Fat Boy vs. the Cheerleaders by Geoff Herbach

Author:Geoff Herbach
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2014-03-13T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Gore wasn’t at the shop in the morning. Neither was RC III. Thursdays are the quietest days because the resort cabins turn over. Lots of people head home after their week on the lake. We were staffed low and expected a slow day. (Thankfully, it rained pretty bad too, which reinforces slower business.)

It was just me and Dante and he had the news station on the radio. I couldn’t stop singing Love, love will tear us apart…again, which is a very, very good song that Gore played on her computer while we were all out there on her dock and I’ll tell you this, sir: Dante just stood back and put his hands on his hips and said, “What in the hell happened to you, Chunky boy?”

“What?” I asked.

“What are you singing about? You don’t sing.”

“I have songs stuck in my head all the time.”

“But you don’t sing. I’m telling you, kid. I’ve heard you shout a lot and make a bunch of fart noises, but I’ve never heard you sing. What in the hell happened?”

“Make the donuts, dude,” I said. But I smiled. And I kept singing. I was thinking about Gore for sure. I sang and sang.

Well, it was a stupid day otherwise, so why not dwell on my singing for a little, right, Mr. Rodriguez? Better laugh than cry. In this case anyway.

Apparently, I’m the only one who thought it was a bad day. I still think we failed.

Enough customers to make time move. A song in my heart. The morning cruised past. Then it was time for my very first protest.

Camille picked me up from work. She would barely talk to me in the car really. She has problems, you know? I mean, she’s not the only person in the world. Selfish.

We got up to the school and there were a bunch of cars in the lot already.

It was a good turnout, sir. You know that. Cops have a pretty good list of names.

Fifteen band members showed up, plus Gore. (We gained a couple people in the crew overnight because of Shaver’s message, I’m sure.) We all gathered in front of the doors and I said, “Remember, totally silent. Don’t say a word to anyone. We’re just going to go in there and we’re going to freak them out with our silence. I’ll write a note letting them know that it’s only going to get worse and worse unless they leave Shaver alone and bring back band camp.” (I held up a notebook, which I should’ve written in before going into the school.)

Maybe Austin Bates is smarter than he seems because while everybody else nodded like the plan was genius, he said, “Worse how, yo? Like, as in more fat asses and dipshits gonna stand there in a crew staring into space for no apparent reason. How is that scary?”

Schae Petersen said, “This is called nonviolent protest, Austin. Like Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi.”

“Gandhi?” Austin asked. “That like chronic, girl?”

“I fear for our future,” Camille said.

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