The Art of Fielding: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

seemed to be having—the world’s most wonderful time.
    “Would they put you in a room with a girl? ” his mom asked. “At your age? Never. Never in a million years. So why would they do this? It makes no sense to me.”
    If there was a flaw in his mom’s logic, Henry couldn’t find it. Would his parents make him switch rooms? That would be horrible, worse than embarrassing, to go to the Housing office and request a new room assignment—the Housing people would know instantly why he was asking, because Owen was the best possible roommate, neat and kind and rarely even home. The only roommate who’d want to be rid of Owen was a roommate who hated gay people. This was a real college, an enlightened place—you could get in trouble for hating people here, or so Henry suspected. He didn’t want to get into trouble, and he didn’t want a new roommate.
    His mom cleared her throat, in preparation for a further revelation.
    “We hear he’s been buying you clothes.”
    Two weeks prior, on Saturday morning, Henry had been playing Tetris when Owen and Jason walked in, Owen calm and chipper as always, Jason sleepy-eyed and carrying a big paper cup of coffee. Henry closed the Tetris window, opened the website for his physics class. “Hi guys,” he said. “What’s up?”
    “We’re going shopping,” said Owen.
    “Oh, cool. Have fun.”
    “The we is inclusive. Please put on your shoes.”
    “Oh, ha, that’s okay,” Henry said. “I’m not much of a shopper.”
    “But you’re not not a master of litotes,” Jason said. Lie-toe-tease. Henry repeated it to himself, so that he could look it up later. “When we get back I’m burning those jeans.”
    “What’s wrong with these jeans?” Henry looked down at his legs. It wasn’t a rhetorical question: there was clearly something wrong with his jeans. He’d realized as much since arriving at Westish, just as he’d realized there was something wrong with his shoes, his hair, his backpack, and everything else. But he didn’t know quite what it was. The way the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow, he had only one for jeans.
    They drove in Jason’s car to a mall in Door County. Henry went into dressing rooms and emerged for inspection, over and over.
    “There,” Owen said. “Finally.”
    “These?” Henry tugged at the pockets, tugged at the crotch. “I think these are kind of tight.”
    “They’ll loosen up,” Jason said. “And if not, so much the better.”
    By the time they finished, Owen had said There, finally to two pairs of jeans, two shirts, and two sweaters. A modest stack, but Henry added up the price tags in his mind, and it was more than he had in the bank. “Do I really need two?” he said. “One’s a good start.”
    “Two,” said Jason.
    “Um.” Henry frowned at the clothes. “Mmm…”
    “Oh!” Owen slapped himself on the forehead. “Did I forget to mention? I have a gift card for this establishment. And I have to use it right away. Lest it expire.” He reached for the clothes in Henry’s hand. “Here.”
    “But it’s yours,” Henry protested. “You should spend it on yourself.”
    “Certainly not,” Owen said. “I would never shop here.” He pried the stack from Henry’s hands, looked at Jason. “You guys wait outside.”
    So now Henry had two pairs of jeans that had loosened up slightly but still felt way too tight. As he sat by himself in the dining hall, watching his classmates walk by, he’d noticed that they looked quite a bit like other people’s jeans. Progress, he thought. I’m making progress.
    “Is that true?” his dad said now. “You’ve got this guy buying you clothes?”
    “Um…” Henry tried to think of a not-untrue response. “We went to the mall.”
    “Why is he buying you clothes?” His mom’s voice rose again.
    “I doubt if he buys Mike Schwartz clothes,” Henry’s dad said. “I doubt that very much.”
    “I think he wants me to fit in.”
    “ Fit in to what? is maybe a question