Free The Misfits by James Howe Page A

imagination combined with a pathetic need for excitement does to the brain.
    Anyway, by Sunday evening what I
am
thinking about is Kelsey Scoggins. I go so far as to call Skeezie on Saturday and ask him what he knows about love.
    â€œNot you, too!” he gives back, although when I prod him for an explanation, he zips his lips and goes, “All I know about love is that it’s a four-letter word.”
    â€œWhy so cynical?” I ask.
    Skeezie gives his bubble gum a pop on the other end. “Oh, gee, I don’t know. Could it have something to do with my dad splittin’ two years ago and my mom still cursing him out every chance she gets and my little sisters still cryin’ themselves to sleep at night? Hm, let me think about it. Time’s up. Yep, that’s it.”
    Me: Lots of people get divorced, Skeezie.
    Skeezie: And your point is?
    Me: My point is it doesn’t
have
to turn you into a cynic.
    Skeezie: Says you. Why’s it on everybody’s brain all of a sudden, anyways?
    Me: We’re in seventh grade. Our hormones are kicking in.
    Skeezie: So who’s kickin’ your hormones in, Bobsters? As if I didn’t know.
    Me: Who told you?
    Skeezie: I got eyes, man.
    Me: You’re not even
in
my art class. You’ve never even
seen
me talking to Kelsey.
    Skeezie: Kelsey? I thought you were talkin’ about Joe’s aunt Pam.
    The sound Skeezie doesn’t hear is me blushing.
    Me: I guess it’s kind of both.
    Skeezie: In the words of Joe Bunch—
oy.
    On Sunday night, it’s Skeezie and me, DuShawn and Joe and Kelsey, and the magnolia-scented Pam, down in Joe’s basement with poster board and markers everywhere. One whiff of Pam and I’m praying for ventilation.
    Joe’s parents are home, along with his brother Jeff, but they’re not in the way. Jeff is up in his room on his computer, which is pretty much where he lives, and Joe’s parents come in and out only every so often to make sure we’re taken care of in the refreshments department.
    â€œDon’t want to have any starving artists,” Joe’s father cracks at one point, and we all laugh up a storm like it’s Dad Appreciation Month.
    Joe has cool parents, there are no two ways about it. Joe says it is impossible to hate them, at a time in life when hating your parents starts feeling like a requirement. When Pam split up with her boyfriend a few years back and was feeling all messed up and sorry for herself, she called her sister, who is Joe’s mom, and was told, “Get on the next train out of New York and come stay with us for as long as you need.” It’s been two years now and Pam has said more than once that Joe’s mom and dad saved her life.
    Joe says the same thing about Pam. He calls her his fairy godmother, because she showed up just at the moment in his life when he needed somebody to let him know it was okay to be himself. Pam always tells him, “You didn’t need me. You had your parents. You would have been just fine.”
    I agree with Pam, but Joe doesn’t buy it. He insists that if his aunt hadn’t come along when she did, by now he would be calling other guys “dude” and pretendingto like football and hating himself inside. I say that’s just Joe being dramatic, but I never say it to him.
    Meanwhile, Addie is going on and on about the Freedom Party and how we have to have posters that really stand out and how we need a symbol because the Republicans have the elephant and the Democrats have the donkey.
    It turns out that Heather O’Malley said no to being on the Freedom Party ticket. After getting turned down by every other minority student she could think of—except Tonni, who she didn’t ask—Addie begged Skeezie, and Skeezie, to her surprise, said yes.
    â€œMan, it was pitiful,” Skeezie tells me. “The girl was desperate, what could I do? Besides, there is not a chance we are going to