Calling Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

Dixon.”
    â€œYes.”
    Mr. Tyler chewed, savored, and swallowed that residue of tummy medicine he had in his mouth. “You were the one who wanted to take geometry.” His face got sharp and he made himself look smart. “I told you you couldn’t handle the work. That’s university prep.”
    â€œI don’t remember that.”
    â€œI told you it would be very difficult, and now here you are.” Spookily, he and I were alone in the office. The typing had stopped. The clock on the lime-green wall made a noise like someone sucking a lozenge, and the minute hand advanced one step. Mr. Tyler glanced around, coughed and patted his coat pocket.
    â€œI wanted to take some math,” I said, trying to sound stupid enough to be harmless. “It’s important to be well-rounded.”
    â€œWhat did you get in algebra?”
    â€œI don’t remember.”
    â€œAs I recall,” he said, patting his breast, “you did very poorly.” He put his hand into his coat like he was adjusting his bra strap. He brought out a small white tube and slipped what looked exactly like a tablet of chalk onto his gray tongue. “Make an appointment,” he said. “And we’ll talk about it.”
    I nodded, but his heel had made a squeak like a rusty car door and he was already in his office, a small cubicle behind translucent glass. His form rippled and shifted behind the rough texture of the glass like someone you could not conjure into your memory, a distant relative, or someone who used to be very important who, at that very moment, you cannot recall. It was abrupt, being left there at the counter, and even though I had wanted to be left alone I was not prepared to be left alone in that place.
    A secretary clicked across the room to the typewriter. She was a heavyset Latino, pretty black eyebrows, muy made-up, a revvy chassis, but over the hill. She looked at me, passing a pink wad of gum across her tongue as if it were me and, to no one’s surprise, I didn’t taste all that good.
    Angela was waiting for me in her green BMW after school, racing the engine in neutral and working the gear knob like it was a penis that refused to comply. “What took you?”
    â€œNothing took me. I’m just walking along the ground like a normal human being.”
    â€œThat would be a first.”
    The BMW made toylike squeals as it pushed off from the gutter. She deftly avoided a guy on a motorcycle, and leaned on the horn at two junior high school kids who were crossing Lake Boulevard in a crosswalk. “They’re not back yet,” she said.
    â€œGood,” I said. I admired Angela’s black hair. She was beautiful. There was no question. I was lucky to have her, of course, but then, she was lucky to have me. Mutual good taste. She changed lanes to pass a pickup loaded with branches, and punched buttons on the car stereo. Music thumped the car and I twitched, working my knuckles, frowning at the soreness, feeling for my seat belt, which I found and worked until it clicked. I experimented with it to make sure I was secured by it.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you?”
    â€œNothing’s the matter with me.”
    â€œYou art like a zombie. What have you been taking?”
    â€œNothing. My nervous system is completely unaffected by any stimulant or depressant.”
    â€œMaybe that’s what’s wrong with you.”
    â€œAlmost certainly.” I pretended to be suave, but I felt about as suave as a cow pie. She offered me a cigarette and I took it, letting the thing flip up and down in my mouth as I talked and waited for the cigarette lighter to pop out, but I did not want to be with Angela that afternoon, and I was sorry her parents weren’t back from Vegas.
    She was a year ahead of me. She should have been going to Skyline, but her parents had decided to let her finish her senior year at Harding. Her father had made a lot of money in