friend.”
Chapter 6
Rio Garcia was not happy with Principal Schafer’s decision. He silently fumed while packing up his books. Two weeks of out-of-school suspension plus a week of in-school-suspension while the asshole gets a whopping four weeks inside of the Zoo. He was the one who was being obnoxious. He was the one who threw the first punch. Only one word could describe what just happened - unfair.
Rio was not prepared for Henry’s aggression. Social mutants like him never fought and always did what they were told . His right hook…damn that boy was full of surp r ises. Henry’s expression was calm while he mechanically swung hit after hit.
Rio had never heard of Henry Novak before Mrs. Fontana’s Honor’s Geometry class. He resented the retard for even being allowed honor’s instruction. Because of some vague disorder, every staff member at Fremont High catered to Henry like some king. Unfair.
Rio ’ s doctor was unconcerned with his bruises, but troubled by his broken arm and collarbone. His prognosis included a minimum of six weeks of a cast and shoulder brace, and then several weeks of physical therapy. This translated into half of a season, if not the whole season , of no baseball .
Rio was only a sophomore, but played both varsity baseball and football because of his size and ability . He was a fine catcher, lead-off hitter, and star running back. He expected acceptance and full scholarship to a top ten college. What if he never healed properly? This is so u nfair. If this sick bastard was going to ruin my life, then an eye for an eye , Rio silently stewed .
Once in the car, Rio ’ s parents spoke freely. He already predicted his dad’s reaction.
“Son, good job. You’ve just thrown away baseball season, and who knows, maybe even football. Henry Novak has As p erger’s for Christ’s sake. You failed to mention that last night. Why don’t you just beat up an old lady in a wheel chair? You’re lucky he didn’t throw your ass in an alternative school. That principal just gave you one helluva gift. Probably because you’re a star athlete ,” Alonzo lectured. Rio’s dad rod e his ass on a regular basis .
“Al, look at your son. That Henry is no old lady in a chair. He’s bigger, at least thirty pounds more. And taller, too. The way I understand it is that As p erger’s is some kind of communication problem. That boy couldn’t pick up on Rio ’ s body language. A miscommunication…”
“Sue, stop. We both know what this is about. Rio had to play big shot for that girl. What’s her name? Brittany? Play tough guy. Real tough now,” Alonzo interrupted.
Rio ’ s parents quarreled the rest of the way home. His mother, Sue, faithfully took his side while his father assumed the worst. By the time they turned onto Norway Point, they stopped bickering. Silent tension followed. Rio checked his phone. Dozens of curious texts were displayed in his message box. The one that instantly stood out was sent by his best friend, Bart. It simply read, “10060 Norway-HN.”
While his dad drove down their street, Rio noticed addresses they passed. Most were covered with snow, but the ones that weren’t read 5010, 5200, 5550 until they reached his house number, 6010. Norway Point was a long street that weaved around Lake Hayward. Henry must have been less than a mile away on the other side o f the lake.
Rio lived in one of the most extravagant homes on the lake. His mother, Sue, was a full-blooded Dakota Sioux Indian, born and bred on an Indian reservation. She turned her heritage into a gold mine. Under Alonzo’s direction, she opened a casino and then another one a couple of years later. Plans of a third casino currently monopolized their dinner conversation. The casinos were not only profitable, but exempt from taxes. Rio figured the only thing that kept his parents together was
Chapter 6
Rio Garcia was not happy with Principal Schafer’s decision. He silently fumed while packing up his books. Two weeks of out-of-school suspension plus a week of in-school-suspension while the asshole gets a whopping four weeks inside of the Zoo. He was the one who was being obnoxious. He was the one who threw the first punch. Only one word could describe what just happened - unfair.
Rio was not prepared for Henry’s aggression. Social mutants like him never fought and always did what they were told . His right hook…damn that boy was full of surp r ises. Henry’s expression was calm while he mechanically swung hit after hit.
Rio had never heard of Henry Novak before Mrs. Fontana’s Honor’s Geometry class. He resented the retard for even being allowed honor’s instruction. Because of some vague disorder, every staff member at Fremont High catered to Henry like some king. Unfair.
Rio ’ s doctor was unconcerned with his bruises, but troubled by his broken arm and collarbone. His prognosis included a minimum of six weeks of a cast and shoulder brace, and then several weeks of physical therapy. This translated into half of a season, if not the whole season , of no baseball .
Rio was only a sophomore, but played both varsity baseball and football because of his size and ability . He was a fine catcher, lead-off hitter, and star running back. He expected acceptance and full scholarship to a top ten college. What if he never healed properly? This is so u nfair. If this sick bastard was going to ruin my life, then an eye for an eye , Rio silently stewed .
Once in the car, Rio ’ s parents spoke freely. He already predicted his dad’s reaction.
“Son, good job. You’ve just thrown away baseball season, and who knows, maybe even football. Henry Novak has As p erger’s for Christ’s sake. You failed to mention that last night. Why don’t you just beat up an old lady in a wheel chair? You’re lucky he didn’t throw your ass in an alternative school. That principal just gave you one helluva gift. Probably because you’re a star athlete ,” Alonzo lectured. Rio’s dad rod e his ass on a regular basis .
“Al, look at your son. That Henry is no old lady in a chair. He’s bigger, at least thirty pounds more. And taller, too. The way I understand it is that As p erger’s is some kind of communication problem. That boy couldn’t pick up on Rio ’ s body language. A miscommunication…”
“Sue, stop. We both know what this is about. Rio had to play big shot for that girl. What’s her name? Brittany? Play tough guy. Real tough now,” Alonzo interrupted.
Rio ’ s parents quarreled the rest of the way home. His mother, Sue, faithfully took his side while his father assumed the worst. By the time they turned onto Norway Point, they stopped bickering. Silent tension followed. Rio checked his phone. Dozens of curious texts were displayed in his message box. The one that instantly stood out was sent by his best friend, Bart. It simply read, “10060 Norway-HN.”
While his dad drove down their street, Rio noticed addresses they passed. Most were covered with snow, but the ones that weren’t read 5010, 5200, 5550 until they reached his house number, 6010. Norway Point was a long street that weaved around Lake Hayward. Henry must have been less than a mile away on the other side o f the lake.
Rio lived in one of the most extravagant homes on the lake. His mother, Sue, was a full-blooded Dakota Sioux Indian, born and bred on an Indian reservation. She turned her heritage into a gold mine. Under Alonzo’s direction, she opened a casino and then another one a couple of years later. Plans of a third casino currently monopolized their dinner conversation. The casinos were not only profitable, but exempt from taxes. Rio figured the only thing that kept his parents together was
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