Free Body Slammed! by Ray Villareal Page B

Smith, a figure in a long coat with a rifle at his side. The statue stood on a pedestal at the top of the steps.
    â€œSerious-looking man, isn’t he?” TJ said.
    â€œI guess. I walk by the statue so often, I hardly notice it anymore.”
    An impish grin spread across TJ’s face. “Hey, Jesse. You ever pull any ribs?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œYou know, pranks, practical jokes. The ACW boys love to pull ribs on each other. Like the time Karl Nelson was about to go out for his match, and Red Lassiter hid his Black Mamba mask. Karl went ballistic. He tore up the dressing room trying to find it. Finally Frank Collins threatened to fine whoever it was that took Karl’s mask if they didn’t give it back.”
    Jesse had heard that story from his father—and many others. Wrestlers spend a lot of time on the road together, and sometimes, just for the fun of it, or out of boredom, they’ll rib each other.
    TJ picked up the Mil Máscaras mask and said, “I dare you to climb up the statue and put the mask on Deaf Smith.”
    â€œNo way, man,” Jesse said, but the idea made him laugh.
    â€œCome on, Jesse. I’ll get you another one. It’s dark out here. Nobody’ll see you do it. If a car passes by, I’ll honk.”
    Jesse looked around. The streets were empty. Most of the neighbors were probably asleep. He giggled nervously.
    â€œDo it, Jesse,” TJ coaxed. “Let’s give old Deaf Smith something to smile about.”
    Why not? Jesse thought. TJ wasn’t telling him to tag the statue or destroy it. Plus, it would be hilarious for the kids who saw it the next morning. He took the mask and opened the car door.
    TJ shooed him away with the back of his hand. “Go on.”
    Feeling a rush of excitement, Jesse climbed the steps and shinnied up the statue. He tried to slip the mask around the head, but the mask was too small. He undid the laces and tried it again. The mask wasn’t secure, but it would do.
    When Jesse turned around, he saw TJ standing at the bottom of the steps, holding up his camera phone.
    â€œWait, Jesse. Don’t move.” TJ pressed the button. “I want us to have something to commemorate the evening.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    T he next morning, Jesse arrived at school forty-five minutes earlier than usual. He wanted to see the kids’ reactions when they saw Deaf Smith wearing a Mil Máscaras mask. Ordinarily, he caught the bus, but he talked his grandmother into driving him. He made up a story about how he needed to get to school early to speak with a counselor about his classes for the next semester. His grandmother dropped him off in front of the building without noticing that Deaf Smith now looked like a Mexican wrestler.
    Soon the buses began to arrive. As the kids got out, their eyes and mouths widened. They giggled and pointed at the statue. Some of the kids pulled out their camera phones and took pictures. By the end of the day, the photos would be all over the Internet.
    Later, Jesse would tell the guys that he was the one who had put the mask on the statue, but he had to be careful not to let too many people know.
    Jesse’s excitement over his rib didn’t last long. Dr. Ríos, the principal, walked out the front doors with Lester Marrs, the head custodian. Lester was carrying a ladder. He leaned his ladder against the statue and climbed up. The kids booed when he yanked off the mask.
    José Bernal shouted, “Put the mask on, Lester!” Other voices joined him. “Put the mask on! Put it on!”
    Lester grinned. He waved the mask in the air like a flag. He was about to slip it over his head, but Dr. Ríos glared at him. Instead, Lester climbed down the ladder and handed the mask to the principal.
    During first period, while Jesse was in the middle of English class, trying to stay awake through a reading of The Grapes of Wrath, Lashundra Jones walked in the room and