Bak Middle School of the Arts: Seventh Grade …...Bak Middle School of the Arts: Seventh Grade...

Bak Middle School of the Arts: Seventh Grade Summer Reading List

You must read one novel and three short stories and Complete the “Do the Write Thing” writing assignment

The Novel is a “free selection” from the list of choices below.

Book #1 Free Selection: Select a title that you haven’t read previously and read the book prior to the beginning of school. Complete the mandala project after you finish reading the book. It is due the first week of school.

TITLE AUTHOR OVERVIEW

Beautiful Creatures Kami Garcia &

Margaret Stohl Lena is more than Ethan bargained for—beautiful, different, and unexpectedly powerful. She is a caster - possessing the power to transform her surroundings. Southern history and charm mingle with Gothic sensibilities in this story that boasts a strong male narrator.

Gathering Blue Lois Lowry Lois Lowry once again creates a mysterious but plausible future world. It is a society ruled by savagery and deceit that shuns and discards the weak. Left orphaned and physically flawed, young Kira faces a frightening, uncertain future. Blessed with an almost magical talent that keeps her alive, she struggles with ever broadening responsibilities in her quest for truth, discovering things that will change her life forever.

Cinder Marissa Meyer Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg. She’s a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister’s illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai’s, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world’s future.

Out of My Mind Sharon M. Draper

Eleven-year-old Melody has a photographic memory. Her head is like a video camera that is always recording. Always. And there's no delete button. She's the smartest kid in her whole school, but no one knows it. From multiple Coretta Scott King Award winner Sharon M. Draper comes a story full of heartache and hope. Get ready to meet a girl whose voice you'll never, ever forget.

Silent to the Bone E.L. Konigsburg When he is wrongly accused of gravely injuring his baby half-sister, thirteen-year-old Branwell loses his power of speech and only his friend Connor is able to reach him and uncover the truth about what really happened.

Wednesday Wars Gary D. Schmidt In this Newbery Honor-winning novel, Gary D. Schmidt offers an unforgettable antihero. The Wednesday Wars is a wonderfully witty and compelling story about a teenage boy’s mishaps and adventures over the course of the 1967–68 school year in Long Island, New York.

House of the Scorpion

Nancy Farmer In the future, a strip of land is ruled by a 146-year-old man

named El Patrón. His fields are tilled by undocumentdimmigrants, called "eejits," who have computer chips implanted

in their brains so that they can be kept in slavery. Matt, a boy

who is confined in a cottage on El Patrón estate, manages to

break out, but that is not the end of his troubles. National Book

Award, 2002, Newbery Honor, 2003, Michael L. Printz

Award Honor Book, 2003

Booked Kwame Alexander In THE CROSSOVER, soccer, family, love, and friendship, take center stage as twelve-year-old Nick learns the power of words as he wrestles with problems at home, stands up to a bully, and tries to impress the girl of his dreams. Helping him along are his best friend and sometimes teammate Coby, and The Mac, a rapping librarian who gives Nick inspiring books to read.

http://productsearch.barnesandnoble.com/search/results.aspx?store=book&ATH=Kami+Garcia

http://productsearch.barnesandnoble.com/search/results.aspx?store=book&ATH=Margaret+Stohl

http://productsearch.barnesandnoble.com/search/results.aspx?store=book&ATH=Cornelia+Funke

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The Novel and the assignment must be completed before the start of school

Mandala Project for Novel

Choose one of the major characters of your novel, either the protagonist (main

character) or another fully-developed character in your “free choice” novel.

Think about the traits, both external and internal that the character possesses.

Then, based on the symbolic meanings of the colors in the chart, color in the

mandala to represent the traits of your character. In addition to the choice of

colors, the amount of color should also be significant. The more dominant a trait

is in the character, the more you use the representative color in your mandala.

Staple your explanations to your mandala.

You must use at least three colors in your mandala. For each color you must

explain why you chose that color and why you chose to use the amount you used.

Use at least one specific example (textual evidence) from the novel to support

your choice for each color. Remember to analyze or further explain your

evidence. This should be written in paragraph form.

Example from The Giver:

The color white represents Jonas, especially at the beginning of the novel,

because he was very innocent or naïve about what was going on in the

community. For example, when Jonas has a conversation with the Giver about

the freedom to make choices, he concludes that it would be much too dangerous

if people made their own choices because they might make “the wrong choices.”

It is “much safer this way, “(p.99 ). This shows that at this point, he still blindly

accepts the rules the Elders have established, and he doesn’t yet have the

maturity and wisdom to make decisions for himself. I made half of my mandala

white because he keeps his innocence up until the climax of the book when he

sees his father murder the twin.

Symbolism Chart

Red excitement, energy, passion, love, desire, speed, strength, power, heat, aggression, danger, fire, blood,

war, violence, all things intense and passionate, sincerity Pink love and romance, caring, tenderness, acceptance and

calm. Beige or ivory Beige symbolizes unification, calm and simplicity. Ivory

symbolizes quiet and pleasantness. Yellow joy, happiness, betrayal, optimism, idealism,

imagination, hope, sunshine, summer, gold, philosophy, dishonesty, cowardice, jealousy, covetousness, deceit,

illness, hazard and friendship Dark Blue integrity, knowledge, power, and seriousness Blue peace, tranquility, cold, calm, stability, harmony, unity,

trust, truth, confidence, conservatism, security,

cleanliness, order, loyalty, sky, water, technology, depression, appetite suppressant

Turquoise calm, sophistication, water, a feminine appeal Purple royalty, nobility, spirituality, ceremony, mystery,

transformation, wisdom, enlightenment, cruelty, honor, arrogance, mourning, temperance

Lavender femininity, grace and elegance. Orange energy, balance, enthusiasm, warmth, vibrant,

expansive, flamboyant, demanding of attention. Green nature, environment, healthy, good luck, renewal, youth,

spring, generosity, fertility, jealousy, service, inexperience, envy, misfortune, vigor.

Brown earth, stability, hearth, home, outdoors, reliability,

comfort, endurance, simplicity, and comfort. Gray security, reliability, intelligence, staid, modesty, dignity,

maturity, solid, conservative, practical, old age, sadness, boring. Silver symbolizes calm

White reverence, purity, birth, simplicity, cleanliness, peace,

humility, precision, innocence, youth, winter, snow, good, marriage (Western cultures), death (Eastern

cultures), cold, clinical. Black power, sophistication, formality, elegance, wealth,

mystery, fear, evil, unhappiness, depth, style, sadness,

remorse, anger, anonymity, underground, mourning, death (Western cultures), austerity, detachment.

Name_______________________________ Date____________________________________

Character’s Name____________________ Novel___________________________________

Assignment #2In addition to reading the novel and completing the Mandala Project, you will read three short

stories: “Seventh Grade,” “Raymond's Run,” and "Amigo Brothers." There is no summer

assignment that accompanies these reading, but you will have assignments that relate to

these readings when you return to school after the summer break.

“Seventh Grade” by Gary Soto

1. On the first day of school, Victor stood in line half an hour before he came to a wobbly card table. He was handed a packet of papers and a computer card on which he listed his one elective1, French. He already spoke Spanish and English, but he thought some day he might travel to France, where it was cool; not like Fresno, where summer days reached 110 degrees in the shade. There were rivers in France, and huge churches, and fair-skinned people everywhere, the way there were brown people all around Victor

2. Besides, Teresa, a girl he had liked since they were in catechism classes at Saint Theresa’s,was taking French, too. With any luck they would be in the same class. Teresa is going to be my girl this year, he promised himself as he left the gym full of students in their new fall clothes. She was cute. And good in math, too, Victor thought as he walked down the hall to his homeroom. He ran into his friend, Michael Torres, by the water fountain that never turned off.

3. They shook hands, raza-style, and jerked their heads at one another in a saludo de vato2.“How come you’re making a face?” asked Victor.

4. “I ain’t making a face, ese3. This is my face.” Michael said his face had changed during thesummer. He had read a GQ magazine that his older brother had borrowed from the Book Mobile and noticed that the male models all had the same look on their faces. They would stand, one arm around a beautiful woman, and scowl. They would sit at the pool, their rippled stomachs dark with shadow, and scowl. They would sit at dinner tables, cool drinks in their hands, and scowl.

5. “I think it works,” Michael said. He scowled and let his upper lip quiver. His teeth showed along with the ferocity of his soul. “Belinda Reyes walked by a while ago and looked at me,” he said.

6. Victor didn’t say anything, though he thought his friend looked pretty strange. They talkedabout recent movies, baseball, their parents, and the horrors of picking grapes in order to buy their fall clothes. Picking grapes was like living in Siberia4, except hot and more boring.

7. “What classes are you taking?” Michael said, scowling. 8. “French. How ‘bout you?”9. “Spanish. I ain’t so good at it, even if I’m Mexican."10. “I’m not either, but I’m better at it than math, that’s for sure.”11. A tinny, three-beat bell propelled students to their homerooms. The two friends socked each

other in the arm and went their ways, Victor thinking, man, that’s weird. Michael thinks making a face makes him handsome.

12. On the way to his homeroom, Victor tried a scowl. He felt foolish, until out of the corner ofhis eye he saw a girl looking at him. Umm, he thought, maybe it does work. He scowled with greater conviction5.

13. In the homeroom, roll was taken, emergency cards were passed out, and they were given abulletin to take home to their parents. The principal, Mr. Belton, spoke over the crackling loudspeaker, welcoming the students to a new year, new experiences, and new friendships. The students squirmed in their chairs and ignored him, they were anxious to go to first period. Victor sat calmly, thinking of Teresa, who sat two rows away, reading a paperback novel. This would

1 elective (n.) - optional course or subject 2 raza-style. . .saludo de vato - Spanish gestures of greeting between friends 3 ese - Spanish word for “man” 4 Sibera - region in northern Asia known for its harsh winters 5 conviction (n.) - belief

be his lucky year. She was in his homeroom, and would probably be in his English and math classes. And, of course, French.

14. The bell rang for first period, and the students herded noisily through the door. Only Teresalingered, talking with the homeroom teacher.

15. “So you think I should talk to Mrs. Gaines?” she asked the teacher. “She would know aboutballet?”

16. “She would be a good bet,” the teacher said. Then added, “Or the gym teacher, Mrs. Garza."17. Victor lingered, keeping his head down and staring at his desk. He wanted to leave when she

did so he could bump into her and say something clever. 18. He watched her on the sly. As she turned to leave, he stood up and hurried to the door,

where he managed to catch her eye. She smiled and said, “Hi, Victor." 19. He smiled back and said, “Yeah, that's me.” His brown face blushed. Why hadn’t he said,

“Hi, Teresa,” or "How was your summer?” or something nice. 20. As Teresa walked down the hall, Victor walked the other way, looking back, admiring how

gracefully she walked, one foot in front of the other. So much for being in the same class, he thought. As he trudged to English, he practiced scowling.

21. In English they reviewed the parts of speech. Mr. Lucas, a portly man, waddled down theaisle, asking, “What is a noun?”

22. “A person, place, or thing,” said the class in unison.23. “Yes, now somebody give mean example of a person--you, Victor Rodriguez.”24. "Teresa,” Victor said automatically. Some of the girls giggled. They knew he had a crush on

Teresa. He felt himself blushing again. 25. “Correct,” Mr. Lucas said. “Now provide me with a place.”26. Mr. Lucas called on a freckled kid who answered, “Teresa’s house with a kitchen full of big

brothers.” 27. After English, Victor had math, his weakest subject. He sat in the back by the window,

hoping that he would not be called on. Victor understood most of the problems, but some of the stuff looked like the teacher made it up as she went along. It was confusing, like the inside of a watch.

28. After math he had a fifteen-minute break, then social studies, and finally lunch. He bought atuna casserole with buttered rolls, some fruit cocktail, and milk. He sat with Michael, who practiced scowling between bites.

29. Girls walked by and looked at him, “See what I mean, Vic?” Michael scowled. “They loveit.”

30. “Yeah, I guess so.”31. They ate slowly, Victor scanning the horizon for a glimpse of Teresa. He didn’t see her. She

must have brought lunch, he thought, and is eating outside. Victor scraped his plate and left Michael, who was busy scowling at a girl two tables away.

32. The small, triangle-shaped campus bustled with students talking about their new classes.Everyone was in a sunny mood. Victor hurried to the bag lunch area, where he sat down and opened his math book. He moved his lips as if he were reading, but his mind was somewhere else. He raised his eyes slowly and looked around. No Teresa.

33. He lowered his eyes, pretending to study, then looked slowly to the left. No Teresa. Heturned a page in the book and stared at some math problems that scared him because he knew he would have to do them eventually. He looked at the right. Still no sign of her. He stretched out lazily in an attempt to disguise his snooping.

34. Then he saw her. She was sitting with a girlfriend under a plum tree. Victor moved to a tablenear her and daydreamed about taking her to a movie. When the bell sounded, Teresa looked up,

and their eyes met. She smiled sweetly and gathered her books. Her next class was French, same as Victor’s.

35. They were among the last students to arrive in class, so all the good desks in the back hadalready been taken. Victor was forced to sit near the front, a few desks away from Teresa, while Mr. Bueller wrote French words on the chalkboard. The bell rang, and Mr. Bueller wiped his hands, turned to the class, and said, “Bonjour.”6

36. “Bonjour,” braved a few students.37. “Bonjour,” Victor whispered. He wondered if Teresa heard him.38. Mr. Bueller said that if the students studied hard, at the end of the year they could go to

France and be understood by the populace. 39. One kid raised his hand and asked, “What’s ‘populace’?”40. “The people, the people of France.”41. Mr. Bueller asked if anyone knew French. Victor raised his hand, wanting to impress

Teresa. The teacher beamed and said, “Très bien. Parlez-vous français?”7 42. Victor didn’t know what to say. The teacher wet his lips and asked something else in

French. The room grew silent. Victor felt all eyes staring at him. He tried to bluff his way out by making noises that sounded French.

43. “La me vave me con le grandma,” he said uncertainly.44. Mr. Bueller, wrinkling his face in curiosity, asked him to speak up.45. Great rosebushes of red bloomed on Victor’s cheeks. A river of nervous sweat ran down his

palms. He felt awful. Teresa sat a few desks away, no doubt thinking he was a fool. Without looking at Mr. Bueller, Victor mumbled, ‘Frenchie oh wewe gee in September.”

46. Mr. Bueller asked Victor to repeat what he said.47. “Frenchie oh wewe gee in September," Victor repeated.48. Mr. Bueller understood that the boy didn’t know French and turned away. He walked to the

blackboard and pointed to the words on the board with his steel-edged ruler. 49. “Le bateau,” he sang.50. “Le bateau,” the students repeated.51. “Le bateau est sur l’eau,”8 he sang.52. “Le bateau est sur l’eau.”53. Victor was too weak from failure to join the class. He stared at the board and wished he had

taken Spanish, not French. Better yet, he wished he could start his life over. He had never been so embarrassed. He bit his thumb until he tore off a sliver of skin.

54. The bell sounded for fifth period, and Victor shot out of the room, avoiding the stares of theother kids, but had to return for his math book. He looked sheepishly9 at the teacher, who was erasing the board, then widened his eyes in terror at Teresa who stood in front of him. “I didn’t know you knew French,”she said. “That was good.”

55. Mr. Bueller looked at Victor, and Victor looked back. Oh please, don’t say anything, Victorpleaded with his eyes. I’ll wash your car, mow your lawn, walk your dog--anything! I'll be your best student, and I’ll clean your erasers after school.

56. Mr. Bueller shuffled through the papers on his desk, He smiled and hummed as he sat downto work. He remembered his college years when he dated a girlfriend in borrowed cars. She

6 Bonjour – French for “Hello”; “Good day” 7 Très bien. Parlez-vous français? – French for “Very well. Do you speak French?” 8 Le bateau est sur l’eau – French for “The boat is on the water.” 9 Sheepishly (adv.) – in a shy or embarrassed way

thought he was rich because each time he picked her up he had a different car. It was fun until he had spent all his money on her and had to write home to his parents because he was broke.

57. Victor couldn’t stand to look at Teresa. He was sweaty with shame. “Yeah, well, I picked upa few things from movies and books and stuff like that.” They left the class together. Teresa asked him if he would help her with her French.

58. “Sure, anytime,” Victor said.59. “I won’t be bothering you, will I?”60. “Oh no, I like being bothered.”61. “Bonjour.” Teresa said, leaving him outside her next class. She smiled and pushed wisps of

hair from her face. 62. “Yeah, right, bonjour,” Victor said. He turned and headed to his class. The rosebuds of

shame on his face became bouquets of love. Teresa is a great girl, he thought. And Mr. Bueller is a good guy.

63. He raced to metal shop. After metal shop there was biology, and after biology a long sprintto the public library, where he checked out three French textbooks.

64. He was going to like seventh grade.

GARY SOTO (b. 1952)

Gary Soto has a lot in common with the character Victor Rodriguez. Soto grew up in Fresno and once harvested crops in the fields of California.

Soto began writing while in college. In the fiction and poetry he’s written since, he reaches back to the sense of belonging he felt in Fresno. He often writes for young adults, who he knows are also searching for their own community and their own place.

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“Raymond’s Run,” copyright © 1971 by Toni Cade Bambara; from Gorilla, My Love by Toni Cade Bambara. Used by permission of Random House, an imprint and division of Random House LLC. All rights reserved. May be reproduced for classroom use. © 2014 by Lucy Calkins and Colleagues from the TCRWP from Units of Study in Argument, Information, and Narrative Writing, Grades 6–8 (firsthand: Portsmouth, NH).

“rayMond’s run” By toni Cade BaMBara

I don’t have much work to do around the house like some girls. My mother does that. And I don’t have to earn my pocket money by hustling; George runs errands for the big boys and sells Christmas cards. And anything else that’s got to get done, my father does. All I have to do in life is mind my brother Raymond, which is enough.

Sometimes I slip and say my little brother Raymond. But as any fool can see he’s much bigger and he’s older too. But a lot of people call him my little brother cause he needs looking after cause he’s not quite right. And a lot of smart mouths got lots to say about that too, especially when George was minding him. But now, if anybody has anything to say to Raymond, anything to say about his big head, they have to come by me. And I don’t play the dozens or believe in standing around with somebody in my face doing a lot of talking. I much rather just knock you down and take my chances even if I am a little girl with skinny arms and a squeaky voice, which is how I got the name Squeaky. And if things get too rough, I run. And as anybody can tell you, I’m the fastest thing on two feet.

There is no track meet that I don’t win the first-place medal. I used to win the twenty-yard dash when I was a little kid in kindergarten. Nowadays, it’s the fifty-yard dash. And tomorrow I’m subject to run the quarter-meter relay all by myself and come in first, second, and third. The big kids call me Mercury cause I’m the swiftest thing in the neighborhood. Everybody knows that—except two people who know better, my father and me. He can beat me to Amsterdam Avenue with me having a two-fire-hydrant headstart and him running with his hands in his pockets and whistling. But that’s private information. Cause can you imagine some thirty-five-year-old man stuffing himself into PAL shorts to race little kids? So as far as everyone’s concerned, I’m the fastest and that goes for Gretchen, too, who has put out the tale that she is going to win the first-place medal this year. Ridiculous. In the second place, she’s got short legs. In the third place, she’s got freckles. In the first place, no one can beat me and that’s all there is to it.

I’m standing on the corner admiring the weather and about to take a stroll down Broadway so I can practice my breathing exercises, and I’ve got Raymond walking on the inside close to the buildings, cause he’s subject to fits of fantasy and starts thinking he’s a circus performer and that the curb is a tightrope strung high in the air. And sometimes after a rain he likes to step down off his tightrope right into the gutter and slosh around getting his shoes and cuffs wet. Then I get hit when I get home. Or sometimes if you don’t watch him he’ll dash across traffic to the island in the middle of Broadway and give the pigeons a fit. Then I have to go behind him apologizing to all the old people sitting around trying to get some sun and getting all upset with the pigeons fluttering around them, scattering their newspapers and upsetting the waxpaper lunches in their laps. So I keep Raymond on the inside of me, and he plays like he’s driving a stage coach which is OK by me so long as he doesn’t run me over

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http://www.nexuslearning.net/books/holt-eol2/Collection%201/raymond1.htm

http://www.nexuslearning.net/books/holt-eol2/Collection%201/raymond1.htm

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or interrupt my breathing exercises, which I have to do on account of I’m serious about my running, and I don’t care who knows it.

Now some people like to act like things come easy to them, won’t let on that they practice. Not me. I’ll high-prance down 34th Street like a rodeo pony to keep my knees strong even if it does get my mother uptight so that she walks ahead like she’s not with me, don’t know me, is all by herself on a shopping trip, and I am somebody else’s crazy child. Now you take Cynthia Procter for instance. She’s just the opposite. If there’s a test tomorrow, she’ll say something like, “Oh, I guess I’ll play handball this afternoon and watch television tonight,” just to let you know she ain’t thinking about the test. Or like last week when she won the spelling bee for the millionth time, “A good thing you got ‘receive,’ Squeaky, cause I would have got it wrong. I completely forgot about the spelling bee.” And she’ll clutch the lace on her blouse like it was a narrow escape. Oh, brother. But of course when I pass her house on my early morning trots around the block, she is practicing the scales on the piano over and over and over and over. Then in music class she always lets herself get bumped around so she falls accidentally on purpose onto the piano stool and is so surprised to find herself sitting there that she decides just for fun to try out the ole keys. And what do you know—Chopin’s waltzes just spring out of her fingertips and she’s the most surprised thing in the world. A regular prodigy. I could kill people like that. I stay up all night studying the words for the spelling bee. And you can see me any time of day practicing running. I never walk if I can trot, and shame on Raymond if he can’t keep up. But of course he does, cause if he hangs back someone’s liable to walk up to him and get smart, or take his allowance from him, or ask him where he got that great big pumpkin head. People are so stupid sometimes.

So I’m strolling down Broadway breathing out and breathing in on counts of seven, which is my lucky number, and here comes Gretchen and her sidekicks: Mary Louise, who used to be a friend of mine when she first moved to Harlem from Baltimore and got beat up by everybody till I took up for her on account of her mother and my mother used to sing in the same choir when they were young girls, but people ain’t grateful, so now she hangs out with the new girl Gretchen and talks about me like a dog; and Rosie, who is as fat as I am skinny and has a big mouth where Raymond is concerned and is too stupid to know that there is not a big deal of difference between herself and Raymond and that she can’t afford to throw stones. So they are steady coming up Broadway and I see right away that it’s going to be one of those Dodge City scenes cause the street ain’t that big and they’re close to the buildings just as we are. First I think I’ll step into the candy store and look over the new comics and let them pass. But that’s chicken and I’ve got a reputation to consider. So then I think I’ll just walk straight on through them or even over them if necessary. But as they get to me, they slow down. I’m ready to fight, cause like I said I don’t feature a whole lot of chit-chat, I much prefer to just knock you down right from the jump and save everybody a lotta precious time.

“You signing up for the May Day races?” smiles Mary Louise, only it’s not a smile at all. A dumb question like that doesn’t deserve an answer. Besides, there’s just me and Gretchen standing there really, so no use wasting my breath talking to shadows.

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“I don’t think you’re going to win this time,” says Rosie, trying to signify with her hands on her hips all salty, completely forgetting that I have whipped her behind many times for less salt than that.

“I always win cause I’m the best,” I say straight at Gretchen who is, as far as I’m concerned, the only one talking in this ventriloquist-dummy routine. Gretchen smiles, but it’s not a smile, and I’m thinking that girls never really smile at each other because they don’t know how and don’t want to know how and there’s probably no one to teach us how, cause grown-up girls don’t know either. Then they all look at Raymond who has just brought his mule team to a standstill. And they’re about to see what trouble they can get into through him.

“What grade you in now, Raymond?”

“You got anything to say to my brother, you say it to me, Mary Louise Williams of Raggedy Town, Baltimore.”

“What are you, his mother?” sasses Rosie.

“That’s right, Fatso. And the next word out of anybody and I’ll be their mother too.” So they just stand there and Gretchen shifts from one leg to the other and so do they. Then Gretchen puts her hands on her hips and is about to say something with her freckle-face self but doesn’t. Then she walks around me looking me up and down but keeps walking up Broadway, and her sidekicks follow her. So me and Raymond smile at each other and he says, “Gidyap” to his team and I continue with my breathing exercises, strolling down Broadway toward the ice man on 145th with not a care in the world cause I am Miss Quicksilver herself.

I take my time getting to the park on May Day because the track meet is the last thing on the program. The biggest thing on the program is the May Pole dancing, which I can do without, thank you, even if my mother thinks it’s a shame I don’t take part and act like a girl for a change. You’d think my mother’d be grateful not to have to make me a white organdy dress with a big satin sash and buy me new white baby-doll shoes that can’t be taken out of the box till the big day. You’d think she’d be glad her daughter ain’t out there prancing around a May Pole getting the new clothes all dirty and sweaty and trying to act like a fairy or a flower or whatever you’re supposed to be when you should be trying to be yourself, whatever that is, which is, as far as I am concerned, a poor black girl who really can’t afford to buy shoes and a new dress you only wear once a lifetime cause it won’t fit next year.

I was once a strawberry in a Hansel and Gretel pageant when I was in nursery school and didn’t have no better sense than to dance on tiptoe with my arms in a circle over my head doing umbrella steps and being a perfect fool just so my mother and father could come dressed up and clap. You’d think they’d know better than to encourage that kind of nonsense. I am not a strawberry. I do not dance on my toes. I run. That is what I am all about. So I always come late to the May Day program, just in time to get my number pinned on and lay in the grass till they announce the fifty-yard dash.

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I put Raymond in the little swings, which is a tight squeeze this year and will be impossible next year. Then I look around for Mr. Pearson, who pins the numbers on. I’m really looking for Gretchen if you want to know the truth, but she’s not around. The park is jam-packed. Parents in hats and corsages and breast-pocket handkerchiefs peeking up. Kids in white dresses and light-blue suits. The parkees unfolding chairs and chasing the rowdy kids from Lenox as if they had no right to be there. The big guys with their caps on backwards, leaning against the fence swirling the basketballs on the tips of their fingers, waiting for all these crazy people to clear out the park so they can play. Most of the kids in my class are carrying bass drums and glockenspiels and flutes. You’d think they’d put in a few bongos or something for real like that.

Then here comes Mr. Pearson with his clipboard and his cards and pencils and whistles and safety pins and fifty million other things he’s always dropping all over the place with his clumsy self. He sticks out in a crowd because he’s on stilts. We used to call him Jack and the Beanstalk to get him mad. But I’m the only one that can outrun him and get away, and I’m too grown for that silliness now.

“Well, Squeaky,” he says, checking my name off the list and handing me number seven and two pins. And I’m thinking he’s got no right to call me Squeaky, if I can’t call him Beanstalk.

“Hazel Elizabeth Deborah Parker,” I correct him and tell him to write it down on his board.

“Well, Hazel Elizabeth Deborah Parker, going to give someone else a break this year?” I squint at him real hard to see if he is seriously thinking I should lose the race on purpose just to give someone else a break. “Only six girls running this time,” he continues, shaking his head sadly like it’s my fault all of New York didn’t turn out in sneakers. “That new girl should give you a run for your money.” He looks around the park for Gretchen like a periscope in a submarine movie. “Wouldn’t it be a nice gesture if you were … to ahhh …”

I give him such a look he couldn’t finish putting that idea into words. Grown-ups got a lot of nerve sometimes. I pin number seven to myself and stomp away, I’m so burnt. And I go straight for the track and stretch out on the grass while the band winds up with “Oh, the Monkey Wrapped His Tail Around the Flag Pole,” which my teacher calls by some other name. The man on the loudspeaker is calling everyone over to the track and I’m on my back looking at the sky, trying to pretend I’m in the country, but I can’t, because even grass in the city feels hard as sidewalk, and there’s just no pretending you are anywhere but in a “concrete jungle” as my grandfather says.

The twenty-yard dash takes all of two minutes cause most of the little kids don’t know no better than to run off the track or run the wrong way or run smack into the fence and fall down and cry. One little kid, though, has got the good sense to run straight for the white ribbon up ahead so he wins. Then the second-graders line up for the thirty-yard dash and I don’t even bother to turn my head to watch cause Raphael Perez always wins. He wins before he even begins by psyching the runners, telling them they’re going to trip on their shoelaces and fall on their faces or lose their shorts or something, which he doesn’t really have to do

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since he is very fast, almost as fast as I am. After that is the forty-yard dash which I used to run when I was in first grade. Raymond is hollering from the swings cause he knows I’m about to do my thing cause the man on the loudspeaker has just announced the fifty-yard dash, although he might just as well be giving a recipe for angel food cake cause you can hardly make out what he’s sayin for the static. I get up and slip off my sweat pants and then I see Gretchen standing at the starting line, kicking her legs out like a pro. Then as I get into place I see that ole Raymond is on line on the other side of the fence, bending down with his fingers on the ground just like he knew what he was doing. I was going to yell at him but then I didn’t. It burns up your energy to holler.

Every time, just before I take off in a race, I always feel like I’m in a dream, the kind of dream you have when you’re sick with fever and feel all hot and weightless. I dream I’m flying over a sandy beach in the early morning sun, kissing the leaves of the trees as I fly by. And there’s always the smell of apples, just like in the country when I was little and used to think I was a choo-choo train, running through the fields of corn and chugging up the hill to the orchard. And all the time I’m dreaming this, I get lighter and lighter until I’m flying over the beach again, getting blown through the sky like a feather that weighs nothing at all. But once I spread my fingers in the dirt and crouch over the Get on Your Mark, the dream goes and I am solid again and am telling myself, Squeaky you must win, you must win, you are the fastest thing in the world, you can even beat your father up Amsterdam if you really try. And then I feel my weight coming back just behind my knees then down to my feet then into the earth and the pistol shot explodes in my blood and I am off and weightless again, flying past the other runners, my arms pumping up and down and the whole world is quiet except for the crunch as I zoom over the gravel in the track. I glance to my left and there is no one. To the right, a blurred Gretchen, who’s got her chin jutting out as if it would win the race all by itself. And on the other side of the fence is Raymond with his arms down to his side and the palms tucked up behind him, running in his very own style, and it’s the first time I ever saw that and I almost stop to watch my brother Raymond on his first run. But the white ribbon is bouncing toward me and I tear past it, racing into the distance till my feet with a mind of their own start digging up footfuls of dirt and brake me short. Then all the kids standing on the side pile on me, banging me on the back and slapping my head with their May Day programs, for I have won again and everybody on 151st Street can walk tall for another year.

“In first place …” the man on the loudspeaker is clear as a bell now. But then he pauses and the loudspeaker starts to whine. Then static. And I lean down to catch my breath and here comes Gretchen walking back, for she’s overshot the finish line too, huffing and puffing with her hands on her hips taking it slow, breathing in steady time like a real pro and I sort of like her a little for the first time. “In first place …” and then three or four voices get all mixed up on the loudspeaker and I dig my sneaker into the grass and stare at Gretchen who’s staring back, we both wondering just who did win. I can hear old Beanstalk arguing with the man on the loudspeaker and then a few others running their mouths about what the stopwatches say. Then I hear Raymond yanking at the fence to call me and I wave to shush him, but he keeps rattling the fence like a gorilla in a cage like in them gorilla movies, but then like a dancer or something he starts climbing up nice and easy but very fast. And it occurs to me, watching how smoothly he climbs hand over hand and remembering how he looked running with his

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arms down to his side and with the wind pulling his mouth back and his teeth showing and all, it occurred to me that Raymond would make a very fine runner. Doesn’t he always keep up with me on my trots? And he surely knows how to breathe in counts of seven cause he’s always doing it at the dinner table, which drives my brother George up the wall. And I’m smiling to beat the band cause if I’ve lost this race, or if me and Gretchen tied, or even if I’ve won, I can always retire as a runner and begin a whole new career as a coach with Raymond as my champion. After all, with a little more study I can beat Cynthia and her phony self at the spelling bee. And if I bugged my mother, I could get piano lessons and become a star. And I have a big rep as the baddest thing around. And I’ve got a roomful of ribbons and medals and awards. But what has Raymond got to call his own?

So I stand there with my new plans, laughing out loud by this time as Raymond jumps down from the fence and runs over with his teeth showing and his arms down to the side, which no one before him has quite mastered as a running style. And by the time he comes over I’m jumping up and down so glad to see him—my brother Raymond, a great runner in the family tradition. But of course everyone thinks I’m jumping up and down because the men on the loudspeaker have finally gotten themselves together and compared notes and are announc-ing “In first place—Miss Hazel Elizabeth Deborah Parker.” (Dig that.) “In second place—Miss Gretchen P. Lewis.” And I look over at Gretchen wondering what the “P” stands for. And I smile. Cause she’s good, no doubt about it. Maybe she’d like to help me coach Raymond; she obviously is serious about running, as any fool can see. And she nods to congratulate me and then she smiles. And I smile. We stand there with this big smile of respect between us. It’s about as real a smile as girls can do for each other, considering we don’t practice real smiling every day, you know, cause maybe we’re too busy being flowers or fairies or straw-berries instead of something honest and worthy of respect … you know … like being people.

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Before Reading

Amigo BrothersShort Story by Piri Thomas

KEYWORD: HML7-322VIDEO TRAILER

We face competition all the time, whether we are competing for someone’s attention or for the best grade. And while some competitions are friendly and even fun, others can be brutal. In “Amigo Brothers,” best friends Antonio and Felix find out if their deep friendship can survive an explosive competition.

QUICKWRITE Jot down a list of times when you competed with oneor more friends. When you are done, review your list. Decide which of those experiences helped or hurt your friendship. Reflect on one of those experiences in a journal entry.

What happens when friends

COMPETE?

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RL 2 Determine a theme. RL 3 Analyze how particular elements of a story interact. L 4 Determine the meaning of multiple-meaning words.

Video link at thinkcentral.com

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Meet the Author

Go to thinkcentral.com.KEYWORD: HML7-323

Author Online

ntral.com.L7-323

.

Piri Thomasborn 1928

A Troubled BeginningIn the 1950s, Piri Thomas realized that he was getting into too much trouble with the law and needed to turn his life around. He said to himself, “Man, where am I at? I got a mind; let’s see if I can use it.” He says he then “jumped into books.” For him, writing became a tool to discover who he really was and to portray his Puerto Rican and African-American heritage.

A Rich Heritage Thomas’s writings are all set where he grew up, in New York City. He writes about neighborhoods that are heavily populated with Puerto Ricans and African Americans, such as Spanish Harlem and the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Thomas’s writing celebrates the strength and determination of the people in his community.

background to the storyGolden Gloves In this story, Felix and Antonio compete to participate in a Golden Gloves tournament, a famous amateur boxing competition. Past winners who went on to fame and fortune include Sugar Ray Robinson, George Foreman, and Muhammad Ali.

text analysis: theme and settingA story’s theme is a message about life or human nature that the writer wants readers to understand. The setting, or the time and place of the action, is often a key element of the theme. To determine how the setting infl uences the theme, note the following:

• details that give clues to time and place• the way the setting affects the thoughts and actions of the

characters• the importance of the setting in the confl ict and how the

confl ict is resolvedAs you read “Amigo Brothers,” keep these tips in mind in order to identify the story’s theme.

reading skill: compare and contrastComparing and contrasting characters can help you better understand a story. When you compare two or more people or things, you look for ways they are similar. When you con-trast them, you look for ways they are different. As you read “Amigo Brothers,” note similarities and differences between Felix and Antonio in a Venn diagram like the one shown.

Felix Both Antonio

vocabulary in contextThe boldfaced terms help tell this story about competition. Restate each sentence, using a different word or words.

1. He received a barrage of criticism for his comments.2. The report shows the devastating effects of the illness.3. She considered the offer pensively.4. The crowd burst into a torrent of laughter.5. He can’t stand her perpetual complaining.6. We were surprised at their unbridled enthusiasm.7. They worked hard to dispel my concerns.8. It was a noisy classroom, where bedlam reigned.9. His arms began to flail as he lost his balance.

10. She has remarkable clarity for a person her age.

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ntonio Cruz and Felix Vargas were both seventeen years old. They were so together in friendship that they felt themselvesto be brothers. They had known each other since childhood, growing up on the lower east side of Manhattan in the same tenement building1 on Fifth Street between Avenue A and Avenue B.

Antonio was fair, lean, and lanky, while Felix was dark, short, and husky. Antonio’s hair was always falling over his eyes, while Felix wore his black hair in a natural Afro style.

Each youngster had a dream of someday becoming lightweight champion of the world. Every chance they had the boys worked out, sometimes at the Boys Club on 10th Street and Avenue A and sometimes at the pro’s gym on 14th Street. Early morning sunrises would find them running along the East River Drive, wrapped in sweatshirts, short towels around their necks, and handkerchiefs Apache style around their foreheads. a

While some youngsters were into street negatives, Antonio and Felix slept, ate, rapped, and dreamt positive. Between them, they had a collection of Fight magazines second to none, plus a scrapbook filled with torn tickets to every boxing match they had ever attended and some clippings of their own. If asked a question about any given fighter, they would immediately zip out from their memory banks divisions,2 weights, records of fights, knockouts, technical knockouts, and draws or losses.

Each had fought many bouts representing their community and had won two gold-plated medals plus a silver and bronze medallion. The difference was in their style. Antonio’s lean form and long reach made him the better boxer, while Felix’s short and muscular frame

A

P i r i Th o m a s

324 unit 3: understanding theme

1. tenement building: a rundown apartment building in which mostly poor families live.

2. divisions: weight groups into which boxers are separated.

Amigo

The Boxers, Roger Coleman. Tempera. Private collection. Photo

© The Bridgeman Art Library.

a COMPARE AND CONTRAST

What do the colors in this painting make you think of?

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made him the better slugger. Whenever they had met in the ring for sparring sessions,3 it had always been hot and heavy.

Now, after a series of elimination bouts,4 they had been informed that they were to meet each other in the division finals that were scheduled for the seventh of August, two weeks away—the winner to represent the Boys Club in the Golden Gloves Championship Tournament.

The two boys continued to run together along the East River Drive. But even when joking with each other, they both sensed a wall rising between them.

ne morning less than a week before their bout, they met as usual for their daily workout. They fooled around with a few jabs at the air, slapped skin, and then took off, running lightly along the dirty East River’s edge.

Antonio glanced at Felix, who kept his eyes purposely straight ahead, pausing from time to time to do some fancy leg work while throwing one-twos followed by upper cuts to an imaginary jaw. Antonio then beat the air with a barrage of body blows and short devastating lefts with an overhand, jawbreaking right.

After a mile or so, Felix puffed and said, “Let’s stop for awhile, bro. I think we both got something to say to each other.”

Antonio nodded. It was not natural to be acting as though nothing unusual was happening when two ace boon buddies were going to be blasting each other within a few short days.

They rested their elbows on the railing separating them from the river. Antonio wiped his face with his short towel. The sunrise was now creating day.

Felix leaned heavily on the river’s railing and stared across to the shores of Brooklyn. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Man. I don’t know how to come out with it.”Antonio helped. “It’s about our fight, right?”“Yeah, right.” Felix’s eyes squinted at the rising orange sun.“I’ve been thinking about it too, panín.5 In fact, since we found

out it was going to be me and you, I’ve been awake at night, pulling punches6 on you, trying not to hurt you.”

“Same here. It ain’t natural not to think about the fight. I mean, we both are cheverote 7 fighters, and we both want to win. But only one of us can win. There ain’t no draws in the eliminations.”

3. sparring sessions: practice boxing matches.

4. elimination bouts: matches to determine which boxers advance in a competition.

5. panín (pä-nCnP) American Spanish: pal; buddy.

6. pulling punches: holding back in delivering blows.

7. cheverote (chD-vD-rôPtD) American Spanish: great or fantastic.

O

devastating(dDvPE-stAQtGng) adj. very effective in causing pain or destruction devastate v.

SOCIAL STUDIES CONNECTION

Antonio and Felix grew up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

barrage (bE-räzhP) n.a rapid, heavy attack


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Felix tapped Antonio gently on the shoulder. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging, bro. But I wanna win, fair and square.”

Antonio nodded quietly. “Yeah. We both know that in the ring the better man wins. Friend or no friend, brother or no . . .”

Felix finished it for him. “Brother. Tony, let’s promise something right here. Okay?”

“If it’s fair, hermano,8 I’m for it.” Antonio admired the courage of a tugboat pulling a barge five times its welterweight9 size.

“It’s fair, Tony. When we get into the ring, it’s gotta be like we never met. We gotta be like two heavy strangers that want the same thing, and only one can have it. You understand, don’tcha?”

“Sí, I know.” Tony smiled. “No pulling punches. We go all the way.”“Yeah, that’s right. Listen, Tony. Don’t you think it’s a good idea if we

don’t see each other until the day of the fight? I’m going to stay with my Aunt Lucy in the Bronx.10 I can use Gleason’s Gym for working out. My manager says he got some sparring partners with more or less your style.” b

8. hermano (Dr-mäPnô) Spanish: brother.

9. welterweight: one of boxing’s weight divisions, with a maximum weight of 147 pounds.

10. the Bronx: a borough of New York City, north of Manhattan.

Left Detail of Moose, (1956), Alice Neel. © Estate of Alice Neel. Courtesy Robert Miller Gallery, New York. Right Detail of Call Me Joe (1955), Alice Neel. Oil on canvas, 34" x 32". © Estate of Alice Neel. Courtesy Robert Miller Gallery, New York.

Compare and contrastthese pictures with your own mental images of Felix and Antonio.

b

THEME AND SETTINGThe setting of a storyis when and where it takes place. The setting can offer clues about a story’s theme. What details offer clues to the setting? What does the setting have to do with the action in this story?

RL 2, RL 3



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Tony scratched his nose pensively. “Yeah, it would be better for our heads.” He held out his hand, palm upward. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Felix lightly slapped open skin.“Ready for some more running?” Tony asked lamely.“Naw, bro. Let’s cut it here. You go on. I kinda like to get things

together in my head.”“You ain’t worried, are you?” Tony asked. “No way, man.” Felix laughed out loud. “I got too much smarts

for that. I just think it’s cooler if we split right here. After the fight, we can get it together again like nothing ever happened.”

The amigo11 brothers were not ashamed to hug each other tightly.“Guess you’re right. Watch yourself, Felix. I hear there’s some

pretty heavy dudes up in the Bronx. Suavecito,12 okay?”“Okay. You watch yourself too, sabe?”13

Tony jogged away. Felix watched his friend disappear from view, throwing rights and lefts. Both fighters had a lot of psyching up to do before the big fight.

The days in training passed much too slowly. Although they kept out of each other’s way, they were aware of each other’s progress via the ghetto grapevine.14

The evening before the big fight, Tony made his way to the roof of his tenement. In the quiet early dark, he peered over the ledge. Six stories below, the lights of the city blinked, and the sounds of cars mingled with the curses and the laughter of children in the street. He tried not to think of Felix, feeling he had succeeded in psyching his mind. But only in the ring would he really know. To spare Felix hurt, he would have to knock him out, early and quick.

Up in the South Bronx, Felix decided to take in a movie in an effort to keep Antonio’s face away from his fists. The flick was The Champion with Kirk Douglas, the third time Felix was seeing it.

The champion was getting beat, his face being pounded into raw, wet hamburger. His eyes were cut, jagged, bleeding, one eye swollen, the other almost shut. He was saved only by the sound of the bell.

Felix became the champ and Tony the challenger. c

The movie audience was going out of its head, roaring in blood lust at the butchery going on. The champ hunched his shoulders, grunting and sniffing red blood back into his broken nose. The challenger, confident that he had the championship in the bag, threw a left. The champ countered with a dynamite right that exploded into the challenger’s brains.

11. amigo (ä-mCPgô) Spanish: friend.12. Suavecito (swä-vD-sCPtô) American Spanish: Take it easy.13. sabe (säPbD) Spanish: you know.14. ghetto grapevine: the chain of gossip that spreads through the neighborhood.

pensively (pDnPsGv-lC)adv. thoughtfully

c THEME AND SETTINGAn internal conflictis a struggle within a character’s mind. Setting can be important even to this type of conflict. Read lines 102–111. What is Antonio’s internal conflict? How does the setting influence his struggle?

GRAMMAR IN CONTEXTReread lines 80–84. Notice the placement of the quotation marks. What does Felix say in these lines?


amigo brothers 329

Felix’s right arm felt the shock. Antonio’s face, superimposed on the screen, was shattered and split apart by the awesome force of the killer blow. Felix saw himself in the ring, blasting Antonio against the ropes. The champ had to be forcibly restrained. The challenger was allowed to crumble slowly to the canvas, a broken, bloody mess.

When Felix finally left the theatre, he had figured out how to psyche himself for tomorrow’s fight. It was Felix the Champion vs. Antonio the Challenger.

He walked up some dark streets, deserted except for small pockets of wary-looking kids wearing gang colors. Despite the fact that he was Puerto Rican like them, they eyed him as a stranger to their turf. Felix did a last shuffle, bobbing and weaving, while letting loose a torrent of blows that would demolish whatever got in its way. It seemed to impress the brothers, who went about their own business.

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torrent (tôrPEnt) n. aviolent, rushing stream

Still Open (1994), Douglas Safranek. Egg tempera on panel, 4 5/8' x 4'. © Museum of the City of New York (95.6).

L 4

Language CoachMultiple Meanings Many English words have more than one meaning. Reread line 119. The word ringoften refers to the sound created by a bell. It is also an area set off by ropes in which boxing events are held. Use context clues to determine themeaning in line 119.

How does this picture compare with thedescription of the setting given in lines98–101?



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Finding no takers, Felix decided to split to his aunt’s. Walking the streets had not relaxed him, neither had the fight flick. All it had done was to stir him up. He let himself quietly into his Aunt Lucy’s apartment and went straight to bed, falling into a fitful sleep with sounds of the gong for Round One.

Antonio was passing some heavy time on his rooftop. How would the fight tomorrow affect his relationship with Felix? After all, fighting was like any other profession. Friendship had nothing to do with it. A gnawing doubt crept in. He cut negative thinking real quick by doing some speedy fancy dance steps, bobbing and weaving like mercury. The night air was blurred with perpetual motions of left hooks and right crosses. Felix, his amigo brother, was not going to be Felix at all in the ring. Just an opponent with another face. Antonio went to sleep, hearing the opening bell for the first round. Like his friend in the South Bronx, he prayed for victory via a quick, clean knockout in the first round.

Large posters plastered all over the walls of local shops announced the fight between Antonio Cruz and Felix Vargas as the main bout.

The fight had created great interest in the neighborhood. Antonio and Felix were well liked and respected. Each had his own loyal following. Betting fever was high and ranged from a bottle of Coke to cold, hard cash on the line.

Antonio’s fans bet with unbridled faith in his boxing skills. On the other side, Felix’s admirers bet on his dynamite-packed fists.

Felix had returned to his apartment early in the morning of August 7th and stayed there, hoping to avoid seeing Antonio. He turned the radio on to salsa music sounds and then tried to read while waiting for word from his manager.

he fight was scheduled to take place in Tompkins Square Park. It had been decided that the gymnasium of the Boys Club was not large enough to hold all the people who were sure to attend. In Tompkins Square Park, everyone who wanted could view the fight, whether from ringside or window fire escapes or tenement rooftops.

The morning of the fight, Tompkins Square was a beehive of activity with numerous workers setting up the ring, the seats, and the guest speakers’ stand. The scheduled bouts began shortly after noon, and the park had begun filling up even earlier.

The local junior high school across from Tompkins Square Park served as the dressing room for all the fighters. Each was given a separate class-room, with desktops, covered with mats, serving as resting tables. Antonio thought he caught a glimpse of Felix waving to him from a room at the far end of the corridor. He waved back just in case it had been him. d

T

perpetual (pEr-pDchPL-El) adj. continual; unending

unbridled (On-brFdPld)adj. lacking restraintor control

d THEME AND SETTINGWhat can you inferabout Antonio’s attitude toward Felix on the day of the fight?


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The fighters changed from their street clothes into fighting gear. Antonio wore white trunks, black socks, and black shoes. Felix wore sky blue trunks, red socks, and white boxing shoes. Each had dressing gowns to match their fighting trunks with their names neatly stitched on the back.

The loudspeakers blared into the open window of the school. There were speeches by dignitaries, community leaders, and great boxers of yesteryear. Some were well prepared, some improvised on the spot. They all carried the same message of great pleasure and honor at being part of such a historic event. This great day was in the tradition of champions emerging from the streets of the lower east side.

Interwoven with the speeches were the sounds of the other boxing events. After the sixth bout, Felix was much relieved when his trainer, Charlie, said, “Time change. Quick knockout. This is it. We’re on.”

Waiting time was over. Felix was escorted from the classroom by a dozen fans in white T-shirts with the word FELIX across their fronts.

Antonio was escorted down a different stairwell and guided through a roped-off path.

As the two climbed into the ring, the crowd exploded with a roar. Antonio and Felix both bowed gracefully and then raised their arms in acknowledgment.

Antonio tried to be cool, but even as the roar was in its first birth, he turned slowly to meet Felix’s eyes looking directly into his. Felix nodded his head and Antonio responded. And both as one, just as quickly, turned away to face his own corner. e

Bong, bong, bong. The roar turned to stillness.“Ladies and Gentlemen, Señores y Señoras.”15

The announcer spoke slowly, pleased at his bilingual efforts.“Now the moment we have all been waiting for—the main event between

two fine young Puerto Rican fighters, products of our lower east side.”“Loisaida,”16 called out a member of the audience.“In this corner, weighing 131 pounds, Felix Vargas. And in this corner,

weighing 133 pounds, Antonio Cruz. The winner will represent the Boys Club in the tournament of champions, the Golden Gloves. There will be no draw. May the best man win.”

The cheering of the crowd shook the windowpanes of the old buildings surrounding Tompkins Square Park. At the center of the ring, the referee was giving instructions to the youngsters.

“Keep your punches up. No low blows. No punching on the back of the head. Keep your heads up. Understand. Let’s have a clean fight. Now shake hands and come out fighting.”

15. Señores y Señoras (sD-nyôPrDs C sD-nyôPräs) Spanish: Ladies and Gentlemen.

16. Loisaida (loi-sFPdä) American Spanish: Lower East Side.

e THEME AND

SETTINGReread lines 192–195. How do you think the boys feel at this moment? How does the setting influence the way the boys feel?


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Both youngsters touched gloves and nodded. They turned and danced quickly to their corners. Their head towels and dressing gowns were lifted neatly from their shoulders by their trainers’ nimble fingers. Antonio crossed himself. Felix did the same.

BONG! BONG! ROUND ONE. Felix and Antonio turned and faced each other squarely in a fighting pose. Felix wasted no time. He came in fast, head low, half hunched toward his right shoulder, and lashed out with a straight left. He missed a right cross as Antonio slipped the punch and countered with one-two-three lefts that snapped Felix’s head back, sending a mild shock coursing through him. If Felix had any small doubt about their friendship affecting their fight, it was being neatly dispelled.

Antonio danced, a joy to behold. His left hand was like a piston pumping jabs one right after another with seeming ease. Felix bobbed and weaved and never stopped boring in. He knew that at long range he was at a disadvantage. Antonio had too much reach on him. Only by coming in close could Felix hope to achieve the dreamed-of knockout. f

Antonio knew the dynamite that was stored in his amigo brother’s fist. He ducked a short right and missed a left hook. Felix trapped him against the ropes just long enough to pour some punishing rights and lefts to Antonio’s hard midsection. Antonio slipped away from Felix, crashing two lefts to his head, which set Felix’s right ear to ringing.

Bong! Both amigos froze a punch well on its way, sending up a roar of approval for good sportsmanship.

Felix walked briskly back to his corner. His right ear had not stopped ringing. Antonio gracefully danced his way toward

his stool none the worse, except for glowing glove burns, showing angry red against the whiteness of his midribs.

“Watch that right, Tony.” His trainer talked into his ear. “Remember Felix always goes to the body. He’ll want you to drop your hands for his overhand left or right. Got it?”

Antonio nodded, spraying water out between his teeth. He felt better as his sore midsection was being firmly rubbed.

Felix’s corner was also busy.“You gotta get in there, fella.” Felix’s trainer

poured water over his curly Afro locks. “Get in there or he’s gonna chop you up from way back.”

Bong! Bong! Round two. Felix was off his stool and rushed Antonio like a bull, sending a hard right to his head. Beads of water exploded from Antonio’s long hair.


dispel (dG-spDlP) v. to get rid of

f COMPARE AND CONTRASTReread lines 223–227. Compare and contrast the boys’ boxing styles.

Seated Fighter (1985), Joseph Sheppard. Bronze, height 21˝.

Describe the feeling this sculpture conveys.

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Antonio, hurt, sent back a blurring barrage of lefts and rights that only meant pain to Felix, who returned with a short left to the head followed by a looping right to the body. Antonio countered17 with his own flurry, forcing Felix to give ground. But not for long.

Felix bobbed and weaved, bobbed and weaved, occasionally punching his two gloves together.

Antonio waited for the rush that was sure to come. Felix closed in and feinted18 with his left shoulder and threw his right instead. Lights suddenly exploded inside Felix’s head as Antonio slipped the blow and hit him with a pistonlike left, catching him flush on the point of his chin.

Bedlam broke loose as Felix’s legs momentarily buckled. He fought off a series of rights and lefts and came back with a strong right that taught Antonio respect.

Antonio danced in carefully. He knew Felix had the habit of playing possum when hurt, to sucker an opponent within reach of the powerful bombs he carried in each fist.

A right to the head slowed Antonio’s pretty dancing. He answered with his own left at Felix’s right eye that began puffing up within three seconds.

Antonio, a bit too eager, moved in too close, and Felix had him entangled into a rip-roaring, punching toe-to-toe slugfest that brought the whole Tompkins Square Park screaming to its feet.

Rights to the body. Lefts to the head. Neither fighter was giving an inch. Suddenly a short right caught Antonio squarely on the chin. His long legs turned to jelly, and his arms flailed out desperately. Felix, grunting like a bull, threw wild punches from every direction. Antonio, groggy, bobbed and weaved, evading most of the blows. Suddenly his head cleared. His left flashed out hard and straight catching Felix on the bridge of his nose.

Felix lashed back with a haymaker,19 right off the ghetto streets. At the same instant, his eye caught another left hook from Antonio. Felix swung out, trying to clear the pain. Only the frenzied screaming of those along ringside let him know that he had dropped Antonio. Fighting off the growing haze, Antonio struggled to his feet, got up, ducked, and threw a smashing right that dropped Felix flat on his back.

Felix got up as fast as he could in his own corner, groggy but still game.20 He didn’t even hear the count. In a fog, he heard the roaring of the crowd, who seemed to have gone insane. His head cleared to hear the bell sound at the end of the round. He was very glad. His trainer sat him down on the stool.

17. countered: gave a blow after receiving or blocking his opponent’s blow. 18. feinted: made a pretend attack to draw attention from his real purpose.

19. haymaker: a powerful blow. 20. groggy but still game: unsteady and shaky but willing to proceed.

bedlam (bDdPlEm) n.a noisy confusion

flail (flAl) v. to wavewildly



In his corner, Antonio was doing what all fighters do when they are hurt. They sit and smile at everyone.

The referee signaled the ring doctor to check the fighters out. He did so and then gave his okay. The cold-water sponges brought clarity to both amigo brothers. They were rubbed until their circulation ran free.

Bong! Round three—the final round. Up to now it had been tick-tack-toe, pretty much even. But everyone knew there could be no draw and that this round would decide the winner.

This time, to Felix’s surprise, it was Antonio who came out fast, charging across the ring. Felix braced himself but couldn’t ward off the barrage of punches. Antonio drove Felix hard against the ropes.

The crowd ate it up. Thus far the two had fought with mucho corazón.21 Felix tapped his gloves and commenced his attack anew. Antonio, throwing boxer’s caution to the winds, jumped in to meet him.

Both pounded away. Neither gave an inch, and neither fell to the canvas. Felix’s left eye was tightly closed. Claret red blood poured from Antonio’s nose. They fought toe-to-toe.

The sounds of their blows were loud in contrast to the silence of a crowd gone completely mute. The referee was stunned by

their savagery.Bong! Bong! Bong! The bell sounded over and over again. Felix and

Antonio were past hearing. Their blows continued to pound on each other like hailstones.

Finally the referee and the two trainers pried Felix and Antonio apart. Cold water was poured over them to bring them back to their senses. g

They looked around and then rushed toward each other. A cry of alarm surged through Tompkins Square Park. Was this a fight to the death instead of a boxing match?

The fear soon gave way to wave upon wave of cheering as the two amigos embraced.

No matter what the decision, they knew they would always be champions to each other.

Bong! Bong! Bong! “Ladies and Gentlemen. Señores and Señoras. The winner and representative to the Golden Gloves Tournament of Champions is . . .”

The announcer turned to point to the winner and found himself alone. Arm in arm, the champions had already left the ring. �

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21. mucho corazón (mLPchô kô-rä-sônP) Spanish: a lot of heart; great courage.

clarity (klBrPG-tC) n. clearness of mind

g THEME AND SETTINGReread lines 313–317. Why do such good friends keep fighting after the bell rings?


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