The Twinning Project by Robert Lipsyte Read Free Book Online Page A

up by the cops for WWU.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œWalking while underage.”
    She nodded. “That’s what Keith texted me.”
    â€œSo then you know it has to be true,” I said as sarcastically as possible.
    â€œI guess so,” said Mom.
    Keith just gave me his yellow-fang smile.

TWENTY
    NEARMONT, N.J.
    2011
    Â 
    A S much as I hated to eat with the Lump, I stuck around while his big mouth vacuumed up most of the Chinese food Mom had ordered in. I wanted to hear what he had to say.
    Rice dribbled out as he talked. “We need to finish our conversation, Denise.”
    It sounded like he wanted me to leave, so I grabbed a couple of dumplings, leaned back in my chair, and ate them very, very slowly.
    â€œWhat conversation?” said Mom.
    â€œYou know,” he said.
    â€œI guess I don’t.” Mom sounded annoyed. I liked that.
    The Lump said, “Tom, would you excuse us?”
    â€œI might excuse Mom, not you.”
    I liked when his face got red as his whiskers.
    â€œDenise, could you get me a beer?”
    I hated it when that lumpy Lump ordered Mom around. I jumped up. “I’ll get it.”
    I opened the refrigerator door and angled it so they couldn’t see me shake the beer bottle a couple of times. Hard.
    â€œHere.” I banged it down in front of the Lump. If I acted too nice, he’d get suspicious.
    He didn’t even say thanks as he twisted open the top.
    FSSSST!
an explosion of foam, all over him.
    While he was yelling and jumping around, I stuck a TPT FloatingEar wireless remote mike to the underside of the table.
    I grabbed a couple more dumplings and excused myself.
    I got up to my room and pulled on the headset in time to hear him say, “You’ll be sorry if he hurts somebody. Or himself.”
    Mom was sniffling. “He’s going through a phase, Keith.”
    â€œHe needs a major workup.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œBrain scans, chemical analysis, neural tracking.”
    â€œHe’s twelve years old, Keith. If I don’t know him by now . . .”
    â€œBut you don’t really know him—that’s my point. You don’t really know that much about his dad, and you know nothing about his biological mother.”
    Biological mother?
I jumped up. I had to put a hand over my mouth.
    â€œWho told you that?” snapped Mom.
    The Lump said, “I figured it out.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œEverything’s out there if you know where to look,” he said.
    There was a long pause. I could hear the Lump chewing and Mom breathing hard. I was breathing hard, too.
Mom?
She was still Mom, but . . .
    Finally, Mom said, “That’s enough. Let’s see what happens.”
    â€œYou need to do something before it’s too late.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?” She sounded angry.
    â€œIt means something’s going on with him. He’s out of control. You ever hear him talking to himself in the backyard?”
    â€œYou eavesdrop on him?”
    â€œNot like he eavesdrops on us.” There was static and a thump. “Look at this.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    He’d found my transmitter under the table. “It could have been a bomb.”
    Crunch, and then silence.

TWENTY-ONE
    NEARMONT, N.J.
    2011
    Â 
    M OM waited while I brushed my teeth, and then she tucked me in as if I were a little kid. I liked it and I hated it. She sat on the edge of the bed and hugged me. “Are you okay, Tommy?”
    â€œYeah.”
    She held me tight. “What are we going to do with you?”
    â€œSend me to military school.”
    â€œWhere’d you get that idea?”
    â€œThe Lump.”
    â€œI really wish you wouldn’t call him that.”
    â€œHow about Pigmeat?”
    She took a deep breath. “With your grandfather in a nursing home,” she said, “we need the rent Keith pays. And I feel better with a man in the house, especially