More Happy Than Not Read Online Free PDF

to pick up his older brother from the airport. The work doesn’t bother me, especially after the night I had. I handled the morning shipment without bitching. I even upsold all the honeybuns that are expiring tomorrow so we wouldn’t have any waste. Throughout the morning, my friends popped in so I would spill all the details. It’s probably bad form to tell your boys all about your deeds the day after it happens, but there’s just no way you can’t not talk about it.
    Brendan grilled me for very personal details about Genevieve—who isn’t due to show up until later—but eventually backed off after a line was forming behind him. Skinny-Dave wanted to know how many times we did it (twice!) and how long I lasted (not long but I lied). Baby Freddy wanted to compare first-time tales, except his sounds like bullshit, and to this day, Tiffany denies ever doing anything with him. Lastly, Nolan asked me if I actually went through with it. This, when he came in to buy baby wipes for his two girls; he always uses condoms, but he must be wearing them really wrong. That’s more than can be said for Collin, who didn’t bother using a condom with Nicole.
    On our block, there are guys and girls in their late twenties who we’ve grown up calling “the Big Kids.” We’ve watched them kick each other’s asses, date, and hook up with each other’s exes. Some have even gone to college and stayed away. Others, like Devon Ortiz, are still around. Devon comes in to buy panty hose for his mother and congratulates me. This concerns me because it means word is getting around quickly, but also makes me feel kind of proud, like I’m finally one of the Big Kids myself.
    By the time Mohad gets back, Brendan has also returned, crowding the counter with Nolan and Skinny-Dave. “When do you get off? We want to get a game of manhunt going.”
    â€œMohad asked me to stay until one,” I answer.
    From across the store, Mohad shouts in his thick Arabic accent, “Soto! You’re good to go now if you and your smelly friends clear out of here.”
    They all cheer. We bounce.
    The energy out here is different from when I started work at 8:00. Nearby, my brother is shuffling cards with his gaming friends: there’s Ronny, who always talks shit online but hasn’t ever won a fight in real life; Stevie, who met his girlfriend, Tricia, on a dating website for video game fanatics (except he hasn’t actually met her -met her yet); and Chinese Simon, who is actually Japanese but didn’t speak up until a year too late.
    My mom is handing out hot dogs to Fat-Dave and his younger healthy-sized brother. She made them on her neighbor Carrie’s grill and I hope they’re not waterlogged like they were on my twelfth birthday. Brendan and I spat them out behind her back and went to Joey’s to split a meatball sub.
    Skinny-Dave’s mother, Kaci, pushes a shopping cart of blue shirts toward us. The shirts are all paid for months in advance, but I know Mom couldn’t afford them for us this year so we’ll look like oddballs in any pictures taken for our community center. Kaci hands Fat-Dave his extra-large shirt, which is great since there are now mustard stains on the white shirt he’s wearing. Kaci hands her own son his shirt before approaching Brendan and me. “You two are both mediums, right?”
    â€œYeah, but I don’t think my mom ordered one for me,” I say.
    â€œI didn’t order one either,” Brendan says.
    Kaci hands us shirts. “Your family has taken care of you, boys. Have fun today and let any of us know if you need anything.”
    We thank her and slip our shirts over the ones we’re already wearing. The shirts are sort of lame. You’ll rarely see them worn after tonight except maybe when you’re doing laundry or when sleeping over at a friend’s house. But I do kind of, sort of, definitely like the