Paranoid Park by Blake Nelson Read Free Book Online Page B

the stuffed animals. It was too hot in there. It felt like the heat was on full blast.
    Jennifer went back to the bed and sat down. “Don’t you want to sit on the bed?” she asked, a huge grin on her face. “It’s more comfortable.”
    I left the chair and sat on the bed. She was right, it was more comfortable. She grinned and scooted closer. She kissed me once on the lips. But when she felt my neck she stopped. “You feel hot,” she said. “Are you okay?”
    “I think so.”
    “You’re not sick, are you?” said Jennifer. “I have cheerleader tryouts; I can’t get sick.”
    “I’m okay,” I said. But I felt weak. I wanted to lie down. I scooted farther onto her bed and lay on my back.
    Jennifer looked thoughtfully at my body. “I mean for me, deciding who’s your first, it’s more about trust.” She bounced on the bed. “And, like, if you know the person isn’t going to run around talking about it, like it’s this big conquest—”
    The room spun a whole circle. I thought I was going to throw up. I sat up suddenly.
    “Are you okay?” said Jennifer, alarmed.
    “Sorry, I just feel dizzy.”
    She put her hand on my forehead. “You feel really hot. Maybe you have a fever.”
    “No, I just haven’t slept. I’m just tired.”
    “Here, lie back,” she said. A look of genuine concern came over her face. She lay back with me. She scooted close and began stroking my hair and my forehead. It felt nice. I closed my eyes.
    We lay like that for a long time. Whatever was happening stopped, and I felt better. Then she kissed my cheek, and my temple, and the side of my head. Then she got up and turned the light down.
    She lay next to me. She ran her hands across my chest and unbuttoned the front of my shirt. She crawled on top of me and we started making out. It got pretty intense, but then I started to freak out again. I felt vulnerable and exposed, like someone might be looking for me, someone might be tracking me down.
    I sat up suddenly.
    “What?” she said. “Now what’s wrong?”
    “Nothing, I just... I gotta go.”
    She was losing her patience. “Do you not want to be my first?” she asked.
    “No... I just... I don’t know....”
    She got up. She crawled off the bed and ran into her bathroom and slammed the door. I heard the water turn on.
    I sat on the bed for a moment. But I didn’t want to stay in that house any longer. I couldn’t take this. Not now.
    I found my Vans, which I had kicked off. I put my shirt back on and straightened my pants. I looked at myself in her mirror. I looked terrible. I looked totally guilty.
    I went to the bathroom door. “Jennifer?” I said, tapping the door slightly with my knuckle.
    “What?!” she said. She sounded very upset.
    “I think I might be sick. Or have a fever or something. We can talk about this later. I’m just not myself today.”
    “I wish I could believe you.”
    “You gotta believe me. I swear.”
    “Why can’t you at least talk to me? God, you’re the worst boyfriend ever!”
    I was in no condition to argue. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    I left her room and found my way out the front door. Usually I skated home from her house. But I had no skateboard, so that day I walked.

    Back at my house, I began thinking about confession. I had never been, but I had seen it on TV. And my dad was Catholic. He never went to church or anything, but I thought maybe since he was, that would make me qualified to go.
    The main thing was, at confession, you could tell the priest the worst thing you ever did, and they couldn’t tell anyone. They didn’t see your face, so they didn’t even know your identity. You were completely safe. And then afterward, the priest told you some things to do, like help the poor or whatever, and then you were forgiven and you felt better.
    And also, then God would know you were really sorry, which would be good. There was just one problem: I didn’t know if I believed in