And the freaking football movie? Even though I couldn't really hear it because Karpinski was talking ("That's a helluva hita"remember when I hit Bennett in the Dodgeville game? That was that kind of hit), I could see it fine. Pretty much horrible. There was some running and catching, which I likea"high-arching passes in slow motion across the big blue skya"but it was mostly close-ups of total brutality times like five hundred, and there was a lot of blood and broken legs and noses and snot and stuff. Even though the movie was supposed to show how cool football is, I think, it more showed how terrible it is and how mean and mad everybody who plays football is. I totally loved running and catching a football but actually playing football? I didn't like the idea of broken noses and snot and blood pouring out everywhere.

Thankfully, on the way home, while he drove, Cody shouted over the sound of night air blowing in through the windows, "Football's not really like that at all, Reinstein."

"What?" I shouted.

"Football isn't that crazy. Your legs aren't going to get broken," he called.

"Yeah, but, isn't that Jay Landry dude from St. Mary's Springs going to try to break my legs?"

"Sort of, but legs just don't break that easy, man. I've been playing tackle since Pee Wee, since I was seven, and I've never gotten hurt even a little other than getting the wind knocked out of me."

"Oh. That's good to hear, man." The hot wind blew in. What did he mean wind knocked out?

Then Cody smiled big and looked at me.

"Karpinski never shuts up, does he?"

"No."

"Did you notice?" Cody asked.

"What?"

He started laughing.

"My experiment?"

"What?" I started laughing too, even though I didn't know why.

"I wondered if I could go to Karpinski's house, have supper, watch a movie, and leave without saying a single word."

"Did you?"

"Not one word in like four hours!"

"I didn't notice!"

"Not even hi or bye!"

"I didn't notice!"

"How could you? Karpinski never shuts up." Cody smiled huge.

And he completely cracked me up. Totally hilarious. I really liked Cody. Seriously. He sort of made me like Karpinski too.

When he dropped me off, he said, "See you tomorrow, brother."

Speaking of brothers: Andrew was digging in the storage area under the stairs when I got home. That wasn't a surprise. But something did catch me off guard: my TV wasn't on the stand in the basement.

"What did you do to the TV, Andrew?" I hissed.

"Jerri took it," Andrew responded, still digging through crap.

"She took my TV?"

"I'm working here, assface," Andrew said, continuing to dig.

I went to bed and looked at the football team's playbook Coach Johnson gave me a couple of days earlier. I tried to figure out all these crazy arrows and Xs and Os that were supposed to show where me and the other players were supposed to run. It looked like algebra and geometry combined, and it made me tired, which was good because I was so mad about the TV that I didn't think I could sleep. What gives you the right to just take my TV? It's always been mine. It's mine, Jerri. Mine! Cody told me I wouldn't really figure it all out until we were on the field in pads and helmets when there'd be a defense there trying to break my legs, like Jay Landry is going to break my legs, except legs don't break that easy. But he might knock my wind out, which doesn't sound very pleasant at all because I need my winda"wind is breath, wind is air, wind in the clouds. I fell asleep.

Outside of spending a ton of time with Cody and Karpinski doing football stuff (and listening to Karpinski rant and rant), I spent a lot of time with Aleah the last week of June. Both weekends at the end of June, because she didn't practice on weekends, we hung out a lot, taking walks all over town (yes, townies shouted at us, which Aleah loved), eating stuff she made, watching movies (all of it at her house because I didn't want her to see what was going on at mine).

She still didn't get out of bed until about dinnertime on weekends, so we did everything at night.

In a way, the fact that Jerri was sort of out of it was really good because she didn't know or care where I was. If I was out until 2 a.m. before, she would've totally freaked. She had no idea where I was. She probably didn't even notice I was gone. Jerri took my TV and then it was on in her bedroom twenty-four hours a day, and there was no way she could hear me come and go.

I spent most of the weekday mornings with Aleah too. (Probably like two out of every three days, she'd stop practicing by the time I got to her house.) She rode on the back of my bike when she went, and we got good at it. I'd accelerate really hard, and she'd hold on and scream and laugh. One time, she even said, "My football player is so strong," which totally made me happy because I liked being somebody I'd never been before; someone not connected to what was happening at home; somebody who is obviously not a Reinstein because, I thought, Reinsteins aren't football-playing powerhouses who make their girlfriends squeal with the massive power of their god-like thighs!

We never smashed up after the first day, though, which was kind of sad because I never had a chance to roll over and kiss her, which I really, really wanted to do. I spent almost all my non-football time when I wasn't actually with her thinking about kissing her: when I biked, when I tried to sleep, when I watched Andrew digging through boxes. I began to worry that I'd never ever get another chance to kiss her. I mean, Jesus, how are you supposed to kiss somebody if you haven't fallen over on the ground? Tickle fight? Tickle her. Tickle her. I didn't tickle her because it didn't seem respectful.

Hi, I'm Felton Reinstein, football player on the outside; Squirrel Nut Donkey Ass on the inside.

Of course, I didn't come up with the solution. Aleah did.

The last Saturday of June, we watched Casablanca in her/Gus's basement. We watched that particular movie because her dad was writing a paper about it and had the DVD. When Rick, the old dude in the movie, kissed the young beautiful one, Aleah totally grabbed me and kissed me. Then we kissed for a while until we heard Ronald get up and walk across the living room.

Then Aleah stared at me and said, "Haven't you wanted to kiss me?"

"Yeah, I think about it all the time."

"Why haven't you kissed me?"

"Uhh, I didn't want to seem like a dork?" Of course, I totally seemed like a dork by saying that.

"Don't worry about being a dork with me," Aleah said. "I'm a dork."

"Okay."

Then she got really serious. "When you ask me questions, do I hold anything back?"

"I don't think so." She clearly didn't. She talked about everything.

"You hold back though. Is that because you're worried about being a dork?"

"I don't hold back. I talk! When don't I talk?"

"When I ask how your mom is, you just say fine."

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because she's fine."

"And when I ask how exercise wenta"

"Weight lifting."

"Whatever! When I ask how that was, you say pretty good."

"It's just lifting crap. It isn't very interesting."

"I'm interested."

"Why?"

"Because I like you."

"Why?" Here we go, Gus. I'll give it to you.

Aleah paused. She looked at me and didn't say anything.

"Because I'm mysterious and you like mystery?"

"No. Because you come from a musical family anda"

"I'm not musical, Aleah." This isn't good. If she knew about my family.

"That's not what I'm saying. I like you because you're really gentle anda"

Blood rushed to my face. My eyes watered. I was so embarrassed. What kind of kid am I that a girl would call me gentle?

"You're blushing."

"Well, yeah."

"Don't be embarrassed, Felton. After the year I just had with my mom, I really love gentle."

I looked down.

"I don't mean you're weak because you're not. I know you're not."

I looked back up.

"How do you know?"

"Because what you went through with your dad and how you just seem like a normal kid who likes football, and you're not all messed up. That's strong."

Then Aleah touched my face. Then she kissed me again. I was really aware of her face being so close to mine. Her face was right up against mine. She smelled like lilac bushes. We kissed for a while longer until Ronald, her dad, called down the stairs, "Getting real late, kids."

I biked home through cool 2 a.m. air thinking about being gentle and about how I'm strong.

When I got home, I found Andrew awake with junk spread out all over the basement room where the TV used to be.

He looked up at me. His face was pale. He had dark circles under his eyes.

"I don't think there's a single picture of our father in the whole house, Felton," he said. "Jerri got rid of him."

This wasn't news to me. I knew that. I remembered the bonfire.

"So?" I said.

"So?" Andrew snarled. "You don't care what happened to our dad? That's repulsive. I'm going to ask her. I'm going to ask."

"Ask what? I found him hanging. I know what happened."

"I'm going to ask her the hard questions!" Andrew shouted.

"Do whatever you want, Andrew." I slammed the door to my room and put on music.

I didn't feel very gentle.

CHAPTER 26: THINKING ABOUT COMEDY AGAIN.

People who don't like you don't find you funny. (For example, when nobody liked me in seventh grade, they booed when I did Jerry Seinfeld.) People who like you find you funny, sometimes even when you're not trying to be funny.

How do I know? Suddenly, lots of people laughed whenever I made a joke (and sometimes when I didn't make a joke). Aleah laughed. The honkies? I seriously made them cry. Even a poop-stinker lineman or two would crack a smile when I joked in the weight room.

If Ken Johnson didn't show up at weights, which was about half the time, I'd joke along with Karpinski (bad jokes). So a bare-boobed blond with a parrot on her shoulder walks into a baraI'd spend most of my evenings driving around with Cody and Karpinski, letting whatever ridiculous stupid dumb thing that popped in my head slide right out. I called Karpinski FishButtBoy because his name sounds like Polish for fish butt. He didn't think it was funny, but Cody did, so I called Karpinski FishButtBoy all the time, repeatedly, over and over, even whispering it under my breath when no one else was talking. Like when all the honky backs and receivers were at Steve's Pizza or at Subway or out at Walmart and were eating, not talking, me chewing and whispering at the same timea"FishButtBoya"until Karpinski freaked and grabbed my head and told me he was going to punch me in the nuts if I didn't shut up (everyone just dying).

Repetition, I realized, is the key to honky humor (if the honkies like youa"Gus probably wouldn't have success with this technique). Be annoying! Don't stop at any cost! FishButtBoy FishButtBoy Fish Butt Boy. The honkies would die laughing.

I'd become a honky, so it was funny.

With Aleah, I had to use a subtler, smarter humora"well, maybe not that subtle.

"I used to think pianists had something to do with penises, like the fact Andrew wanted to be a pianist meant that he'd be touching himself all the time. I pictured him on stage playing piano with no pants on, and when he'd stand to take a bow, he'd throw back his head and hands, revealing his privates, and the crowd would ooh and ahh because he's such a great pianist."