Storky (12 page)

I love TV! I zoned in front of it today for like 12 straight hours. Rose Bowl! Sugar Bowl! Fiesta Bowl! And tomorrow the national championship game! Life is good!

Even last night worked out okay. Weird, but okay. It was just me and Mom at first, both of us pretty bummed. Nate was out with Heather Kvaas and those condoms. Amanda went to another popular-seniors-only party. Mom sat on the couch, biting her nails and leafing through this stack of
Good Housekeeping
magazines Grandma gave her. Verm wouldn’t come over because he didn’t want to drive home on New Year’s Eve.

I got Mom to go bowling with me. I figured if anyone at school saw me out with her on New Year’s Eve, they’d be just as embarrassed because they’d be at the bowling alley too. We picked up Aunt Marsha on the way. We were like this lonely losers gang. I felt so crappy I only bowled a 133 the first game.

I was trolling the place for other pathetic teenagers when about 8 lanes down I saw Verm. He looked even more pitiful than us, being all by himself.

At first I thought it was a setup, like when Dad used to pretend to accidentally bump into his girlfriends when he was out with me. But then Mom got all nervous when I pointed him out, and she didn’t want to go over there.

Aunt Marsha said it was karma. I didn’t say anything. Mom kept looking at Vermin every 5 seconds. It was like Gina and Hunk at the Snowball all over again. Ugh.

Finally, Aunt Marsha did this loud whistle, with her fingers in her mouth and everything, and yelled, “Howard!” Mom said, “Marsha” and shook her head, but actually she seemed pretty glad.

When he saw us, he like sprinted to our lane. He gave Mom this big hug, and they went, “I’m sorry,” “No, I’m sorry,” “No, I’m sorry,” like a
7th Heaven
episode, with Aunt Marsha smiling and me just wanting to ralph.

Another night spent with the Vermster. After we bowled a second game, Dr. Vermin got up to leave, and he and Mom fell all over each other going, “Happy New Year,” and “I’ll call,” and “I’m sorry” again.

Something made me tell Mom, “Just let him sleep over, I can handle it.” I guess it’s because I didn’t like seeing Mom all bummed last night. Or possibly I’m getting mature. Or maybe I wanted a real
7th Heaven
ending where everyone works everything out and there’s a gazillion people living in one house without anyone ever fighting over the bathroom or who left out the dirty dishes.

Mom tried to have this big heart-to-heart with me about whether it was really okay, blah blah blah. But I could tell she was tired, and I’m not a big talker anyway. So me and Aunt Marsha convinced her to just go home with Dr. Vermin while we stayed to bowl the third game.

Aunt Marsha’s pretty okay. We got some chili cheese fries in the coffee shop afterward, and I told her the whole pathetic story of the Snowball, and how I wimped out Tuesday with Gina on the phone.

Somehow I got to talking about Dad. I don’t know, it felt good to tell someone. And since she calls him The Pig sometimes, I figured she’d understand. She didn’t really. She said even though he’s a pig, he’s still my dad.

Then she told me a long story about this guy who sits at the dock watching all the boats go by and never gets on one because he’s afraid of the water, and then a tidal wave knocks him off the dock and drowns him. That story somehow means I’m supposed to call Dad and Gina and tell them they should be nicer to me.

Aunt Marsha patted my hand and said if I ever needed to talk, I could come over to her place and she’d make that tofu prune casserole I liked so much. It got way too cheesy, so I go, “Since you want me to be honest, I hate tofu.” She laughed and said we could just order out for pizza next time.

I ended up sleeping until 11:09 this morning. By the time I went downstairs for breakfast, Dr. Vermin was just walking out the door. So him sleeping over was no big deal after all.

But I hope he only does it on New Year’s and maybe Mom’s birthday. This better not get out of control. I don’t want them living together or anything.

Big phone call day. I called Dad, Nate, and Gina. Luckily Dad wasn’t there or he was screening, so I left him a message.

Been calling Nate for the last 2 days to find out if he got lucky on New Year’s Eve. I wonder why he’s not calling back.

I wrote down what to say to Gina, but on the phone it didn’t come out that well. Said I was bummed about the Snowball, how she blew me off. Because it was my night too, not just hers. Gina apologized. But she didn’t seem sorry. It was more like she said it to shut me up.

I could have told her about Sydney Holland, that I wish I hadn’t turned her down, that while Gina was sighing over Hunk and Phoebe from
Friends,
I was watching Sydney all happy on the dance floor, with her long legs and sparkly eyes.

But I couldn’t even say Sydney’s name. Maybe because it’s mean to tell one girl that you think another girl’s hot—even though Gina’s always gushing over Hunk in front of me. Or maybe I knew Gina would bring up Sydney’s braces, or her frizzy hair, or her barrettes. Maybe because Sydney and Gina are in different leagues. And I mean that as a compliment to Sydney.

When Dad called me back today, I was all set to ask him to be more on time. I’d written the whole thing down, just like Aunt Marsha said to do. But he just bawled me out.

He kept saying he was only a half hour late last week, which is just plain bull, because I timed it on my Seiko watch that he gave me for middle school graduation, and it was at least 38 minutes. Anyway, why should he be even a half hour late? Maybe I have better things to do than sit home and look out the window every 2 minutes for his Lexus.

He goes how he works so hard to pay child support so Mom doesn’t have to work, and I remembered this fight they had before the Divorce when Mom was studying for the LSAT. Dad said she was too old for law school and she’d never last there and she should clean the house instead of wasting all her time on one goddamn test.

I’m so sick of it all. Everything. I gave him the Gina treatment, the I’m-sorry-just-to-get-this-person-off-my-back apology.

I bet he’ll be late next time. Just to make a point. Maybe I won’t show up again. Or maybe I’ll grow a backbone and tell him off. Sure. Right after I tell off Gina.

Nate finally called back. He won’t tell me whether he got laid or not. I guess some guys wouldn’t tell if they did, just out of respect for the girl. I’d probably be like that, if I ever did have sex. But I can’t see Nate being all respectful.

I bet he didn’t get any. Heather and Gina could have like a best friends pact to keep their virginities. Or maybe there was no place to do it at the party. Maybe the parents stayed home or all the bedrooms were filled with other people having sex. Or maybe Heather wanted her first time with Nate to be in a really romantic place like a motel room.

I might be overdoing the TV a little. Haven’t been out of the house in 5 days.

I have to admit 2 things. One, I’m getting a little sick of TV. Two, in a weird way I’m looking forward to school starting Monday.

What if Nate and Heather are a total couple by now, and I sit with them and Gina at the popular table this semester, and people stop calling me Storky? Highly doubtful. At least school will force me out of the house though.

Law school starts next week too. I’m real psyched for that. Mom’s been in my face, nagging me every day to get off my butt. The omniscient voice, as Ms. Dore says in Honors English.

Plus the Vermster is here all the time now. He even slept over last night. It wasn’t totally bad. He bought a dozen Krispy Kremes this morning. I ate 4. Verm only had 2. Amanda didn’t leave her room.

Saw Duke today. He beat me by more than 70 points both games. I don’t know if it’s the furniture or the people or what, but the air in Golden Village smells about 50 years old, like you don’t want to take a deep breath.

While I was there, this guy who looked a little older than Dad visited this crinkly old lady. He kept saying, “It’s me, Mama, your son Donny.” The old lady just stared ahead like she was watching a movie. She patted the guy’s hand, but you could tell she had no clue. It was the most pathetic thing I’ve seen in a long time.

Duke said that it isn’t so bad being in a wheelchair and stuff, but that if he ever loses his mind, I should shoot him. He says they don’t convict people for mercy killing. He used to be a D.A., so he knows. For a guy who’s a gazillion years old, he’s pretty cool.

I want to die instantly of a brain seizure when I’m 52.

Got to see real-live, almost-naked ladies tonight. Seeing Dad though was as wacked as usual. At least he only came 18 minutes late.

He took me to a little theater downtown. It didn’t even have heating, so everyone had to watch this boring play with their arms crossed over their chests and shivering. It was supposed to be in the future. The stage was full of trash, and the actors wore gas masks and made long speeches about how they just wanted a ticket to live on the moon. It was so lame.

Afterward we had to go backstage and meet Dad’s new bimbo delight or whatever she is. She was the first one to get a ticket to the moon. The moon trip turned out to be a big lie, and all the ticket holders got killed instead. She told Dad it was supposed to be like the 80s in America, and Dad nodded like his head was falling off his neck and used the word
edgy
about 100 times.

I hope he was only trying to make her feel good. He didn’t really like the play, did he? He probably just wanted to make the moves on her. She’s pretty sexy. She has long red hair and big boobs for a skinny lady. Dad told her his Boomer Esiason story and she not only knew who he was, she goes, “That’s so fabulous.”

They pretty much ignored me. Which was excellent, actually. Considering the dinky theater didn’t have any dressing rooms. The actors and actresses hung around backstage, some of them still changing. I saw 2 guys in their boxers, plus 3 girls in their bras and underwear. They didn’t seem embarrassed at all. I just kept trying to keep Rex under control. The whole time I was there, the tall Asian actress sat on the wood floor, chain-smoking in her bra and panties, talking to some dressed dude. She must have been cold. I knew if I looked closer to see if her nipples were hard, Rex would go half mast for sure. I was already listing European capitals just to contain him. I want to be an actor when I grow up.

As soon as my first class started today, with Mr. White-head droning on and on about the amazing atom and the mighty molecule while the jarhead in front of me stuck his gum in Jordan Newman’s hair, I realized what an idiot I was for wanting school to start up again.

Lunch sucked the most of the whole day. Even Aunt Marsha’s yam surprise tastes better than the crapeteria’s sloppy joes. Nate acted all sad and quiet about whatever went on with Heather. Gina walked toward me at the beginning of lunch period like she was going to sit with me. Just as I started going into shock, these 2 JV cheerleaders at the A-list table yelled, “Gina! What are you doing with Storky Pomerantz? We saved you a place here!” Gina couldn’t get to them fast enough.

After lunch sucked too. When Sydney came into Spanish class and saw me sitting in the back left corner, she rushed past me to the front right corner.

Plus, Ms. Padilla announced that we have to do team projects on Spanish culture. Ugh. What does culture have to do with speaking Spanish? If they got rid of all the lame homework that doesn’t help anyone learn, and stopped teaching totally useless subjects like ancient history and geometry, we could finish high school in one year.

And I hate team projects. They always mean one person doing all the work and the other person just taking the good grade. Of course, I’m the one who does all the work. The combination of being smart, a grade hound, and a wuss automatically makes me the worker half of the team.

How could I have ever forgotten how much school sucks?

48 more school days until spring break. If it weren’t for Martin Luther King Day and the dead presidents’ days, I don’t think I could take the wait.

Nate’s been quiet all week. He’s no fun anymore. He won’t say what’s going on. Amanda said she heard all about Nate, that Gina and Heather are big gossips, and I shouldn’t waste my time on them. But she wouldn’t tell me anything else. Some sister. Does the whole school know except me?

 

Ms. Padilla assigned the teams for our stupid Spanish culture projects today. She said it was to save time, but I think she did it out of spite. As she read the names, you could see the look of terror on people. Like she paired Jenny Rennert, homecoming princess, with Amy Kantnor, who has oily hair and zits. And Mark Rudolph, JV quarterback, with Stuart O’Donnell, skinny computer geek. Then she called out Sydney Holland’s name, and I knew, I just knew she’d put her with me. And she did. Why? Why is my life made up of stuff like this?

Just to really torture us, Padilla said we’re meeting with our partners on Tuesday, so we can have the whole long weekend to sweat it out. We’re supposed to do an oral report on Spanish food, clothes, art, plays, or movies. Any guy teacher would let us do sports. I’d give a report on
futbol
anytime. Maybe a bio of Pele. Now that would be cool.