Five Flavors of Dumb Read Online Free PDF Page B

Ed about Dumb was helpful.
    “Would you look at something for me?” I asked.
    “Sure.” He seemed relieved to put the game on hold.
    As we stood up, I noticed he had finally grown taller than me. Not that he’s short—I’m five foot eight—but I’d been taller ever since freshman year. Maybe it’s easier to get your ass whipped in chess when your female opponent is shorter than you.
    Chess club met in the computer room—presumably geeks who play chess are considered less destructive than other student groups—so I led him to one of the computers and searched for Dumb’s YouTube performance. It was no more meaningful for me than it had been the day before, but Ed studied it like it was advanced calculus. When it was over, he nodded several times before turning to face me.
    “Okay, well, the good news is that although all three songs are covers, they’re imaginative covers, like Dumb’s recomposing each song rather than just copying it. That’s important—gives them their own identity, which is necessary if they want to stand out.”
    I had no idea what a cover was, but in the context I got the gist of it. So far so good.
    “Unfortunately, though, they’re very imprecise. They don’t listen to one another, and they clearly don’t practice enough.”
    “Really? Because they told me they practice every Friday in Josh and Will’s garage.”
    Ed smiled broadly. “Believe me, there’s a big difference between rehearsing and hanging out with each other for a couple hours every Friday evening.”
    We wandered back to the chessboard, my pieces poised to dethrone his king at a moment’s notice. With only two more minutes until the end of lunch, I commenced the endgame.
    “Ed, would you do me a favor?”
    He perked up. “Sure. Anything.”
    “Could you come along on Friday and listen to them? You know, give them some pointers.”
    His eyes shot back down to the chessboard. “I don’t think so, Piper. They’re not really . . . well, I’m not like them.”
    “What are you saying—that you think I’m like them?”
    Ed sighed, passively sending his queen skipping across the board, more fodder for me if I chose to take it. But that seemed unnecessarily cruel. Instead, I moved my rook into position and waited.
    “I think you’ve almost got me here,” I said, wiping my forehead for effect.
    The corners of his mouth twitched with excitement. “I have?”
    “Hmm. . . . Now will you please come on Friday?”
    Ed looked closer at his pieces, trying to see the threat that I saw. He shrugged as he moved his queen all the way back to where it had started the previous move. I sometimes wondered if he thought that the winner was the person whose pieces covered the most real estate.
    “If you win, I’ll come,” he said finally. “But if I win”—he smirked—“then it’s no deal.”
    Five seconds later the bell rang. But not before I’d put him in checkmate.

CHAPTER 9
    Mom was bouncing Grace on her knee as I entered the living room, and I couldn’t help but smile. It used to be a thing we did together—tag-team Grace teasing, we called it—Mom bouncing Grace, me playing peek-a-boo with her. And I’m sorry if it sounds cheesy, but yeah, I liked it. But this time Mom had turned Grace toward her, talking in the rapid-fire patter of a horse race commentator. Visual stimulation was out. Aural stimulation was the order of the day, and I couldn’t see how I’d fit into that activity at all.
    I was about to leave when Mom stopped, looked past Grace and smiled her honey smile for me and me alone. She tried to sign, but needed both of her hands to hold Grace. It felt symbolic somehow, but I didn’t want this conversation to go the way of others, so I stepped forward and took Grace from her, freeing her to communicate.
    This must be difficult for you, she signed, not needing to explain what “this” was.
    I nodded, rested my chin on Grace’s warm, soft head. The delicate scent of baby shampoo was