Free Game Seven by Paul Volponi Page A

doesn’t know,” said Uncle Ramon. “This isn’t the time for her to find out. She’s very emotional and talkative. That could hurt us.”
    â€œI wasn’t going to tell her. I’m not that stupid or mean,” I said as Uncle Ramon loosened his grip.
    A moment later, Lola picked up the cell we’d shared.
    â€œListen, Mama’s not answering her phone at work. I need you to go down to El Puente and let her know I’m trying to call.”
    Lola pitched a fit and I waded through every one of her complaints.
    â€œI know you’re studying, that it’s hot outside. But I need to speak to Mama. Do this for me. Please. What? No, it’s not about me becoming a Nacional,” I told her. “I just may be away longer than I expected, to train some more. I need her permission. It’s important. When? All right, but as fast as you can. Listen, I don’t say it enough, but you’re a great sister, much smarter than I’ll ever be. Okay. Thank you.”
    As I closed my hand around the phone, Uncle Ramon nodded his head to me, and I took it as an apology. Then I turned toward Luis. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I could see the growing panic in his eyes. Luis said he wanted to go for a walk on the beach, just to “stretch his legs.” I decided to go with him.
    â€œSure. Walk. Relax. Just stay within our sight,” said Gabriel, who seemed calm as could be. “The four of us shouldn’t get separated for any reason. We’ll discuss this more when you get back.”
    When we got out of earshot, walking along the water’s edge, Luis said, “Julio, you know that I can barely swim, right? I should have practiced my whole life for this.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” I said. “There’ll be at least one life preserver on Gabriel’s boat. If I’m there with you, it’s yours. I promise.”
    â€œWhat would we even do in the US?”
    â€œI can’t put myself in that situation yet. But
you’ll
escape the Moyanos on this island. I’m sure.”
    â€œYou have to come. I’d be lost without you,” Luis said.
    â€œYou’re stronger than you know. I’ve seen it,” I said, kicking the broken seashells at my feet.
    â€œI keep thinking of that photo. The one I left in our dorm room,” said Luis. “If we leave, I won’t have a single picture of my mother. I’d give a hundred pesos to have it with me right now.”
    â€œYou still have your memories.”
    â€œBut I have to close my eyes to see her that way.”
    â€œSometimes that’s better,” I said. “Then your memories can never change.”
    â€œMaybe your mama and sister will bring me a photo, the day they leave Cuba.”
    â€œYeah, maybe,” I said, squeezing the phone tighter inside my hand.
    That’s when I started thinking that if I did go, I’d most likely never see Mama and Lola again. That they’d become images in my mind. The same way Aunt Blanca had become for Luis and Uncle Ramon.
    Luis stopped us about fifteen yards from those two girls reading. They were probably twenty years old. But that didn’t discourage Luis from running a hand back through his jet-black hair.
    â€œWho knows what could happen tonight. A big wave might drown me,” he said. “I’m going over there. Turn on the charm, see where it gets me. You coming?”
    â€œNot worth the effort,” I answered. “Either way, we’ll never see those two again.”
    â€œThat’s the point. I’ve got nothing to lose,” he said, walking off toward their blankets.
    The sun was sinking in the sky. Maybe it was down half a thumb’s worth since I’d last noticed. Everything else in my life seemed to suddenly stop. It was like I was alone on my own island, waiting for a sign to move in some direction. And hanging over that ocean in front of me was Papi’s