The Juvie Three by Gordon Korman Read Free Book Online Page B

have a business!” Gecko fires back under tight control. “You have school, garbage picking, and therapy! That’s your life!”
    â€œYou don’t know squat about me!” Terence seethes.
    â€œI know everything about you, man! My brother attracted puffed-up gangster wannabes like a magnet!”
    â€œYou want to waste your time being a good little worker ant, that’s your dead end. Me, I’ve got plans.”
    Gecko looks him in the eye. “Not when your plans can get me locked up.”
    They’re squared off, ready to do battle, when the supermarket door slides open, and Douglas Healy steps out behind two big bags of groceries.
    Terence ducks into a storefront, but Gecko is fixed there like a butterfly on a pin.
    â€œGecko?” Plum tomatoes bounce from the bags as the group leader races up. “What are you doing, kid? You’re not supposed to be here!”
    â€œI—I know—” It never occurs to Gecko to explain himself—that he only left to bring Terence back in. The code of no ratting may belong to the Reubens and Terences of the world, but he can’t bring himself to break it. “I messed up.”
    To his surprise, Healy’s expression softens. “I did some time inside—in juvie, like you. Sometimes you need to feel the sun on your skin to remind you you’re alive.”
    Gecko tries to look contrite, but all he feels is relief. This was a very close call. And with his fate tied to Terence Florian, the calls are only going to get closer.

CHAPTER TEN
    Laundry night in the apartment on Ninety-seventh Street is Tuesday after community service. Arjay is carrying yet another overfilled basket to the basement washing machine when he finds his way blocked by a bag of garbage nearly as wide as the staircase. Frowning, he peers around the obstacle to find Mrs. Liebowitz backing gingerly down the steps, struggling with the awkward load.
    Not my problem. The last time he tried to help this woman, she practically bit his head off.
    But as he squeezes past the huge bundle onto the landing, he hesitates. The old lady can’t even see her own shoes. She’s going to fall and break her neck.
    He sets down his basket and rips the big burden out of her arms. When she begins to protest, he silences her with eyes of flame.
    He’s most of the way to the next landing when she bursts out with: “You’ve got a lot of nerve—”
    He cuts her off with another searing glare. Arjay is not a tough kid, but he didn’t make it through fourteen months in Remsenville without developing the Look. Nonverbal communication is a vital survival skill in prison.
    He squeezes through the front door and begins the arduous task of cramming the bag into one of the building’s trash cans. Four floors up, Mrs. Liebowitz is grimacing down at him from her window.
    He retrieves his basket and descends the musty flight to the basement. It’s a claustrophobic place, especially for Arjay—low ceilings, flickering fluorescent lighting, and a pungent smell that combines mold and rotting fruit. But the atmosphere is pleasant compared with the looks he receives from Gecko and Terence.
    â€œWhat?” he asks.
    Gecko hands him a crumpled card. “It was in the pocket of your jeans.”
    He unfolds it. The Empire State Building. The postcard.
    â€œAnd you’re ragging on me for taking risks?” Terence accuses.
    â€œNo contact with our families for six months,” Gecko adds.
    Arjay studies his sneakers. “I didn’t have the guts to mail it. It’s just hard. At least in jail, your folks can visit you. This is like we’ve dropped off the face of the earth!”
    Terence is unmoved. “Nobody visited me , dog. Course, I wasn’t exactly centrally located. But if I was doing my time in our toilet bowl, my old man wouldn’t have bothered to lift the seat to check on me.”
    â€œI was only at Atchison for