Gabe Johnson Takes Over by Geoff Herbach

Author:Geoff Herbach
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2015-02-04T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

The hole.

Hunger like that is an attempt to fill up a hole, okay? It’s pretty literal, sir. I feel like I have this hole, this empty space, that can’t ever get filled up, and when I don’t feel right, that hole is the only thing I can think about. It’s begging to get filled, like it has a voice and a mind, and the voice keeps screaming for my attention until I fill that hole with a thousand pounds of food.

Gore drove me home and it seemed like maybe she wanted to hang out longer to talk or something. But I had this emptiness to deal with. “Gotta go,” I said.

“Oh, okay,” Gore said. “Um…bye.”

My real self, my Gabe self (as opposed to my Chunk self), wanted to spend the rest of the day with Gore. My Chunk self needed attention real bad. “We’ll talk later? Let’s talk later, okay?”

“Yeah. That’d be nice,” she said.

Then I went inside the house and opened the refrigerator. I thought, Eat everything in the world. Grandpa came into the kitchen and said, “Look who’s back home staring at the cheese.”

I looked back in the fridge at a block of cheeses that seemed ready to get stuck in my mouth. Then I blinked, slammed the fridge door, and then said, “Thanks for never leaving the house, Grandpa.”

“What?”

“I’m just glad you’re here. Let’s work out.”

We jumped rope downstairs for a damn hour. It was killer. By the end, I wanted to puke. But also, I didn’t want to plow food in my face after that. Killing yourself with a jump rope takes away hunger, fills that damn hole, man. It really does. That’s good to remember.

At dinner, Grandpa and I ate a big salad (gross) with plenty of dressing and some grilled chicken strips (not too shabby). Dad complained about the salad. “I’m not a rabbit. I’m a man.” He took the chicken and made a bunch of chicken and cheese burritos. He prepared his burritos, ate his burritos, and left the table while Grandpa and I were still eating. Lettuce makes you eat slower, I swear to God. When Dad huffed and lumbered away from the table, Grandpa asked, “You sure you don’t want to let him in on the program, Chunk? He’s in terrible—I worry about the guy.”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I don’t want him to have a piece of this because I like this and he’ll kill it.”

Grandpa nodded. “Could be.”

Grandpa knows Dad pretty well, right?

After dinner, I totally passed out on the couch. That was a big day. I led a totally ridiculous protest that did nothing but get us thrown out of school. But still, I led it and it did announce to Deevers and Big Boobs that we band members cared about what was happening to us. That’s something.

Anyway, I passed out in front of the TV and I might’ve slept through until morning, except around quarter to nine, the doorbell rang.

Wait. Wait a second.

RC III isn’t going to

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