Baby, You're a Rich Man

Chapter 9

That night, I was subject to another interrogation by Pete.

"Where have you been all day?"

"The library."

"Doing what?"

"Reading, what else?" My tone of voice was flat and disinterested as I tried to mask my frustration—my frustration at Patty for dragging me into this mess, my frustration at myself for being to much of an infatuated pansy to put an end to it, my frustration that I had just wasted my entire day reading about some man whose life I really didn't care about, and my frustration that in spite of all that, Patty still chose Ritchie.

Pete suddenly noticed the stack of books I had just set on the floor. "Is that what you've been reading?"

"Yeah," I answered, blinking. "Now is that all?"

Pete frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm just tired," I lied.

"Oh...okay," he said, not sounding totally convinced, and then he looked back down at my stack of books. "Henry Milford...isn't that the guy who founded this school?"

"Yep."

"Why are you reading about him? I don't remember any of our classes assigning us..."

"It's not for a class," I replied. "It's stupid. I'd tell you all about it, but I swear you'll be sorry you asked."

I half-expected Pete to press the matter further, but I was relieved when he decided to change the subject.

"Okay then," he said, shrugging. "Anyway, I made the chess team."

"No way! When did you do this?"

"Tryouts were today," he replied. "I was going to tell you about them before I left, but you had already disappeared by that point. Anyway, our first practice is tonight, in about..." He checked his watch. "...twenty minutes. We might have to just compete against ourselves for a while because it's kind of hard to find other schools around here with chess teams."

I smiled. "Well...have fun." And then I opened Henry Milford: The Official Biography and began reading again.

Pete raised his eyebrows skeptically and started gathering his chess supplies.

Over the next week, I was forced to balance reading the Milford biographies with reading The Grapes of Wrath for English class, as well as completing various assignments for my other subjects. With all of that, I barely found a peaceful moment to practice the guitar.

Wednesday morning before chemistry class began, my eyes drooping with lack of sleep, I dropped three books onto Patty and my lab table.

"What are these for?" Patty asked.

"They're just the books you left for me Sunday when you strolled out of the library with your boyfriend," I answered bitterly. "I take it you still want to read them, right? Or have you forgotten all about our little mission to find the Milford Fortune?"

"I thought you'd take care of it," she answered honestly.

"Well you thought wrong," I told her. "I'm tired of being the only one who carries his weight around here."

I expected her to object, but instead she just nodded understandingly, picked the books up, and placed them in her backpack. "Is that all?"