Sleeping Freshmen Never Lie (5 page)

“Better stop,” Kyle said, “or she’ll call the cops on you.”

Mitch turned his stare toward Kyle. “Obviously, you know nothing about girls.”

“And you do?” Kyle said.

Mitch nodded. “She’s been checking me out.”

“Then go talk with her,” Kyle said.

“I will when I’m ready.”

“No, you won’t,” Kyle said. “You’re chicken.”

“Watch and learn.” Mitch got up and strolled across the cafeteria.

“Oh, my God,” Patrick said. “He’s going to do it.”

Kyle shook his head. “This won’t be pretty. She’ll shoot him right down.” He formed a gun with his hands and made shooting sounds.

I figured he was right. The girl was at least a sophomore. No way she’d be interested in a freshman. Still, I couldn’t help rooting for Mitch. If just one of us made it out of the cave, that meant there was hope for everyone. And while I’d chew off my own tongue before admitting it out loud, he was probably the best-looking guy in our group.

We all stared when Mitch started talking to the girl. We stared even harder when he sat down next to her. I felt like I was watching a nature film about the mating dances of adolescent humans. Mitch spoke. The girl nodded and smiled. Then she spoke. Lips moved. Words flowed. They looked very much like two people having a conversation. Or exchanging propositions.

“Let’s do some Tom Swifties,” I said after I got tired of watching.

“Let’s stick forks in our eyes,” Kyle said. “That would be even more fun.”

That made me think of the perfect one. “‘Let’s stick forks in our eyes,’ Tom said blindly.”

“‘And knives,’ Tom said cuttingly.”

I nodded at Patrick. “Good one. Hey—how about, “‘Cafeteria food makes me gag,” Tom said wretchedly.”’

Patrick and I kept at it until the bell rang.

“You guys are so hopeless,” Kyle said as he dashed out.

Right after I left the cafeteria, a scary-looking senior was
nice enough to help me get rid of the coins that were jangling in my pocket. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt, tucked into jeans, and had the sort of arm muscles that couldn’t possibly have been made out of anything organic. My best guess was either granite or steel.

He made it sound like a voluntary act. “Got any spare change?” But the look in his eyes told me there was only one safe answer. The last time I’d seen eyes that deadly, I’d been at the hyena cage at the zoo. I handed over my change. It was better than handing over my teeth. I was happy I’d had a chance to eat first.

He actually said, “Thanks.” Like I was doing him a favor. Later, I heard a couple other freshmen talking about the guy. His name was Wesley Cobble, and nearly everyone in the school was afraid of him.

Somehow, I managed to stay awake through the rest of the day. Not that it made any difference in Spanish. Things were just as confusing as they’d been yesterday. “‘Spanish makes no sense,’ Scott said unknowingly.” Unwittingly. Incomprehensibly.

In history, while I was pretending to take notes, I jotted down some more Tom Swifties. A couple were so funny, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Much to my amazement, I made it through the day.

I sat behind Sheldon on the ride home. It worked. The big kids smacked him and left me alone. If I could figure out some way to make life-size Sheldon Murmbower decoys, I’d be rich. Every freshman on the planet would buy one.

The minute I got home, I headed for the shower. I cranked
the faucets up full blast. It felt great. For about sixty seconds. Then the hot water ran out. I ran out, too.

“Mom,” I shouted, “there’s no hot water.”

“Sorry,” she yelled back. “I’m washing the new sheets I bought for the baby.”

I toweled off, grabbed my robe, and worked on my homework until the wash was done, then stepped back in the shower.

The phone rang as soon as I got out.

“Want to go bowling?” Kyle asked.

“It’s a school night,” I said.

“So?”

“So I have homework.”

“So do it later.”

“I can’t. I’ve got plans for later.”

“Like what?”

“Like sleep.”

“You’re no fun anymore.”

“Thanks.”

“Not that you were all that much fun before, either.”

“Thanks again.”

“We’ll be at Devon Lanes if you change your mind.”

As soon as I hung up, I regretted saying I couldn’t go. A couple games wouldn’t take all that long. But if I showed up now, Kyle would give me a hard time about mentioning my homework. I decided I’d better just get it over with. So once again, I sat at my desk, face-to-face with a wad of assignments, and instantly looked around the room for some way to avoid starting my work.

• • •

i
managed to get a bit more sleep Thursday night, but still nowhere near enough. I realized I was going to be a zombie for the next four years.

“You look tired,” Mom said when I went down to breakfast.

I nodded. “A bit.” I noticed she looked tired, too.

She slid a plate of fresh-baked blueberry muffins in front of me. “Well, don’t work too hard.”

As I reached for a muffin, she added, “But work hard enough. Okay?”

“I will. You don’t have to worry.” I broke the muffin in half and watched the rising steam.

“I guess, the way you like to read, you’ll have an easier time in school than Bobby did.”

“Yeah. It helps if you like books.” I ate the muffin, then grabbed another to eat on the way to the bus. This time, I made sure not to fall asleep during the ride.

My exhaustion might help explain my act of stupidity. When I got to English class, I pulled out my list of Tom Swifties and passed them to Kelly. That was step number one
in my master plan. I figured she’d laugh, then Julia would ask her what was so funny, and Kelly would pass them over.

The first part worked. Kelly laughed. I could tell when she got near the end because she blurted out that
ewwwww
sound girls make when they bump into something especially gross. It was probably
wholeheartedly
that pushed her over the edge. I took it as an
ewwww
of appreciation, since she still laughed. Vicky Estridge leaned over from the seat behind Kelly and asked, “What’s so funny?” Kelly passed the list to her. After an
eww
or two, Vicky gave it to the kid on her right. Before I could get the list back, Mr. Franka came in and hit us with a quiz.

By the end of the period, I didn’t have a clue about what happened to the paper, or whether Julia even saw it. “I lost my Tom Swifties,” Scott said listlessly.

I was almost too tired to care. At least it was Friday. I had the whole weekend ahead of me to sleep. Or to waste time sharing my thoughts with imaginary creatures.

I met up with Kyle and Patrick in front of the Cinema Twelve on Milford Street. “Where’s Mitch?” I asked after I bought my ticket.

“Don’t know,” Patrick said. “He’s out somewhere, I guess.”

“Screw him,” Kyle said. “I’m not missing the previews.” He headed through the doors.

Patrick and I followed him.
This will work
, I thought as I dropped down in my seat. I could get my homework done and still have a normal social life. I figured I’d catch up on my sleep, then tackle the homework on Saturday afternoon. There was nothing I liked more than sleeping late on the weekend.

It was a perfect plan, except that the phone woke me the next morning. I figured someone would get it, but it rang four times. Then I heard the answering machine from the living room downstairs.

Still half asleep, I listened to Bobby’s voice. “Someone pick up. Come on. Please?”

I thought about crawling out of bed, but I knew I had a shot at falling back to sleep if I stayed where I was.

“Anyone there?”

He sounded desperate. But I was desperate for sleep.

“I only get one phone call.”

One phone call
? Shoot. I knew what that meant. I went downstairs and picked up the phone. “It’s me,” I said.

“Is Mom there?”

“Yeah.” I could hear the sound of the dryer. “I think she’s in the basement. What’d you do?”

“Nothing. Just get Mom.”

“Hang on.” I went down to the basement. When I told Mom that Bobby was on the phone, she raced up the stairs. Her smile didn’t last long. It was pretty easy to figure most of it out from listening to her half of the conversation.

“The police station? Oh Bobby, what did you … So it was just parking tickets? How many? Oh, my. That’s a lot. If you didn’t have the money, you should have told us. No, it doesn’t matter if you don’t have the car anymore. You still have to pay the tickets. Don’t worry. We’ll get it all straightened out. No, I can’t do that. I have to tell him. We’ll be there right away. I love you. Bye.”

She sighed, hung up, and went to get Dad.

“He’s in jail?” I asked when they came downstairs.

“It’s nothing,” Mom said. “Just a little misunderstanding.”

They headed out. I headed upstairs. I was too wound up to go back to sleep. So I picked up the notebook.

“Guess who’s home?” Mom called from downstairs.

I closed my algebra book. Two o’clock already. I’d started around noon. Wow. Homework could really swallow time. Someday, I expect to look up from a textbook and discover that I’m fifty.

I ran into Bobby halfway down the steps. He had a pile of clothes in his arms—mostly flannel shirts and jeans, topped with T-shirts, socks, and stuff. As high as they were stacked, he could still see over them.

“Hey, squirt, give us a hand.” He nodded in the direction of the front door.

“Sure.” I squeezed past him and went out to the driveway, where Dad had left the car. The trunk was filled with Bobby’s stuff. Dad took Bobby’s tool kit into the garage.

“He’s staying here for a while,” Mom said, passing me a box of CDs. I noticed Bobby’s Fender Stratocaster guitar in the backseat.

I helped bring in the rest of his stuff, then sat in his room while he hung up his clothes.

“You move out of your place?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Sort of. I owed rent.”

“How come?”

“No money.”

“What about your job?”

“I was late a bunch. I had to walk ‘cause of the car getting totaled. They got an attitude about it and fired me. I was looking for another job. But it’s tough without wheels.”