Romiette and Julio by Sharon M. Draper Read Free Book Online Page A

of the bathroom. Julio stood there alone, shaking and angry, in that silent bathroom that smelled of urine and cigarette smoke. They thought he was from one of those Texas gangs he had been running from! Unbelievable! He knew they would only threaten for a while. Then the threats would turn to fists, or knives, or worse. But they wouldn’t attack him—notyet. They weren’t really sure if he was from that gang, but this was their way of checking him out. They didn’t really need a reason to dislike him. They had already decided that.
    Julio had started to relax and settle into the new school. His classes were bearable, Ben was a friend who could always make him laugh, and he spent his spare time playing on the computer. A couple of times he had talked to this one girl he thought was from Cincinnati, but who knew. Ben said everybody lied on the Internet. She seemed like somebody he might like to get to know. But he hadn’t been able to find her on-line lately. The last time he had talked to her, she said her friend had warned her about Internet perverts, so she didn’t feel real comfortable talking to him, then she had signed off quickly.
    So now I’m a gang member. And a pervert.
Julio sighed as he walked down the hall to class. He was really late, but last bell was band, and he knew Mr. Barnes would understand.
    Those gang kids,
mused Julio,
separated me right away as different—as Hispanic—as Latino. I wonder what the other kids here see when they see me? I’m tall and thin, but I can take care of myself. I’ve heard girls giggle behind my back, saying stuff like, “Oh, girl, he is fine!” but nobody’s ever told me to my face—yet. My mother thinks I have a nice smile. But mothers are supposed to like you, aren’t they?
    Julio walked slowly down the dark, trash-cluttered hallway to class. He did
not
turn around to check for shades of purple behind him.

11.
Phone Calls—Julio/Diego/Ben
    The phone rang, and Julio picked it up as he clicked the thermostat up another notch. He was freezing cold, and the snow outside the window made him shiver with anger as well as the cold.
    “Hola,
my man Julio. How’s it going there?” Julio thought his friend’s voice sounded particularly far away.
    He sighed. “Hey, Diego. Good to hear from you. It snowed all day here. No chance of school being canceled, though. It’s just cold and miserable. My feet are still cold, and I gotta get a heavy winter coat or I’m gonna die!”
    Diego laughed. “I hate to tell you it’s seventy-five today, and I went hang gliding, so I won’t. How’s the new school?”
    “Well,
amigo,
on the very first day of school, before the first class even started, I got into a fight. I mean as soon as I walked in the door, I punched out the face of some kid with green hair.”
    “You don’t play around, do you? You get busted?” Diego asked.
    “No, for some reason, the kid covered for me,”Julio said in amazement. “I didn’t see him again all day. I’ve talked to him since, though. He’s OK.”
    “That’s good. What’s your classes like? ’Bout like they are here?”
    “Yeah, I manage to flounder through them all, keep to myself, and try to be invisible. My English class is reading Walt Whitman, who was pretty radical. History class is stuck at the Civil War. I think all eleventh-grade history classes must be stuck there.”
    “Yep, we’re still on it too. Boring!”
    “And guess what? They scheduled me for Spanish One! What a hoot!” laughed Julio.
    “That’s just plain
estúpido!
Didn’t you tell them you were bilingual?”
    “Naw, man. Why mess up an easy A? You ought to see the teacher! She’s this first-year lady who’s from China! Spanish with a Chinese accent! She had me weak!”
    “You’re gonna go crazy in there, man,” Diego sympathized.
    “Nah, it gives me something to laugh at, and besides, if I get my schedule changed, I’d have to drop band. The band teacher is cool. Long dreadlocks, a sixties kind