We Were Here by Matt de la Pena

Author:Matt de la Pena [Peña, Matt De La]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89383-4
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2009-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

Mong showed us how to dig a little hole in the sand and line it with a bunch of small rocks for a homemade barbecue pit. We wadded up pieces of newspaper and scattered them in the hole, put the firewood on top of that and doused everything with lighter fluid. I struck a match and tossed it in, started a giant flame on the paper that quickly jumped to the wood. Then the three of us just sat there awhile, drinking and watching the fire, not really saying anything.

When Mong claimed the wood was perfect, we cooked the hot dogs and ate and drank more. We started a conversation about how crazy it was watching Rondell take over the basketball game, before what happened with the Timberland guys. Mong even ate a lot for the first time since we left the Lighthouse. Usually he just picked a little or ate the corn tortilla of his taco and then pushed the rest of his food away. And he kept drinking, too, pulling sips off his bottle of whiskey every few minutes. I decided he must be feeling better if he was trying to get his buzz on like that.

Rondell was feeling good too. He grilled all his dogs until they were burnt as hell and sucked ’em down whole. When Mong asked him to describe what it felt like to be so good at ball he got a giant smile on his face and shrugged, took a long swig of beer. “In the rest of everything,” he said, staring down at his feet, “you gotta sit there and think of all these little things.” He looked up at us. “But not with ball, man. With ball you don’t gotta think about nothin’. It just flows.”

“You had that shit flowin’ today,” I said.

“It’s like a rap,” Rondell said. “Or when a preacher starts shoutin’ ’bout the Testament at church. Or the women sway back and forth singin’ and clappin’. And you don’t never get tired either. That’s my word.” He paused for a sec, got a look on his face like he was thinking. “I don’t even know why about that part.”

“Maybe you love it so much,” Mong said.

“And you’re so good,” I said.

Rondell shrugged. “Everything just flows and flows and you ain’t gotta think about nothin’.”

Me and Mong nodded our heads. I tried to think if I’d ever felt that way about anything. Loved it so much I could never get tired. Maybe fishing off the levee with Diego. Or reading on the beach. Or writing in this journal like it’s a real book. But it didn’t seem like the same thing. I looked back at Rondell, who was still nodding his head, looking at the fire. For the first time since I knew him, I actually felt jealous about the guy.

An hour or so after we finished eating, Rondell fell sound asleep on his bag, and Mong motioned for me to follow him closer to the water. I got up kind of hesitantly, though.

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