Project X Read Online Free PDF Page B

think?” But it doesn’t really bother me, and he knows it.
    â€œI got this bug powder,” he goes. “Roten-something. Supposed to be like supertoxic.”
    â€œSo now I’m gonna get shit for
that,
” I go.
    â€œYou’re not gonna get shit for anything, Mr. Fearless,” he goes. “I took like a pound from a twenty-pound bag.”
    â€œWhat’d you carry it in?” I go.
    â€œWhat do you give a shit?” he goes. “What’re you, an environmentalist?”
    â€œYou’ll probably get sick now,” I go.
    â€œThat’s right. I’ll get sick now. Weenie,” he says. “You want to hear this or not?”
    â€œI want to hear this,” I tell him.
    â€œRoddy, get down here,” his dad yells from the garage.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Flake calls back. There’s no answer.
    â€œRoddy!”
his dad finally yells.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Flake yells back.
    â€œI want you to get
down
here!” his dad yells.
    Flake gets off the bed and stomps downstairs. I can’t hear what they’re arguing about once he gets to the garage.
    I think about how there’s always somebody worse off than you are. A movie about a guy who’s a brain in a jar: that guy’s going,
Man, those guys who can’t move their legs, they got it
made.
    Flake comes stomping back upstairs.
    â€œWhat’d your father want?” his mother calls from somewhere in the house.
    â€œHe wanted to put his dick inside me,” he says, hauling himself up the banister.
    â€œWhat?” his mom calls.
    â€œHe wanted to know where one of his tools was,” he calls in a louder voice.
    â€œYou tell him?” his mom asks.
    â€œI told him you had it,” he says.
    â€œWhat?” his mom says.
    â€œI told him
you
had it,” he yells.
    â€œ
I
don’t have it,” she says.
    â€œI’m kidding,” he says.
    â€œWhat?” she says.
    He shuts the door. “I’m here all alone,” he goes. “It’s like I’m living alone.”
    â€œSo what’s Grant building?” I ask him.
    He ignores me.
    â€œSo what’s your idea?” I go.
    His idea is that we take this Roten stuff and mix it with water and put it into the hot air vents so it spreads around in the morning during homeroom.
    â€œYou want to be like those kids at that school?” I go. “In Colorado?”
    â€œNo,” he says. “They were fuckups. I don’t wanna be like anybody.”
    â€œHow do we get it into the vents?” I go.
    â€œI been doing some exploring in the basement down there,” he goes.
    â€œAnd how do we keep from getting sick?” I go.
    We do it the day before, it turns out. We mix the stuff up in like a big saucepan and park that in the right spot, and when the furnace kicks on early the next morning, bingo.
    â€œWe have to buy a saucepan, so it can’t be traced,” he goes.
    â€œThink people would really get sick?” I ask him.
    Turns out he’s more psyched about when they find the saucepan and everybody freaks. He’s like, “The FBI, everybody, shit, the Navy
Seals,
everybody’ll be crawling all over this place.”
    â€œPeople’ll be like, ‘Is this homegrown, or international?’ ” I go.
    â€œFinally something’ll happen in this fucking town,” he goes. It’s like he always says: natural disasters mean days off.
    â€œWhere is the stuff?” I go.
    â€œI put it in the roof of Behan’s doghouse,” he goes.
    â€œGod. Suppose the dog like eats it or something?” I go, before I can stop myself.
    â€œGosh, I hope that doesn’t happen,” he goes. Behan’s the German shepherd next door. He’s on a chain and is always barking and jumping at Flake like he wants to tear his throat out. Flake gets in trouble for doing things like having picnics right outside the dog’s