Read Online Adrian Del Valle - Diego's Brooklyn by Adrian Del Valle - Free Book Online
Authors: Adrian Del Valle
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because of his medical setbacks. He had only finished two years of college, so it wasn’t enough for the teaching job he wanted. He ended up a clerk in a hotel.”
“Where was that, where you live now?”
“No! Rochester…Upstate. That’s where we lived until three years ago.”
“I see, so…that’s why you don’t have a Brooklyn accent.”
“Poppy moved here to be close to Veterans’ Hospital, near the army base.”
“Right here in Brooklyn? Fort Hamilton, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, but he died anyway. I thought I’d never get over that. We were close.”
“You’re a stronger man than you think…and now you’re taking care of your mother.”
“I help out, and with the help of Mr. Jackson I bought my own school clothes.”
“I’m glad to hear that, and that we’ll be seeing more of one another.”
“I hope so, Mr. Richards. If you ever need us, we’re available, right Bill?”
Bill held the boy’s shoulder. “That’s right. We is partners?”
“We sure are. Are you ready to slip me five, Mr. J?”
The two slapped palms, put their hands back to back, and with the thumbs hooked together, used them like a hinge to flip their hands back around. They finished by sliding the palms across each other.
Chapter Four
P.S.6
Most days, Junior High School was a snap. Diego found Hector in his homeroom, again. They sat together in the back row of the ninth grade class.
“My name is Mr. Bumblestein. I’m your substitute teacher for today and I’m not putting up with any of your nonsense. And that means you back there, mister! You, with the red plaid shirt! What’s your name?”
“That’s Hector,” a freckle faced girl with red pig tails promptly volunteered.
“Hector, do you always come to class wearing your shirt outside your pants?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Don’t get snippy with me, smarty. Go out in the hall right now and tuck that shirt back in.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Bumblebean.”
The class laughed.
“Bumblestein! Bumblestein! Do it now smart aleck. And what are you laughing at?” He said, pointing at Diego.
Sorry Mr. Bumblebee , Diego thought.
“Nothing, Mr. Bumblestein, sir.”
“So you think it’s funny? Sit back down!”
After ten minutes, the teacher opened the door to the hall and looked both ways for Hector. The student was gone.
“Fine! When he gets back, I’ll have a talk with him. The rest of you vegetables, write an essay on the school’s dress code. And I want at least three long paragraphs.”
“Can I write it in Spanish?” a boy by the window asked.
“No, lame brain. English! And no more talking!”
“I was only asking.”
“Don’t ask! Just do! Get busy…all of you!”
Hector returned and after a short briefing in the hall on the school’s dress code, he was allowed to return to his seat next to Diego where he was given instructions for the essay.
The room, quiet for about twenty long minutes, began to stir with the taps of carefully placed pens as one by one they were each left dormant above finished essays waiting to be picked up.
“You! Collect every one of these and bring them up to the front.”
The same girl who ratted out Hector, collected the paper work and handed them over.
Shuffling through them quickly, the teacher said, “None of these are any good. Do you know what I think of your fine grammar?”
Rip! Every last essay was torn to pieces and dropped into the waste basket.
“I’m going to write a few rules on the blackboard and I want everyone to copy it.”
Mr. Bumblestein turned his back to the class and started to write—and with quite an artistic penmanship:
We must always adhere to the rules set forth by the school.
We must never wear jeans, shorts, baseball caps…
Sitting in a row directly in front of Diego and Hector, Willy Goodwin leaned over and whispered to TJ, “Yeah…I still have them.”
Willy slunk low in his chair and stretched to retrieve three darts out of a plain, denim school bag.
“Let
“Where was that, where you live now?”
“No! Rochester…Upstate. That’s where we lived until three years ago.”
“I see, so…that’s why you don’t have a Brooklyn accent.”
“Poppy moved here to be close to Veterans’ Hospital, near the army base.”
“Right here in Brooklyn? Fort Hamilton, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, but he died anyway. I thought I’d never get over that. We were close.”
“You’re a stronger man than you think…and now you’re taking care of your mother.”
“I help out, and with the help of Mr. Jackson I bought my own school clothes.”
“I’m glad to hear that, and that we’ll be seeing more of one another.”
“I hope so, Mr. Richards. If you ever need us, we’re available, right Bill?”
Bill held the boy’s shoulder. “That’s right. We is partners?”
“We sure are. Are you ready to slip me five, Mr. J?”
The two slapped palms, put their hands back to back, and with the thumbs hooked together, used them like a hinge to flip their hands back around. They finished by sliding the palms across each other.
Chapter Four
P.S.6
Most days, Junior High School was a snap. Diego found Hector in his homeroom, again. They sat together in the back row of the ninth grade class.
“My name is Mr. Bumblestein. I’m your substitute teacher for today and I’m not putting up with any of your nonsense. And that means you back there, mister! You, with the red plaid shirt! What’s your name?”
“That’s Hector,” a freckle faced girl with red pig tails promptly volunteered.
“Hector, do you always come to class wearing your shirt outside your pants?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Don’t get snippy with me, smarty. Go out in the hall right now and tuck that shirt back in.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Bumblebean.”
The class laughed.
“Bumblestein! Bumblestein! Do it now smart aleck. And what are you laughing at?” He said, pointing at Diego.
Sorry Mr. Bumblebee , Diego thought.
“Nothing, Mr. Bumblestein, sir.”
“So you think it’s funny? Sit back down!”
After ten minutes, the teacher opened the door to the hall and looked both ways for Hector. The student was gone.
“Fine! When he gets back, I’ll have a talk with him. The rest of you vegetables, write an essay on the school’s dress code. And I want at least three long paragraphs.”
“Can I write it in Spanish?” a boy by the window asked.
“No, lame brain. English! And no more talking!”
“I was only asking.”
“Don’t ask! Just do! Get busy…all of you!”
Hector returned and after a short briefing in the hall on the school’s dress code, he was allowed to return to his seat next to Diego where he was given instructions for the essay.
The room, quiet for about twenty long minutes, began to stir with the taps of carefully placed pens as one by one they were each left dormant above finished essays waiting to be picked up.
“You! Collect every one of these and bring them up to the front.”
The same girl who ratted out Hector, collected the paper work and handed them over.
Shuffling through them quickly, the teacher said, “None of these are any good. Do you know what I think of your fine grammar?”
Rip! Every last essay was torn to pieces and dropped into the waste basket.
“I’m going to write a few rules on the blackboard and I want everyone to copy it.”
Mr. Bumblestein turned his back to the class and started to write—and with quite an artistic penmanship:
We must always adhere to the rules set forth by the school.
We must never wear jeans, shorts, baseball caps…
Sitting in a row directly in front of Diego and Hector, Willy Goodwin leaned over and whispered to TJ, “Yeah…I still have them.”
Willy slunk low in his chair and stretched to retrieve three darts out of a plain, denim school bag.
“Let
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