Stupid Fast - Excerpt and Giveaway

EXCERPT AND GIVEAWAY

STUPID FAST

BY GEOFF HERBACH

I cannot wait to read Stupid Fast.  Why are you so surprised that I want to read a football story?  I live in Texas, where football is king!  To be honest, I have a feeling that Stupid Fast is less about football and more about growing up.  Take a peek and see what you think.  

Goodreads Summary

Fifteen-year-old Felton Reinstein has always been on the smallish side, but in his sophomore year he starts growing...and growing.

During gym one day he smokes the football jocks in a 600-yard race. Felton has never been interested in sports, but there's no doubt-he is "stupid fast." As he juggles his newfound athletic prowess, his mom's sudden depression, an annoying little brother, and his first love, he discovers a shocking secret about his past which explains why he's turning out the way he is.

Excerpt

I am not stupid funny.  I am stupid fast.

My last name is Reinstein, which is not a fast name.  But, last November, while I was a sophomore, my voice finally dropped and I grew all this hair on my legs (and other places) and then I got stupid fast.  I’m serious. 

Before my voice dropped, in the fall, when my class was outside for gym, I played flag football and felt like trying for some reason and I was pretty good, because even though I had not yet fully gone through puberty like all the chuckle heads in my grade, and never tried before, and wasn’t even interested in the slightest, I’ve always been good at sports (a fact I hid by not trying), but not ridiculously good. 

Then, Thanksgiving came and I couldn’t stop eating and I couldn’t wake up before like noon, which drove Jerri nuts, and I grew taller and got all this crazy hair. 

The hair was like corn coming up in June.  You look one day and there are sprouts in the dirt, but mostly you see dirt, and then, like a week later, those sprouts are not sprouts but corn and are already knee-high and you can’t see the dirt at all. 

I ate too much at Thanksgiving, about a thousand pounds, and I couldn’t wake up in the morning, and I sprouted hair.  A week later, I had a thousand pounds of hair everywhere. 

Then, because my voice dropped, I got moved to baritone for the Christmas concert, which was bad news because I didn’t know the parts at all, so I sang the tenor parts except an octave below, which you could totally hear. 

And it went on.  I kept sleeping and eating and Jerri yelled at me to get out of bed and I yelled at Andrew to stop playing the piano so I could sleep and Jerri yelled at me for yelling at Andrew and then I’d get pissed and get out of bed and go to the refrigerator and stuff bread in my mouth because I was so hungry and Jerri would yell at me for eating too fast and Andrew would shout, “Felton’s a pig!” and on and on all winter, my pants getting too short and my shirts looking shrunken, not covering my belly button, which is gross (Jess Withrow and Abby Sauter both told me it was gross) and Jerri and Andrew shouting at me and me shouting back. 

Jerri never yelled before November.

And then, in the spring, my gym class had to go outside to run the 600 yard dash for some physical fitness test thing (apparently the last one we ever have to do) and I was just mad, all wound up from all the yelling and my clothes not fitting right, and when Coach Knautz, the gym teacher, yelled go, I took off.  I ran like an angry donkey, a very fast one, even though I didn’t care about winning.  I just needed a release.  I sprinted all six hundred yards.  And I beat everybody, even the other fast kids, by about a hundred and fifty yards.  People were screaming, “Look at Rein Stone go!”  Peter Yang, my second best friend, whispered, “What happened to you?”

“Hee Hah!” I shouted and pumped my fist.

Peter Yang rolled his eyeballs and walked away. 

Thank you to The Teen {Book} Scene.

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