Zipped by Laura McNeal Read Free Book Online

“Okay, the hats are like me. One size fits all.”
    Everyone laughed because they knew they were meant to laugh.
    â€œThe shirts come in five sizes,” Maurice went on. “Small, medium, large, extra large, and V.O.” He waited a beat. “V.O. is for very obese.”
    Another weak laugh from the jeeps.
    Maurice said, “I wouldn’t have said that if anyone here were actually in that category.” Another beat. “Wouldn’t want to be accused of sizeism.”
    This time Traylor was the only one to laugh, but that didn’t seem to bother Maurice. “Okay, I’m pretty good at estimating sizes, so if you’ll allow me.”
    He gave Mick, who wasn’t large, a large. When Lisa Doyle checked her label, she said, “I think small’s going to be too . . . small.”
    Maurice grinned. “Boys wear ’em loose, girls wear ’em small. That’s informal policy on Maurice’s crew.” He was closing up the boxes, putting them away. Mick couldn’t help but notice that Maurice was the exception to his own rule. His own T-shirt wasn’t tight exactly, but it was close fitting, so you couldn’t miss the definition of his pecs.
    The recruits dispersed without talking. The two older boys headed off to their cars. Lisa Doyle headed off to the maintenance shed, probably to find Janice Bledsoe. Mick followed a distance behind, and when she glanced back he swerved toward the driving range, where a row of older men and women were whacking balls here and there. When Mick again looked back, Lisa Doyle was nowhere to be seen.
    He started walking out. Lizette Uribe was in front of him, moving so slowly he couldn’t avoid catching up. When he did, he said, “Hi.”
    She glanced at him, but didn’t speak.
    â€œMaurice is kind of a donkey, isn’t he?”
    Silence. This time she didn’t even glance at him.
    â€œOkay, I’ll see you next Saturday,” Mick said, and picked up his pace. But he honestly wondered who would be back next Saturday.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Plebes Like Us
    Mick was relieved when he returned home Saturday afternoon and found no one there except Foolish. On the memo pad next to the telephone was a note from Nora:
    Mick,
    Your dad’s working all day so I went out. Reece left
message, which I saved.
    Nora
    P.S. I’m dying to know how job interview went!
    Winston Reece and Mick Nichols had been friends since third grade when they both would sneak away from recess kickball games and go inside to investigate Mr. Reger’s miniplanetarium. Now Mick went to the answering machine in the pantry, hit play, and heard Reece’s voice. “Reece’s log, Saturday, April 21, 11:30 A.M. I have awakened refreshed and finding no parental units present am now free to roam about the cabin.”
Click.
    It was now nearly one o’clock. Mick made himself a sandwich, dialed Reece’s number, and counted the rings. Reece never picked up before three rings. On the fourth ring a voice answered in a monotone. “By design or happy accident you have reached the telephonic nerve center of the empire’s only Reeceman. At the tone, briefly state your business, please.” The voice then made a short beeping sound.
    â€œHey,” Mick said.
    â€œOh, it’s you,” Reece said.
    Mick said, “So what besides confirming your own weirdness are you doing?” He said this flat voiced. It was one of his standard lines.
    â€œUsual Saturday stuff. Sleeping, eating, and downloading.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œYou’ve never heard of them.”
    â€œYeah, I have.”
    Reece said, “You’ve heard of A Geek’s Worst Dream?”
    â€œJust did,” Mick said, and laughed.
    They went on like this for a few minutes more, and then Mick told him about the new job. Reece responded to each of its requirements—being there at 7:30 A.M.; wearing the official three-color Village