Revolting Youth: The Further Journals of Nick Twisp Read Online Free PDF

you’ll have on your honeymoon. You’re a lucky guy.”
    At least on this point I was being sincere. A week in a Mississippi motel with sexy Apurva on someone else’s nickel—the guy leads a charmed life.
    After hugs all around, the happy couple bounded up the boarding ramp, and forlorn Carlotta was left to figure out how to haul herself back to Ukiah.
    Five minutes later: I got the shock of my life while hailing a cab for the crosstown trip to the bus station. Parked at the airport curb was an Oakland black and white—with my evil stepdad Lance Wescott behind the wheel. A married man and so-called “officer of the law,” he was flagrantly checking out Carlotta’s butt.
    SUNDAY, February 28 — It was after 11 p.m. when my bus rolled into Ukiah and nearly midnight when my second overpriced cab ride of the night brought me to my humble abode, which turned out to be not quite as lonely as I’d anticipated. Stretched out in my bed, under Granny DeFalco’s quilt, in her preferred sleep apparel (none) was the Person I’d Most Like to Hijack to Mississippi: Sheeni Saunders.
    “Hi, Nickie,” she said sleepily. “What took you so long? How’s Fuzzy?”
    “Uhmm, he’s feeling better,” I replied, hastily disrobing. “What a nice surprise, darling. I thought you were mad at me.”
    “I don’t handle rejection well, Nickie. You should know that by now.”
    I hopped into bed and embraced her. “I wasn’t rejecting you, darling.”
    “Nick, did you floss and brush?”
    I hopped out of bed. “Be right back. Don’t go away.”
    Sheeni slipped on my robe and followed me into the bathroom. “Nickie, no one’s seen any sign of Apurva and Trent. All the parents are in a tizzy, including mine for some reason. Everyone’s afraid they might have done something desperate.”
    I paused in my flossing. “You mean like get married?”
    “No, silly. They’re much too young for that. Everyone’s worried they might do something extreme like make a suicide pact.”
    “I doubt that, Sheeni. Guys as good-looking as Trent don’t off themselves. What would be the point? They’re probably holedup in a motel in Willits or somewhere. They’ll come home when they run out of money.”
    “You really think so, Nickie?”
    I spat out my toothpaste and rinsed my brush. “Of course, darling. They’re two reasonably sensible kids. They’d have been fine if their parents hadn’t interfered.”
    “Speaking of which, Nickie, my parents are expecting us at church tomorrow.”
    “Then we’d better get cracking at the next item on the agenda.”
    8:45 a.m. It’s weird. When Sheeni and I (finally) went to sleep last night, we lay on opposite sides of the bed, but when we awoke we were totally entwined—as if our limbs had been methodically and magically knit together. Sheeni threatens to make me wear latex pajamas, lest these unconscious nocturnal clinches grow too intimate and she winds up expecting our first gifted child. (My genes would be thrilled.)
    The phone rang; I laboriously untangled an arm to answer it.
    “Carlotta,” said Fuzzy, sounding excited. “Have you read today’s paper?”
    “Not yet, I’ve been engaged in more important activities.”
    “Like what?”
    “I’ll give you a hint, Frank. You used to do it with Heather.”
    “Is Sheeni there?”
    “She’s here.”
    “Damn, Carlotta. You have to find me a girlfriend!”
    “I’m working on it, guy. What’s in the paper?”
    “Go read it!” Click.
    9:35 a.m. The alarming story was splashed all over the front page. A homegrown computer virus is wreaking havoc among local businesses and spreading like an infectious plague across the Internet. Most ominous, concerned officials have labeled this destructive new pest the “Geezer” virus.
    “Nickie, are you or are you not taking me out to breakfast?” demanded Sheeni, freshly bathed and fully dressed to her usual pulse-quickening effect.
    “In a minute, darling. I’m reading about a new computer