Stupid Fast - By Geoff Herbach Page 0,68
closet.”
“Oh,” I said and started doing math. “Wait. Spring? That means Grandma Berba let Jerri marry a thirty-year-old when Jerri was still in high school. Grandma Berba must be totally crazy.”
“No. I think you’re wrong. The paper said Jerri was nineteen and Steven Reinstein was twenty-nine. She’d have been out of high school.”
“But that’s impossible, Andrew. That doesn’t make sense. Unless…Oh my God.”
“I’m so tired,” Andrew said.
“Go to sleep,” I told him. He was snoring again in seconds.
I laid there so awake. I’d figured it all out. It all made complete sense. The reason why I’m such a freak of nature—growing all this hair all over, running so fast, gaining all this weight—was so obvious. I was a super baby (yeah, right). It must have only taken me a few months to grow inside of Jerri (uh huh). I must have been full-sized in just a few months (oh my God).
It probably killed Jerri, me growing so fast inside of her. I was probably born with white shorts on, which is why she referred to me as a tennis player when she called me asshole. Maybe that’s what killed Dad, having a freak of nature for a son. They got married, and right away, Jerri was pregnant, and I was huge in her belly. I bet I was terrifying, especially for a little, kind Jewish fellow who only liked poetry. A tennis-playing baby? Come on! If only he’d stuck around while I didn’t grow all those years and became squirrel nuts. He would’ve breathed easy then. Professor Reinstein would’ve recognized squirrel nuts. Maybe he’d just be killing himself now because now I’m a super baby again. It probably took everything out of Jerri, having a super baby. She must’ve lost all will to be a lawyer. I’m a curse. Stupid super baby grows too fast. Poor Jerri.
Are you kidding? Are you even listening to yourself? Didn’t you hear Andrew say he looked like you?
That’s the last thing I remember thinking before I fell asleep.
My brain was completely mashed.
CHAPTER 48: BRAIN MASH: PART III
Aleah shook me awake. Light was coming in from the high basement windows. It was morning.
“Felton. Felton. Wake up.”
“Whuh?” I asked.
“You didn’t set an alarm. We’ve got to do your paper route. It’s past seven.”
“Oh, shit!” I sat straight up. My back hurt but not that much. My back didn’t really hurt. “Wow. I’m not paralyzed,” I said to Aleah.
“That’s good.”
“It only makes sense,” I said. “I’m a super baby. I must heal fast.”
“What?”
From upstairs, I could hear piano playing. Andrew wasn’t at my side.
“Is Andrew playing piano?”
“Yes. He’s very good.”
“Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.”
“Paper route!” Aleah shouted.
“Oh, shit!”
I pushed my way out of the sleeping bag and ran upstairs, with Aleah right behind me. I’d slept in shorts and a shirt. I was decent. I could go out that way. We ran into the living room. Ronald sat there reading a magazine (“Don’t have my paper yet. Ha ha”). Andrew played piano. I bent over to pull on my shoes. “Owww.” My back did hurt a bit.
Andrew swiveled around and looked at me.
“They were married, so we’re not bastards,” Andrew said.
“Duh. I know that,” I said.
Then Aleah and I were out the door.
“Well, maybe you are,” Andrew called after us.
Ha. Andrew. He’s funny.
Aleah and I biked to the pickup station. My paper stack was the last one left. Then I realized I hadn’t brought my paper bag from home.
“Oh, shit!” I shouted.
“What?”
“We’ve got nothing to carry the papers in.”
“Oh, brother,” Aleah said.
I handed a bunch of papers to Aleah and said, “Do all the papers from your house on. You know, the one’s you know. I’ll meet you at the nursing home in fifteen minutes.”
“I have to bike with one hand?”
“Can you stick them in your pants?”
“I’ll figure it out, Felton.”
“Sounds great!”
I had like thirty papers to deliver while Aleah delivered her small batch. I biked as fast as I could. The dull ache in my back didn’t hinder me from really moving. So good to pump it. With one hand, I held the papers. With the other, I steered. My legs pumped like mighty elephant legs. At each house, I just let the Varsity drop, and I ran up to the front door. At some, old men or old ladies waited to give me the business for being so late. I didn’t wait for them to say what they wanted to say; I just handed them the paper, turned, and took off.
One called after me,