Taking Sides: Chapters 5–9

“¡Andale, muchacho!” a mother scolded her boy affectionately as he unhooked the Pepsi cans that he had smashed onto his shoes.

Everyone hushed him, and his hand went to his mouth as he muffled a giggle.

“Chale,” he said, incredulous. “Are you making it up?”

Lincoln and Tony peeked, full of anticipation.

Lincoln watched the old man sip his coffee through a puckered clot of whiskers.

How could he lift a TV onto his shoulder and saunter, whistling, out of a house in broad daylight?

He walked over to his old locker. It was scratched with initials, phone numbers, and lopsided hearts.

He relished the thought that he and Vicky were reading the same geography book.

“Why don’t you come in for a sec?” James offered. “My parents just got back from church. They’re cutting me some chow—honest-to-goodness venison.”

“I’m no good, homes. Mom won’t let me have a Nintendo because she says it’s violent. Do I look violent, homes?” He contorted his face into dark lines and punched James in the arm—hard.

James went into his closet and brought out a boomerang. It was nearly three feet long, lacquered, and hard as bone.

He would tell her that it was deer meat and then brag that he often ate exotic meats.

“Hi, Lincoln,” Monica said. Her face was red from the cold and her hair mussed from the wind.

She dribbled her ball, a synthetic Rawlings, he noticed, and she jumped, lean as a deer, and shot. The ball swirled off the rim.

It was Monica’s turn. The first bucket was a cinch. The next attempt she missed but cleared when she chanced. She moved to the third spot, then to the free-throw line, where she missed.

He returned to the kitchen, where his mother was searching for her keys. An aura of perfume hovered around her.

“Rest your leg,” his mother advised as she hurried down the hall to grab her briefcase and portfolio from the closet.

He woke when he heard the scraping of a chair. Footsteps sounded in the kitchen, and he thought he heard the rustle of newspaper. Groggily, he raised himself onto an elbow as Flaco jumped down and began to bark.

The intruder rounded Mr. Schulman’s hedge unscathed.

Lincoln, chest heaving, stood on the steps with Flaco at his side.