Perfectly Good White Boy by Carrie Mesrobian Read Free Book Online Page B

jar my mom finally unpacked for his dog treats, and he clunked down on the floor to gnaw on it.
    Then I went into the kitchen and saw my mom had gotten some groceries. Cereal and more orange juice. But I couldn’t find a clean cereal bowl, so I poured a bunch of Frosted Flakes into a giant mug my mom used for drinking tea and went to the table. Which was covered in stuff for Krista and Brad’s wedding—ribbons and hot glue and paper—and a pile of mail that was all OPEN IMMEDIATELY and SECOND NOTICE. Basically, the shit we’d been flooded with the past couple of years with my dad not working. I put all the mail and wedding junk to the side so I wouldn’t spill on it and started eating. Sometimes after sex I’d be hungrier than shit, and this time was no different. Hallie always thought I was weird for being that way, but she was sort of uptight about food and dieting and stuff like that.
    In front of me was another unopened box, marked BASEMENT/OFFICE, in Brad’s crappy handwriting. This didn’t make sense; the office in this house wasn’t in the basement. My room was in the basement, right next to the laundry and the furnace. And the office was just another little dinky bedroom across from my mom’s upstairs. My mom hadn’t really set it up as an office yet; there was nothing in there but books and a desk. And she didn’t have an office at our old house. No wonder the box was still sitting there, unopened.
    I finished my cereal, then drank the sweet milk, then some orange juice. Then I sat there and looked at the BASEMENT/OFFICE box. School started in two weeks, and Hallie was leaving in just a few hours. And it would all be fine because of geography and all our opportunities, who could say where it would all go. All of this freedom. All of our possibilities. All of it so good.

Chapter Four
    I was not going to be a dumbshit about Hallie. I was not. It was my senior year; I’d waited my whole goddamn life for it. Not the stupid glory parts, like sitting in the senior section at pep rallies or getting lockers on the first-floor hallway. Just, really, being the oldest in the school for once. Being the ones who knew the most. Who nobody could say didn’t belong there. When you were the oldest in the school, you could finally relax.
    I didn’t even tell Eddie about Hallie until after the first week of school. And then it was only because he asked.
    â€œShe’s at college now,” I said.
    â€œOh,” he said.
    â€œYeah.”
    Then he started saying crap about Libby, the girl he’d been circling around all summer while I’d been up Hallie’s ass. And how Libby had a cute friend and that I should hang out with them all.
    â€œShe’s a sophomore,” I said.
    â€œNo, she’s a junior now,” Eddie corrected.
    â€œWhatever. Still.”
    â€œHer name’s Emma. She has nice tits.”
    â€œWell. Okay.”
    So after school one day, before I had to be at work, me and Eddie hung out with Libby and Emma. Emma did have nice tits. And she was cute enough. But kind of shy, and not saying much, and after a while I said I had to go.
    â€œLet’s do homecoming, you guys,” Eddie said all of a sudden. I stared at him.
    â€œTotally!” Libby said. “That would be super fun!”
    Emma nodded. Smiled. She was cute. She seemed so little, though. So much younger.
    â€œYeah. Okay,” I said.
    So I went to homecoming with Emma and Libby and Eddie. Emma and me drank wine before the game, then went into the dance. Emma had this really low shirt on and it was hard to not look down it while we slow-danced. I’d kind of avoided dances most of high school, because I always felt dumb about asking girls to dance, but having someone automatically to dance with was kind of decent. Made me wish I’d had the chance for that with Hallie, actually.
    Afterward we went to a party at Tristan Reichmeier’s