One Fat Summer by Robert Lipsyte Page A

away. I kept looking for Rumson’s Chevy. I got myself up the hill by pretending I was ascending MountEverest hand over hand on a rope. That’s what it felt like anyway.
    Right to bed. Sometime toward evening, I felt someone pulling off my shoes and pants. It was my mother. She was smiling.
    The rest of that week I was nervous. But it was an exciting kind of nervousness, butterflies, sighing breaths. I couldn’t sit still too long, and I wasn’t very hungry. My mother noticed it at dinner Wednesday night.
    â€œYou’ve got ants in your pants,” she said.
    â€œI’m okay.”
    She peered at me over the table. “You look a little peaked.”
    â€œI feel fine.”
    â€œAre the Marinos working you too hard?”
    Michelle almost choked on her corn.
    â€œYou might be getting a little too much sun, Bobby, your face is very tanned. Are you wearing a hat?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI think I’ll stop by the beach tomorrow. I’d like to see what they’re having you do.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t do that, Mom,” said Michelle. “It makes him seem like a baby.”
    â€œHe is my baby.”
    â€œSee, that’s what I mean,” said Michelle.
    â€œYou don’t look too well yourself,” said Mom. “Those black circles under your eyes.”
    â€œThose brats are running me ragged,” said Michelle. “I can’t wait for college to start, I need a vacation.”
    â€œNow that you mention it, we’ve got to start thinking about clothes for school. I don’t want to leave it to the last minute. When are we going to sit down and make that list?”
    They started talking about college clothes, and Michelle and I exchanged looks. That was a close one. After dinner, when Mom went to study, Michelle came in to help me with the dishes.
    â€œDon’t you have a date tonight?”
    â€œIt’s Pete’s birthday, the whole family’s going out to dinner.”
    â€œHow come you’re not going?”
    â€œThey’re not too crazy about us going together, so we thought it would be better if I didn’t come.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t know. Pete says they’re worried abouthim finishing college, he’s not such a great student. But I think it’s something else and he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. It’d be different if my name were Marko instead of Marks. Understand?”
    â€œThat’s stupid. Look at what happened to Romeo and Juliet, and they were both Italian.”
    â€œPardon me if I don’t laugh.”
    â€œDid Mom say anything about Dad?”
    â€œI think he’s coming up next weekend. I talked to her last night and she said going into the city was the best thing she ever did.”
    â€œDo you think something is wrong?”
    â€œEverybody’s got problems,” said Michelle.
    â€œNo, I mean, like are they going to get a divorce or something?”
    â€œHow’s your job going?”
    â€œAre you going to treat me like a baby, too?”
    â€œI just don’t think I should discuss it with you.”
    â€œEverybody’s got secrets this summer.”
    â€œYou should talk.”
    Still no sign of Rumson on Thursday. Dr. Kahn had me spend the day clearing and widening the drainage ditch along the county road, and Ikept expecting Rumson to drive up anytime. I had a pick and a shovel, and I would have used them if he’d tried anything. Butterflies all day, but I didn’t really mind them. Usually when I’m nervous it’s because I know something’s going to happen to embarrass me. Like getting weighed in front of the class, or not picked to play on a team, or having to chin or climb a rope in front of all the guys in the gym. That kind of nervousness feels like a cold stone in my stomach. But this was different. It was the same kind of butterflies I’d read about when an actor is waiting for the