A Boy Called Duct Tape Read Online Free PDF

eh?” Earl said, a full-size grin now stretching his skeletal face, the slyness rolling off of him.
    Pia fell silent. Biting her bottom lip, she seemed to realize her mistake.
    “Whereabouts on the James Creek, little sister?” Earl asked, stroking his knotty beard.
    “Don’t know,” Pia said, swaying from side to side like a three-year-old who couldn’t hold her water. She kept her eyes glued to a banjo on the wall.
    Earl’s icy gaze found me. “Ya say ya found it in James Creek, but ya don’t know where?” He seemed to be sizing me up.
    “Right,” I said. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so uneasy in the presence of an adult.
    “That don’t make no sense, kid. Ya gotta know where ya—”
    “Is it gold, Mr. Blood?” Kiki interrupted, exhaling an impatient breath.
    “Easy, little gal,” Earl said. “I’m getting there.”
    “Well …?” Now Kiki was tapping her foot.
    Earl wedged the coin between his tobacco-stained teeth and chomped down on it. He removed the coin from his mouth and looked at it. His eyes gleaming, he said, “Well … it’s shore enough gold.” He held it out for us to see. “Got teeth marks. Means it’s gold.”
    “What about its condition?” I asked, noting the new teeth marks in the coin.
    “It’s gold, but it ain’t in very good condition,” Earl said, studying one side of the coin, and then the other. “I’d judge it no better than Good.” He spit again.
    I remembered the classifications from the website: Good, Very Good, Fine, and Very Fine. Good wasn’t much to write home about.
    “You sure it’s not Fine or Very Fine?” I argued. I thought the coin was in great shape—except for his teeth marks. Every word was legible. Even the feathers on the Eagle were distinct. It looked like it had just been minted.
    “Who’s the expert here, kid?” Earl snorted. “It’s Good. No more, no less.”
    “Earl’s right as rain,” Burl said. “He shore enough knows about old coins.”
    “What’s the CC mean?” I asked.
    “Means it was minted in Carson City, Nevada,” Earl said, continuing to examine the coin.
    “Is that something special?” I asked.
    “Nope. Don’t mean nothing special.” Earl had rushed his words.
    I had the feeling that I shouldn’t trust Earl Blood.
    “So what’s it worth, Mr. Blood?” Kiki asked.
    “Well, let’s have us a look-see, little gal,” Earl said, stepping over to his computer, which sat at the end of the counter next to the cash register. He peered at the gold piece in his hand and then glanced at the computer screen. His knobby fingers strummed the keys.
    Standing behind his brother, Burl leaned in for a closer look.
    “I said git back!” Earl yelled, twitching a shoulder.
    “Why can’t I have me a little look-see?” Burl complained.
    “Cause ya can’t read, ya id-jut! Now git back!”
    “Okie dokie.”
    Head down, Burl shuffled over to where we stood on the other side of the counter. He raised his head and looked at Kiki. In a quiet voice he said, “I ain’t no id-jut, little gal. I can shore enough read a thing or two.”
    “Yes, I’m sure … I’m sure you can,” Kiki faltered, giving me a wary sideways glance.
    In the next moment, Earl’s sinister eyes widened, and he stared at the computer screen for what seemed to be an eternity. Muttering, Earl glanced down again at the $20 gold piece in his hand, and then turned it over and inspected the opposite side. He tapped a computer key and returned to his place behind the counter.
    “Naw, ain’t worth much,” Earl reported, turning to spit again. Some of the tobacco juice dimpled his lips. “But I’ll tell ya what I’ll do, kid,” he told me, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his red plaid shirt. “I’m feeling a might generous this morning and I’ll give ya $75 for this here gold coin. That’s more than it’s worth, but $75 will give each of ya $25. That’ll shore enough buy some cotton candy at the Outlaw Days Festival. How’s about