But I’m really like, what the fuck is she talkin’ about? I see this as yet another example of how you underestimate yourself. I tried out for running back, and that’s why I was third string and sat on the bench all last year. And the funny thing is, I didn’t even try out for quarterback. It means that I’m top quarterback on the team, so one of the top quarterbacks citywide. What? I know the Pamper has got me all paranoid and shit, but she speaks in this annoying way like she’s reading from a teleprompter, with this say-cheese smile on her face, which I guess is like a habit from her old job as the host of Today In Cincinnati, which she was just before she hooked up with my dad. Of course, it’ll be redundant, since you’re about to tell me all about it, but it’ll make the point that he’s not exactly present. If he doesn’t mention it tonight, I’ll prod him. Then she’s like, He meant to, I’m sure, you know your father means well. So I go, Well, he should have, it’s a big deal. She goes, He didn’t, but you know how your father is. So I’m like, Dad must’ve told you Coach McGlad said he’s gonna let me play first string this season? I can picture the plastic thing sitting on my dresser, right next to my Civics book where I left it, and my little baby step-sis’ pootie how I left it, baby-powdered and velcroed in pee-proof Dr. I crack open the car window hoping Stepmom won’t notice before we get to the mall that I fuckin’ forgot to put Alyssa’s Pamper on. FrontCover.jpg bookTitle.jpg Jewells-COVER.jpg 1

Finlater by Shawn Stewart Ruff