Undiscovered Gyrl: The novel that inspired the movie ASK ME ANYTHING (Vintage Contemporaries) by Allison Burnett Read Free Book Online Page A

how animals are slaughtered. If I did keep my eyes open and let in reality, I honestly don’t know how I would ever get out of bed and live my life. How could anybody?
    How do you go to work and laugh with your friends if you know that at that exact second your government is dropping a huge bomb on an Arab’s house that turns out not to have any terrorists inside, just families?
    When I occasionally do open my eyes and face reality (like when I watched the turkey video) I feel terrible about the world and wish I could make it better, but everything I can think of doing seems pointless. Political stuff seems the most pointless because there’s so much lying and corruption. The only thing that might make a difference would be some gigantic violent act against an evil corporation, but even if I was dying of cancer I don’t think I would have the guts to do it.
    These are the kinds of dark thoughts I’ve had since learning how turkeys die. This is why I choose fantasy. Maybe that’s why my dad became a drunk. Because he had the same dark thoughts and drinking made them disappear.

Saturday, November 24, 2007
     
    I am sorry. I should have explained. Cankle = calf ankle.
    Tharm = thigh arm.
    I am too high right now to right about anything other than being high.

Sunday, November 25, 2007
     
    Jade is the worst influence. Way too drunk. Just hurdled. Hahah! I mean hurled.

Monday, November 26, 2007
     
    You won’t even believe what I’m about to tell you. Sit down and light up a joint or fix yourself a nice double scotch because this is serious. (It’s so sad and awful that I am still in denial about it.) This morning I was in the kitchen eating cereal and reading the newspaper, which I almost never do. Ironically I was reading an article about how less and less people read these days. Like 40% of American adults didn’t read a single book last year! Anyway, I started thinking about Glenn and what he told me about the transcendence of reading, and I decided to write down the name of the article so he could read it online, in case he doesn’t get the paper delivered. As I stood up to get a pen I saw my mom standing in the doorway staring at me like a crazy owl. Something was truly wrong.
    “Sweetie, come with me,” she said.
    My first thought was that my dad was dead.
    I said “What is it? Just tell me!”
    Her face stayed serious and she reached out a hand. I let her lead me down the hall to her office. Mark Aubichon was waiting there at her computer, which was weird because henever sleeps over on a school night, which means he must have come over superearly.
    My mom spoke first. “We’re really sorry to have to tell you this but—”
    “When did he die?”
    “What? Who?”
    “Dad isn’t dead?”
    “No, no!”
    Mark wiggled a finger for me to come closer. On the screen a website showed a big map of our town with about 20 little red triangles all over it. Mark pointed at the triangles and said “Each one of these represents a registered sex offender.” He clicked on a red triangle about two blocks from downtown and up came an old police mug shot of Glenn A. Warburg. That’s right, my boss, but looking much younger and meaner. He was wearing a green and yellow camouflage T-shirt. He had zits and a buzz cut. Underneath the pic it said:
    Conviction(s)
    CRIMINAL SEXUAL ASSAULT
    Source of Information: State Offender Registry
     
    I was in shock.
    Mark said “I’m sorry, kid. I know you were really excited about this job but that starting salary of yours just didn’t passthe smell test with me, so I decided to poke around and see if I could learn more about him. Never did I expect to find something like this.”
    “Glenn’s a rapist? Is that what it means?”
    “Sexual assault is a broader category than rape. The particulars can vary, but yeah, it’s basically sexual contact without consent.”
    “Against the woman’s will,” my mom said really slowly like I was a mongoloid.
    “Or the man’s will,”