Free Breathing Underwater by Alex Flinn Page A

nothing. Mostly just put-downs, stuff like that. Don’t hurt anyone none.”
    “Not once you build up that scar tissue,” Mario says, and Kelly nods.
    “That’s about right, I guess.”
    “Poor babies,” Ray, the older guy, says beside me. “Their daddies put them down.”
    “Watch it, Ray,” Mario says. “No personal attacks.”
    “But that’s what’s wrong with this country. Right there.” He points a finger at Kelly. “Children rule the house because their parents won’t raise a hand, just withhold TV or put them in the corner.”
    “You got it, baby!” Kelly says. “America, love it or leave it. Don’t you burn my flag, you commie Cuban!”
    Ray says, “I’m from America too, just not your fast-food, Disney World America. My parents came here on a raft. Papa broke his back in the fields, leaving me to be a man from when I was seven. When he was away, I got into two shares of trouble, but when he came back, he whipped us all into shape, including Mama. That’s what kids need. Discipline. What I see in this room sickens me.”
    He stops. Below, the train roars by, and I want to protest the injustice of what Ray said, but I don’t. No one does, and I wonder if it’s because Ray’s life is as familiar to them as to me. No way to tell. Beside me, Leo is silent, but his eyes are dark.
    Tiny and A.J. speak now, A.J. saying his father’s an all-right guy. His mother’s a doormat. To my surprise, Tiny admits being sexually abused by his mother’s boyfriend. Through it all, Leo remains motionless, teeth parted, until I wonder if he’s sleeping. Finally, he’s the only one left. Mario nods at him. Will he refuse? He often does, saying he doesn’t have to talk. But now, his black eyes seek Ray, and he speaks like the rest of us aren’t here.
    “I’m one of those kids you talked about, Policeman.” Ray flinches when Leo calls him that, and I know why. Ray never told us what he did. It looks pretty bad for a cop to be in a class like this. “I live in the Grove—the good part, drive a nice car, go to a private school. So I’ve got it made, according to you. And you’re right about one thing, Policeman. No one lays a hand on me.”
    Ray’s eyes could melt glass. Leo doesn’t look away.
    “You think you know who I am?” Leo demands. “My mother married Hector when I was three, telling us what a good man he was. From the beginning, I heard screaming, lying in bed at night. By the time he started hitting her in front of us, there were two more kids, a Mercedes, and my brother and me at Wentworth Academy.
    “Felix and I were twins. He was a few minutes older, but I was bigger, so I was in charge. We shared a room and had a secret language we used in school until they put us in separate classes. Even so, when Felix broke his finger playing ball, my own hand hurt so bad I couldn’t write. We weren’t identical, though. I look like my mother. Felix had our father’s blue eyes.”
    My mind wanders to Tom, and suddenly, I ache for a brother. Beside me, Leo’s still talking.
    “Hector had it in for Felix. He used to take me and my half brother and sister to get McDonald’s or whatever, but he’d leave Felix home. I’d try to stay home too, but Felix would say, ‘Go ahead. I’ll just get reamed if you don’t.’ So I’d bring him back whatever I got, candy or toys from birthday parties. One time, I brought back ice cream. It melted, chocolate all over Hector’s leather seats. Hector sprung a leak then, screaming, ‘You little bastard! You did this for your shit brother!’ He drags me to our room. My brother’s making a model car, and Hector says, ‘Hit him.’
    “‘No!’ I said. But Hector’s by my ear, screaming ‘You weakling, you turd! I’ll smash him worse if you don’t!’ and finally, my fist moved without me. I blacked my brother’s eye.”
    “This is such crap!” Ray yells in my ear. “He’s making this up as he goes along.”
    Leo starts toward him, but Mario says,