A Boy Called Duct Tape Read Free Page A

Jamesville Middle School basketball team. Jimmy was with Sara Miller, a cheerleader and the prettiest girl in school. She was the one kneeling at the top of the human triangle they always formed at halftime.
    “Yo! When you gonna buy some new sneakers, Duct Tape?” Jimmy gave Sara a wink and told her, “This dude is in desperate need of new rides.” When I didn’t reply, Jimmy grinned around his dimples and asked me, “Cat got your tongue?”
    “No,” I said. “Besides, duct tape is in. Haven’t you ever heard of the grunge look?” I thought that was a pretty good comeback on such short notice.
    Jimmy laughed. “Pablo Perez—the king of grunge.”
    I pushed my duct-taped sneakers further under the computer desk.
    Each August, since fourth grade when Dad was killed by a drunk driver, Mom would remind me that money was tight and my new Walmart sneakers would have to last the school year. They never did. Duct tape to the rescue.
    Jimmy stooped down and gazed under the table at my feet. He jabbed a finger at them. “Dude, those bad-boys are lame!”
    I glanced at Sara and gave her a clumsy smile.
    “Oh, leave the poor boy alone, Jimmy,” Sara said. “And I do mean poor .”
    I felt the heat rise in my face.
    Sara giggled and grabbed Jimmy by the sleeve of his letter jacket. “Come on. Let’s find that article for science.”
    “So long, Duct Tape!” Jimmy said. He and Sara sailed down to another computer.
    I glanced under the desk at the shoes that had earned me the nickname I hated, and for a few moments I forgot all about the gold coin in my pocket worth $6,250.

4
    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, so I asked Mom to repeat it.
    “I said your cousin Kiki will be staying with us for two weeks.”
    “Kiki Flores?”
    “How many cousins do you have named Kiki?” Mom asked, giving me one of her best impatient glares before passing the meat loaf across the table to Pia. “Her mother is going on a business trip to California with her father, and please put your napkin on your lap, Pablo.”
    “Kiki Flores! She’s stuck up!” I said, unfolding the paper napkin and laying it across my lap.
    “I like Kiki,” Pia said, a smile skipping across her face. “She always sends me a birthday card.”
    Kiki also sent me birthday cards—real ones, not those online things I’d heard so much about—but I wasn’t about to admit I liked them.
    “Do I have to hang around with her, Mom?”
    We were seated at the baby-sized table in the baby-sized kitchen of our baby-sized mobile home.
    “You have to show her the same respect she would show you if you visited her in St. Louis,” Mom said. “And if I’m not mistaken, Kiki showed Pia and you a wonderful time when you were there two summers ago.”
    “She took us to the St. Louis Arch,” I moaned. “Big deal.”
    “I liked it,” Pia said. “From the top of the Arch you could see all the way to Jamesville.”
    I shot my sister a frown. “Could not.”
    “Could to,” Pia said, nodding her head like a bobble doll. “I could see the top of the courthouse steeple.”
    “Pia, it’s 300 miles from St. Louis to Jamesville.”
    “So?”
    I gave a sad groan. It was pointless arguing with a little sister.
    “You can take Kiki to the Outlaw Days Festival,” Mom said, giving me a little smile. “She’ll like that.”
    “Kiki’s thirteen and from a big city, Mom,” I protested. “Outlaw Days would be like … like Hicksville to her.”
    “I think you might be surprised, Pablo,” Mom said. “Kiki isn’t like that.”
    I blew out a big breath, but said nothing.
    The Outlaw Days Festival was held at the Jamesville city park each year over the Memorial Day weekend. The festival celebrated one of the town’s most famous guests: Jesse James. According to legend, Jamesville had been named for Jesse after he and his gang began using the caves in the area as hideouts.
    “Remember what your father used to say about the future, Pablo?” Mom reminded me.