My Chemical Mountain Read Free Page A

we found in a corroded railcar near our old middle school. Strangers can make snap judgments about me all day long. I don’t care. But when my own mom does it, it hurts. She thinks I follow Charlie, like I’m not my own person, but I spend lots of time drawing, and Charlie would never sit still that long. I created the baddest sketchbook full of landfill monsters. And last time I checked, I’m not going out for football, even though Charlie’s been begging. Sometimes I think Mom doesn’t know me at all. I could die in a few hours, could get crushed under a steel beam. But at least I’ll have discovered something more interesting than potato chips. At least I know what it feels like to be alive.
    I open the refrigerator and stare at the shelves. A jug of milk. Polish sausages. Liverwurst. American cheese. Mostaccioli. Nothing looks good.
    I remember how much trouble I got in back before Cornpup scored formaldehyde for our Freak Museum. It had been my stupid idea to take all the crazy stuff we found on the shores of Two Mile and store it in my kitchen. Wingless birds in a margarine tub in the freezer. Neon-green leeches wrapped in foil and hidden in the silverware drawer. A big fish with tumors on its face in a plastic bag behind the ice maker. Mom found the dead animals a few days later, and I got double-grounded, no contact with friends for a week.
    I sneer at her now. “Where’s my BLT?”
    “Your what?”
    “The BLT I got at Joe’s Roadhouse on Thursday night. Did you eat it?”
    “I … um … I don’t think so.”
    “You don’t remember if you ate my food? Are you serious?”
    “I don’t want to fight with you.” She folds up the letter and shoves it into her purse with such force that her glass of soda tips over and spills everywhere. She looks like she wants to burst out crying. I almost help her wipe up the mess, but something holds me back. I’m still kind of pissed at what she said about Charlie—he’s not a bad seed; he’s loyal and funny. The real bad seed is the slimy Mareno Chem lawyer who harassed us after Dad’s funeral. And Mom was so quick to cut a deal with him: total silence in exchange for a few hundred dollars. Charlie would never sell out like that.
    I never signed any papers. I never agreed to be silent. The only vow I took was in my own head. Revenge.

CHAPTER 3
SNEAKING OUT
    IT’S after midnight and Charlie’s still not here.
    Outside, one of our neighbors is stuck in the mud. I hear tires spinning. I remember a few winters ago, when Dad’s van got buried in a snowy parking lot. We threw down salt to melt the ice and poured kitty litter under the tires for traction. He told me to sit in the driver’s seat and “floor it” while he pushed. It took us thirty minutes to get unstuck. I remember thinking Dad was strong for pushing a huge van without any help. But really, pushing stuck vehicles is just a thing people do. You don’t have to be all that powerful.
    I smear butter in a pan and fry up some bologna. Mom must smell the food, because she wanders into the kitchen and says, “Whatcha making?” When she thinks I’m not looking, she takes a box of ice cream sandwiches and hides it in the laundry basket under a pile oftowels. She says, “I’m going to put on a movie and fold the rest of these in my bedroom.” She touches my face.
    “What?” I say.
    She puts her arms around me. “I just love you.”
    I’m stiff in her embrace, but she keeps holding me, and I feel myself relaxing. She is my only parent. She’s my
mom
. I don’t put my arms around her, though. I won’t hug her back.
    “Good night,” she whispers.
    I eat the fried bologna straight from the pan. Mom disappears into her bedroom, her little TV drowning out the sound of an ice cream box tearing open. She’s gonna eat the whole box in one sitting. Those ice cream sandwiches were supposed to be for both of us.
    I sit on the couch and wrap masking tape around my sneakers until I’m certain