Nothing Special Read Online Free Page B

Felton,” Jerri said.
    â€œI know,” I said.
    â€œIt hurts my feelings…” Andrew said.
    â€œI didn’t mean…” I said. “Listen. I’m just…I’m just having a tough few days, okay?”
    â€œBecause you set a state record in track and got your picture in the newspaper?” Andrew asked.
    â€œSomebody made copies of that picture and put it all over the school today,” I said. “It’s terrible.”
    â€œAs of this morning, seventy-three people have left comments on feltonreinstein.com congratulating you on your 60-meter record. Forty-three people have left comments saying that picture is terrible. Why are you having a bad week?” Andrew asked.
    â€œOh…That’s awesome.” I nodded. “Thanks for telling me,” I said. “But you know that picture is really…”
    â€œI didn’t play very well. I was looking for you in the audience before and then when you weren’t there I…”
    â€œOh crap, Andrew. I’m really, really—”
    â€œIt’s fine. I don’t want to…I’m not like you. I don’t need stupid fans who want to kiss my nuts.”
    â€œJesus,” I said.
    â€œAndrew,” Jerri gasped.
    â€œI’m sorry for the language, Jerri.” Then Andrew put down his pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby, stood up, and walked to his bedroom.
    Jerri’s face went totally red.
    â€œJerri. I didn’t mean to miss—”
    â€œHere’s the problem,” Jerri whispered. “Your intentions don’t matter, Felton.”
    â€œI’m seriously having a bad—”
    â€œYou’re not the only person in this family.”
    â€œSomeone put up a poster—”
    â€œThis was Andrew’s time to shine, Felton. When does he get that?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œHow could you?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Jerri stood up. She shook her head at me. Then she said something pretty bad, Aleah. She said, “Your dad always claimed ignorance too, Felton. He couldn’t be bothered to remember anything important to me.”
    â€œOh shit,” I said. Then I turned and walked back down the stairs to my room. I expected Jerri to follow me, but she didn’t.
    I still maintain that it’s a low blow to say I’m like my dad. He did have affairs and he did commit suicide. That’s a pretty big thing to just throw around, you know?
    â€¢ • •
    Whoa. What time is it? Okay, I’m fine.
    Okay. The airline finally posted Fort Myers on the gate. At least I’m not lost, Aleah.
    I’m hungry.

August 15th, 3:12 p.m.
O’Hare Airport, Part III
    I have eaten a fettuccine Alfredo with some cold and chewy chicken. What did it taste like? The kind of paste I ate in first grade (pretty delicious).
    Can you believe Jerri said I am like Dad? That’s pretty mean. She did apologize a few days later.
    Am I like my dad, Aleah? I’m wearing his Stan Smith shoes right now. They fit me perfectly.
    Do I sort of want to be like my dad?
    I can’t begin to even address that, because saying to me I’m like my dad is like saying twenty-eight thousand things at one time.
    I don’t know how much like him I really am (which is a good reason for me to be going to Florida again, I suppose).
    Am I just a little bit selfish and deluded (Narcissus), or am I possibly a cheater, a self-hater, a home-wrecker, etc.?
    He was a great athlete. I am too.
    He was also seriously smart (PhD). I’m not, I don’t think.
    I look like him completely.
    I act like my dad in how many ways? I don’t know, because he’s dead.
    If I won the NCAA Championship in tennis, wouldn’t I smile? Wouldn’t I be happy? There’s this picture of him right after he won his championship where he’s out the on the court with a medal around his neck, and he’s not smiling. He’s sort of