Middle reader fiction www.peachtree-online.com ADRIAN THE FOGELIN THE I time my breathing—in on four, out on four; BIG in on four, out on four. THE BIG NOTHING BIG NOTHING The front yard blurs. The exact moment I drain out of the me who cares and pour into the Big Nothing is like the NOTHING second between being awake and asleep; it’s hard to pinpoint. But as soon as it happens, the Battle of the Units fades to a fuzzy blah-blah-blah. Ladies and gentlemen, Justin Riggs has just left his body. PRAISEFOR T HE B IG N OTHING ★ “Fogelin plots a thoroughly engaging story of teen angst, multicul- tural and political divisions, and a natural desire of neighbors to come to one another’s aid…. Serious and humorous by turns, this seemingly simple story is actually quite complex but not weighty and will be enthusiastically embraced.” —School Library Journal STARRED REVIEW “…speaks to the painful transitions of adolescence with rare humor and honesty…brings the current circumstances of many American families into sharp relief.” —Booklist “The impending war in Iraq gives this story a definite place in time, and its distinct characters make it satisfying and surprisingly realistic. Misfit finds fit.” —Kirkus ADRIAN FOGELIN author of Crossing Jordan The Big NoThiNg AdrianFogelin Published by PEACHTREE PUBLISHERS 1700 Chattahoochee Avenue For my friends and neighbors in Seminole Manor. Atlanta, Georgia 30318-2112 The stories all begin with you. www.peachtree-online.com Text © 2004 Adrian Fogelin First trade paperback edition published June 2006 Thanks, as always, to the Wednesday Night Writers— All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval Mary Z. Cox, Richard Dempsey, and Leigh Muller— system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, and to my sweetheart, Ray Faass. recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher. Congratulations to Arthur Dean Jr. of Sabal Palm Elementary, Cover design by Loraine M. Joyner Book design by Melanie McMahon Ives winner of the Justin Riggs Cruddy Sneaker Contest. Manufactured in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 (hardcover) 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 (trade paperback) Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Fogelin, Adrian. The big nothing / Adrian Fogelin.-- 1st ed. p. cm. Summary: A middle-schooler struggles to cope with major family problems, including a brother who might be heading for the Persian Gulf, but finds an escape in piano lessons and the dream of a romance with a popular girl. ISBN 1-56145-326-9 (hardcover) ISBN 1-56145-388-9 (trade paperback) [1. Family problems--Fiction. 2. Music--Fiction. 3. Interpersonal relations--Fiction. 4. Middle schools--Fiction. 5. Schools--Fiction. 6. Iraq War, 2003--Fiction. 7. Tallahassee (Fla.)--Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.F72635Bi 2004 [Fic]--dc22 2004006327 visit the author’s website at www.adrianfogelin.com Dear Duane, Sorry I sounded weird when you called last night but the Parental Units were right there—Dad in his chair, Mom on the sofa—as far from each other as they could get and still be in the same room. They’re doing the not—talking thing again. It keeps me pretty busy. Dad: Justin, would you please tell your mother she’s being paranoid? Me: Dad says lighten up Mom. Mom: Justin please inform your father he’s a liar. Me: This is so lame! Would you guys just talk to each other? Remember those conversations? You used to be the one in the middle. Now all you have to do is march around and shoot guns—want to trade? I better go. Mrs. Perez is giving me the evil eye like she suspects I’m not doing algebra. Adios and hasty banana. Your suffering brother, Justin P.S. The Units are both off work—Mom said she needed a mental health day but I bet it’s backfiring. By the time I get home all that will be left are two pairs of empty shoes with smoke coming out of them. The Big Nothing pats her hand. “I’m a traveling salesman, hon. I could stay home, but you do seem to like to eat.” Mom looks as if he slapped her. TuesdAy,JANuAry 14,2003 “It was a joke, Kathy. A joke. Don’t be so sensitive.” “I’m going out,” I announce. “Hey,” Dad calls after me, “don’t leave me alone with this hen I get home from school both of the Units are still crazy woman!” Walive and hanging out in the kitchen together—things The screen bangs shut behind me. That was a cheap shot seem to be looking up. Then Dad opens the newspaper with a about Mom liking to eat, but she was nagging him. She’s rattle. “I have a sales trip next week,” he says. “I’ll be gone a always nagging him. couple days, three max.” Up until two weeks ago, at this point in a fight, I’d be out of Barricaded behind the sports page, Dad doesn’t see Mom’s here. In less than a minute I’d be knocking on Ben Floyd’s worried look. The only thing that gets through to him is The door. We’d play video games, listen to music—no one ever Voice—Mom could pop balloons with that voice. “A sales yells at his house. But all of a sudden everything’s different. trip?” she says. “You just got back from the last sales trip, My best friend has a girlfriend. He’s probably over at Cass’s Jack.” right now, sitting on the couch with her and her sister, watch- The alarm goes off in my head: fight alert…do something…do ing Oprah. something. I quit shoveling my after-school bowl of Coco Puffs “All you do is lie to me!” Mom’s voice soaks through the into my mouth. “Hey, this is great,” I say. “You two are talking screen. She’s crying now, definitely. I sit down on the porch to each other!” steps. It would have gotten a big laugh if my brother Duane had “There goes that overactive imagination of yours again,” said it. Dad says, and he laughs. Mom stares indignantly at the raised newspaper. “This trip I pull my head down between my shoulders. I hate it when wouldn’t be to Atlanta, would it?” Without makeup, Mom he laughs at her. looks heavier and semi-erased. Maybe if I yell that the house is on fire they’ll stop. Maybe Dad doesn’t glance up from the page. “There she goes again, if I start bleeding a whole lot…. I can practically hear my Justin, giving me the third degree. Tell her I’m an okay guy.” brother: Great plan, Jus. Bleed to death, that’ll stop ’em. “Tell her yourself, Dad.” I feel like a wishbone getting I wish I’d gone up to his old room and closed the door. pulled between them. Nothing gets to me there. “Is the trip to Atlanta or isn’t it?” she repeats. “Who is she this time, Jack?” “I confess! I confess!” Dad drops the paper and holds up his “Nobody,” says Dad. “After a day with customers I’m hands. “I’m going to Atlanta!” He reaches across the table and bushed. I go to the motel and turn on the tube.” 3 AdriAN FogeliN The Big Nothing Dad sells supplies and equipment to mom-and-pop restau- can’t see is running in the street. I play my rhythm against the rants. Seems like half the time he lives at a Motel 6. When he slap of sneakers. comes in from a sales trip, he kicks off his shoes and shouts, I time my breathing so it matches every fourth step. “Jack is back!” When we were young, Duane and I would Breathe in on four, out on four; in on four, out on four. The pound down the stairs and jump on him. Mom would too. front yard blurs. The exact moment I drain out of the me who I don’t know when things changed, but they did. cares and pour into The Big Nothing is like the second Since Duane enlisted, Dad’s away more than ever. When he between being awake and asleep; it’s hard to pinpoint. But as is here all Mom does is give him the third degree about the soon as it happens, the Battle of the Units fades to a fuzzy girlfriends he supposedly has on the road. blah-blah-blah. In the wedding picture on Dad’s dresser, Mom looks hot, Ladies and gentlemen, Justin Riggs has just left his body. but she’s put on the pounds since then. Dad’s tall and he’s still I’ve almost forgotten that the slap-slap is a pair of running really built—he’s also bald, but on him, bald works. I can see feet when Jemmie Lewis flashes by. I only see her for a second why she gets jealous. But does he mess around? No way. Dad as she passes the gap where the path cuts through the hedge is just a friendly guy. that surrounds our yard. I drum my hands quietly on the step on either side of me. “Hey, Big Rig!” She skips backwards a few steps and reap- “Nobody, huh?” Mom sounds less weepy, more ticked. pears. Her skinny ribs heave. She breathes through her mouth.