The Downside of Being Up Read Online Free PDF Page A

the cafeteria line. “Today we’re having hot dogs. Do you know the difference between a hot dog and a wiener?”
    Fifty people stared at me waiting for the punch line to this obviously not-going-to-be-very-funny-tome joke. “No, Nathan. What?”
    â€œWell, in your case, about four inches and a whole lot of firmness,” Nathan blurted out. Then he tried to shove a hot dog bun up my butt.
    As Nathan did so, I looked to the school lunch lady for help. She wore a white uniform, white shoes and silly white hairnet thing.
    Our lunch lady just giggled and watched Nathan torture me.
    Wasn’t she some kind of school employee who was supposed to intervene against bullying or something?
    With flakes of hot dog bun hanging from my rear end, I crossed the gray-walled cafeteria and made my way past rows and rows of plastic yellow tables until I finally found a spot in the far corner of the lunchroom by a fire extinguisher that hung on the wall.
    Lunch was usually smiles, food, chatter and people. Today, I was alone in the back corner of a windowless room, just me and my weenie.
    â€œYou know you’re pathetic when even the lunch lady is laughing at you. He-hurrggh, he-hurrggh .”
    â€œShut up, Finkelstein.”
    â€œOh, come on, bro. Don’t let it be like that, I’m just messin’.”
    Clank! He set down his tray of food.
    â€œWanna hear my English-class poem?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAren’t you gonna ask what poem?” he asked.
    â€œNo,” I said again.
    â€œWhile you were out yesterday, we were assigned a poem for English. Everyone has to write one or they won’t pass for the quarter. I call this one ‘Zits.’”
    â€œDon’t read me your poem, Finkelstein.”
    â€œZits,” he began.
    Â 
    A sign of my maturity
    A sign of my grace
    A sign of adolescence
    They cover my whole face
    I squeeze them when they’re juicy
    The pus runs down my cheek
    I love to pop and pop my zits
    But no matter how many zits I pop
    I get more again next week
    Â 
    Â 
    â€œPretty good, huh?” Finkelstein took a bite of his hot dog.
    â€œFinkelstein, if this school gives you credit for that poem, I am officially dropping out.”
    â€œHe-hurrggh, he-hurrggh . ”
    â€œAnd will you stop with that laugh?”
    â€œOkay,” Alfred said. There was a pause.
    â€œHe-hurrggh, he-hurrggh.”
    I glared.
    â€œSorry, it’s just how I laugh.” He took a second bite of his weenie, then jammed two Tater Tots into his face. “What you gonna do your poem on?”
    â€œMorons,” I said.
    â€œNiiice,” he replied, as if I was really onto something.
    I watched Finkelstein take a third bite of his hot dog and chew. He must have gone to the orthodontist yesterday. This week’s color: cat-whiz frog vomit.
    I would have been more disgusted by Finkelstein’s Frankenstein teeth except I knew that in a few minutes, the bell was going to ring. And that meant it would be time for me to go face the dragon. The monster. The worst of the worst of all of possible nightmares.
    Math class. It was time for my return.
    My stomach fluttered. My shoulders got tense. I looked at my food. There was no way I could eat.
    â€œHe-hurrggh, he-hurrggh . ”
    I looked up. Alfred was practically in hysterics.
    â€œWhat’re you laughing at, Finkelstein?”
    â€œMorons,” he answered. “You said morons.”
    â€œThat was like ten minutes ago.”
    â€œI know,” he replied. “But you were talking about me, right? That’s funny. I’m glad we’re best friends.”
    â€œShut up, Finkelstein.”
    Bing-bong. Bing-bong. The bell rang. It was time to meet my doom.
    I threw away my uneaten food and then began the long, slow march down the crowded school hallway.
    Thwap! I got hit by another spitball. I pulled it off my neck and realized that this one seemed to have been dunked in chocolate