The Nerdy Dozen Read Free Page A

of lightning strike or natural disaster so he could go home.
    Just then, a lumbering body came down the stairs, taking each step with a loud thump. It was Tommy’s brother, Ted. Ted was a fatter, bearded, nineteen-year-old version of Tommy with more muscle and fewer brain cells. He lived at home and worked part-time as the Zamboni driver at a local ice rink. His reputation as a high school bully was legendary. It was said that he once made the captain of the chess team eat a rook.
    Neil’s eyes locked onto a stack of board games on a table beneath the stairs. He cringed at the white-and-red Monopoly box, imagining a hotel in his lower intestine. No passing Go. No collecting two hundred dollars. Some real Baltic Avenue–style pain.
    â€œWhich one of you is Neil?” Ted asked.
    â€œI think you mean Neandertol,” Tommy corrected. “That’s him.”
    Neil braced himself for the oncoming torture. Maybe he could lobby for a less-threatening board game, something along the lines of Connect Four or Sorry!
    â€œYour mom told me to give this to you. She said you, like, forgot this in the car or something,” Ted said, brandishing the metal monster Neil had attempted to leave under his mother’s seat. “I think your sister found it.”
    Neil felt all the blood rush out of the upper third of his body. Public exposure of unsightly orthodontic hardware was enough to send a kid into homeschooling or, at the very least, into transferring school districts. And now his was being flaunted for everyone to see.
    â€œIs that supposed to help you stop grunting, Neandertol?” Jake said with a laugh.
    Neil stuffed the headgear into his backpack and turned to follow Ted upstairs. He hoped maybe his mom was still in the driveway. Being Janey’s punching bag for the weekend was clearly now the lesser of two evils.
    â€œWhere ya goin’, Neandertol? It’s your turn to play.” Tommy’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Neil knew Tommy wasn’t sharing for generosity’s sake—he wanted Neil to embarrass himself even further. “Or would you rather make some spears and go looking for masterdons?”
    â€œThey’re called mastodons,” Neil murmured.
    â€œWhat?” Tommy challenged.
    â€œMastodons. They’re called mastodons,” Neil said louder.
    â€œWhatever. Here you go, caveman,” said Tommy, tossing him the controller. “This should be good—Neandertol is still figuring out the wheel.”
    Tommy fell backward onto a couch, sniggering with the others beside him. Neil took the controller in his hands and curled his fingers around the joystick
    The game began, and Neil set off. He effortlessly escaped from enemy fighters, weaving back and forth to dodge rocket-propelled grenades. Neil knew every detail of the level, and it showed. He flew through the crossfire, nearly unscathed by the explosions around him.
    A hush descended over the boys on the couches. Five minutes later Neil had eclipsed Tommy’s high score. And he was just getting started.
    After Neil pulled off a particularly impressive barrel roll, Jake broke the silence looming over the basement. “Man . . . you’re really good.”
    â€œYeah,” the twins said softly, mesmerized by the glowing flat screen.
    When the level came to an end, Neil had almost tripled the current high score. Tommy stewed on the couch, his gray eyes brimming with fury.
    â€œWhoa, that was awesome. Neil, how long have you played this?” said Ron.
    â€œUmm, for a few months, I guess,” Neil replied. “It’s a fun game.”
    â€œYou gotta teach us some of that stuff,” begged one of the twins. “How did you do that barrel roll thing?”
    â€œOh, it’s easy, actually. You guys could do it for sure,” Neil responded.
    The doorbell sent everyone flying off the couches in search of pizza.
    â€œNeil, once we eat, we’re watching you