Stupid Fast - By Geoff Herbach Page 0,66
weirdest on record. After the phone call, Andrew and I went directly to the Jenningses’. I had to ring the doorbell fifteen times before Aleah came to the door. Andrew kept saying “She’s not here.” I kept telling him she was. Finally, she opened up and was all groggy-eyed. At first, she was kind of pissed we were there. Then she locked in to how serious I was.
“Aleah,” I said. “You know that I wouldn’t mess with your sleep except in case of emergency. Andrew and I have been experiencing an emergency.”
“What?” she asked.
“Our mother has gone crazy.”
“Alcohol?” she asked.
“No. No. This has been coming for a long time, I think.”
“You never said anything.”
“I know…But, Aleah, this is serious.”
“Okay. It’s not like I didn’t know you were losing it.”
“Yes, I was. Is there any way we can stay with you for a day or two?”
“What?” Aleah shook her head, totally confused.
“Our grandmother is on her way,” said Andrew, “But, honestly, we don’t know what to expect from her. We don’t know our grandma.”
“Uh oh,” Aleah said, squinting at me.
“Uh oh?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Uh. Oh. Would you like some iced tea?”
“Do you have any food?” Andrew replied.
“Come on in,” she said.
“Thanks, Aleah. Thanks.”
“You’re a very weird family,” Aleah said as I straight-leg zombie-walked past her (my back hurt).
Then, while Andrew and I sat on the couch and gulped down chips (“Beats tomatoes,” he said) and that berry-tasting iced tea, I began to tell the whole long story of Jerri’s complete collapse as a mother and a human being.
“You told me nothing. That’s not good,” Aleah said.
“I wanted you to like me and not be freaked.”
“Hmm.”
While I was telling her the sordid story, I began to get text message after text message about my back. Apparently, word was spreading around. Most of the texts were from honky football players or friends of football players asking me how I was. A couple were from honky girls who’d heard about my injury.
“From who?” Aleah asked. “That Abby?”
“Uh, just friends,” I said.
A conversation with Cody went like this:
Cody: talked to dad. he’ll arrest ken if you want. says it was definitely assault.
Me: no. not hurt.
Cody: dad might anyway he’s pissed.
Me: tell him thanks but it was more accident than assault. ok?
Cody: ok. but might be out of my hands.
On top of the messages, I received two phone calls. One was from Coach Johnson.
“How many people do you know?” Aleah asked as my phone buzzed.
“Yeah?” Andrew asked.
I held up my finger to let them know I was answering.
“How are you doing, Felton? Your back feeling better?” Coach asked.
“I’m feeling fine,” I said, even though my back really hurt.
“Thank God. I nearly took Kennedy to the police station. For his own protection, not just because he’s an idiot. Kid’s getting dozens of hate texts. Could you ask the crew to call off the dogs, Felton? Kennedy’s pretty broken up.”
“Okay,” I told him, but I didn’t do anything. Not that I didn’t feel for that jerk Ken Johnson (sorry). I just had other things on my mind. I did have presence of mind to tell Coach not to take his son to the police station because of Cody’s dad.
I still had my normal life.
“I guess I know a lot of people,” I told Aleah and Andrew after I hung up. “It’s really weird to be talking to these…these friends about my back, which isn’t even that big a deal if you compare it to this whole Jerri…” My phone buzzed again.
“Mr. Popular.” Aleah raised her eyebrows at me.
“No. No. This is Grandma Berba, I think.”
It was.
“I’ll be in to Bluffton tonight very late. I had to book to Madison and then I’ll drive a rental. Are you staying at the house tonight, Felton?”
“No.”
“Good boy. Where will you be?”
I gave her Aleah’s address.
“I’ll be over in the morning,” she said.
“Should I let Jerri know you’re coming?”
“I’ve already spoken to her. She’s well aware.”
“Is she okay, Grandma?”
“No. She needs her mother. Took her to age thirty-five to figure it out.”
When I got off the phone and relayed Grandma Berba’s comments, Aleah’s mouth dropped open.
“Your mom is thirty-five?” she said.
“I guess,” I told her.
“Yes. Jerri turns thirty-six in October,” Andrew said.
“But you turn sixteen next week, Felton.”
“Yeah?”
“That means your mom was a teenager when she had you. She was just like a year out of high school.”
“Whoa,” I said. I’d never thought of it. I guess it hadn’t meant anything to me before. But since I was turning sixteen, nineteen suddenly