Free Losing in Gainesville (9781940430331) by Brian Costello Page A

says, wishing for these three months to move faster, pissed Dale isn’t dealing with this. “What’s your address, Stevie Walters?”
    â€œOk, well, that’s a whole other story. I was going to Santa Fe Community College, right? But I wasn’t likin’ it that much so I dropped out. My parents found out about this and they kicked me out—they live out in High Springs now—used to live in Gainesville—but they moved out there when I graduated high school a couple years back. So right now, I’m living with Alvin—he’s friends with my friend Mouse—and he’s got a trailer real close—but that’s not my home home , right? So I didn’t know if you wanted my home-home or like where I’m living now because I ain’t on the lease or any of the bills or anything. I mean, it ain’t like my parents would get mad if I was using their address for a job application—they just kicked me out ’ cause I ain’t workin’ right now or goin’ to school so they’d probably be glad to see me applyin’—”
    â€œYour address now. In the trailer.” Jeremy hands Stevie the application, his pen. “Fill it in, please.”
    Stevie scrawls in the trailer’s address. “So why do you want to wash dishes for us, Stevie?”
    â€œYou ever need money for something?”
    â€œNo.” Jeremy says, trying to make the best of this, indulging both his mockery at those who have never taken Advanced Placement classes and the sumptuous thought of taking money from his savings account for the first time, far away from here, happy and not working for nonworking Dale.
    â€œWell, I wanna kick ass and take names. I like to think of myself as a modern-day warrior, and if that’s what I am, then of course I need to learn karate.”
    â€œKarate.”
    â€œYeah man.”
    â€œModern-day warrior.” Jeremy leans back in the booth, idea fully hatched. “What does that mean?”
    â€œIt means I’m a badass. It means, ok, let’s say you hit somebody smaller than you. Not that that’s gonna happen but let’s just say. You hit somebody who’s smaller than you who’s defenseless and all that shit—oh, sorry man—didn’t mean to swear—but what I’m saying is—if you did that I would hit you and fight you because that’s what modern-day warriors do. They kick ass. If I see anything like that I get like ‘It’s time to take out the trash: HI-YAH!’ ” . . . And here, Stevie smacks the table with the side of his right hand, knocking two plates off the edge where they land on the extra-cheese-colored linoleum with a loud wobble-wobble. “I’ll get that later, don’t worry,” Stevie continues. “I mean it would be good practice if you hired me anyway, right? So I’ve been trying to teach myself karate and other bad ass moves like wrestling—”
    â€œYou’re teaching yourself karate?” Jeremy Moreland laughs in cracked pubescent guttural hee hee hees.
    â€œAnd wrestling too. It’s all part of being a kick-ass badass. It’s what I wanna do, and if I get good enough, maybe I can be an instructor or something. Teach kids how to be modern-day warriors.”
    There’s an awkward pause here. Jeremy wants to run to the back and laugh and laugh and laugh, but there’s this awkward pause to fill, and filling it is beyond Jeremy’s paygrade. He can’t wait for Dale to meet this guy.
    â€œAnything else I should know about? Prison time? Drug offenses?”
    â€œNo man. Just tryin’ to be . . . ”
    â€œA modern-day warrior. Got it,” Jeremy says. He points to the application sopping up even more grease from Stevie’s side of the table. “I just need you to write down your Social Security Number, a couple references, and anything else on there you