Read Bringing Down the Mouse for Free Online

the scene, Charlie began to chart out the area around him. Ever since he was little, he’d had the strange habit of seeing the world numerically; looking around the tent was like looking at a scene as if it were drawn on graph paper. Three squares to his left was a ringtoss setup, a waist-high counter overlooking a low platform covered in dozens of empty soda bottles packed tightly together. Three kids were playing the game at the same time, tossing plastic rings toward the tops of the pins, as a carnival worker, a “carny,” watched with a bored smirk. Hanging from the ceiling, three imaginary graph paper squares above the pins, was one of the many elevated jungles of stuffed animals: monkeys, lions, tigers, and even a couple of oversize giraffes, a few swinging so low on their plastic tethers that the kids playing the game had to toss the rings at ridiculous angles just to avoid hitting them.
    Two squares to Charlie’s right, there stood a standard milk-bottle game: another waist-high counter, this one facing an expanse of dirt that ended in a small stage, on which stood a pyramid made up of six oversize milk bottles, three on the bottom, two above that, and one on top. A teenager was standing by the counter, holding three baseballs in his hands. As Charlie watched, hethrew the balls one at a time at the bottles. His first two throws missed entirely. His third caught the bottom left bottle directly in the center, and the kid shouted with joy. For a brief second, it looked like he’d win the game, that all six bottles would go down, but when the dust cleared, one of the three bottom bottles was still standing, and the carny shrugged. As the kid turned away from the counter, dejected, the carny began restacking the bottles.
    Charlie moved deeper into the tent, passing more games, mentally graphing everything he was seeing. Next to the ringtoss was a horse race waiting for players, consisting of eight water guns lined up next to one another above another low counter, each facing a target that, when hit with water, made a little wooden horse move across a scoreboard hanging along the back wall. A teenage carny with a microphone stood by the dormant horses, ready to announce the game. Just beyond the horse race, Charlie saw a basketball toss, a hoop high up on a wooden frame, in front of a group of teenagers arguing over who was going to chance a shot first. Charlie watched as they finally came to an agreement, and the biggest of the group took aim, hurled a basketball in a perfect arc at the hoop, only to shout in anger as the ball ricocheted off the rim with an ugly clang.
    â€œDon’t feel bad for him, Charlie. LeBron James couldn’t make that shot in ten tries.”
    Charlie turned to see Finn off to his left, lounging back against one of the waist-high counters, which overlooked what appeared to be a coin-toss game. Charlie could hear oversize coins bouncing off ceramic plates on the other side of the counter as a pair of older kids with their backs to him played the game a few feet to Finn’s left.
    â€œIt doesn’t look that tough,” Charlie finally responded. “The basket isn’t nearly as high as a real one.”
    â€œOh, it’s not tough. It’s impossible . Or nearly impossible. The hoop isn’t a circle, it’s an oval. An optical illusion, really. Makes you think it’s closer than it is, and that the ball is small enough to go through easily.”
    Charlie watched as another shot clanged off the rim, this one bouncing so high, it smacked another group of stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling. Then he crossed to where Finn was standing.
    â€œI guess I never noticed,” Charlie said. He could feel his nerves going off, and he felt incredibly self-conscious around the older, more self-assured kid. Finn was dressed pretty much the same as he had been before, leather jacket, dark jeans, but this time he was wearing a Red Sox baseball hat low