100 Sideways Miles by Andrew Smith Read Free Book Online

at the rest of the world on the other side of an open door.
    Goddamn, the words come back at their own speed, and some of them manage to get very far away from Finn Easton.
    Piss.
    Floor.
    Door.
    Night.
    My entire body shook, like the epileptic boy was attached to live electrodes.
    Nothing was connected. I had to wait until the wordssluggishly came back, till I could smell the ammonia stink of the urine puddled around me on the floor, feel the stinging burn in my crotch, staring and staring out the door until all things reclaimed their names and I knew where I was.
    Then I became so angry.
    Anyone at all could simply have walked into my house, done whatever they wanted to do. But who would want to do anything in a house where some twitching zombie kid is lying facedown in a pool of his piss?
    There was something on my right arm.
    The atoms in my nerves reconnected, and I could feel Laika pressed against me. My dog always did that when I blanked out. She must have found a dry spot on the shores of Lake Finn where she could keep an eye on me.
    I was mad.
    â€œGet the fuck away from me!” I snapped.
    Laika curled up, dejected, and shivered away from me to a corner of the living room, watching, watching.
    Later I would feel bad about such things, but when I came back from blanking out, I acted so horribly. I swore at people, even if I loved them.
    I hated that about myself.
    I can’t say how long I stayed there on the floor trying to decide if I should shut the door first, or wipe up my piss, or get out of my goddamned swim trunks and rinse myself off beneath a shower. That’s how things always were: I could not make those connector places in my brain tell me what to do.
    I may have been there for no more than a hundred sidewaysmiles, or it may have been a hundred thousand.
    Twenty miles.
    Twenty miles.
    I was so disgusted with myself.
    And I knew my parents and sister were not there, but I couldn’t remember what had happened to them.
    Imagine that.
    I hadn’t moved at all, just kept my eyes pinned to the light/dark band of roadway that eventually became named San Francisquito Canyon.
    And from somewhere down near my disconnected feet, there came this: “Are you okay? Did you take drugs or something? Can you hear me?”
    I pivoted my chin along the floor so I could see where the voice came from.
    Julia Bishop sat on the floor beside my feet, cross-legged along the shores of Lake Finn. She held a phone in her hand.
    â€œI was about to call nine-one-one. Are you okay?” she said.
    â€œI—no. Fuck no!”
    I had such a foul mouth at these times.
    I could have died from embarrassment. This was the worst possible situation.
    It was so ridiculous.
    â€œWhat are you fucking doing here?” I demanded.
    What an idiot I was! Not only was I lying there practically naked in my own piss, but I was acting like a complete asshole to the most beautiful girl in the universe. And, worst of all, I had a very stiff hard-on.
    Julia Bishop was obviously embarrassed. I had managed to pass some of my shit off onto her.
    What a hero.
    â€œLook,” I said. “I. Uh. Don’t look at me. Don’t pay attention to me. I apologize for swearing. This happens to me. I can’t control what I say or do sometimes. I’m a fucking epileptic.”
    The words choked in my throat.
    I wanted to die.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Julia said. “I was just walking past. I heard your dog howling, and the door was wide open. I’m so sorry. I tried to see if there was someone here.”
    â€œFuck this,” I said.
    â€œDo you want me to call someone?”
    â€œNo.”
    I realized she must have been looking at me.
    She had to have seen everything .

    It was terrible. I was wearing nothing more than thin, wet swim trunks, lying face down on top of a painfully rigid erection. That was something that frequently happened when I blanked out.
    Who would guess death was such an endless