Read Online Catboy by Eric Walters - Free Book Online

and handled herself well around the guys. She didn’t take any “guff ” from people, whether they were male or female.
    Mr. Spence wandered over to where Simon and I were getting our stuff together at the back.
    â€œI think I’m going a bit crazy,” Mr. Spence said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about chicken all day.”
    â€œI guess that’s my fault,” I admitted reluctantly. I unzipped my backpack, and before I removed the box, the smell wafted out. I pulled the carton partway out.
    â€œYou had KFC for lunch?” he said.
    â€œIt wasn’t for me, and it’s not really a lunch. It’s just bits and pieces. It’s for the cats.” I quickly explained about the cat colony.
    â€œThat’s very nice, but are you sure you should be going in the junkyard?” Mr. Spence asked.
    â€œMy mother knows about it,” I said. “She was the one who got me the scraps from KFC.”
    â€œAnd we go in with Mr. Singh,” Simon added. “He runs the place, and he says he likes us there.”
    â€œWell, as long as your parents know,” he said. Mr. Spence took a deep breath. “I’m definitely having KFC tonight.”
    â€œWe have KFC every night at my place,” Simon said.
    â€œYou do?” Mr. Spence and I said in unison.
    â€œSure. KFC, Korean food and chow.”

Eleven
    â€œAre you really, really sure we should be doing this?” Mohammad asked.
    â€œIt’s okay. We’re allowed,” I said.
    â€œIf I get in trouble, my parents will be really upset with me,” he said.
    â€œMo, we’re going to feed some cats, not rob a bank,” Simon offered.
    â€œMohammad, we’re okay,” I said. “We’re going in through the front gate. The security guard, Mr. Singh, will let us in. It’s all good, okay, buddy?”
    â€œWell, okay,” said Mohammad.
    While it would have been quicker to cut through the hole in the fence, I wanted everybody to meet Mr. Singh, and I wanted him to meet them.
    We were a strange little posse. There was Simon from Korea, Mohammad from Somalia, Jaime from China, Rupinder from India, Devon from Jamaica, and Alexander from Russia. And if you wanted to go back far enough, I was from Scotland. Then again, if you went really far back, we were all probably from Africa.
    We were like a slice of the United Nations. We were from all over the world, and we were all friends.
    Mr. Singh was in his booth. He saw us coming, gave us a big wave and a big smile. I’d already talked to him about bringing some people with me, so he was expecting us.
    â€œGood day, my friends!” he called out.
    I introduced him to everyone. He greeted them all and said something to Rupinder in one language and something to Mohammad in another language. That made them both smile.
    â€œHow many languages do you speak?” I asked.
    â€œFive languages very well, but it is always wise to know how to offer a brief greeting in many languages, such as Arabic.”
    That was good advice. Even my awkward attempts to say hello to people based on the class posters made people smile or laugh politely.
    It didn’t surprise me that Mr. Singh spoke several languages, and I wasn’t surprised at the way he greeted everybody. He was friendly and respectful to everyone. Even though he was an adult and we were just kids, he didn’t treat us like kids.
    He reminded me of Mr. Spence. Mr. Singh would have been a good teacher too.
    â€œWe brought food for the cats,” Simon said.
    â€œAll of us,” Devon said. “I hope they like patties.”
    â€œAnd samosas,” Rupinder added.
    â€œWho does not like those things?” Mr. Singh asked. “I am thinking the cats are eating better than the security guard. I am going to have to fight them for the scraps!”
    He swung the gate open, and we entered the yard. Devon and Jaime had been here before, but it was the first time