Neal Shusterman - Bruiser

If he touches her, I swear Im going to rip out his guts with my bare hands and send them to his next of kin for lunch.

What is my sister thinking ? This guythis looooserhas got no business breathing the same air as her, much less taking her out on a date. Just because he asked doesnt mean she has to accept.

Are you afraid that if you say no, hell bury you in his backyard or something? I ask the question over dinner, while Im still steaming from the news.

My sister, Bront, gives me a look that says Excuse me, but I can take care of myself , and she says, Excuse me, but I can take care of myself. She learned that look from our mother, God rest her soul. I give Bront back a look that says I think not , and I say, You gonna eat that piece of pizza?

Bront peels off the cheese, throws it on Dads plate, and eats the bread. Shes on a high-carb diet, which basically means she eats everything that Dad cant on his low-carb diet. It makes them part of an evolved symbiotic relationship. Thats science. Just because Im an athlete doesnt mean I dont have brains.

Mom, God rest her soul, is still on the phone. Shes negotiating with the next-door neighbor, hoping to get him to stop mowing his lawn at seven AM on Sunday morning. I dont know why she needs the phone; we can hear the other end of the conversation through the window. In order to get to the point, Mom has to strategically weave around the field, breaking down the neighbors defenses by talking gossip and being generally friendly. You knowlulling the guy into a false sense of security before going in for the kill. Its such an all-important conversation that Mom had to order a pizza rather than cook. She also had to order it online, since she was already on the phone.

Mom doesnt cook anymore. She does nothing much motherly or wifely anymore since Dad did some unmentionables during his midlife crisis. Bront and I have become convinced that Mom, God rest her soul, kind of died inside and hasnt come back from the dead yet. We keep waiting, but all we get is Dominos.

Im sixteen, Bront says. I can spend time with whoever I want.

As your older brother, its my sacred duty to save you from yourself.

She brings her fists down on the table, making all the dinner plates jump. The ONLY reason youre fifteen minutes older than me is because you cut in front of the line, as usual!

I turn to our father, searching for an ally. So Dad, is it legal for Bront to date out of her species?

Dad looks up from his various layers of pepperoni and breadless cheese. Date? he says. Apparently the idea of Bront dating is like an electromagnet sucking away all other words in the sentence, so thats the only word he hears.

Youre not funny, Bront says to me.

No, Im serious, I tell her. Isnt he likea Sasquatch or something?

Date? says Dad.

Just because hes big, Bront points out, that doesnt mean hes apelike; and anyway, youre the lowest primate in our zip code, Tennyson.

Admit itthis guy is just one more stray dog for you!

Bront growls at me, like one of the near-rabid creatures she used to bring home on a regular basis. Our house used to be a revolving doggy door, until Mom and Dad put their feet down and we became fish people.

Is this a boy we know? Dad asks.

Bront sighs and gnaws her cheeseless pizza in frustration.

His name is Brewster Rawlins, and he is nothing like what people say about him.

This is not the way to introduce your father to a prospective boyfriend, and I figure maybe Dad might be terrified enough to forbid her to date him.

Exactly what do people say about him? Dad asks. Dad always begins sentences with the word exactly when he suspects he doesnt want to hear the answer. I snicker, knowing that Bront is stuck; and she punches me on the shoulder.

What do they say about the Bruiser? I think. What dont they say? Lets seein eighth grade he was voted Most Likely to Receive the Death Penalty.

Hes quiet , says Bront. Hes inscrutable , but that doesnt mean hes a bad person. You know what they say: Still waters run deep

and are full of missing persons.

Bront hits me on the shoulder again. Next time, she says, Ill use your lacrosse stick.

Inscrutable, Dad says, mulling over the word.

It means hard to understand, shouts Mom from across the room as if he didnt know. Mom never passes up a good opportunity to make Dad look stupid.

Your mother, grumbles Dad, knows full well that inscrutable was one of my words.

Nope, says Mom, it was one of mine.

Theyre referring to the vocabulary curse Bront and I have been under since kindergarten. Mom and Dad alternate in force-feeding us one power word every day, which we are expected to swallow without vomiting. Thats what you get when both of your parents are professors of literature. That, and being named after dead writers. Very aberrant, if you ask me (Moms word). As teachers, however, they should have realized that Tennyson Sternberger would not fit on a Scantron.

The Bruiser comes from a screwed-up family, I tell Dad. Theyre a bunch of nut jobs.

Oh, says Bront, and were not dysfunctional?

Only your father, says Mom. But apparently hes taken care of it.

Mom could have been a great sniper if she had chosen that line of work. Every time she gets off a nice one, it gives me hope that her soul might be reviving.

As for the Bruiser, he has no mother. No father either. No one knows what the deal is there. All people know is that he lives with his uncle and an eight-year-old brother who looks like hes being raised by wolves. And this is the family Bront wants to date into. My sister obviously was never visited by the common sense fairy.

Exactly when were you planning to see this boy? Dad asks.

Hes taking me miniature golfing on Saturday afternoon.

Real high-class, I say.

You shut up!

And I do, because now I know everything I need to know about her so-called date.

I take my girlfriend, Katrina, to play miniature golf Saturday afternoon. Is it coincidence, or is it design? You tell me.

Must we? she asks when I suggest it.

We must, I answer, and offer no further explanation. Her hatred of miniature golf, I think, is born of the fact that her father golfed away her entire childhood instead of spending it at home. I suppose Wackworld Miniature Golf Emporium is a reminder of those dark times.

Its a happy place, I tell her. You cant hate Wackworld; its like hating Disneyland.

I hate Disneyland, she says, although she wont tell me why. Actually, Im afraid to find out.

Okay, Ill go, she tells me, as long as we dont keep score. And since my motives have nothing to do with golfing competition, I agree.

Youre paying, right? Katrina asks. Because I will not pay money to hit a ball with a stick.

I tell her that Ill pay, but she really didnt need to ask because I always pay. Katrinas very old-school when it comes to dating. The guy always pays, and holds doors for her, and pulls out chairs. I actually kind of like it; its cool pretending to be a gentleman.

Katrina and I had begun as what you might call a consolation couple. In other words, she really wanted to go out with my friend Andy Beaumont, and I really wanted to go out with her friend Stacy VerMoot. But Andy and Stacy found each other, and have since become surgically attached at the hip. That left Katrina and me as each others consolation prize. As I had just dislocated my shoulder and Katrina wants to be a nurse, it all just popped into place.

Life, my father had once said, is all about settling. Unfortunately, hed said that right in front of Mom, who proceeded to serve him a peanut butter and onion sandwich for dinner that night.