A Matter of Life and Death or Something Read Online Free Page A

who lives way up our street. She’s a year older than Finch and the same age as me, and I am a way better match for her. But I don’t like her, if you’re wondering. I mean she’s beautiful and she’s a babe and she’s not a moron and all that, but I don’t care if she’s my girlfriend or not. Because I don’t think I’m old enough yet that I like girls much, and also because I have too much self-esteem.
    â€œYou’ll see,” Finch said, climbing up the ladder to the top floor. “And I already said stop calling me ‘Finch.’”
    Victoria Brown had brown eyes and brown hair and her skin was just slightly browner than say, mine or Finch’s, more like Uncle Max’s. Anyway, her last name was perfect for her, and one time I told her that and she said “I know!” The only part that wasn’t brown was that she always wore these white dresses. She lived so far up the street, she even lived three or four houses farther away than the hermit, for God’s saints.
    That’s a weird thing: people always said there was a hermit living in the small grey house close to Victoria’s. The house was kind of dirty and scary looking, like some Halloween cottage or something stupid like that. It really was pretty scary though. Everyone said all this stuff about the hermit doing all these evil things. Like all he ever did was really bad things. No one ever told a nice story about him petting a dog or anything like that. He’d probably be sawing the dog in half. I didn’t know anything about hermits, other than the hermit crabs we’d sometimes find if Maxine drove us way out to the ocean. I liked to imagine the hermit on our street poking his claws out from under the bottom of his old grey shack and kind of scuttling all over the neighbourhood, eating up the deer and stuff. But I didn’t think he ever really did that; I figured he was the kind of hermit who didn’t move around. Simon never talked about him though, even when I asked. He always said if there was a hermit on our street, he’d never met him. To which obviously I said “That’s because you don’t meet hermits.” Simon didn’t say anything else. That’s just what he’s like—sometimes he acts all quiet and mysterious. It’s so annoying. I usually wouldn’t even bother asking him about stuff. Anyway I won’t tell you every single thing I heard the hermit did right now, but it was all really evil.
    I was sitting on the sea turtle rock forever, because I was thinking about infinities and infinities of things. I do that a lot. I know it’s weird. I think because of how much I think about stuff, grown-ups sometimes call me things like “smart” or “special” or “delightful,” and Finch always calls me a “weirdo.” I guess I know what they’re all talking about. The good thing about being so weird is that I can kind of be friends with all types of people, because I have so many thoughts that I usually have one in common with everyone. I mean like I can sort of be friends with most grown-ups if I want, and kids, and also kids who act like grown-ups and also grown-ups who act like kids. The bad thing is that I’m usually too weird to have more than one thing in common with anyone, so really I guess I’m nobody’s friend except myself.
    Then BLAM! A huge sharp sound ripped through the air, and the river echoed it over and over. I jumped to the ground behind the rock and waited with my heart shaking. Nothing else happened. I waited more. The loudest part of a big noise is the quiet afterwards. I could hear nothing but a few branches rustling, and one of my crazy neighbours dropping a pin somewhere. I coughed, to break the ice a little, and realized that I was lying on my side, with my legs scrunched up like a baby still inside a vagina.
    Finally I remembered that it was probably just