Page 42 of My Own Kind of Person

“Seventeen,” I say. “Anyone old enough to go to school in America is old enough to get shot.”

Mrs. Farmer gasps. “Sean.”

Sal’s face is made of stone. “Why would you say that?”

I rub at my forehead. My skin is so itchy it burns. Maybe I really don’t know how to wash my face.

“Because it’s true,” I say, and it quiets my brain.

“And the crowd goes wild,” Bobby Bingo deadpans.

“That was disturbing.” Sal holds his hand to his chest and coughs. “Don’t say that onstage.”

I talk without thinking. “You like comics to be edgy but only a certain kind of edgy?”

Sal doesn’t blink. “I like comics to be funny.”

Christy waves from the front door. Her lips are very red. I attempt to give a smile but she looks unnerved, so I must have done it wrong.

The overhead lights flash.

Bobby Bingo laughs and shakes his head. “You ready, O’Brien?”

“Don’t make him go first, Bob,” Sal groans. “Give the kid a chance.”

“This is his chance.”

The lights go down and Mrs. Farmer pumps her fist at me. She wants me to be cute and silly. Tony adjusts his mini-tripod on the table and gives a thumbs-up. He wants me to be everyone’s funny little brother. Christy takes a seat at the bar and makes a heart with her hands. I don’t know who she wants me to be. A silly nice guy who can converse seriously and have gentle almost-intercourse?

I check my phone. Nothing from Andi. They would’ve had time by now to glance at it, and if they’d had anything positive to say they would’ve said it. I stick my phone in my back pocket so I’ll stop looking at it.

Bobby Bingo stomps onto the stage and the crowd applauds.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to McGuinn’s, eastern Long Island’s best and only comedy club.”

He talks about the length of his hose and spices things up with some lines about the strength of his ladder. I open a message to Mom but I don’t know what to say.

Behind the bar, a sad-looking person locks eyes with me. It takes a second to realize it’s me in the mirror.

Bobby adjusts the mic. “Our first comic’s previous credits include singing at his grandma’s birthday party and getting an A in penmanship.”

I look like a used car salesman. I look like Tony’s dad. I look like anyone but myself.

“Please welcome to the stage the kid scientists are studying because he never hit puberty, Sean O’Brien.”

Adrenaline shoots through me as I walk into the bright lights. I take the mic with one hand and with my other I point a finger to the sky. “I hit puberty several years ago, Bobby! It just didn’t have any effect.”

The room laughs.

But it doesn’t feel good.

“I hit puberty and my extremely polite body said, ‘Testosterone? No, thank you.’ ”

The room laughs again, but it makes me feel worse.

“Uh…”

Pressure in my head pushes on the back of my eyes and I clench the muscles in my face.