I.D. Read Free Page A

took her number out of the wallet. I was going to ask her when Hitler came to power. I punched in the first six numbers, and then I stopped. It was a dumb question. The answer was right there on the first page. If I asked her that, she’d think I couldn’t read.
    I hung up the phone. I looked at the book again. It said that Hitler was a vegetarian. I could ask Alexa if that’s why she decided to give up meat. Say something like, “What? You trying to be just like Adolf? Is he your idol or something?” She might find that funny.
    Then again, I thought, she might find it insulting. You never can tell with girls like her.
    I read some more, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t think of a good question. They all made me sound like an idiot. I chucked the book across the room. Ron shouted, “What’s going on up there?” and started swearing like I’d just kicked out the window. I put Alexa’s number back in the wallet.
    I lay on my bed and looked at the ceiling. I wanted to get out of the house, but I couldn’t face walking past Ron right then. I was stuck in my room. There wasn’t much I could do. I was sick of reading. I couldn’t call Alexa. I couldn’t even listen to music. My batteries were all dead.
    Life sucked.
    I told myself that some day I was going to live in one of those big houses on Waterloo Crescent. I’d have three cars in the driveway and a big lawn that somebody else would have to mow. I’d ask Ron over for supper just so I could see the look on his face when I told him how much I paid for the place.
    I’d love that.
    I took the wallet out. I had to see what type of person lived in a house like that.
    The guy’s name was Andrew Kirk Ashbury. His driver’s license said he was twenty-five. I was all pissed off again. The guy was only eight years older than me and he already owned a big frigging mansion.
    Or maybe he didn’t, I thought. Maybe it was his parents’ place.
    That pissed me off too. I mean, he’s in his twenties and still living with Mom and Dad! I was willing to bet little Andrew didn’t have to work checkout at the grocery store. I figured he had it all just handed to him on a silver platter.
    I looked at his driver’s license. He was five foot nine, 150 pounds and had blue eyes. What do you know? Same as me. I almost laughed. Funny how we could be so much alike and so different at the same time. Andrew Ashbury got everything he could ever want and I got nothing.
    How did that happen? How come I got stuck with the crap end of the stick?
    I stared at his face. What was so great about him? He was no better than me. So he had short blond hair and I had long brown hair. So he wore glasses and I didn’t. So he had an earring and I hated those things. He sure didn’t look too special. The big man barely looked like he shaved, and I’d had a beard since I started high school.
    I dumped everything out of the wallet onto my bed. I couldn’t believe all the cards. I have a birth certificate and my last year’s student card. (I was too broke to buy one this year.) Andrew had a driver’s license, a birth certificate, four credit cards, a couple of gas cards and a bank card, not to mention a bunch of bonus cards for video stores, coffee shops, air miles, stuff like that.
    I checked out his signature. It was this big, flashy bunch of loops with a line underneath. It was like he was just trying to see if his pen had any ink. You couldn’t make out a single letter.
    I really hated him when I saw that. Like, who did he think he was? Donald Trump?I can’t stand guys who act like they’re too busy to write out their names.
    I emptied the change pocket. He had two dollars and thirty-seven cents in coins, a key, a couple of business cards, a dry-cleaning receipt and a ticket for a baggage claim or something.
    The only other thing in the wallet was a photo of this really hot girl. She had