Sleeping Freshmen Never Lie (7 page)

I guess my silence spoke for me, because Bobby glanced over and said, “Oops. You don’t have one?”

“Not yet. I got my eye on someone,” I said, trying to sound like success was within reach.

“Good deal.”

We only got to race for about fifteen minutes. Then the owner kicked us out because Bobby kept driving too fast and flying off the track. So we went to the music store.

t
here’s really only one thing that separates people from dogs. Our ears don’t twitch forward when we hear something exciting. Thank goodness. Otherwise, I’d have spilled my secret to the world Tuesday morning in English class.

Up front, Mr. Franka was telling us about similes, metaphors, and other descriptive language. To my right, Kelly was whispering to Julia in a voice as hushed as the rustle of a single-ply tissue. Oh crap, I suck at similes. Anyhow, Kelly was talking. Quietly.

“Did you finish your article for the paper?” she asked.

That was the point when my ears would have pitched forward like a dog who hears his master opening a can of extra-chunky beef stew with an electric can opener.

Julia nodded, sending the shaggy ends of her hair dancing like kids in a mosh pit. I didn’t know she was on the paper.

I found it hard to concentrate during the rest of the class. My mind ran elsewhere, like a train that had slipped off the rails. No, that wasn’t right. A derailed train usually doesn’t get very far. Anyhow, time crawled along like a sleepwalking snail dragging a history book.

After class, I rushed up to see Mr. Franka. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. It would be fun to write book reviews.” I was running titles through my mind, picking out which book I wanted to do first. I’d read a ton of good stuff over the summer.

“I’m sorry, Scott,” he said. “Since you weren’t interested, I found someone else.”

“Oh.” I could feel myself droop like a cheap basketball that was left out on the lawn all winter.

“But you can still join the staff. Just show up tomorrow after school for the meeting. I’m sure they can make good use of your talents.”

“Great. I’ll be there.” I figured there were other cool things I could cover, like movies or something. Whatever I ended up writing, at least I’d get to spend some time in a small group with Julia.

I wondered whether she remembered that we were in kindergarten together. We’d shared an easel once. I was on one side, painting a pirate. She was on the other side. I don’t know what she was painting. Probably not a pirate.

I had a hard time finding the meeting room the next day, so I was the last one there. When I walked in, I saw a girl wearing a tight green top and a long denim skirt. The top was made out of that thin, stretchy material.

“Hi, Scott,” she said. “I’m Mandy. I heard you might be joining us. That’s great. We could really use you.” She smiled at me like she meant it. I think it was the first time a senior
had looked at me as anything other than a piggy bank, punching bag, or doormat. Especially a cute senior with reddish blond hair and freckles. Did I mention the top?

“It sounds like fun.” I glanced at the dozen or so kids who sat around the table. Julia was there, looking even more beautiful than Mandy. Mouth was explaining something to her about his appendix. Apparently, he had it in a jar at home. Or maybe he had pieces of it in two different jars. That part wasn’t really clear. I could see Julia’s eyes starting to glaze. I tried to stop listening, but it was sort of like watching an accident.

“So I guess you’ll be doing football,” Mandy said.

I pulled my eyes away from Mouth and Julia. But not my brain. Again, I managed to leap to new creative heights. “What?”

Mandy pointed at my shirt. “None of us is much of a sports fan. We’re into food, movies, and music, and stuff like that. But we’ve got to cover sports. So we’re glad you’re here.”

I’d forgotten I was wearing my Baltimore Ravens T-shirt. Mom bought it for me because I liked Edgar Allan Poe. The Ravens were named after that poem of his.

As I tried to think of some way to explain that I wasn’t interested in covering sports, Mandy leafed through a folder in front of her, then handed me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the schedule. The games are all on Friday.” She smiled, then pointed to an empty chair. “Have a seat.”

Between the smile and the top, I would have sat in a bucket of sulfuric acid if she’d asked me. Once my butt hit the chair,
the reality hit home.
Sports? Friday
? That was my night out. Could it get any worse?

Mandy turned to Mouth. “How’s your first book review coming?”

“It’s coming along great.” He pulled a mangled sheet of notebook paper from his backpack. “Want to hear what I have so far?”

Mandy shook her head. “I’d rather wait until it’s done.” She softened the blow with a smile. Though I was pretty sure it wasn’t as nice as the one she’d given me.

Mouth? Book reviews
? I was afraid to discover what my next surprise would be.

The suspense didn’t last long. A couple of minutes later, Mandy said to Julia, “Thanks for writing this week’s guest column.”

Guest column
? Equations flashed through my mind. Guest = just visiting = not here each week = Scott’s screwed.

“It was fun,” Julia said. “Do you want me to stick around for the rest of the meeting?”

Mandy shook her head. “No need. You can go.”

Julia smiled that heart-melting smile of hers and left the room.

When the meeting let out, I called home to see if I could get a ride from Mom.

“She’s out,” Bobby said. “Went to look for curtains for the nursery.”

“There are already curtains in there,” I said.

“I know.”

“So why do we need new ones?”

“Beats me. Hey, I’d pick you up if I had a car.”

“Yeah. I know. Thanks.”

So, to make the day even more special, I had to hike into town to catch a metro bus. But I didn’t have to go by myself. Mouth joined me. As luck would have it, he was still eager to share the details of his appendix operation.

g
reetings, sports fans. This is Scott Hudson, reporting live from the morning bus ride. Even at this early hour, I see a variety of events taking place
.

A hearty game of Smack the Sheldon was going on right in front of me. I could just imagine judges holding up scorecards after each round. In the back, kids were aisle surfing, trying to stand and keep their balance while our driver swung around corners on two wheels and yelled at them to sit. Out the window, on the roads all around us, there was a combination auto race/demolition-derby going on.

Kyle and Patrick were chucking a football in the parking lot when we got to school.

“I’m open,” I shouted.

Patrick tossed me the ball. I jogged toward them and flipped a lateral to Kyle.

“Looks like I’m going to the game tomorrow,” I said.

“Change your mind?” Patrick asked.

“No choice. I’m covering it for the paper.”

“Get out of here.”

“Really. I am.”

“You serious?”

“Yup.”

Patrick grinned. “Pretty cool.”

Hey, maybe it was cool. I hadn’t said it out loud until now. But I sort of liked the sound of it.
I’m covering it for the paper
. Scott Hudson, sports reporter.

Bonk
!

The ball bounced off my head.

“Nice catch,” Kyle said.

I picked up the ball, faked high, and nailed him in the gut. Not as satisfying as a head shot, but it would do.

The bell rang, robbing Kyle of an opportunity to retaliate.

The rest of the day passed without any major triumphs or disasters. Though Spanish grew even more perplexing. We’d been repeating sentences for two whole weeks. Today, Ms. de Gaulle passed out textbooks. They were all in Spanish. Nothing inside resembled anything we’d been doing. I glanced around the room. It was obvious that everyone else was just as lost.

When I got home, I found Bobby in his room, playing his guitar. “Guess what? I’m on the school paper.”

“Why’d you want to do that? The paper’s for geeks.”

“No way. You should see the editor. She’s hot.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mandy.”

“Oh yeah.” Bobby nodded. “I remember her. She wears these killer tops. I think we went out once, the year before last. She’s on the paper?”

“Yup.”

He patted me on the shoulder. “Way to go, little brother. You can take up where I left off.”

Before I could even think of a response, I heard a big-time rumbling sound from outside and felt the floor vibrate.

Bobby’s
eyes
opened wide. “Corvette,” he said.

“No way.” I refused to believe that anyone could identify a car just from the sound. Not even Bobby, who had a great ear.

“Sixty-three,” he added.

“Not a chance.”

“Bet you five dollars.”

“You’re on.”

We raced to his window. A Corvette was blowing oily smoke out the tailpipe as it crawled along the driveway.

“I wonder whose it is,” I said.

“Let’s find out.”

Bobby and I ran downstairs. The car wasn’t in the driveway. It was in the garage.

“Traded the Taurus,” Dad said when Mom, Bobby, and I joined him. “Got a deal on it. With a bit of work, she’ll be a gem.”

I can’t say for sure, but I think he looked at that Corvette the same way I looked at Julia. The main difference being Julia wasn’t going to come live in our garage. Or make the walls vibrate.

“Sweet,” Bobby said. “Sixty-three?”

Dad nodded. I sighed and dug out my wallet.

Mom snorted, shook her head, and walked back inside
without saying a word. Dad and Bobby popped the hood and started discussing what to do first. Terms like
compression, camshaft
, and
valve covers
drifted through the air.

“Want to help?” Dad asked.

“Maybe later. I have homework.” It was a really cool car on the outside. But once the hood was lifted, I was lost. Looking at the engine was like looking at a page of Spanish.

Back inside, Mom was muttering something about men and their stupid toys. “If he goes near my Subaru, I’ll shoot him,” she said.

I glanced toward the garage. “Are you
sure
I’m not adopted?”

Mom smiled and put a hand on my shoulder. “Hon, I was there when you were born.”

“Maybe I got switched.”

She shook her head. “Your aunt Jill followed you all the way down to the nursery just to make sure nobody made any mistakes.” She put both hands on my shoulders and stared at my face for a moment. “You got your dad’s eyes and my dad’s chin. There’s no escaping it. You’re a Hudson.”

“But I’m so bad with tools.”

“That’s not what makes you who you are. You, Bobby, and your dad—as different as you are—you’ve got good hearts. That’s what matters.”

I brought my homework to the kitchen, pulled up a stool by the counter, and hung out with Mom while she made a pie crust. I didn’t know if I had a good heart, but by the time she was done, I definitely had a good and hearty appetite.