have been psyched, I guess, but I kept thinking how the taxi meter was running and I only had $23.38, which was supposed to be for Christmas and Hanukkah gifts. Plus, Gina said, “I couldn’t think who’d be home on a Saturday night besides you.”

Gina gave me the details in the cab. How Hunk got all pissed that she wouldn’t sleep with him, and called her names. She said if she told me the names, she’d burst into tears. What a jerk. How Hunk said he was sick of waiting. And he wasn’t taking her to the Snowball since he’d be the only junior at our school who didn’t get laid after the dance. Then Gina said she and Heather had just bought semiformal dresses today at Charlotte Russe, but it came out Ru-u-u-usse, because she was crying again.

I gave her another hug. Then the cabdriver goes in his accent, “He take you to dance. Let boy take you.”

That bugged. First of all, I’m supposed to be a man, not a boy. Second of all, how’d he know I wasn’t already going? Could he tell I was a loser that fast? Third of all, why didn’t I think of asking her first?

I said, “Sure I’ll take you,” trying to act like I was doing her a huge favor. Like it was nothing, though I could hardly get the words out. Gina goes, “Really?” I nodded, but I guess she didn’t see me. Then I said yes, but my voice cracked, so I said
yes
again real loud. Then
she
thanked
me
, and I said, “My pleasure,” trying to sound macho. But it came out all soft and she said, “What?” And the cabdriver goes, “He say my pleasures.”

I should have tipped him more than $2. But after shelling out the $19.50 fare, I was pretty broke.

After I walked Gina to her door, she kissed me. On the lips. Just a short little nip. Not a big sexy one like in the movies, but it felt excellent.

When I got in, Mom smelled my breath and checked my eyes in the light. It’s like she’s my probation officer now. Who cares anyway, I’m going to the Snowball! With Gina! Awesome!

Dad couldn’t see me tonight. He’s eating brown rice and getting massages at some spa in Palm Springs.

Fine. Because I need to do a lot of planning for the Snowball anyway. First, how are we supposed to get there? Have Mom drive with that isn’t-my-little-boy-cute look the whole way there? We could double-date with Nate and Heather, but what if they’re making out the whole time and we aren’t? Or what if Heather and Gina hang together all night and leave me and Nate in the dust?

Also, what about clothes? My suit’s from the bar mitzvah circuit era. I doubt it still fits. And I have to buy Gina a corsage and dinner probably too. Where can I get the money? I spent what I had on the taxi. Mom will probably fork some over, since she likes Gina so much. Better be nice to Mom the next 13 days.

Oh, man, I just thought of this: What if Hunk finds out I’m taking Gina to the Snowball and beats the crap out of me? Maybe Gina would feel sorry for me and kiss me and I’d be her hero. A hero for getting the crap beaten out of him?

And I just remembered something else. I can’t dance. What am I going to do the next 13 days? I’m already going nuts.

Bowled a 184 tonight. Since I still have 26 boring days until I get the TV back and Berm said he’d buy me all the junk food I could cram into my mouth, I joined the team. As soon as their old teammate’s thumb heals, they’ll probably kick me off.

The league is through Berm’s temple. He goes to the big reform one in La Jolla. I always wanted to be in a reform temple. You can get bar mitzvahed without learning much Hebrew. And since a lot of the prayers are in English, you can understand what they’re saying. Cubby Horowitz’s bar mitzvah service at that temple was only 84 minutes long.

When I made the bar mitzvah circuit, I always sat in the back and snuck a word search into the prayer book. If there is a God, and You either saw what I did or You’re reading my journal, I hope You’re not pissed off. Actually, I hope You have better things to do with Your time. Like cure AIDS or something.

I didn’t think you could find enough Jews to bowl. I could understand if it was a Chinese restaurant club or a Jewish lawyers club. Berm said his temple even has a camping club. I bet they all use motor homes.