The Barftastic Life of Louie Burger by Jenny Meyerhoff

Author:Jenny Meyerhoff
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

THE ROTTEN EGG

After Dad is gone Ari won’t stop talking about her shopping trip, so Mom calls Mrs. Yamashita and as fast as you can say, “But Nick is turning into a sporty kid with a new best friend,” she’s sending Ruby and me across the street. Henry opens the door and says, “Nick is up in his room. Want to play restaurant?”

I think that last part is meant for Ruby, so I don’t answer. I head up to Nick’s bedroom instead. When I’m right outside the door I hear laughter, and my stomach clenches.

I open Nick’s door and there they are, lying on the floor: Nick and Thermos. They are looking at Nick’s Nutso magazine collection and cracking up, the way Nick and I used to do. They barely notice me walk into the room. You can take your pick of expressions for this one: On the outside looking in. Third wheel. Left out in the rain. There’s a theme here. Get it? I’m the rotten egg.

Finally, Nick looks up and sees me. “Hi, Louie.”

“Hey, guys,” I say, trying to sound like I expected to see both of them.

“Louie, check this out,” says Thermos, pointing to the magazine. “It’s ‘Harry Snotter,’ the story of a kid with magical boogers.”

“Funny,” I say, but I can’t bring myself to laugh. I want to go home, or to play with Ruby and Henry—anything other than hang out with the Kenji Okada Fan Club.

Thermos closes the magazine and returns it to Nick’s bookshelf. Then they both look at me like I’m supposed to say something.

“What should we do?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” says Nick, standing up. “Thermos and I were going to work on our hero project, but I guess we’ll do that another day. What do you want to do?”

“Louie should do his act,” says Thermos.

Nick looks embarrassed. “Louie only does his comedy in private.”

“You’ve never seen it?” she asks him.

“I don’t perform in front of other people.” The closest I’ve come is the time I performed for Ruby’s Prance ’n’ Nicker Unicorns. They kept whinnying before I got to the punch lines.

“No offense,” Thermos says, “but that’s kind of weird. I’ve never heard of a comedian who doesn’t perform.”

Thermos’s words hit me directly in the gut. She’s right. If I’m going to be a real comedian, I have to perform for people, never mind that my skin has taken on the consistency of room-temperature baloney and my earlobes have started sweating.

Nick looks like he swallowed something strange. “Let’s hang out in my backyard,” he says. I don’t know if he’s trying to help me, or help himself, but Lou’s voice is in my head again: It’s now or never, kid.

“No,” I say, my breath heaving in my chest. “Thermos is right.”

I’m either going to be great, or I’ll be so bad they’ll both barf. Fail spectacularly!

I clear my throat. The floor bobs and sways.

“I’m going to start with…” A wave of fear sweeps over me and I have to begin again.

“I’m going to start with … uh…” My mind goes blank.

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