Parts & Labor by Mark Gimenez Read Free Book Online Page B

underneath that beard and hair and smell, Floyd T. was
actually a handsome man, like my grandfather had been. Like my dad was. They
did a "Hunks of Austin" calendar to raise money for charity and they
asked him to pose in his fireman's gear except without his shirt, but Mom had said, "Over my dead body!"
    I
felt my eyes water up. I leaned into Floyd T. and put my head on his chest
like I used to do with my dad even though Floyd T. smelled particularly bad
today. He patted me on the back until I sat up again. Then he adjusted his
fake left leg and pushed himself up. He grabbed a tool and started scraping the
wood trim around Ramon's plate-glass window.
    I
wiped my face and said, "What are you doing?"
    "Scraping
off the old paint. Then I'm gonna sand the wood and paint it."
    "What
color?"
    "Ramon's
thinking red."
    "I
like red."
    "Me,
too."
    "Is
Ramon paying you?"
    "Two hundred bucks."
    " Two hundred bucks? Wow. What're you gonna buy, an
iPhone or a Wii?"
    "Food."
    "Oh.
Well, food's nice, too."
    "Yep."
    "Our
house needs painting, but we can't afford to hire anyone. I'm supposed to be
the man of the house, but …"
    "Bit
young for the job, don't you think?"
    "Tell
me. I'm still trying to figure out fractions."
    After
a while, I said goodbye and headed home. I crossed Congress Avenue at the
light by Allen's Boots. I was really careful to watch for speeding cars
running the red light—texting drivers posed a constant threat to pedestrians in
Austin, Texas. But I got across safely and walked over to Drake Avenue and past Mrs. Cushing's house. She was out in her short-shorts, and a neighborhood
dad had stopped to admire her garden. In most neighborhoods, a purple house
would stand out. But not in ours. Mom said our neighborhood was
"eclectic," which was a fancy word for weird. One house was red with
bright blue trim, another lime green with yellow trim, another had a bright
orange front door, and one had a peace sign framed with Christmas lights on the
roof. There were several crazy modern houses and even a few gingerbread
houses. Only a few houses were new. Most were old, but most had been
renovated.
    Except
ours.
    At
least our neighborhood wasn't boring. I walked down the street and was almost
to our hedgerow when I looked over at the neighbors' house and saw the boy with
the pale face. But he wasn't up in the window. He was sitting on the porch
steps. I waved. He waved back, so I walked over to him. He stood.
    "Hi,
I'm Max."
    "I
am Norbert."
    He
was shorter than me—in fact, he was barely taller than Maddy—and a lot skinnier.
His skin was perfect and so pale it seemed transparent. His hair was white,
and his soft eyes were almost clear. He had red lips, like when Maddy played
with Mom's make-up. He was the strangest looking boy I'd ever seen. I figured
he must be foreign. He was wearing a crisp short-sleeve blue shirt with a
collar that buttoned down, creased khakis, a brown belt, brown socks, and brown
loafers that looked brand new. In fact, Norbert looked brand new, like he had
just stepped out of the L.L. Bean catalog we get in the mail.
    "I've
never known anyone named Norbert."
    "It
is a family name."
    He
talked like the two Bosnian refugees at school, like English was a foreign language
or something.
    "Oh.
Max isn't anybody's name. At least not in my family."
    Norbert
sat back down, so I sat next to him. I hunched over and rested my elbows on my
knees, but Norbert sat with his back straight. He had perfect posture. Mrs.
Broadus says I slump.
    I
sniffed. Norbert even smelled new, like the Suburban when we first bought it,
before we had spilled Gatorade and ice cream and M&Ms and cheese puffs and
other assorted food items on the carpet. Mom said that if we lost the house we
could survive for a month in the Suburban just on the food we spilled under the
seats. I understood the food part but not the "lost" part; I mean, a
house is a pretty big thing to lose.
    "Don't
you go to school?" I asked.
    He
shook his head.