Leverage by Joshua C. Cohen Read Free Book Online Page B

think, Brodsky? You think you’re man enough to put a lick on Chandre? Send him bawling back to his baby mama?” Scott asks.
    Jankowski snorts at Scott’s cartoonish accent. A piece of potato shoots out of his nose. I glance over at Studblatz, still ignoring me because of that hit I put on him my first day of practice. He chews his food so hard, jaw muscles pop from either side of his face like two fists clenching.
    â€œCoach Brigs said you might need some tutoring,” Cindy speaks up, her soft voice teasing me with what I can’t have. My cheeks warm and the long scar itches.
    â€œAwwwww. . . . Look, he’s blushing!” Scott laughs out a chunk of burger. “How cute! Our widdow fowbak is shy awound gwirls.”
    â€œShut up, Scott.” Cindy reaches behind me to slap him. My skin tingles where her arm brushes against my back.
    â€œHey, man, I’m just kidding. It’s cool, you know?” Scott slaps my shoulder. “Cindy, help him with his home-work . . . and anything else he may need. She’s great at biology and anatomy .”
    â€œShut up !” Cindy reaches around me again; this time it feels like she lets her arm stay there for a moment.
    â€œI’m fuh-fuh-fuh-fine,” I say, addressing the mystery meat on my plate. “I guh-guh-guh . . .” I try saying I get good grades but that’s never going to come out now. “I’m not su-su-su . . .”
    â€œWhat?” Jankowski asks. “What’s that?” A smile creeps across his mouth. Studblatz no longer has a problem looking at me. Or probing me for weaknesses. Sweat trickles behind my left ear. My fingers tighten and crack the plastic spork sitting in my fist.
    â€œ. . . su-su-su-su-su . . .” The more I push, the more I insist, the more it shoves back. “. . . su-su-su-su-su . . .”
    I’M NOT STUPID! my brain screams. My mouth won’t obey.
    â€œSpeak up!” Studblatz snickers.
    â€œThat’s not funny,” Cindy says, coming to my defense, which makes it worse.
    â€œEasy, chief,” Scott says. “A touch sensitive, huh?”
    â€œI duh-duh-duh-duh . . .” I DON’T NEED ANY HELP!!! I DON’T NEED ANY TUTORING. I DON’T NEED ANYTHING.
    â€œDuh-duh-duh-duh-do you think you can sell seashells by the seashore?” Tom asks. He and Studblatz both crack up with laughter.
    â€œShut up!” Cindy yips, then protectively lays a fragile hand over mine, her fingers perching like a hummingbird on top of my knuckles. I’m ready to swing, though it’s my own mouth I want to punch out. Reach into it and rip out my tongue for messing everything up like it always does.
    â€œEnough, guys,” Scott says. “Big deal, Kurt. So you stutter. Who cares? Bet you’re still smarter than these two meatheads combined.” Scott jabs a thumb at Tom and Mike. “That doesn’t take a lot, though. Relax, man. You’re my fullback. You’re family now.”
    As Scott claims me, Tom and Mike go back to stuffing their mouths. Cindy strokes my hand in a way that makes me want to curl up beside her if she’d let me.
    â€œStudblatz doesn’t even believe in reading, do you, Mike?” Scott asks.
    â€œWhat’s reading gonna do for me?” Studblatz asks back. “They don’t ask you how many books you bench-press in the NFL draft.”
    I take a hard look at Studblatz and think he’s kidding himself if he really expects to reach the NFL; that there’s a million guys around the country, just as big as him if not bigger, all saying the exact same thing. Maybe it’s all those recruiting letters messing with his head.
    â€œThat’s the spirit,” Scott adds, encouraging Studblatz. I chance a look at Cindy, notice her eyes are the color of tropical lagoons advertised on the sides of city buses in the winter. Her eyes meet mine, then tip toward my bad cheek. She says nothing but