Free The Astonishing Adventures of Fan Boy and Goth Girl by Barry Lyga Page A

deal. He's, he's an Eisner winner and stuff. Come on."
    "OK, OK, it's a big deal, fanboy."
    Hey, the Goth Girl likes to condescend! For some reason it doesn't really bother me. It's actually sort of cool. I like arguing.
    "It's a bigger deal than if
Neil Gaiman
came," I say, stressing his name like a lovesick girl. I throw in some batting of the eyelashes for effect.
    "Oh, please, it
so
is not."
    "Yes, it is."
    "No way. Bendis is this little superhero writer, and Gaiman, Gaiman's a best-selling
novelist.
A
novelist,
OK? People other than emotionally stunted adolescents read his stuff."
    "Then why do
you
read it?" I ask.
    She giggles. She actually
giggles.
I thought that would piss her off.
    "He just reads a bunch of history books and comes up with bogus crap to tie it all together."
    "Like your guy is any better."
    "We're not
talking
about my guy." I'm going to check. I really am. I'm going to check the website and look to see if someone from Top Shelf or Fantagraphics or whatever is going to be there, and then I'll see if she wants to go, not because it would be a date but just because it would be cool to have someone go with Cal and me. Someone
else.
    But in the meantime, I start to gear up: She wants to talk about Neil Gaiman? Fine. I can do that. Where are the Greek gods in
American Gods,
I'll ask her. Wouldn't it make sense that Hercules would be around? What about Santa Claus? What about a god of democracy? Racism? He didn't think about it at all.
    "What would you normally be doing?"
    I open my mouth to let the Gaiman stuff come out, but instead I nearly choke. "Huh?"
    She sits up, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them tight. "What would you normally be doing on a Saturday?" Her eyes are luminous and somehow huge set against the pale nothing of her face. "If you weren't hanging out with me?"
    "I..." What
would
I be doing? Talking to Cal, if he didn't have a game. Reading, maybe. That's ... That's it. God, my life
sucks!
"Probably nothing," I admit. Man, it kills me how I keep forgetting to lie to her! What the hell is wrong with me? "Probably hang out with Cal. But he would have a game or practice today, so I'd probably, you know, watch TV. Read something." Work on
Schemata.
But I don't tell her that. It's not a lie; it's an omission.
    "You don't have any other friends?"
    I don't know if she means "other friends" than Cal or "other friends" than her. But it doesn't matter. There's a tone in her voice—it takes a second to recognize it, but I pick it out. Concern. Sincerity.
    "I've got ... There are some guys from my old neighborhood. From Lake Eliot, near Finn's Crossing?" She nods. "It's a stupid name. There's no lake there. But that's where my dad lives and that's where I grew up until my mom moved us here. There are some guys there and I see them in the summer when I live with my dad, but it's..." God, this is tough to talk about. I think I've always compartmentalized my dad and my mom: When I'm with one, I try not to think of the other. Two different worlds. Can't breathe both kinds of atmosphere at once; you have to go through an airlock first. "It's like 'out of sight, out of mind,' you know? They don't call me and I don't call them, but when I visit my dad, I see them. Sometimes. Less and less. I mean, it's tough, only seeing them once a month and then over the summer."
    She's staring at me. She's been staring at me the whole time, perfectly still. With horror, I realize that my left eye is starting to water. I'm going to cry. I'm going to cry while the only girl who's ever said a word to me outside of school watches.
    I cough, clear my throat, then rub both eyes. I don't know what I'm trying to pull, but all of these shenanigans have got
both
eyes watering now, but at least it's like I've got allergies or something.
    "You OK?" she asks.
    "Yeah. Something in my throat." I clear it a couple more times for effect. I need to change the topic. No way am I going to start bawling in front of her. That's