Control Freaks by J.E. Thomas

Author:J.E. Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Levine Querido

CHAPTER 17

Frederick Douglass Zezzmer

Huey and I get our second wind after we help ourselves to the plate of soft, chewy, salted caramel–chocolate chip–peanut butter cookies that Mr. Cohen left with Julius’s new shirt. Amazingly, starting with dessert does nothing to keep us from eating two servings of you really don’t want to know what’s inside stuffed ravioli.

Julius takes me aside in the hallway after dinner. “Annie texted while I was cooking. She said she’s going to need a few more days to decide if she wants to take the promotion or start a business. She’ll tell us more this evening.” He blows out a breath. I do too. “Big life changes can be stressful, Doug,” he tells me. “You’re doing a good job supporting your mom.”

When we go back in the kitchen, Julius announces that he’s giving me a pass on doing the dishes. Then he makes A LOT of not-so-subtle suggestions for Huey and me to clean ourselves up. Then he stops suggesting. When he launches into, “You boys reek. You’re wilting my garden, and you’re inside the house,” Huey races upstairs to the bathroom while I feed Barack Opawsma.

When Huey comes down, he gets plug-the-electronics-in-the-downstairs-chargers duty while I take my shower. Full disclosure: my clothes smell way worse when I get out of the shower than I thought they did when I got in.

I stuff them in a trash bag and shove it in my closet. The clothes will be fine in a week or two.

We’ve got a couple of hours until Moms calls for her FaceTime, so Huey and I decide to strategize for tomorrow’s STEAMS contest in my room.

“You know why the other teams smoked us today?” I swig the last of my grape juice, stash the glass in my underwear drawer so I don’t forget it—there’s already a crusty saucer in there; who knew?—and climb to the top bunk. Barack Opawsma does one of his world-famous leaps and snuggles beside me for a rub.

Huey plops on the floor. He opens his duffel. “They’re better at math and engineering?”

“Noooo.” I throw my pillow at him. It bonks his head. “They have one clear leader. One Captain Kirk. TravLiUeyPadgeyZezz has five. Or at least three: me, Padgett, and The Shark. We debate everything. That slows us down.”

Huey shrugs. “We made mistakes today, but we learned stuff.” He pulls out his dirty-clothes bag. It’s like an oversize Zip-Lock. Completely spill, dust, dirt, and smell proof. “Forgot to roll up my socks before I put them in here,” he explains. His second stepdad doesn’t like it when Huey puts unrolled socks in their hamper. It’s his laundry rule.

I don’t have smeller-vision, obviously, so I don’t actually see the cloud of sweaty-STEAMS-challenge-clothes stink that mushrooms out when Huey opens his bag. It’s impossible to ignore, though. Particularly when Barack Opawsma soars off the bed like a cannonball and runs into the hall yowling.

If Huey’s dirty-clothes bag is a barometer, maybe the clothes I stuffed in the back of my closet will need an extra month to cure …

Huey reseals his laundry bag superfast.

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