Free When I Found You by Catherine Ryan Hyde Page B

of the class.”
    Nat sighed deeply. Hoisted his book bag. Trod heavily up to the blackboard.
    “Principal’s office. I trust you’ll have no trouble finding it with all your experience. Try following the rut you’ve worn into the hallway on your previous fifty trips. I’ll call ahead, just in case you need a search party.”
    Nat walked out of the classroom.
    Some birthday, he thought. Why can’t you get a day off from this hell on your birthday? It’s only one day a year.
    He trotted down the two flights of stairs. Along the dim and dingy hallway. Past the principal’s office. Right out the front door.
    As he trotted down the outside stairs in front of the school, he heard his name called.
    “Mr. Bates. Just where do you think you’re going?” It sounded like the assistant principal.
    Without turning around, Nat waved goodbye.
    •  •  •
     
    “Can I help you, kid?”
    “I don’t know. I got these boxing gloves for my birthday. And I want to use them. But I don’t know exactly how.”
    The little man rolled his eyes.
    He was weirdly short. Much shorter than Nathan. But probably twice his weight. Not fat, though. All muscle. Fifty-something maybe. He had a half-smoked cigar clenched between his molars, but it wasn’t lit. His artificially dark reddish-orange hair was slicked back with a bizarre amount of hair cream, his jet-black shoes perfectly shined. Nat could see the reflection of the gym ceiling in their uppers.
    The little man stood in a spill of light from the storefront gym windows, which also illuminated swirling dust.
    “Jack, you got time for a kid who don’t know nothing about nothing?”
    Jack came out from the back room. He was younger, taller. Smooth-looking. Ladies’-man handsome. He had a big chip broken off the corner of a front tooth. Nat watched him approach. Actually stared as Jack approached, unable to take his eyes off the man’s face. As if looking into a mirror that reflected not what Nat currently was, but what he wanted to become.
    He reminded Nat of the often-imagined mental picture of his unknown father. The image of Richard A. Ford that he conjured up behind his closed eyelids.
    “What, this kid?” he said.
    He walked up to Nat and sized him up. Like Nat was a used car on a lot. A cheap one. Nat was less than a second away from turning on his heels to leave.
    Then Jack smiled. “Looks a little like Joey, huh? OK. Put on your gloves, kid. We’ll see what you can do.”
    Nat pulled his new gloves out of his book bag. Put them on and stepped into the ring with the laces still undone. The little man laced up both his and Jack’s gloves, leaving him as unclear as ever about how he would later do that on his own.
    “Hey. Nice gloves, kid. Where’d you say you got these?”
    “They were a present.”
    “Must’ve cost a pretty penny. These’re the kind the pros use. Somebody must think well of you to give you these.”
    “Too bad it’s nobody I know,” Nat muttered under his breath.
    “What’d you say, kid?”
    “Nothing.”
    The little man ducked through the ropes and out of the ring.
    Jack circled Nat a few times. Nat raised his hands in imitation of the way he had seen fighters box. He felt the sudden pressure of trying to impress an admired figure with no idea of how to proceed.
    “No, no, no,” Jack said. “You gotta keep ’em up. Up. Or you’re gonna get killed. And think about your footwork, kid.”
    Nat looked down and realized he was simply dragging his feet, circling, thinking of nothing but his gloved hands.
    “Watch Jack’s footwork,” the little man called out. “When it comes to footwork, he’s the king.”
    Nat watched and imitated.
    Jack threw a punch and it hit Nat square in the gut, knocking the breath out of him.
    “OK,
Time
!” Jack called, giving Nat a moment to lean on the ropes and try to breathe. “Boy, Little Manny, you weren’t kidding when you said he knows nothing from nothing. Come here, kid. I’m gonna put you on