Free Romiette and Julio by Sharon M. Draper

know, Julio. I understand how rough this is. Are you making any friends?”
    “Well, I met a really nice girl.”
    “A girl? Now that’s a good sign that things might be looking up. Is she pretty?”
    “Yeah, Papa, she’s really fine. She’s smart and funny and she makes me smile. I like talking to her. We met on the Internet. It’s funny—I was on a chat line in a room with a bunch of people, and she was in the room too, and I said something about hating it here and missing Texas. Somehow she stood out in that crowded room. It turned out she lives here inCincinnati, and before we knew it, we were in a private chat room, zipping messages back and forth.” Julio’s face was animated and excited just talking about Romiette.
    “You spend too much time on that computer.”
    The smile on Julio’s face dimmed. He grew sullen and much quieter. “You want me to have friends, don’t you?”
    “Yes, son, but
real
people, not voices on a computer screen. You need to get out in the world more.” Luis just couldn’t understand Julio’s fascination with the chat rooms. Computers were for calculations or file gathering—for work. Chat rooms were a waste of time, as far as Luis could tell.
    “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Papa! You don’t ever listen to me! This girl I met on the Internet is a real person. She goes to my school. And I like her! Is that real enough for you?”
    “I’m sorry, Julio. I’m glad you’ve found someone to take away the loneliness.”
    “Papa, she has some golden retriever puppies. She’s giving them away. Do you think maybe … since I had to leave King …”
    “Perhaps. Ask your mother. Our place here is so small. What is this girl’s name? You brighten up when you speak of her. She must have made quite an impression in so short a time.”
    “Yeah, she did. Her name is Romiette.”
    “Is she … ah … French?”
    “No, Papa. She’s black.”
    “Black?”
    “Black. African-American. Black.”
    “Oh. Uh, is that … wise?”
    “Wise? What do you mean?” Julio felt his jaws begin to tighten.
    His father sat down on the bed and sighed. “Well,” he said slowly, “we hear so many terrible things on the news, and you know what problems we had back in Corpus Christi with the black gangs, and it seems like we just escaped from all those problems, and now, the first person you hook up with is some black kid.”
    Julio’s anger erupted. “She’s not just ‘some black kid’! She’s smart and nice, and she’s one of the few people in that whole school who’s been friendly to me since I’ve been there. Have you forgotten that gangs of Mexican kids roamed our school and were fighting with the black kids back home? And on the news at home, who were the bad guys, Papa?”
    Julio’s eyes were challenging and fiery. His father decided not to push the fight. “You’re right, son. I’m sorry. I overreacted. It’s not as if you’re going to marry this girl. I’m glad you’ve found a friend. And sure, let’s get a puppy. Perhaps it will make this place feel like home.” But his father sighed once more as he left Julio’s room, as if he sensed trouble ahead.

18.
Romiette’s Journal
    I met Julio at lunch yesterday again. He wasn’t standing on the table this time, but he was there before I was. He grinned and looked really glad to see me, and suddenly, I felt shy. I wondered if my hair was smooth, or my breath was smelly, or my shirt was wrinkled. But as soon as we started talking, I forgot all that. His voice has a soft lilt to it that makes me feel comfortable and safe. He told me all about his home in Texas, and his grandfather’s ranch, and his friends there.
    I found myself wondering if he had a girl back in Texas. Surely someone as good-looking as Julio would have a girlfriend. But he never mentioned it, and I didn’t have the nerve to ask. I wonder why I even care. He’s just a guy at school, but he’s so much more than that. I look forward to