The Genius of Little Things Read Online Free PDF

wind—and sat on a wooden folding chair while the entire class stared at me, waiting for my dramatic interpretation. To buy some time, I scrutinized the quote painted on the wall. I shall create! If not a note, a hole! If not an overture, a desecration!
I should point out that I cough when I’m nervous. When I’m extremely nervous I dry heave, so it was a good thing my anxiety level wasn’t higher.
My effort in suppressing my cough was ineffective. I sputtered like an old car engine straining to turn over. In addition to this, I had a sudden, spastic eyelid tremor. When I was able to suppress my cough reflex for a few seconds, though not my twitching eyelid, I looked at Ms. Gurzy. I was about to admit I had no idea how to mime pollen. Ms. Gurzy clasped her hands together and said my performance was very inventive. “Tyler portrayed the effects of poooooh-len. Wooooon-derful.” The class displayed their agreement through vigorous head nodding.
I’m going to digress a bit more and say that most of the mimes were a blur to me, partly because Zoe’s washing machine mime wiped everything out of my memory. It involved stretching out her arms to form a square as she made various clicking, whirring, and churning noises. The most remarkable cycle was final spin. She was wearing a tight fitting t-shirt and no bra.
When class ended, Zoe and I reached the door at the same time. I stood back, allowing her to go first and ignore me. Instead, she turned and addressed me. “Gurzy really loves the less-is-more stuff, and you do practically nothing.” I let her sashay away.
For the rest of the afternoon I imagined myself responding in a variety of ways.
Thank you.
Thank you. I like your smile and dark eyes. They’re like huge hazelnuts. Your eyes, I mean, not your teeth.
Thanks. You gave me a new appreciation of the spin cycle.
Here’s my point. My “success” in the miming exercise, and Ms. Gurzy’s compliment and Zoe’s pseudo-compliment, gave me the idea to join drama club. Science and theater! That would impress Caltech!
Ms. Gurzy was thrilled that I was approaching her. But she said there was no longer a formal drama club at Firebird High. “It’s so typical,” she said. “Plenty of money for a losing football team. Dooohn’t get me started.” It seemed to me that she had already started.
     
     
I returned to Carl and Janet’s after a long evening at the library. Partly because I had just been chased by a crazy man who, inexplicably, wanted me to sniff his hand, I was in no mood to see the note on the refrigerator white board.
Tyler, we did plan dinner tonight, didn’t we? We left it for you, in the refrigerator. Are you all right? Reschedule?
Scheizen . I wrote, Sorry, thanks, yes , and I’m free Thursday .
In the morning they were both gone, but there was a response. Thursday dinner, and we need to talk . I hoped they meant we would talk at dinner. In my experience, an official talk with FoPas included variations on the phrase, “we believe you stole it,” and “we’ve contacted your case manager,” or “it’s not you, we need the space,” or “blasphemer!”
Carl and Janet didn’t need the space and they weren’t religious at all, as far as I could tell. They did have some Buddhist art around the house, but that could have been for decorative purposes. Possibly they could accuse me of stealing. I was pretty sure that a black metal table in their living room had once supported a vase, but I could have been wrong about that.
I did not want to leave this FoHo. Not yet. If I were tossed back onto the Foster-go-Round, I would probably end up near Nellis Air Force base, in another school district, in a house with hooligan biological children. Or worse. I could end up in a group home.
I called my case manager. He spent the first minute badgering me with generic questions. I answered the way he expected. “I’m fine, I feel fine, doing fine, things are fine.” I asked him if he had any new information. I