Free Leaving Glorytown by Eduardo F. Calcines Page B

the principal to my teacher. “I only hope that having a worm in your classroom is not too much of a distraction for the other students.” And with that, she turned and walked away.
    â€œTake your seats, everyone,” said Señora Felicia, looking smug. “You, too, Calcines. And let me tell you something right now. For therest of the school year, I don’t want to hear a single word out of you. Not even to ask permission to use the bathroom. Understand? You can just sit there and keep your mouth shut. Now, let us begin with our geography lesson. Who can point to Moscow on the map?”

    We were released onto the playground at lunchtime—or, rather, what should have been lunchtime, except that in this glorious workers’ paradise everyone was starving. Almost immediately, I was surrounded by a gang of four boys. The ringleader was a boy I knew well, having gone to school with him since we were five. I had never had a problem with him before, but now he sneered at me.
    â€œPut ’em up!” he said. “Let’s see what a worm fights like.”
    I knew I could have taken any one of those clowns, or even two of them. But I remembered what my papa said.
    â€œIf you cowards had to face me in a fair fight,” I began—but before I could finish, a fist came crashing into my nose. I fell, blood spurting down my face and chest. Howls and jeers arose from my tormentors.
    â€œWhat was that you were saying, worm?” one of them taunted me. “Something about us being cowards?”
    Other children gathered around to watch the action. The pain in my nose was bad, but the emotional pain was worse. And worst of all was that I couldn’t defend myself.
    â€œHey! Why don’t you little girls pick on someone your own size!” came a familiar voice.
    I looked up to see Quco Bemba standing over me, his fists clenched. I knew he wouldn’t have the strength for a real fight. But he and I locked eyes, and I saw that his face was full of fierce determination.Perhaps he would collapse afterward, but right now, Quco was the only friend I had.
    Then something magnificent happened. Three more familiar faces appeared next to Quco: Tito, Rolando, and Luis.
    â€œBack off,” Tito told my tormentors. “Or I’m going to rip your intestines out and wrap them around your neck.”
    â€œWhat are you sticking up for him for?” demanded the ringleader. “You’re not going soft on us, are—”
    He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, either. Tito drove his fist into the boy’s stomach. He doubled over, gasping for air.
    â€œDon’t mess with the boys from San Carlos Street,” Tito advised him as he writhed on the ground, trying to breathe. “Worm or no, Communist or no, Calcines is one of us, and if you touch him again, I’m gonna—”
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” came an adult voice.
    It was a young male teacher. “Did this cowardly worm dare to raise a hand against you, boys?”
    â€œHe didn’t do a thing,” said Rolando. “We were standing right here the whole time, and we saw everything.”
    No doubt this teacher would have liked nothing better than to report me as a violent criminal. But Tito and Rolando’s father was a Party member, and that gave them a certain status in his eyes.
    â€œWell, he’d better not!” the man shouted. “This worm must learn his place!”
    He walked away then, and the ringleader got up, his mouth opening and closing like a choirboy as he tried to breathe. He and his gang retreated, and Luis helped me to my feet. My boys closed around me.
    â€œAre you all right?”
    â€œYou didn’t hit him, did you?”
    â€œIs your nose broken?”
    Rolando gave me a handkerchief. I pressed it to my face, trying to stop the flow of blood. My nose didn’t feel broken, but I knew it was going to swell and ache for