Page 3 of Totally Geeked

Gordon has his face pressed right up against his phone so that all I can make out on the screen is his right eye and half his nose, like coming closer to the screen will help him see anything.

“Keeping the box closed won’t stop the world from getting their hands on your book,” Gordon says, his words slightly fogging up the screen. “It will be released in bookstores tomorrow.”

He’s right. The time for backing out is well past. Fuck it. Let’s do this. I flip the box open and pull out the brown packing paper scrunched in bunches on top. Then I spot the bright yellow text of the title,Gordie Goes Bananas.Holy fucking shit.I toss the last of the paper and stare down at the full cover. My illustration is shiny and bright looking back at me.

“Is it crap?” Noah asks, and Gordon hushes him.

I reach in, hesitating for a second, like if I touch it it might disappear. Or I might wake up. But when my fingers make contact with the hard cardstock of the glossy cover, a lump rises in my throat.

“It’s real,” I whisper, and Gordon chuckles.

“Come onnnnnn,” Noah whines, and I lift the top copy out of the box and turn it to face them.

Gordon’s eyes go wide, and Noah’s mouth drops open. For the first time in his life, Noah’s actually speechless. If my book achieves nothing else, it achieved the impossible with that.

“Is that me?” Gordon asks, and I nod. He knew my children’s story was about a baseball player on a Banana Ball team, but I never told him I based the main character on him. I left the team names off the uniforms but kept the colors. Gordon’s Animal Control neon orange pops so well with the yellow text. “Noah, move me closer.”

Noah stretches the hand holding the phone forward but still says nothing. His eyes are scanning the cover.

“That is my copy, right?” Gordon says, and Noah turns the phone to face him.

“No way, I’m the one taking him to his signing tomorrow, I get the first copy.”

“Pretty sure they sent me enough that you can both have one, but the first one out of the box is mine,” I say, turning it back over and flipping open to the first page. It’s perfect. The art department has done an amazing job turning my drawings into incredibly clean graphics with super bright colors, and as I turn through each page and read my words, my story, it all really sinks in. I did it. I published a book.

Noah rounds the counter and pulls out the next book in the box, flipping through the pages while Gordon watches from his phone.

“You have to bring my copy over tonight,” Gordon says, and Noah passes me the phone and moves to the couch with the book.

“It’s Friday, don’t you have plans already?” I ask. He’s moved back from the screen, and I can make out the pool of his Savanah house in the background.

“I’m staying in tonight. Training starts up soon, so I figured a few quiet nights might be a good idea.”

Noah scoffs from the couch, and I have to agree. Gordon doesn’t do quiet.

“You can grab your copy tomorrow,” I say, but he shakes his head.

“No way. My younger brother’s book, about me playing Banana Ball arrived, and you expect me to wait to read it? Come on, we can have a late dinner. Chill on the couch, it’ll be fun.”

Noah calls from the couch, “I’ll drive him over. What time?”

I interject before Gordon can answer.

“You’re already driving me tomorrow, he can wait till then.” I had every intention of calling a cab to take me into the cityfor the signing, but if I told the cab driver to turn around and take me home halfway there, he would listen to me. My brother won’t. As much as I wanted to be a published author, I’m equally terrified of having to talk about the book or read it in front of people I don’t know, and the publisher has set up readings at libraries and bookstores, and all I want to do is curl up under a blanket with my pretty, pretty book and let everyone just read it for themselves.

“Stop thinking about tomorrow,” Gordon says, and I snap out of my spiraling thoughts, attention back on him.

“Come on, bro. You should be celebrating. This book is awesome. We can order Vinnies, you love Vinnies,” Noah adds, and I look down again at the cover and its beautiful colors and the caricature of Gordon front and center. I drew so many sketches at those games, but I always knew, if I had a choice, the cover would be this one. Him in a yellow baseball uniform, standing like he’s just thrown a pitch, but instead of a ball, he’s throwing a banana. It would be good for him to see it in person. He was the inspiration, and he did get the team and the players to sign waivers so I could use their likeness in it in the first place.

“Are you sure you don’t have plans already? I don’t want you to change things around for me. You both already have to do that too much.”

“We do things for you because we want to. And I swear, I had no plans to go anywhere tonight.”

Noah pipes in, “What he said.”

Sure, Noah must just love living with his older brother instead of at the college with his frat buddies. When I broke my wrist, I thought I would be fine here alone. Turns out, it’s really hard for an accident-prone guy like me. A few days in, I had to have a revision surgery after I dropped a pan off the stove, and when I instinctively reached for it, smashed the open side of my half cast against the counter. The pain was so intense I passedout. I was lucky I was only out for a few seconds, but the hospital called Gordon when I was in surgery, and when I woke up, Noah was already moved into my spare room.

I still don’t think it was entirely my fault. Like who sends a person home with half a cast? I get that the swelling had to come down more before giving me a complete cast, but is it really safe to wait for that at home? I think my situation proves it’s not. At least after the second surgery, they kept me in until the swelling went down enough to put on the full thing that goes half up my forearm and only leaves my fingers free to move.

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