Prejudice & Racism
"Cut it out!" the driver shouted. He might have said it again, but I couldn't tell for sure over all the noise.
In a weird way, I was having fun. When some of the kids around me started laughing, I laughed too. I reached for the ball of paper that had landed on the floor and threw it as hard as I could toward the back of the bus.
"Hey, new guy!" a voice called. "You pitch like a girl!"
I bristled. It was my own fault; I'd called attention to myself.
I knew whatever I did next was important. This was what my mom would call a defining moment. She says life is all about defining moments, only most people miss them. They're too busy doing other stuff.
Cold fear twisted in my stomach. I couldn't argue now, not with José lying on the ground, shaking, while Mamá and Marcos tried to hoist him up. But how could I talk to the patrón? A man who yelled at his workers about any little thing would never listen to a kid, especially a kid whose English was sure to come out all wrong. It always did when I was nervous or upset. And yelling the names of vegetables in Spanish wasn't going to help me one bit this time.
Yes, I was one of the best in the league. Not a big deal. I was born with fast hands and I didn't feel pain. The fact that Lauren was almost as good was a big deal. And she drew a bigger crowd. A lot of people wanted to cheer for her because she was a girl. And a lot wanted to cheer against her. I had a feeling she was going to get more ice time than I would.
The tea leaves formed brown clumps on the side of my cup.
Finally the fortune-teller spoke. "The leaves nearest the rim tell us about the future," she said. "They form the shape of a dagger."
