Read 90 Miles to Havana for Free Online

shakes his head at me. “You’re right, Julian. There is a lot more for you to learn, but I taught you how to use this,” he says and then points at his temple. “So the rest should come easy. I tried to teach you how to think—solve problems!” Bebo smiles and his gold tooth twinkles.
    â€œWhen I get older I’m going to get a gold tooth just like yours,” I say.
    Bebo laughs, sticks his big hand out and grips mine tight. “I’ve been watching you and your brothers grow up. Alquilino and Gordo playing ball, arguing and fighting, always competing, and you off to the side watching.
    â€œI had older brothers, too. I was always trying to catch up, always trying to be just like them.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with trying to be like them?” I ask.
    â€œIt’s not always wrong; sometimes it’s good because it makes you try harder. But sometimes it’s not good to play someone else’s game. It can make you feel like you’re not as good as them.”
    â€œI know how that feels,” I say.
    â€œNow let me give you a piece of advice. You’ll never really grow up until you get out of your brothers’ shadows—find your own game.”
    â€œWhat’s my game, Bebo?” I ask, and Bebo laughs.
    â€œI can’t tell you that, Julian. But you’ll know it when you find it. You’ll feel it here,” he says putting his big hand on his chest.
    â€œIf you say so, Bebo,” I mumble even though I don’t really understand. I bet Alquilino and Gordo never gave it a second thought.
    â€œ
Claro, chico
. Bebo knows about these things. You’ll do fine,” he says just as the lid on the pot starts to rattle.
    â€œ
Caramba,
I overcooked the rice!”
    Bebo’s busy scraping the burned rice from the bottom of the pot as I say good-bye and walk out of the kitchen. His words are still spinning around in my head as I climb up the almond tree in front of our house. Sitting high up on my favorite branch, I can see the beach and the sea, and I can think; it’s almost as good as drawing.

ALMOND REVENGE
    I’m gnawing at what Bebo said when I spot Gordo walking out of the house. He stops under the tree and looks up at me.
    â€œWhat are you doing up there, Julian?” he asks, sounding annoyed.
    I’m about to tell him what I’m thinking about but then I change my mind.
    â€œJust checking out the almonds,” I answer, as he swings up into the tree.
    I pick one out, check the color, and then bounce it in my hand.
    â€œThey’re perfect,” I call down to him.
    At this time of the year the green almonds are just the right weight and shape for throwing. They’ll fly straight as an arrow and if you’re the unlucky target you’ll feel the sting well into the next day.
    Gordo climbs up to my branch and then walks out heel to toe without holding on to anything just to show off. The branch bends as he stands over me. He pulls down a handful of almonds and then points at a street sign across the street.
    â€œI bet you I can hit that sign!”
    â€œI bet I can, too,” I say, but before I can get up his first shot clangs against the small rectangular sign.
    â€œBull’s-eye!”
    As I’m getting ready to throw, Gordo steps in front of me on the narrow branch.
    â€œGordo, you’re in my way,” I complain but he’s not listening. He’s watching the kid with the stooped shoulders walking around the corner toward his house across the street.
    â€œLook who’s coming,” Gordo says. “It’s the snitch. He’s right on time.”
    Gordo carefully sorts through the almonds in his hand as the unsuspecting boy ambles within range.
    â€œGordo, what are you doing?” I ask, as he nestles a perfect almond into his left hand.
    â€œYou can’t do that! Remember what Papi said about his mother.”
    â€œQuiet, he won’t know what hit