A Good Long Way by René Saldaña Jr

Author:René Saldaña, Jr.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arte Público Press
Published: 2013-02-03T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

ROELITO—8:17 AM, March 27TH

Like I figured, I didn’t miss out on anything much coming in late to English. Mrs. Longoria has us reading through the cartoon version of A Tale of Two Cities. I don’t get it. We’re in high school now, so why are we looking at pictures and calling it reading? Something else I don’t get is this story. If it’s boring as a comic, I can only imagine how much of a drag the real book is.

“This is an abridgement, that is, a shorter version of one of my all-time favorite novels,” explained Mrs. Lon-goria when we first started with this “book” last week. “Charles Dickens is among this world’s best writers . . . ,” and on and on she went.

Eventually the bell rings and I’m off to lunch with Howie. On the way, he wants to know why Beto’s not been in class. I think it’s weird that Howie’s interested in my brother’s whereabouts, but I don’t have the will to put on a show. Instead, I tell him, “Don’t worry about it. None of your business anyway.”

“Oooh, Mr. Rude-man.”

That’s one thing wrong with Howie: he never takes things seriously, always exaggerating.

“Just showing some concern. It’s my sister, Carrie, actually who wants to know, really. Before English she found me and told me she didn’t see him in class this morning. Just worried about him, I guess. I think she likes him.”

We walk through the doors at the end of the hall, and we’re in the patio.

“You think he’d be interested in her?” Howie asks. “I don’t know—my sister and your brother? They just don’t match up. I mean, yeah, my sister’s all right looking, I guess, but she’s on the straight-laced side, you know, Miss Goody Two-shoes. And your brother, well, I don’t have to tell you about him.”

What does that mean? Sure, Beto’s a punk sometimes, but, what? Howie thinks his sister’s too good for my brother? Maybe Howie thinks he’s too good for me, then? “You know, Howie, you’re right. You don’t have to tell me about Beto. I know for myself. What’s with everybody today?! ‘Where’s Beto? Is he sick? Oooh, poor Beto.’ You all’re getting on my nerves, man.” I can’t figure out, though, why it bothers me that Howie is bad-mouthing Beto.

“Ease up, Roe. I was just asking for my sister.”

We’re at another set of doors that lead into the cafeteria. On pizza days, like today, the end of the line reaches several feet out into the patio. Now I can call pizza day an unabridged lunch line day. Normally I’d share smart jokes like that with Howie, but not today. He’s being a jerk, can’t see my mind’s on more serious stuff than hooking her sister up with my brother. I think I maybe want to tell him what all is happening with me. He is my best friend, after all, but right now he’s got me going on this other thing about defending Beto when, really, I probably think the same, if not worse, about him.

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