Last Summer of the Death Warriors by Francesco X Stork

Author:Francesco X Stork
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Scholastic

CHAPTER 23

They were in front of the tiger pit, waiting to see them get fed. Marisol pushed Josie to where she could see the big cats a little better. Pancho stood next to D.Q.’s wheelchair and looked down. One of the tigers began pacing back and forth on a ledge. Apparently he smelled something, or maybe he just knew it was time to eat.

“Do you think Marisol is mad at us?” D.Q. asked.

“Why?” Pancho continued to peer down. He had never seen a tiger before and was surprised by the size of its paws.

“She seems kind of quiet.”

Pancho shrugged his shoulders. He too had noticed something come over Marisol after the bus incident—a distancing where there was none before. She was more subdued and less talkative. D.Q., on the other hand, seemed charged up.

“It wasn’t very smart of us, was it? Back there in the bus.”

D.Q.’s words reminded Pancho of the numbness between his legs. He adjusted himself slightly.

“Everything still in place?”

“Yeah.”

D.Q. continued, “It was stupid. We endangered Josie and Marisol.”

“You’re the one who started it,” Pancho said. He slid down and sat with his back against the ledge. He felt very tired.

“I had no idea it could turn violent.”

“Didn’t you see what they looked like?” How could someone so smart be so dumb?

“I know, I know. I didn’t think I was making an unreasonable request. It was bad enough that he was talking on the phone as if no one else existed. The guy was yelling obscenities.”

“Those people aren’t reasonable.”

D.Q. bit his lip and furrowed his brow. Pancho knew that as far as D.Q. was concerned, the kids on the bus and Pancho were the same—they were all Mexicans. But he had always seen himself as different from the Mexican kids who sniffed glue or tattooed themselves with gang signs. Those kids were wild, angry with everyone, violent. And he was…what? He was…someone who didn’t care what happened anymore. He was going to kill someone in a few days, no matter what. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

“I should’ve recognized they were high on something,” D.Q. said.

Marisol walked up to them. She spoke to D.Q. without looking at Pancho. “We’re going to move on ahead. Do you want to wait here? Are you feeling tired?”

“I’m feeling great,” D.Q. responded, full of pep. “We’ll follow you. I’m not keen on seeing raw meat.” He put his hand over his mouth and made as if he were going to vomit. It elicited a smile from Marisol.

Pancho slowly stood. He positioned himself behind the wheelchair and pushed. He wished he were the one sitting in the wheelchair. The zoo was crowded with groups of children in T-shirts announcing their various summer camps. They ran back and forth in packs from one exhibit to another. Pancho had to dodge baby carriages pushed by parents who were looking everywhere except where they were going. People tried not to stare at D.Q., but they did anyway. They stopped to admire an elephant taking water from a pond and spraying his back.

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