I Am (Not) the Walrus Read Online Free PDF

you.”
    â€œWait,” I say, “What exactly do you think I misjudged?”
    â€œNothing specific,” says Zack. “It’s just a feeling I had. I’ve got to admit I’m a little jealous. She was kind of fit-looking.”
    â€œYou didn’t hear what she said to me,” I say. “They were giving points out of ten to all the boys they knew, and she gave me nothing.”
    â€œNothing?” says Zack.
    â€œCorrect,” I say. “Zero. What part of zero out of ten are you claiming I misunderstood?”
    â€œNothing out of ten is better than nothing out of a hundred.” Zack gives me a thousand-yard stare through one eye. Kind of a five-hundred-yard stare.
    â€œNothing,” I say, “is zero. Zero is always zero. Zero out of ten is the same as zero out of a hundred.”
    â€œOkay, so she gave you nothing.” Zack absent-mindedly thrums the opening chords to “Can’t Buy Me Love.”
    â€œNot one,” I say.
    â€œNot a half?” says Zack.
    â€œNothing.” I say.
    â€œMy opinion, for what it’s worth.” Zack places the end of his guitar on the floor and draws in a long, ragged breath. “If she’d given you one or two out of ten, I’d say forget it. But zero is a bit over the top.” He slaps his hands on his knees. “I mean nobody is worth nothing. I reckon she was actually trying to pretend she didn’t like you.”
    â€œShe did a pretty good job of pretending,” I say. “She convinced me.”
    â€œYou don’t get it, do you,” says Zack. “She wasn’t trying to convince you.”
    â€œWho then?” I say. “Her friend?”
    Zack puts his face in his hands. “She was trying to convince herself.” He puts his guitar on the bed, stands up, and goes over to the window.
    â€œSo. Fine,” I say. “She’s convinced herself she doesn’t like me. It’s all the same in the end. Let’s play.” I point to his guitar.
    â€œYou don’t get it do you?” Zack leans against the wall. “She needed to convince herself because she actually did like you. If you see her again, all you have to do is un-convince her.”
    â€œHa. If I see her again,” I say. “I’m going to break the world land-speed record heading in the opposite direction.”
    â€œOh, well,” says Zack. “Plenty of fish in the sea.”
    â€œPlenty of fish in the aquarium.” I trace the lines of the cables as they snake across the floor like railway lines on a map. “If I want a fling with a flounder.”

4
    Wednesday
    We play until Mom comes home from work, then we pack up and Zack heads home. Back in Shawn’s room, I tidy up, stack all the cables away, and then I take the p-bass back out of its case again. I sit on the bed and lay the instrument across my knees.
    The first thing I try is jiggling the volume and tone controls. They’re tight. So is the jack socket.
    I flip the bass over. On the back of the body is an oval-shaped plastic panel, about six inches along. I hold the bass sideways. The panel is right underneath the volume and tone knobs, and it’s fastened to the underside of the body with three little Phillips screws.
    I hate going through Shawn’s stuff, but I know he has some tools in the top drawer of his nightstand. I pull the drawer open, take the items out of the drawer one at a time, and then place them on top of the stand.
    Socks, handkerchiefs, a Swiss army knife, pencils, ball-point pens, pack of Juicy Fruit chewing gum, a lock of hair fastened with what looks like a length of shoelace, a Sandman comic, a pack of Durex condoms.
    I have to stop.
    I shouldn’t be doing this.
    There’s probably a screwdriver downstairs in the kitchen or something.
    The last thing I take out is a wallet. I open it up. It’s empty. Not that I care. I open the drawer wider to put the wallet back, and