A Boy Called Duct Tape by Christopher Cloud Read Free Book Online

“They call me Duct Tape because of my sneakers.”
    “You’re kidding?” Kiki said, glancing down at my feet.
    “I wish,” I said faintly.
    Jimmy and his three friends swaggered over to where we stood.
    “Yo! The one and only Duct Tape,” Jimmy rejoiced. He and Big Dog fist bumped. “And this must be Little Miss Duct Tape,” Jimmy grinned, looking at Pia, then at her sneakers—they had also been reinforced with duct tape, though not as much.
    “Leave my sister out of this,” I said, leveling my gaze at my tormentor, a flicker of rage boiling up inside me. “I mean it.” I stepped in front of Pia. I’d never slugged anyone in my life, but I was close to it.
    “Yo, I’ll decide who I talk to,” Jimmy challenged.
    “ Yo ?” Kiki said. “Did I just hear you say yo ?”
    “Yeah,” Jimmy replied, smirking around his dimples. “Yo! It means—”
    “I know what it means,” Kiki interrupted, holding him with her smoldering gaze. “Are you totally dim? You think you’re some sort of homeboy? Goonies from the St. Louis ghetto say yo, not some seventh grade dweeb from Hillbilly Hollow.” Kiki hit Jimmy with a combative smile. “Are you taking notes, homey?”
    “Yeah, well … whatever,” Jimmy said, his tongue tied in a knot.
    “Yo! Whatever!” Big Dog growled, giving Kiki his best evil eye.
    Regaining his train of thought, Jimmy gestured at my duct-taped sneakers. “What’d I tell you, Big Dog? He’s got enough duct tape on his sneakers to circle the town square.”
    That brought on a flutter of giggles from the two cheerleaders. “How pathetic,” Sara Miller said, rolling her eyes.
    “Maybe he thinks it’ll make him run faster,” Big Dog grunted.
    “Yeah, you two are definitely from around here,” Kiki said, looking at Jimmy and then Big Dog, her voice razor-sharp.
    “What makes you think you’re so smart?” Jimmy snarled.
    “Yo! Your manners are as backward as your town.” Kiki was shooting daggers.
    Confused, Jimmy puffed up like a frightened bullfrog.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Big Dog barked, the veins in his thick neck swelling.
    “It means you’re both dumb as stumps,” Kiki said, glaring at the six-foot, two-hundred pound seventh grader named Big Dog, and then at Jimmy. “It’s an incurable disease and you both have it.” Kiki grabbed my shirtsleeve and we strode off. Pia was a step behind, snickering, both hands cupped over her mouth.
    When I glanced back, Jimmy and Big Dog were standing flat-footed and staring at one another, mouths wide open. They seemed unable to respond. Big Dog’s fists were doubled. They hung at his side like meat hooks.
    We had made it to the gazebo when Kiki turned to me and said, “I don’t think your town is Hillbilly Hollow, Pablo. Actually, I think it’s pretty cool. It’s what city people would call quaint .”
    “It used to bother me when they’d call me Duct Tape, but it doesn’t bug me so much anymore,” I lied. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”
    “No problem,” Kiki said with a quiet laugh. “What’s a primo for?”
    The small earthquake hit Jamesville about noon. We were watching festival-goers dunk Sheriff Mack Hickman, who was perched on a small platform above a tank of water. He was wearing a T-shirt and shorts. By hitting a red target with a baseball, a player could drop the scrawny sheriff into the water with a noisy splash. The small crowd gathered around the dunking tank roared with laughter each time Sheriff Hickman fell.
    There wasn’t much to the earthquake. Tree leaves rustled and the gazebo quivered, and I didn’t give it a second thought.
    Fact was, we didn’t even know the seismic event had occurred until we arrived at Lyda’s Café later that afternoon.
    “People don’t know it,” Lyda said, standing beside our booth, “but the worst earthquake to ever hit the U.S. occurred here in Missouri. Year was 1811. That’s a fact.”
    “I remember reading about that in school,” Kiki