It's a Little Haywire Read Online Free PDF Page B

shoots
down the road, leaving me standing alone in front of the mobile
library/hotdog stand.
    Hrumph .
Now what? Now time is going to slow up so much it’ll go backward.
Before I know it, it will be yesterday again. I shove my fists into
my pockets and scuff my feet towards Don Chan’s. Might as well
still get that ice cream for me.
    I’m bemoaning my friendless state with
my head low, watching for cracks in the sidewalk, kicking at any
loose stone in my way, so tuned out that I bump into something.
    Not hard like a wall. Soft like a body.
I lift my chin and whose eyes am I staring in? The scary guy in the
box’s, that’s whose. I lose my breath and stiffen like a statue.
The guy in the box stares me down, his dark eyes narrow to
slits.
    My heart pounds. I can’t believe I just
ran smack into the guy in the box! He doesn’t move out of the way
and my legs seem to forget how to work. “Uh, sorry, sir.”
    My brain finally reboots as my legs
scoot me out of the way as fast as they can. I’m puffing by the
time I get to Don Chan’s and it’s only when I have my hand on the
handle that I turn around and look.
    The guy in the box stares right back at
me.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Owen True – The Nervous Ned
     
     
    I SWEAT MORE THAN I USED TO. Mom gave me
a deodorant stick while I was packing and I was kind of embarrassed
when she handed it to me. Did I stink? Mom just said I was at that
age when I should start using it. I’d tossed it in my suitcase.
    I think she’s right and I regret not
putting it on this morning. My armpits are wet and I don’t smell
that great right now. Makes me glad Mikala took off after all.
    I hope the guy in the box didn’t mind,
not that he smelled that awesome, either. Which is understandable
for a guy who doesn’t have a shower handy. Or a house for that
matter.
    I lick my ice cream bar, runny melted
vanilla ice cream dripping down my hands, and just walk. Cars kick
up dust as they putt by.
    I wander past the hair salon, big
windows facing the road, the sills painted an ugly purple. I can
see Mrs. Pershishnick inside. She’s rolling up another old lady’s
hair in curlers. Her mouth is moving like if she doesn’t get all
her words out before the last curler is pinned she’s gonna die.
    Then the lady in the chair laughs. Mrs.
Pershishnick must’ve told a funny story. Made the lady in the
chair’s day.
    I turn back in the direction I’d come.
Why am I so fascinated with the homeless man? I can’t stop myself
from meandering past the alley to take another peek.
    The guy in the box is sitting on a strip
of grass next to his box. There are a couple tents set up farther
down that weren’t there before. What would they do if I just went
in and sat down? It’s public property, right? And even if the man
in the box was a murderous maniac, there are witnesses here.

This is what happens when you’re so
bored you could puke. I stand on a patch of grass next to the guy
in the box. And even though my pulse dances erratically like Parker
Gibson at the sixth grade end-of-year sock-hop, I spit out, “Is
this a camp site?”
    A burly man crawls out of the nearest
tent. He has the reddest hair I’ve ever seen. He eye-balls me. I
guess you can’t hide much through thin tent walls, because he
answers.
    “Not officially.”
    Mr. Red has a broad smile that takes up
half his face and makes his eyes disappear. I take it that he’ll
not end my life if I sit on the grass, so I do. The guy in the
box’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t tell me to get
lost.
    “So, do you live here, then?” I say to
them both.
    Mr. Red answers, “For now.” He sits on
the grass opposite me.
    “Did you used to work at the mill?” I
say. “Is that why you live here now, because it closed down?”
    “That’s a fact. And that’s why the
others are here now too.”
    “So, how do you guys live? How do you
get food and stuff?”
    They stare at me like I’m being nosy and
it occurs to me that I am. “I’m