Mom fell all over herself thanking him and putting the bouquets in water and setting them on the table. Amanda sat on the couch reading A Secret Splendor.
Dr. Verm goes to me, “I got flowers for you too.” I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at him. Then he goes, “Nah,” and shows me the Ben & Jerry’s bag and messes with my hair. What idiot told him teenagers like getting their heads rubbed?
I thought things would go bad, but they didn’t. It’s because of Mom’s stupid cabbage soup diet. Why she suddenly cares about her weight is beyond me, since Vermin is like 250 pounds easy. But all she’s been eating for the last 3 days is this stinky red soup.
She wasn’t going to make the rest of us eat that crap. Especially not Verm. She cooked her Company Dinner, sweet-and-sour chicken, rice, asparagus, and salad. We sat around all awkward, Dr. Vermin asking me and Amanda the usual adult questions—what grade are you in, what classes are you taking, blah blah blah—and we mostly gave one-word answers.
Then when everyone was almost done eating, Mom cut one. A real loud fart, mondo strong. Easy to tell who it was too. Mom’s ears turned bright red and she stared down at her food while the rest of us looked around the table.
Finally Verm goes, “My God, Geraldine, what did you put in that chicken?” He started laughing, and then Amanda and I busted up. Mom ran from the table, going, “I’m so embarrassed, excuse me, I’m so sorry.” Then Verm said, “I can’t eat with this smell,” and he got up too, opened the window and sat on the couch.
Me and Amanda practically had to crawl to the couch, we were cracking up so bad. Then Mom came in with the Floral Fantasy Lysol from the bathroom and sprayed around the table like crazy. She was laughing too. Dr. Verm went over to Mom and put his arm around her, and that’s when Amanda and I stopped laughing.
Mom told Verm I bowled a 205 on Sunday. He’s in a league. His highest is 226. I guess Mom thinks since we have something in common, now we can be total pals. Yeah, right. Dr. Vermin could be worse though. I mean, compared to The Thighmaster he’s fantastic.
Saturday, October 16
Gina called to have me summarize Huckleberry Finn before the English test Monday. She said that the Hunk took her to the Outback Steakhouse last night and held her hand all through dinner again and that it was starting to bug. She goes, “It’s hard to eat with only one hand, and I wish I’d ordered something easier than steak.”
I went into Captain Sensitive mode. Told her I ate steak last night too, but with both hands, and I could see how she’d be having problems. I must seem so nice and understanding to Gina compared to the Hunk. Although girls might not like guys who are nice and understanding. Maybe I should act like a jerk.
Sunday, October 17
Dad said he can’t make it tonight because he has an upset stomach. How lame. Who cares anyway.
At least Duke was glad to see me after I biked over to Golden Village. Today he asked how I could be so glum when my own mother looked so happy. I go, “It’s because she’s seeing this jerk.” When he asked what made him a jerk, I had to think awhile before I said, “He’s fat and he’s a dentist.” Then Duke smiles and goes, “And he’s not your father.” I told him he’s a hair ruffler. But Duke just did that big head-shaking laugh and used festoon to get rid of all his letters and win another game.
Monday, October 18
The TV is here! I wonder where Mom stashed it all month. When I woke up this morning, I was like those kids in the dorky Christmas commercials, bounding down the stairs, all set to maul their presents. I ripped through the channels with the remote, catching cartoons, MTV, a Hot Babe Exercise Show. Awesome.
Then, just to ruin my morning, Gina and Hunk stood at the front gate of school kissing like he was going off to war, his big monster hands planted on her little butt. It was so gross. I’m embarrassed for her. No, I’m not. I’m jealous.
But at least she can talk to me. At least we have things in common, like Scrabble and journal writing and being gifted. What do her and Hunk ever talk about? Maybe they don’t. Maybe they just make out all the time.
Tuesday, October 19
I hate school. Duke better be right about high school not being the best time of my life. If it is, then life sucks. At lunch today, I went to the bathroom and Stretch Barron stood inside the doorway totally blocking me. His stupid hairy basketball friends leaned on the dirty walls behind him, passing a big thermos around. I bet anything there was booze in there. He goes, “Seniors only, kid.”
I had to walk all the way to the other side of school. I couldn’t go to the bathroom near the admin building, since that’s where Joey Hawkins got beat up last week and some sophomore got dunked headfirst in the toilet.
I finally made it to a bathroom I could enter without fearing for my life. Then some guy I don’t know at all said, “Hey, Storky” on his way out. And just as I got some relief, right at eye level someone had written, “Amanda Pomerantz is a total tease.” You really don’t want to be looking at graffiti about your sister while you’re trying to take a whiz.
It got me wondering if maybe Amanda is a virgin. But she can’t be. She’s so popular and she goes out with so many guys and I’ve seen her kissing them by our front door lots of times. Then I started thinking what a perv I was just wondering about my sister that way. Then I thought I better remember to zip my fly, so I did and got out of there. I hate school.
Wednesday, October 20
I feel like a hero. I got to school early today, snuck a thick black marker into that bathroom, and blackened out Amanda’s name from the stall. I didn’t even tell her about it. Captain Sensitive strikes again. Then, I couldn’t help it, I wrote M.P.+ G.G. on the wall. I’m sick.
Friday, October 22
It’s Friday night and I hung with my mother and her boyfriend all night. Pathetic.
Mom and Dr. Vermin were supposed to take line-dancing lessons tonight at this country-and-western bar. Mom’s idea. Stuff like that makes me know where I get my dorkiness from. She wore Amanda’s plaid shirt and these new overalls that made her look like a scarecrow. Adults shouldn’t wear overalls. Unless they’re genuinely doing farmwork. Just like teenagers shouldn’t wear polyester unless they work in a fast-food restaurant.
Dr. Verm didn’t dress up at all. He must have khakis in every shade of beige ever made. That’s all he ever wears. Plus he had on a polo shirt, which is the other thing he always wears. I was hoping the cowboys at the bar would kick his ass for being such a Biff.
Soon as he saw me he went, “Hi, Mikey” and lunged for my hair. I ducked out of the way, and he ended up rubbing the air. He goes, “Just trying to say hey,” and I go, “It’s annoying.” Verm did one of those isn’t-he-cute chuckles that makes you want to punch the person. “You don’t like when I mess with your hair, Mikey?” he asks. I told him I hate it, and my name is Mike, not Mikey. He did that laugh again and slapped me on the back in a way I guess he thought would make me feel macho. It was just extremely irritating.
Then Mom comes in with her piece of paper showing her cell phone number and his. Like I’m going to call them ever.
As Mom and Verm were leaving, the cordless phone rang. Mom’s like, “I have to answer it in case it’s Amanda.” Amanda was out with this senior with a shell on his truck. Motel 6 on Wheels. Mom says hello, and then, “Calm down, Marsha, what happened?” I’m thinking maybe Grandma died, but as I listened more, I got that June dumped her. Sad.
Verm said, “This is going to be a long one.” He sat next to me on the couch. Animal House was on, so we watched John Belushi do his zit imitation. Verm goes, “This is such a classic, I bet I’ve seen this movie 10 times.” In the kitchen Mom kept telling Aunt Marsha to calm down while me and Dr. Vermin laughed our heads off in the living room.
It sort of reminded me of when I was 9, before the Divorce, and we all went to see the Harlem Globetrotters. Dad and I almost fell off our seats we thought it was so funny, but Amanda and Mom just sat there yawning. I remember we shared t
his huge carton of smelly nachos. Dad would point at one of the Globetrotters spinning the ball on his head or dribbling the ball between his legs a million miles per hour and go, “Look at that, Champ,” or, “How does he do that, Champ?” I don’t know when he stopped calling me Champ. I’m just Mike now.
Of course, laughing on the couch with Verm isn’t the same as laughing with Dad. But anyway, it felt kind of good. I knew Verm was happy to be there too, compared to line dancing.
But I still think he’s a jerk. And not just because he’s probably boinking Mom. I forgot to tell Duke about Verm smelling like dental office and calling me Mikey. When he finds that out, he’ll have to agree Verm’s a jerk.
It took Mom about a half hour to hang up from Aunt Marsha’s phone call. She asked Verm to go dancing, but he said it was too late and he wanted to see the final parade scene, which is the funniest part of the movie. Mom watched it with us, but she just smiled and shook her head while me and Verm were practically doubled over.
When it ended, Verm said we should all go to Baskin-Robbins. I almost said yes. But then I thought they’d probably hold hands in there, and I’d have to watch them be all flirty. So I said no, I’m tired. Then Mom runs into the kitchen and pulls out the ice cream.
It wasn’t too bad hanging out with them. Actually, pretty decent. Verm even asked me to join his bowling league. But that’s where I draw the line.
Saturday, October 23
Totally bummed. I wish Gina hadn’t leftof the way through our Scrabble game. Just finished putting it away by myself. Which is really hard. Usually Gina holds the bag and I pick up the board and dump the letters in. Without someone holding the bag it takes a lot longer. Maybe she’ll call me tomorrow and apologize. I thought she would tonight. She’s probably out with Hunk. So much for my grand plan of using my Scrabble skills to get her all excited.
She and Amanda are the only people at school who know I play Scrabble. Some guys hide Playboy magazines under their beds. I hide my Scrabble dictionary. It’s so geeky to make lists of good words. That list of q words with no u in them is really helpful though. I used qat and qaid today against Gina.
She played Scrabble with the Incredible Hunk last week. From how Gina told it, I could tell he sucked. Gina said he just wasn’t concentrating enough. Sure. I bet she played easy on him too. Whenever she mentions him, she gets this huge smile that stays on the whole time she’s talking. Her upper lip hardly moves. It’s weird.
I guess I could see how a girl could think he’s a hunk. He’s always wearing those tank tops showing off his monster muscles. I hate guys who wear tank tops. When I see a guy wearing a tank top, I know he thinks he has a great body. He’s got big white teeth too. Dr. Vermin would love him.
Where was I? So when this whole thing started, I thought it was my lucky day. Gina wore my favorite red shorts, and I had a 7-letter word, quivers, with room for it to go up to the triple word square. The q alone was worth 30 points. You can’t ask for more.
I had to wait for Gina to take her turn. She took a real long time. Even for her. And it’s hard sitting with a 7-letter word like that and waiting your turn. So I go, “I hope you’re not as slow with the Hunk as you are with me.”
She got all offended. She goes, “What do you mean by that?” in a way that would have sounded bitchy if her voice wasn’t so high and squeaky. I told her it was just a stupid joke, but she said it’s not funny. I go, “I just wanted you to hurry.” Then she said, really angry, “Everyone’s trying to hurry me all the time. Can’t I just sit in a truck or think about my Scrabble game? Why can’t anyone wait anymore?”
We’ve played about 100 games of Scrabble at least, and I’ve asked her to hurry up only about 10 times. And she always plays slow. I thought I was very patient. So then I said in a very patient way, “I’m sorry. Take as much time as you want.”
That’s when she started crying. Not like loud crying. I could just see these tears dripping down her cheeks and her little hands trying to wipe them away really fast, like if she could only get them off her face quick enough, I wouldn’t notice.
Before I could figure out whether to turn my head away or hug her or what, she stood up and said, “I have to go home.” I sat there, nodding. It was just so weird. One minute she’s fine, joking about school, and the next second she’s crying because I asked her to hurry up.
I never even got to show her I had quivers over a triple word spot. Now she probably won’t believe I really had it. Although I doubt I’ll ever bring this up. It’s too weird.
Sunday, October 24
I’m so sick of Dad. He and The Thighmaster are on this big health kick together, so we had to go to Veggie Heaven, which tastes even worse than its name. I don’t know if there’s a heaven, but I’m positive there aren’t any veggies in it.
The whole time I had to listen to The Thighmaster lecture about the calories in everything. Which actually was pretty impressive in a wacked way. She knew the exact calorie count of every food.
At home afterward, as I polished off the leftover spaghetti and meatballs, I told Amanda that The Thighmaster was just like a strand of spaghetti, except skinnier and with less brains. Amanda goes, “It really bothers you, doesn’t it? Dad always bringing someone along.” “Yeah,” I said. “It bugs.” She goes, “Tell him.” I explained how I couldn’t, because his bimbo delight’s always there with her hand attached to Dad’s thigh, and it would just start a huge fight. Amanda goes, “Call him up.”
Mom didn’t say anything. She just sat at the kitchen table biting her nails and looking at the Tax Code. One of those psychological books she’s always reading must say to stay out of stuff between your kids and your ex. I’m sure she was just dying. It has to be torture for her to stay quiet for so long. I appreciate it, I guess.
I think I will phone him. Tell him how I feel. In a mature way. I’ll be Captain Sensitive, all polite and calm, and just say I’d like some one-on-one with you.
Maybe I should call Gina too. But what would I tell her? I’m sorry for making you cry by telling a joke? I promise to never kid around again? I should just concentrate my microscopic ability to communicate on the Dad call.
Monday, October 25
PROPOSED CALL TO DAD 1. Dad? (Hello. How are you. No, nothing’s wrong. Blah blah blah.)
2. I was hoping we could have more time together on Sunday nights.
3. Dad, stop choking over the phone. I didn’t mean you’d have to pick me up any earlier. I meant more one-on-one time.
4. Your girlfriend seems very nice. (Puke.)
5. But when there’s more than just us, me and you don’t seem to bond very well. (Mesh? Relate? Too new-agey?)
6. Would it be possible just to see you by yourself this Sunday? (Without the bimbo delight.)
Yeah, that sounds good. I think I’ll use the word bond. He’s into that psyche stuff. I remember him talking about Bonding as a New Kind of Family when he said he was moving out. Even then, when I was 12, I thought it sounded like bull. I’ll definitely call him tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 26
I have to call Dad. By tomorrow afternoon. As soon as I get home from school. I have to get this off my chest. Besides, if I can get the Dad situation cleared up, maybe I won’t be such a wuss about apologizing to Gina.
Thursday, October 28
Went to Nate’s house tonight. He asked if I wanted to smoke pot. That’s all I need—something that turns me all quiet and makes me want to eat a lot. I’m already quiet and I already eat a lot. He was cool about it when I said no.
If I was stoned now, I wouldn’t be so pissed at myself for not calling Dad.
Friday, October 29
I admit it. I’m too much of a wimp to call Dad. So I wouldn’t be a total wuss, I called Gina. She was out. Of course. It’s Friday night. Everyone’s out except me.
I wonder what it’s like to have sex. Not necessarily with Gina, but just to have sex with a girl. Preferably Gina though. I don’t really understand how you�
��re supposed to go all in and out of a girl unless you’re an acrobat or something. Plus, doesn’t it hurt the girl to have some guy bouncing around on top of her? Especially Gina, with her little bones.
Maybe not someone like Sydney Holland, who’s on the swim team. Sydney’s arms look really solid. Her legs are probably strong too. I bet she has great legs. Maybe sex is like doing the butterfly stroke without water. I never learned that one though. I can barely do the crawl. Sydney could go on top.
I’m a perv. Mom better not be reading this journal.
Saturday, October 30
Gina called back. I apologized for making that joke last Saturday, and then she finally apologized to me. She said she was all stressed, but wouldn’t tell me why.
She would have told me a few years ago. She even used to read me parts of her journal over the phone. She said I was a great listener. Even as a kid, I was a budding Captain Sensitive. That’s when we were good, true friends.
Sunday, October 31
I’m sitting at the computer practically shaking. I don’t know who I’m more mad at, Dad or Amanda. Or myself. I should have called Dad last week instead of putting it off. I hope Amanda gets into one of those faraway colleges she applied to. I can’t handle living with her one more year.
First, Dad picked me up 23 minutes late. He honks the horn and there’s The Thighmaster, sitting in the front seat of his Lexus, waving like a Rose Bowl queen. Why does she always get the front? I can’t wait until Dad teaches me to drive and the bimbo delights get the backseat.
Storky Page 4
