Romiette and Julio Read Free Page A

leaves—all naked and stupid-looking. The river here is dirty and dull, not like the beautiful Nueces River, where I learned to swim and sail and fish. Papa said something about going fishing on the Ohio River in the spring. Not me! Probably just catch some old beer cans. No fish with any sense would live in that nasty water!
    He had seen the Ohio River as he and his family flew in over the city. It was brown and thick, and looked more like oozing mud to Julio than refreshing water. He could not imagine why anyone would want to swim in such filth.
    Julio loved to swim. He probably learned to swim before he could walk. Water was like his second skin, soothing and relaxing after a hot day in Texas. He was on a swim team once, and the coach tried to get him to think about training for the Olympics, but he figured it would take the fun out of swimming. He also liked to sail with his uncle on his boat. He was a good sailor, and had been planning to buy a little sailboat of his own next year. Sailboat races were held every Wednesday, and last year Julio had won in the junior division. Kids in Corpus Christi get boats instead of cars when they turn sixteen.
    Thinking about home made his anger return. Right there on the Gulf of Mexico, swimming and boating were second nature to him. But all that was gone. Nothing remained but cold and bitterness. No soft, warm ocean air, no soft Hispanic flavor here. Just about everybody in Corpus Christi spoke English and Spanish fluently. Most of the people there had relatives in Mexico, across the Rio Grande. The music on the radio, the conversations on the bus, even the breezes that blew there had Spanish melodies floating from them. Here, everything was different. Julio muttered to himself, “May as well have
No habla español!
posted in large
gray
(of course) letters on every dull brown building here.”
    He had called his friend Diego the night before. Diego had just come in from playing soccer. It was seventy-one degrees back home in Texas. Julio gritted his teeth.
    “Hey, Diego,
mi amigo, ¿qué pasa?
What’s up?” Juliocould almost feel the Texas breeze over the phone. He sighed.
    “
De nada,
Julio. How’s Cincinnati?” Diego was slurping on a Popsicle. “Ain’t no fun here anymore since you left, man!”
    “I hate it here, man. Just ’cause my dad lost his job, I gotta move a million miles from my home so he can start over. It’s just not fair!”
    Diego had heard Julio complain about this many times. Lots of kids had parents who were suddenly out of work. Several factories had moved out of town, and places like the insurance company that Julio’s dad worked for had to cut back because folks just couldn’t make the payments. Diego’s dad had been out of work for five years. “Stuff is rough, man.”
    “I hear you!” Suddenly Julio thought about how rough life was for Diego and he was sorry he had complained so loudly. Diego had six sisters, lived in a small apartment, and his mom watched three-year-olds to make ends meet. There was never anyplace to sit or have a moment of silence. That’s how they had become friends. Julio’s house was cool and quiet. Diego used to come just to “breathe in some silence,” he always said. Julio, on the other hand, loved to go to Diego’s place because two of his sisters were “really fine.” Diego didn’t think so, but Julio liked to hang around just to see them brush their hair or laugh on the phone. He even took Maria to the movies once or twice. “How’re your sisters?” Julio asked then.
    “Angelina is getting married next year. They got engaged at Christmastime. I’ll still have five left here, though. I
never
get in the bathroom! That’s why I hate you moved, Julio. You had such a nice bathroom!”
    “Glad you appreciate the finer things of life, man.” Julio grinned.
    “What’s it like there? Is it like Corpus Christi?” asked Diego.
    “Not even close. Bunch of taco fast-food stores—that’s about it—and