Losers (18 page)
I offered up a wry grin. “Maybe,” I admitted. “For now, anyway. I figure, if I want my life to continue in the manner to which I have become accustomed, I'd better start making some money to keep it that way.”
Vadim mulled that one over. “Good idea,” he announced, finally. “Hey, you think I could get hired by the CIA? As a computer person or something?”
I shrugged. “If you want it hard enough, you could do anything you want.”
“Cool,” Vadim agreed absently. He turned back to his computer, hit a few keys, then passed through screens silently. After a few minutes, the reflection of the screen on his face lit up, changing from pale green to a vivid, liquid red, and so did his eyes. “Hey,” he said, the lowercase
o
of his mouth widening. “Nessa Greyscole's having a party tonight over at a warehouse on Delaware Ave. You want to crash it with me?”
By the time it occurred to me to answer, the streets had turned a deep, dark, cat's-eye shade of gray, and the activity was dim, limited to a few old men playing chess under the streetlight, the wino down the street tapping out an old jazz song on his empty malt liquor bottle.
“No, thanks. I might catch up later,” I told him, knowing full well that I didn't intend to catch up at all. “But you should go.”
“Really? You think so?”
I had a momentary thought, the briefest flutter of an ideaâthat I should tell him what I
really
thought of itâbut the notion passed, and it was too late. He was already throwing one foot over the wall, scampering all the way down to the street.
Curiously, though, I didn't mind. I wasn't offended at all, as a matter of fact.
I lay down, threw my arms over the steel pipe, and stared up at the stars.
So this story started at Central High in Philly, the geek school, the school that kind of saved my life. Thanks to my Northeast crew, for getting me out of there, and to the downtown and Mt. Airy kids, for giving me somewhere to land.
This book, though, started off right after I got engaged, and Itta had to get back to Australia, and we got to the airport two hours early because I am paranoid. She went to sleep on the bench and I started writing. So this book is kind of hersâfor putting up with my geekiness and not letting it outshine her own, and for sharing our nuptials with my iBook.
Yalta, my bouncing ball of light. My next of kin. For sitting tight for nine months and listening to me read my book out loud and sing Ani Difranco songs to you.
Mom, Mum, Tuddy, and Dad. Grandmom. Alyssa. Cuz. Brothers, sisters, and all the outlaw in-laws from Oz.
Dr. Pavel, Ms. Schroeder, Mr. Zeff, and all the MG teachers who kept me on the right side of trouble. Zack and Liz. Berwin,
the most eligible bachelor in Melbourne. DJ Odin Smith (www.myspace.com/odinsmithlabs). Fred Chao & Johnny Thro (half Asian, all hero). Mat (www.wanderjew.com). Prowler (www.myspace.com/prowler1). CJ and my band, Chibi Vision (www.myspace.com/chibivision).
Grandpop, and the War of 1066.
Cristin, Kim, Adams & the O'Donnell family, Michelle, Eric, Shmop. Ludacris, Tori, and The Cure.
The team at HQ. Erin, Ranya, Jody, and the notorious S.M.E. The original Joshua Gee. And David: You are my Mr. Patterson, and you can rescue me from evil thugs any day of the week. And you do.
Luke, Richard Nash & Anne Horowitz at Soft Skull. Big tovaritschsky love to Jake, Ellen, Kas, Uncle Chaim, and all the hidden Russian tzaddikim out there.
This book is for Mike, who was right with me on every step of the journey, from getting beat up together in the Northeast to sneaking into Central (sorry, Dr. Pavel). You taught me how to dress, how to dance, and you let me let my nerd light shine. No fair, ducking out before our big finale.
GO THERE.
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bs" d
Copyright © 2008 by Matthue Roth
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E-ISBN 978-0-545-23182-4
First printing, October 2008
