Fuck that shit, Gerald.
When I get home, I get Joe Jr.’s e-mail and I follow the link to a YouTube video. It’s titled Great Trampoline Act. Under it, the info says: Two acrobats on a trampoline in Bonifay, FL.
It’s Joe on a trampoline doing flips and twists and other cool things with another guy who’s dressed the same. I assume it’s his brother, because they look alike. They have the act down and it goes for about two minutes. It was filmed in a big empty barn with no seats or people watching, but they’re in costumes and they bow after each big trick as if there is an audience.
That’s my whole life, right there—bowing as if there is an audience. I still can’t pick my nose in my own bedroom, even though the guys from the TV channel came and patched up the little holes in our walls from the camera mounts ten years ago.
42
FRIDAY MORNING I am in Snow White’s guidance-counseling office in Gersday.
“I want to get out of Mr. Fletcher’s class.”
Snow White the guidance counselor looks concerned.
“I mean, I love Mr. Fletcher,” I say, and I look at him sitting to my right. “But I shouldn’t be in the special ed room. It’s a long story. It’s just—all that stuff from my past and how my parents handled it and stuff. But I’m fine up here.” I tap my head with my index finger. “And I want to go to college.”
“Your grades aren’t great. And you know your discipline record, so I don’t have to tell you that.” Snow White the guidance counselor tries to keep a straight face while pretending to be stern.
“But I can do it, right? I can go to college?”
“We’ll try, Gerald,” she says. “You just keep this positive attitude and stay out of trouble and it’s totally possible.”
I nod because my inner director told me to nod. This is the scene I want on TV. Boy makes good of himself. Boy takes a shit sandwich and turns it into a scrumptious meal. Boy calls himself on his walkie-talkie and says, Dude—you’re better than this. Why are you letting them do this to you? Boy meets girl. Girl writes ASSHOLE on his dashboard and then erases it with magic junkyard solvent the next morning. Boy finds life worth living.
This should be a reality TV show. Except nobody would watch because it’s no fun to watch normal people do normal things. Because happy stories aren’t all that interesting. Because everyone wants to eat that shit sandwich, or watch other people eat it, along with exotic bugs and rotten eggs and diesel fuel and everything else producers can think of to keep viewers’ thumbs away from the channel button on the remote control.
Not me.
I’ve eaten enough shit sandwiches, thank you.
Hannah meets me at my locker at the end of the day. She has her phone in her hand and is reading text messages and says hi while I exchange some books for other books and stuff them into my backpack. I’ve spent the whole day in Gersday, pretending that I talked to the guidance counselor. I’ve spent the whole day looking for Lisi, but I can’t find her anywhere.
“You ready for the big night?” Hannah asks.
I make a face like I don’t follow.
“Rivals. Should be packed. Hockey—you know? Our job?” she says.
“Oh. Right,” I say. “Shit. I forgot my pants.”
She laughs.
“No. I mean I forgot my work pants. We’re gonna be late,” I say. “Shit.”
“Can’t we just go to your house and get them? It won’t take that long, will it?”
We and your house just don’t sound right in the same sentence. I can’t take Hannah to my house.
“The mall. We can stop at the mall. I know where to go and I know my size. It’ll be easier,” I say.
“Easier than what? Going to your house to get a pair of pants? Seriously, Gerald. You’ve seen where I live. It can’t be much worse than that.”
“Uh. You—uh. Look. If we leave now, I can just stop at the mall. No big deal.”
“I’ll even hide in the car if you want,” she says. “Is it that bad? You having a girlfriend?”
We walk down the hall toward the exit doors and Hannah seems sad now. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but I don’t want to fight again. I just want this day to keep going right. Straight to college. I want this day to just lead me to college.
“Does this have something to do with your chest?”
“My chest?”
“The bruises. I saw them. Last night.”
“Oh,” I say. “Shit. No. I box. That’s from a fight I had on Monday at the gym. Guy was like a train.”
“Mm,” she says. Once we get into the car, she asks, “It’s me, isn’t it?”
“What? No. Shit. Of course not.”
“I’m the junkman’s daughter.”
“You are not the junkman’s daughter,” I say.
“Then why can’t we just go to your house and pick up a stupid pair of pants?” she says.
I look at my clean dashboard. I worry what she’ll write on it if I say no.
“Fine. You’re right. We’ll go to my house. I can run in and get the pants and run out again.”
“Exactly,” she says. “You can thank the junkman’s daughter for saving you fifty bucks, too.”
I laugh. “Yes. Thank you.”
As I drive, I finally find Lisi on the trapeze. I tell her about college and about how Snow White said I could go.
“Gerald?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you hear what I said?” Hannah asks.
“Shit. Sorry. I was spaced-out again. What did you say?”
“I said that I’ve never been in a gated community before,” she says.
“Oh,” I say. “It’s really not as special as it seems. I mean, there’s a gate. And a little booth with a security guard. That’s about it.”
“Sounds a lot like my house, eh?” She laughs.
“You know, it’s not as bad as you think it is, your house. It’s weird for you, but it’s not like—a freak show or anything.”
“If only they made a reality TV show out of us… then you’d see just how weird it is,” she says.
I pull into the drive and stop at the gate. The security guard knows me, so he makes the gate go up without me having to enter my pass code into the box. He waves. Hannah waves at him and he smiles. I think maybe he’s happy for me.
Hannah stays in the car and I run into the house and grab my pants. It takes me all of two minutes. Hannah says, “That was fast.”
When I get home, I get Joe Jr.’s e-mail and I follow the link to a YouTube video. It’s titled Great Trampoline Act. Under it, the info says: Two acrobats on a trampoline in Bonifay, FL.
It’s Joe on a trampoline doing flips and twists and other cool things with another guy who’s dressed the same. I assume it’s his brother, because they look alike. They have the act down and it goes for about two minutes. It was filmed in a big empty barn with no seats or people watching, but they’re in costumes and they bow after each big trick as if there is an audience.
That’s my whole life, right there—bowing as if there is an audience. I still can’t pick my nose in my own bedroom, even though the guys from the TV channel came and patched up the little holes in our walls from the camera mounts ten years ago.
42
FRIDAY MORNING I am in Snow White’s guidance-counseling office in Gersday.
“I want to get out of Mr. Fletcher’s class.”
Snow White the guidance counselor looks concerned.
“I mean, I love Mr. Fletcher,” I say, and I look at him sitting to my right. “But I shouldn’t be in the special ed room. It’s a long story. It’s just—all that stuff from my past and how my parents handled it and stuff. But I’m fine up here.” I tap my head with my index finger. “And I want to go to college.”
“Your grades aren’t great. And you know your discipline record, so I don’t have to tell you that.” Snow White the guidance counselor tries to keep a straight face while pretending to be stern.
“But I can do it, right? I can go to college?”
“We’ll try, Gerald,” she says. “You just keep this positive attitude and stay out of trouble and it’s totally possible.”
I nod because my inner director told me to nod. This is the scene I want on TV. Boy makes good of himself. Boy takes a shit sandwich and turns it into a scrumptious meal. Boy calls himself on his walkie-talkie and says, Dude—you’re better than this. Why are you letting them do this to you? Boy meets girl. Girl writes ASSHOLE on his dashboard and then erases it with magic junkyard solvent the next morning. Boy finds life worth living.
This should be a reality TV show. Except nobody would watch because it’s no fun to watch normal people do normal things. Because happy stories aren’t all that interesting. Because everyone wants to eat that shit sandwich, or watch other people eat it, along with exotic bugs and rotten eggs and diesel fuel and everything else producers can think of to keep viewers’ thumbs away from the channel button on the remote control.
Not me.
I’ve eaten enough shit sandwiches, thank you.
Hannah meets me at my locker at the end of the day. She has her phone in her hand and is reading text messages and says hi while I exchange some books for other books and stuff them into my backpack. I’ve spent the whole day in Gersday, pretending that I talked to the guidance counselor. I’ve spent the whole day looking for Lisi, but I can’t find her anywhere.
“You ready for the big night?” Hannah asks.
I make a face like I don’t follow.
“Rivals. Should be packed. Hockey—you know? Our job?” she says.
“Oh. Right,” I say. “Shit. I forgot my pants.”
She laughs.
“No. I mean I forgot my work pants. We’re gonna be late,” I say. “Shit.”
“Can’t we just go to your house and get them? It won’t take that long, will it?”
We and your house just don’t sound right in the same sentence. I can’t take Hannah to my house.
“The mall. We can stop at the mall. I know where to go and I know my size. It’ll be easier,” I say.
“Easier than what? Going to your house to get a pair of pants? Seriously, Gerald. You’ve seen where I live. It can’t be much worse than that.”
“Uh. You—uh. Look. If we leave now, I can just stop at the mall. No big deal.”
“I’ll even hide in the car if you want,” she says. “Is it that bad? You having a girlfriend?”
We walk down the hall toward the exit doors and Hannah seems sad now. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but I don’t want to fight again. I just want this day to keep going right. Straight to college. I want this day to just lead me to college.
“Does this have something to do with your chest?”
“My chest?”
“The bruises. I saw them. Last night.”
“Oh,” I say. “Shit. No. I box. That’s from a fight I had on Monday at the gym. Guy was like a train.”
“Mm,” she says. Once we get into the car, she asks, “It’s me, isn’t it?”
“What? No. Shit. Of course not.”
“I’m the junkman’s daughter.”
“You are not the junkman’s daughter,” I say.
“Then why can’t we just go to your house and pick up a stupid pair of pants?” she says.
I look at my clean dashboard. I worry what she’ll write on it if I say no.
“Fine. You’re right. We’ll go to my house. I can run in and get the pants and run out again.”
“Exactly,” she says. “You can thank the junkman’s daughter for saving you fifty bucks, too.”
I laugh. “Yes. Thank you.”
As I drive, I finally find Lisi on the trapeze. I tell her about college and about how Snow White said I could go.
“Gerald?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you hear what I said?” Hannah asks.
“Shit. Sorry. I was spaced-out again. What did you say?”
“I said that I’ve never been in a gated community before,” she says.
“Oh,” I say. “It’s really not as special as it seems. I mean, there’s a gate. And a little booth with a security guard. That’s about it.”
“Sounds a lot like my house, eh?” She laughs.
“You know, it’s not as bad as you think it is, your house. It’s weird for you, but it’s not like—a freak show or anything.”
“If only they made a reality TV show out of us… then you’d see just how weird it is,” she says.
I pull into the drive and stop at the gate. The security guard knows me, so he makes the gate go up without me having to enter my pass code into the box. He waves. Hannah waves at him and he smiles. I think maybe he’s happy for me.
Hannah stays in the car and I run into the house and grab my pants. It takes me all of two minutes. Hannah says, “That was fast.”
