Cameron and the Girls by Edward Averett Read Free Book Online Page B

her hair. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before, but it’s not quite dark enough. Her eyes are spaced a little too far apart. Her nose doesn’t have the little crook in it I like. Her lips are slightly thicker than I like. And the eyebrows are scary. Then she says something that throws me.
    â€œIf you feel like kissing me, don’t. I’m not in the mood.”
    I’m so shocked that I start babbling and can’t control it. “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah,” I keep saying.
    This amuses her. She laughs so hard, she has to hold on to her stomach. “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah,” she says, mimicking me. “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah. What a dork.”
    And deep in my brain, I feel the buildup again, the uncontrollable urge to shout out bad things.
    She’s mocking you for no reason.
    â€œStop it,” I say.
    â€œNah-nah-nah-nah-nah.” She bends over, as if she’ll never be able to stop laughing at me.
    But when she finally looks up, maybe Nina sees a change in the tone of my eyes, because she recoils, stumbles back to the rock, and says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ride you.”
    I have to steady myself because there is a rush like waves pouring over my brain. As if I’m actually standing on the ocean and one crashes into me and I have nothing to latch on to. I feel dizzy.
    â€œOh no,” I say. I close my eyes tightly and wait for it to end. When I open them, she is squatting in front of me.
    She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabs it in the standing water between the rocks. She brushes it against my forehead. Then she blows on the spot.
    I can feel the water evaporate, and it feels cool and invigorating and temporary, like ice in the desert. But now I’m on edge, waiting for what my brain will do next.
    â€œYou should have seen your face go all white,” she says. “As if someone plugged a straw into your jugular and sucked all the red out. It was freaky.”
    â€œI’m okay now,” I lie.
    She dabs a little more at my face, and I like how sweet and gentle the motion is.
    â€œLet’s go,” she says.
    â€œI need to do something,” I say. I remember what Dr. Simons once told me. Don’t wait too long because then it might be too late. Do something when you’re still feeling almost good. I lean down and pick up one of the wet rocks. My eyes burn in the dank underbridge.
    Nina takes one look at me holding the big jagged rock and scrambles over the boulders and up to the road.
    â€œNo!” I cry, not understanding. But when she’s out of sight, I glance down at the rock in my hand and I get it. I was just going to make it splash in the river, but she doesn’t trust me. I don’t trust me. I drop the rock as if it were a hot coal. Then I walk out from under the bridge.
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    My joints feel rigid and I’m walking like a robot. I’ve been walking and walking toward Dr. Simons’s office. I don’t see Nina anywhere.
    I guess we showed her.
    â€œI guess,” I say.
    What are you going to the doc’s office for? You know what that means, don’t you?
    â€œI just want to find something out, that’s all,” I say.
    Talking gets you nothing. Let’s do something unforgettable.
    â€œLike what?”
    Pick up a couple of chicks maybe. Something that will make people say, “There goes the coolest guy.”
    I look up and the clouds look back down at me. They briefly roil into chubby, dark, horrible faces and then quickly disappear into choking swirls of mist. I wouldn’t mind being unforgettable, but right now I’d settle for just normal. But how do I do that?
    I’m not one to talk, but this trip is definitely forgettable.
    Something is breaking down inside my head, and I can almost see my miniature self up there, running around with timbers and a hammer, keeping the walls from caving in. I get one edge secure and hear the crumbling of another. I’m