The Big One-Oh Read Online Free Page A

red. She’s got red freckles all over her pinkish face, she’s got red eyelashes, and she’s got curly red hair that looks like it exploded out of her skull one day and she never managed to pull it back in.
    But people don’t give nicknames to people like Jennifer and me, unless they’re the kinds of nicknames that you’d really rather not have.
    â€œYour name is ‘Leland,’ ” Jennifer explained to him, as if she were talking to a puppy. “ ‘Cougar’ is just plain dumb.”
    Cougar looked her up and down for a moment.
    â€œDid you save the receipt?” he asked.
    Jennifer played right into his sneaky little hands. “What receipt?”
    â€œThe one for your face,” he crowed. “Cuz once you look in a mirror, you’re gonna want to return this one for a refund!”
    He and Scottie split a gut laughing at that as they ran off down the hall, leaving me to face Jennifer. Alone.
    Jennifer got the idea in second grade that, because she likes Monsters & Maniacs too, we were soul mates or something creepy like that.
    She held up the latest issue. “Did you find the Chalice of Satan hidden on this month’s cover?” she gushed, and little dots of her saliva flew every which way.
    Since I always keep my copies of Monsters & Maniacs —and the extras Dad sends me—in perfect condition and store them in airtight plastic bins under my bed, arranged by date of issue, it’s always horrifying to see how Jennifer scribbles and draws all over hers. And she does it every month.
    It’s madness.
    So I didn’t even answer her. I just grunted and rolled my eyes, as if to say, “I’m too cool for that.”
    And I walked away.

5
    As I kept falling off my skateboard on the way home, I reviewed the week in my head.
    I couldn’t really say that there was anybody in school who I could call a friend. And certainly nobody who would call me a friend.
    Except Jennifer, and I didn’t even want to be seen with her.
    But is that so bad—not having friends? I wondered. After all, I’ve got school. I’ve got Boing Boing and Monsters & Maniacs and making dinner every night. My life is full, I told myself. Even if it does get a little lonely sometimes.
    Whoa.
    â€œLonely”?
    How did that sneak in there?
    I hadn’t thought of it before, but, yeah, it gets lonely. Then, before I could get too upset about that realization, I saw something that made me fall off my skateboard again.
    It was our neighbor Garry Quarky. Down on his knees on the sidewalk. With his head stuck in the bushes that separate his yard from ours.
    It was only the second time I had ever seen the guy who lives right next door.
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    Garry Quarky moved into the house on the other side of us from Mrs. Cleveland about five months ago. Mom baked chocolate chip cookies and left them on his porch to welcome him to the neighborhood, but he never came over to say, “thank you.”
    â€œWhat an odd man,” I remember Mom said at the time.
    We knew Garry had a girlfriend who Lorena called “Pincushion” because she had earrings and spikes and hoops in her ears and her nose and her lips and her eyelids.
    I’m serious.
    I used to see Pincushion drive up and park her big old boat of a convertible in Garry’s driveway every afternoon and carry groceries into his house, but I had only seen Garry come out once before.
    That happened one afternoon when I was home alone, and I suddenly heard a horrifying shriek from next door. After I jumped about five feet off the ground, I ran into Lorena’s room, because her windows look out over Garry’s backyard, and this is what I saw:
    Garry came dashing out of his house screaming, “Aiyeeeee!” and wearing a rubber apron and goggles, like maybe a mad scientist would wear. He looked like he was about as old as my mom, but it was hard to tell since his long hair was hanging down in his