Read Dan Versus Nature for Free Online

amazing.”
    Hank unholsters his huge phablet and snaps a picture of the player who just scored.
    “Hey, did I show you my new gadget?” He turns the screen toward me. “It’s a real beaut. It’s got a quad HD-plus display. A sixteen-megapixel camera. A fingerprint scanner. A heart-rate monitor. And I don’t know what the heck else. It’s crazy. I love it.”
    I can tell he loves it because he’s gazing at it the way he gazes at my mom. I may vom.
    “Wow, that’s . . . pretty sweet,” I say.
    “You can’t even get these right now,” he says. “They’re sold out everywhere. I had to stand in line for thirty-nine hours for this bad boy, but it was worth it.”
    “Wow,” I say again.
    “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I do adore my tech.” He gives his phone a kiss, then wipes away his lip prints and reholsters the phone. “The key to upgrading is to save all the materials and keep your equipment super clean. That way you can maximize the resale value of your old phone and subsidize your new investment.”
    “Right.” I nod. “Good idea.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my pant legs and look up at the clock. Three minutes twenty-four seconds left in the period.
    I lean over. “Can I talk to you a sec, Hank? Out on the concourse?”
    “Sure, bud,” he says, chin-gesturing toward the ice. “Period’s almost over.” He rubs his hands together. “Sharks are on a power play. They could take the lead here.”
    “I know, but . . . it’s kind of important. And . . .” I lower my voice. “I don’t want anyone else to hear. If we go now, we’ll beat the crowds.”
    “Oh, OK.” Hank’s eyes flit to the ice, where the Sharks are passing the puck around like crazy. “If you’re, uh, sure it can’t wait a few minutes.”
    “It really can’t.”
    Hank nods. “Right. Yes. Let’s do it.” He slaps his thighs and stands, then starts to gracefully sidestep his way down the aisle, his eye on the game as he goes. I trail Hank, making my way down the row. I trip on someone’s foot, fall, and brace myself on the pregnant man’s oddly firm belly. He grunts and shoves me away, causing me to butt bump the heads of the people in front of us.
    “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I say as I stumble on.
    Finally, I make it to the stairs and follow Hank, who scales the steps like a mountaineer. He glances back over his shoulder one last time, catching a final glimpse of the game before heading through the doorway to the concourse.
    “So,” he says when I catch up to him in front of Panda Express. “What’s going on?”
    I look around. “Actually, I feel a little exposed out here. Could we maybe talk in the bathroom?”
    “The bathroom?” Hank asks, his eyebrows shooting up.
    I nod.
    He sighs, which means I’m starting to annoy him. Excellent!
    “OK,” he says, forcing a smile. “Sure. I can use the bathroom. Sounds good.”
    The men’s restroom is all blinding white tiles and gray Formica. The whole place reeks of malty whiz, the ammonia cakes having raised the white flag sometime during the first intermission.
    Hank quickly moves over to the urinals, unzips, and angles his ear, listening to the radio play-by-play of the game being piped in over speakers.
    “Fifty-five seconds left on the power play,” the announcer calls. “The Sharks break out of their zone.”
    There are a few other crowd-beating bathroom-goers straggling about, but the row of urinals is mostly vacant, leaving plenty of options for me. Still, I take up a position right next to Hank. He gives me a little acknowledging nod while still managing to keep his gaze directly forward.
    I unleash myself and stare at the perspiring chrome urinal handle.
    “Shot from the point, hits the crossbar,” the announcer shouts.
    Hank winces. “Damn it.”
    Do it now,
I hear Charlie’s voice in my head.
Right now. What we discussed.
    Aw, crap. My heart hammers inside my chest, the back of my neck prickling.
    I lean over slightly and whisper, “So, anyway,