How to Be a Normal Person by TJ Klune Read Free Book Online

having an experienced lover?”
    “Not many,” Gus said. “In fact, none at all. Also? I came out when I was thirteen. You were there. As was the whole town. Pastor Tommy announced it at the Fall Harvest Festival. On stage. Into a microphone. There was apple pie afterward.”
    “Still?” she said with an exaggerated pout.
    “Yes,” Gus said, deadpan as he could make it. “Still. Funny how that works.”
    “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” she said, dragging a pink fingernail down his arm. “My door is always open. Like my body.”
    “That’s not even remotely healthy,” Gus said with a sniff.
    “Maybe that’s why I need your protein,” she said with a wink.
    “Nope,” Gus said. “Nope, nope, nope.”
    “You sure about that?”
    “Maybe you should close that door. And your legs.”
    “I tried,” Mrs. Havisham said as she picked up her movies and turned to leave.
    “The movies are due back by Tuesday!” he shouted after her. He sighed as the door shut behind her. He blamed the coffee shop hipster for this. All of it. The mad rush to rent movies, the blatant flirtation by a cougar, and the all-around fuzzy feeling that Gus’s brain seemed to have sunk into. It was the hipster’s fault because he existed and existed near Gus .
    “I’m going to give Lottie so much shit,” he said to Harry S. Truman. “You just watch. She will pay for her crimes against my humanity.”
    Since he was a ferret, Harry S. Truman didn’t reply.
    At 11:54, the We Three Queens entered the Emporium and immediately knew something was off.
    Because of course they did.
    To be honest, though, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out.
    “Your face is extra twitchy today,” Bertha said.
    “And your upper lip is sweaty,” Bernice said.
    “And you also look like you’re about to punch a baby goat,” Betty said.
    “I’m fine,” Gus said. It was almost believable. “And I’m not going to punch a baby goat. God. What the hell. Who does that?”
    They stared at him.
    “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Absolutely nothing is different and everything is the same and I’m fine .”
    “Hmm,” Bernice said.
    “Indeed,” Bertha said.
    “Cadet!” Betty said. “Inspirational message for the day!”
    And that was normal. That he could do. “A simple hello could lead to a million things.”
    They waited.
    He waited too, but mostly because he was thinking about tattoos on forearms and beards —
    “Oh my goodness,” Bertha breathed. “Something is definitely different.”
    “What?” Gus said, flushing furiously. “Shut up. No it’s not. What are you talking about? Shut up.”
    “Hmm,” Bernice said again.
    “You didn’t snark,” Betty said, narrowing her eyes. “You snark and today there was no snark. You always snark, especially when it comes to the inspirational messages. Where’s the snark?”
    “That’s not even a real word,” Gus said. “Don’t you dare bring your slang into my place of business. This isn’t a YMCA basketball court. We’re not shooting hoops. No slang.”
    “There’s the snark,” Betty told her lesbian lovers (sisters?).
    “But it seemed so delayed ,” Bertha said.
    “Hmm,” Bernice said.
    Gus tried to salvage what he could. “And a simple hello?” he said. “What’s that even supposed to mean? What if you said hello to someone who then turned out to be worse than Hitler or Michael Bay and unleashed another holocaust or another overstuffed, CGI-heavy excuse for a film starring Shia LaBeouf. Could you live with that on your conscience? Because I couldn’t.”
    “Weak sauce,” Bertha said, flipping up the collar on her pink leather jacket, looking very cool, though Gus would never say so.
    “Definite weak sauce,” Betty agreed, standing at parade rest. “Possibly the weakest sauce to have ever been sauced.”
    “Hmm,” Bernice said, leaning across the counter until her face was inches from Gus’s.
    He didn’t flinch. Not even a little