Читать книгу Why Is Brian So Fat? - Gary Solomon - Страница 7

Almost All “A”s

“Mom, Mom, Dad’s home,” yelled Brian as he leaped away from the window where he’d been standing. Brian was excited because today he’d received his report card. Straight “A”s. Well, almost. There was that one little “D” he got in physical education, but that didn’t ruin his excitement. Brian was used to getting a “D” in physical education, and he wasn’t going to let that grade ruin an otherwise perfect report card. All “A”s, he thought as he ran to the door to greet his father, who was coming home from work. All “A”s!

The “A”s were special for Brian. Special, because it meant that he got extra attention. He didn’t get much attention except at report card time, and a twelve-and-a-half-year-old likes attention sometimes, even if it’s just for a stupid old report card that his sister Madison couldn’t care less about.

“Why do you worry so much about that stuff?” Madison would ask. “All you ever do is play those lame video games. You know you wouldn’t be so fat if you’d do something other than sit around all day. You could exercise like I do.”

Madison was always exercising, and if she wasn’t exercising she was running, and if she wasn’t running she was jumping, and if she wasn’t jumping she was riding her bike. In fact, Madison never sat still. But that is no concern of mine, Brian thought, because today is my day. Today is a day of straight “A”s. Well, almost.

Brian ran with a waddle around the overstuffed couch to the steps that led down the hallway to the front door of the house. Just at the moment when Brian was taking his second step into the hallway, he heard his mother yell from the kitchen, “Brian, get your dad a beer.” Why do I always have to get Dad a beer? he thought.

“Okay,” he yelled. He turned as quickly as his body would allow and ran down the hallway to the door that led into the garage where the beer was kept in a refrigerator filled with beer and diet colas. In the freezer was container after container of ice cream. Brian and his mom loved ice cream.

Brian thought to himself, I hate the smell of this stuff. How can Dad stand to drink this junk? He remembered Madison told him that sometimes she would go into the fridge and take out a bottle of beer. She said she kind of liked the “buzz” it gave her.

Brian remembered the time he caught Madison drinking a beer and he swore on his life he wouldn’t tell.

“Dad will kill me. I won’t be able to go out of the house for a year. Please, please,” Madison begged. “Please don’t tell on me.”

Brian thought for a minute and then replied, “Well, okay, but you have to give me your dessert from your lunch every day for a week.” Madison never ate the desserts in her lunch anyway. She would throw them away instead of giving them to Brian just to make him mad.

So, because of the deal they made, Brian never said a word to Dad or anyone else.

Even though Brian didn’t like the smell of beer, he had to admit that Dad always enjoyed his beer and after about three or four bottles of the stuff he seemed to calm down, especially after what his dad called a “long, hard, miserable day at work.” Dad works hard, Brian thought. Sometimes he works all weekend long. Sometimes he even comes home after I go to bed. I guess when you work that hard you must need a drink. But why does Madison drink it? Brian wondered. Why does she like it?

He grabbed the beer and ran back to the door as fast as he could.

He heard the sound of a key going into the lock as he stood with the beer in his hand, smiling from ear to ear. Dad is going to be so proud of me. Another great report card!

The large wooden door opened and Marshall, Brian’s father, stepped inside the house. Brian was always a little amazed at how his father could take just one giant step and end up in the house. Marshall was a big man, tall and lean, with great big hands and lanky, long legs.

“Thanks, Bri Bri,” his dad said with a smile. “You’re a good man.” His dad had called him “Bri Bri” ever since Brian could remember. “Thanks for the beer. I really need it today.”

He says that all the time, Brian thought.

“It’s been another long, hard, miserable . . . .” Brian sighed and turned off the rest of the sentence in his head.

“Dad, Dad, guess what? I got my report card and . . .”

“Not now, Bri Bri. I need some time to put my feet up and have this beer. Give me a little time. Have you seen the paper? Anybody seen the paper?” he yelled, not giving Brian a chance to answer.

“Here it is, Dad,” Madison said, stopping her exercising for a minute. “I put it on the table. I was using the couch for some of my stretching and forgot to put it back. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” her dad said, “just so it’s here.”

Oh great. That’s terrific, Brian grumbled to himself. He knew if his dad didn’t take the time to read his report card now he surely wouldn’t want to see it later. By the time his dad had a second beer, he wasn’t much interested in anything. Brian had to tell him now.

“But Dad,” Brian yelled. “I got my report card. I got straight ‘A’s. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Now Brian,” his dad said with an annoyed tone in his voice. “You get the same report card all the time. I’ll bet you got that ‘D’ in PE again, didn’t you?”

“Well . . . yes,” Brian said, his eyes held tightly open, a quiver in his voice.

“My gosh, Brian! Can’t you ever do any better than that? It’s no wonder you get ‘D’s. You can’t do anything in PE, can you? You’re never going to be able to play any sports if you don’t get rid of some of that fat.”

“Marshall,” Brian’s mother interrupted as she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. “You know how sensitive Brian is about his weight. Leave him alone. He can’t help it if he’s fat. Some kids are just fat. That’s all.”

“Oh, Charlotte,” Marshall shouted. “Why don’t you stay out of this? No one was talking to you anyway. We wouldn’t have this problem if you would stop feeding him so much.”

Brian had not moved an inch. Marshall turned his head to watch Madison still doing her exercises.

“Why don’t you take your sister as an example and work out a little?” Brian shook his head up and down, but didn’t say a word. Marshall threw up his hands in disgust. “Bri Bri, leave me alone for a while. I’ll look at your report card later. It’s been one of those days, if you know what I mean.”

Brian’s dad walked into the living room, never looking back. He grabbed the paper off the table, pulled at his tie and gave it a couple of hard yanks. He sank down into the couch that sat right in front of the television, took a sip of his beer, and let out a sigh. He let out a laugh and began his nightly job of reading the paper and complaining about the news of the day.

Brian held back the tears. “I wanted a special day and look what I got,” he mumbled to himself. Oh well, I guess he does work hard and he’s right, Brian thought. I do need to lose some weight. He stood at the foot of the steps for a moment and watched his dad read the paper and drink his beer. He shrugged his shoulders and began walking toward the kitchen where his mother was sitting at the table staring off into nowhere with a lit cigarette in her hand.