Poster Boy Read Online Free PDF Page A

was back along with the limp. Her back still ached whenever she bent over, yet she showed no signs of a cold or flu or the big exclamation mark.
    Dad thought she should be checked out. Being Sunday, he took her to a drop-in clinic. The doctor said there was a virus going around that affected the limbs and not to worry. He sent her home with some Tylenol.
    Sunday nights we watched Lost together. It was the one show we all got into. Dad claimed the Lay-Z-boy, as always, and Maggie got my spot on the couch so Mom could massage her feet, which meant I got Maggie’s uncomfortable beanbag chair.
    Watching Maggie’s foot in Mom’s hands, I was jealous as hell. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d given me one. Mom’s foot massages felt unbelievably dope. I was starting to think Maggie was probably faking.
    â€œIt might be growing pains, Magpie,” said Dad during a commercial — some cool car with a TV in it, speaker-phone and built-in iPod.
    â€œGray,” said Mom, “do you remember having growing pains when you were little? You’d have trouble getting to sleep. I’d rub your legs and — ”
    â€œIn my knees.” I remembered how they ached and kind of burned.
    â€œIt’s a question of mineralization,” explained Dad. “The bones are growing faster than the body can nourish them.”
    â€œDad would make you warm milk,” said Mom.
    â€œWith honey and butter.” I remembered loving the taste of that milk but that it didn’t seem to help.
    â€œAnd you’d sleep with ice packs under your knees.”
    â€œIce doesn’t sound good but warm milk does,” said Maggie.
    â€œCan’t hurt,” said Dad.
    â€œGray, pop a mug of milk in the micro,” Mom said.
    â€œBut the show’s going to — ”
    â€œGray, just takes a minute,” said Dad with that tone that instantly made me feel like a jerk.
    â€œHoney but no butter, Gray,” said Maggie. “And a pinch of cinnamon.”
    â€œFaker,” I whispered, getting up.
    â€œAm not,” she hissed.
    â€œYou better be really sick.” I gave her a whap on the head.
    * * *
    Humans, like rats, Dad often said, could adapt to anything. The pins-and-needles feeling in Maggie’s arm didn’t go away, but she stopped talking about it. I watched her squat to pick things up. She sat whenever there was a chair nearby. Still limped a bit, though.
    Mom watched and waited for the red-letter day. Dad made lame jokes about fitting her out with fake limbs and bought Maggie’s favorite ice cream — cherry jubilee, which I couldn’t stand — “for the calcium and general cheering power.”
    Basically, I ignored her. Besides, I was busy studying for exams (with snooty girl’s help), working at the Cineplex, hanging with my buds and Natalie’s breasts, taking dope photos, gaming, hanging with my buds and Natalie’s breasts…
    I was, in short, on top of my game.
    * * *
    Having finished my last exam, namely trig, boo yeah, followed by a celebratory platter of nachos, I was in my sweet, music shaking the walls, logging on to MSN to see who wanted to partay the next night. I didn’t ace the exam or anything, but thanks to one jumbo-sized Caramilk bar, I was sure I’d passed. Parm wrote back that he was in and was going to try and get Chrissy to come.
    got the hots 4 her, do ya?
    pilot light’s lit.
    Natalie came on line.
    turning sweet sixteen and never been…
    My entire body flushed with heat. Did she mean what I think she meant? I was about to write back, “me, too,” but then thought that sounded unmasculine.
    i’m urs. I wrote instead.
    my parents r going out of town in a few weeks. we’d have the house 2 ourselves to…celebrate.
    I fell back in my chair, covered my crotch with both hands and just stared at the screen for a minute, then wrote, let’s hook up.
    She