Revolting Youth: The Further Journals of Nick Twisp by C. D. Payne Read Free Book Online Page B

squealed in surprise, clutched at themselves, turned, and scuttled back into the locker room.
    They never laid a glove on me.
    And an outraged Miss Arbulash gave them all a week’s detention for attempted hazing of her valued assistant.
    Later, on the walk home from school, Carlotta informed her pal Fuzzy that he had a date on Friday night with Lana Baldwin.
    “Lana Baldwin!” he exclaimed, incredulous. “She’s the mousiest chick in our class. And she talks weird.”
    “She can’t help it. She’s from West Virginia.”
    “How come she eats lunch with all the fat girls?”
    “Well, she’s buddies with Sonya Klummplatz. But don’t hold that against her. And don’t kid yourself, guy, she’s hot.”
    “Really?”
    “I’m talking illegal Chinese firecracker—from the neck down, of course. And she’s very nice. She doesn’t know you from Adam, but she’s agreed to the date on my recommendation. So be nice to her.”
    “Wow, Lana Baldwin. I hear she’s not too bright. Even Sonya says that.”
    “Frank, do you want to discuss astrophysics or get laid?”
    “’Nough said, Carlotta.’ Nough said.”
    7:05 p.m. My father made the national news! Carlotta, Mrs. Ferguson, and Dwayne were glued to the tube as Dad was shown being dragged in front of a federal judge in San Francisco to hear the many and diverse charges against him. Bail for the alleged Geezer hacker has been set at a whopping $2 million dollars.
    “I hope when … the man gets … through forkin’ … that pile over,” commented my maid, “he still has … the $179 he … owes me … in back pay.”
    “Looks like your former employer may be cooling it in the slammer for quite a while,” noted Carlotta uneasily.
    “I always knew Nick’s pop was lots worse than mine,” said Dwayne. “That Nick had no cause to be so stuck up.”
    (For that remark Carlotta slipped the crusty spareribs pan back into the oven to blacken for an additional 45 minutes.)
    In a totally superfluous and prejudicial aside, the reporter concluded her segment by noting that the FBI also was searching for the suspect’s teenage son Nick, wanted on a host of unrelated charges. They even flashed a photo of me that was almost as unflattering as Dad’s.
    9:52 p.m. No studying tonight; I’m too much on edge to worry about the hydrogen atom.
    Apurva was even more excited than usual when she telephoned collect for her nightly check-in chat.
    “Carlotta, we saw my father on television!” she exclaimed.
    Welcome to the club, girl.
    “Really! Your father?”
    “Yes, he was being interviewed about my old friend Nick’s father. Did you know he was behind the disruptive computer mischief that allowed me to escape?”
    “Well, I know he’s been charged. So what did your father say?”
    “He said Mr. Twisp was quite the master criminal and computer whiz.”
    “But I’d heard the guy didn’t know the first thing about computers.”
    “Oh, no. Father was quite insistent on that point. He was very well spoken. I’m happy to see my disappearance is not causing him to neglect his work duties.”
    Damn. Mr. Joshi is proving to be even more of a deceitful slimeball than his son. It really is time to put some skinheads on my payroll.
    Then Apurva asked Carlotta to referee a small premarital dispute. It seems Trent has requested that she wear a sari tomorrow for their wedding, but as a modern American bride Apurva would prefer to get hitched in a dress.
    “What should I do, Carlotta?” she inquired.
    “I think you should compromise: you wear the dress and Trent can wear the sari.”
    Much laughter in Dixie. “Oh, Carlotta, you’re so amusing,” chuckled Apurva. “It’s almost like something my old friend Nick would say.”
    Time to get serious. “I think you should wear a sari, Apurva.”
    “Really?”
    “Sure. Trent could marry millions of girls in dresses. But you should go with what makes you special.”
    “I hadn’t thought of that. All right, Carlotta, I’ll be