The Boy Who Couldn't Sleep and Never Had To Read Online Free PDF Page A

you talk to anybody in English.”
    â€œYeah, well, not in English. Why don’t you focus on the game? I’m killing you here.”
    We’re halfway through another match. I’m thrashing Eric again. I’m a tiny Asian schoolgirl with two razor fans. Eric’s a half-man, half-Zeppelin.
    A couple seconds go by where it’s just the sound of my girl squealing every time she lands a knee or a fan on Eric’s character, and his character harrumphing.
    Then Eric says, “You know who my guy looks like?” His guy puffs up like a blimp and rockets into the Asian girl, actually a pretty good move I’m sure he got completely by accident. “Patti Helzburg.”
    â€œPatti is fatter and has a bigger mustache.”
    Eric cracks up. We rip on people from school for a while as I beat him but not as badly, then we go downstairs to get sodas.
    â€œHow long have your parents been divorced?” Eric says.
    â€œSince I was like nine.”
    â€œIs it strange having your dad go on dates?”
    â€œNo, I’m used to it or whatever.”
    â€œI would think that would be strange. Here it is Friday night, your dad is on a date. A lot of kids our age are on dates too. If your dad took his date to the movie theater, there’s a very strong chance he took his date to see the same movie kids our age took their dates to.”
    â€œI don’t think they’re going to the movies,” I say, shutting the cabinet too hard.
    â€œSorry, I didn’t mean to—” Eric says. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
    I shrug.
    â€œDo you want me to leave?”
    â€œWhat? No!”
    â€œOkay,” Eric says. “I’ll have a Dr. Pepper, I think.” He opens the fridge and grabs a can. “I was thinking … I was thinking about the soundtrack, too.”
    â€œSoundtrack?”
    â€œFor the movie. The first one.”
    â€œOh yeah?”
    â€œYeah. I was thinking it’d be cool if it had exclusively industrial music. Like Throbbing Gristle, Bauhaus …”
    I have to admit I don’t know who those bands are.
    â€œOh. They’re from the seventies and eighties. I think they would fit really well with the tone of the first movie. I was really interested in industrial music for a while.”
    â€œCool. I’ve been thinking about it too. I was thinking, I dunno, more modern stuff, like, uhm, The Earnest February, or Forty Guns, or The Boy Who Cried Sparrow.”
    â€œUGH. I hate The Boy Who Cried Sparrow. I can’t stand them. I absolutely, I mean, I can’t stand them.”
    â€œOkay! Jeez. They don’t have to … we don’t have to put them on the soundtrack.”
    â€œI’m sorry if you like them, maybe that’s where we part company, because I think they’re completely overrated. Like, I get it, their singer went to college. Those lyrics could only be considered deep by a sixth-grader. And their arrangements? Pabulum.”
    â€œFine. Wow.”
    We start back upstairs. I have no idea what
pabulum
means, or really what “arrangements” are, at least in relation to music. I barely expected Eric to know what I was talking about much less have such a violent reaction. It’s one part scary and one part hilarious to see him so enthusiastic and negative.
    â€œMaybe we’re putting the cart before the horse,” Eric says when we’re back upstairs, “thinking about the soundtrack beforewe even have the script necessarily, or the whole thing planned out.”
    I really think about it, then I say, “No. I don’t think so. I think it’s important to know what kind of mood we’re trying to have, y’know?”
    â€œGood,” Eric says, “I don’t think so either. You know who your guy looks like?” he says. “Tony DiAvalo.” He smiles.
    We go to bed at three. Eric unrolls his sleeping bag and goes through a whole nighttime ritual. I feel