Where I Belong Read Online Free PDF

Grandpa announces like an annoying game show host.
    He nudges Grandma with his elbow and says, “How about we don’t wait until morning for the grand tour?”
    “It’s late, Billy,” Grandma says, and shakes her head.
    “Oops,” Grandpa says, turning his head to the backseatto wink. “I made a wrong turn. Looks like we’ll have to do the tour.”
    At the stop sign, Grandpa makes a left onto Main Street. There’s only one streetlight, but it’s bright enough to illuminate the nothingness of the small town’s strip.
    “I’m Billy Bo Houston, and I’ll be your tour guide,” Grandpa says as he mimes a microphone with his right hand and steers with his left. It’s sad because he’s trying so hard. He reminds me of the dorky kids at school who try desperately to be cool, which just makes them even more unbearable.
    “First on your left, you’ll see our grocery store. We used to have to drive to another town, but in 1989, we got our own fine Piggy Wiggly. For what we can’t grow in the fields or slaughter in houses, it does quite well. On Fridays, they got samples.”
    I don’t want to admit it, but grocery stores have always intrigued me. In the city, we have Whole Foods and some teeny tiny, jam-packed markets. But my mom told me that in small towns sometimes you have the whole grocery aisle to yourself. I’ve never seen that before. Grocery stores in the city are war zones. That’s why I use delivery. Let someone else fight my battles. I am happy to tip three dollars for that.
    “And on your right, you’ll see Chin’s Chinese Restaurant. The Chins have been here for over fifty years. Atfirst, no one wanted to touch the egg rolls, and there were rumors of dog meat. As time passed, people got wise, and now it’s our most popular restaurant. There’s even a lunch buffet.”
    “It’s also our only sit-down restaurant,” Grandma adds.
    Great, I think. Do people know how many calories are in General Tso’s chicken? It’s like a week’s worth of food.
    Grandpa ignores Grandma’s comment and keeps on driving slowly down Main Street. “And here is the hardware store, Hank’s Handy Hardware. Hank and I were classmates, Broken Spoke class of 1958. Same year Grandma and I got married. ’Twas a good year.
    “And please look to your right; this is where Grandma and I had our first date. Of course, it wasn’t a Sonic back then. It was called Peppermint Twist. But the concept is the same. I am sure that you both will be spending a lot of time here in the future because it’s where the young ‘Spokers’ hang out. They even have a happy hour and all the ice cream is half off!”
    I look at the deserted Sonic, a fast-food/ice-cream-joint hybrid with its cheesy drive-up order stations and neon red and yellow signs. For a second, I contemplate asking Grandpa to pull over so I can vomit. I have seen Sonic commercials, but in what alternate universe did Sonic become the hub of my social life? And ice-cream happy hours? Please. What makes you happy about getting fat? This is just fantastic. While my friends back home aresneaking into clubs because someone’s brother is dating the starlet of the month, I’ll be getting super-sized eating brownie Sonic Blasts by myself.
    “And that concludes our tour,” Grandpa says. “We’ll save the schools for morning when you can see our football field. We even got a new scoreboard. This one’s a work of art, better than any of that fancy, shmancy stuff I saw in New York’s museums. It doesn’t just sit there looking pretty. The scoreboard has a function and it has a purpose. That’s true beauty, in my opinion.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Grandma says. “Tell that to the teachers who haven’t gotten a raise in ten years.”
    “As you can tell, Grandma’s not really a Mockingbird fan. Funny, as she was a Mockingbirdette back in the day.” Grandpa laughs.
    I don’t even bother to ask what a Mockingbirdette is.
    “Did you play football, Grandpa?” Tripp pipes