Drown Read Online Free PDF

That dude must have had Spider-senses or something. Did you raise that? he asked Wilquins and Wilquins nodded.
    Is this your house? his pops asked. He looked ready to beat Wilquins silly but he lowered the volume instead.
    See, Rafa said. You nearly got your ass kicked.
     
     
     
    I met the Puerto Rican woman right after Papi had gotten the van. He was taking me on short trips, trying to cure me of my vomiting. It wasn’t really working but I looked forward to our trips, even though at the end of each one I’d be sick. These were the only times me and Papi did anything together. When we were alone he treated me much better, like maybe I was his son or something.
    Before each drive Mami would cross me.
    Bendición, Mami, I’d say.
    She’d kiss my forehead. Que Dios te bendiga. And then she would give me a handful of mentas because she wanted me to be OK. Mami didn’t think these excursions would cure anything, but the one time she had brought it up to Papi he had told her to shut up, what did she know about anything anyway?
    Me and Papi didn’t talk much. We just drove around our neighborhood. Occasionally he’d ask, How is it?
    And I’d nod, no matter how I felt.
    One day I was sick outside of Perth Amboy. Instead of taking me home he went the other way on Industrial Avenue, stopping a few minutes later in front of a light blue house I didn’t recognize. It reminded me of the Easter eggs we colored at school, the ones we threw out the bus windows at other cars.
    The Puerto Rican woman was there and she helped me clean up. She had dry papery hands and when she rubbed the towel on my chest, she did it hard, like I was a bumper she was waxing. She was very thin and had a cloud of brown hair rising above her narrow face and the sharpest blackest eyes you’ve ever seen.
    He’s cute, she said to Papi.
    Not when he’s throwing up, Papi said.
    What’s your name? she asked me. Are you Rafa?
    I shook my head.
    Then it’s Yunior, right?
    I nodded.
    You’re the smart one, she said, suddenly happy with herself. Maybe you want to see my books?
    They weren’t hers. I recognized them as ones my father must have left in her house. Papi was a voracious reader, couldn’t even go cheating without a paperback in his pocket.
    Why don’t you go watch TV? Papi suggested. He was looking at her like she was the last piece of chicken on earth.
    We got plenty of channels, she said. Use the remote if you want.
    The two of them went upstairs and I was too scared of what was happening to poke around. I just sat there, ashamed, expecting something big and fiery to crash down on our heads. I watched a whole hour of the news before Papi came downstairs and said, Let’s go.
     
     
     
    About two hours later the women laid out the food and like always nobody but the kids thanked them. It must be some Dominican tradition or something. There was everything I liked—chicharrones, fried chicken, tostones, sancocho, rice, fried cheese, yuca, avocado, potato salad, a meteor-sized hunk of pernil, even a tossed salad which I could do without—but when I joined the other kids around the serving table, Papi said, Oh no you don’t, and took the paper plate out of my hand. His fingers weren’t gentle.
    What’s wrong now? Tía asked, handing me another plate.
    He ain’t eating, Papi said. Mami pretended to help Rafa with the pernil.
    Why can’t he eat?
    Because I said so.
    The adults who didn’t know us made like they hadn’t heard a thing and Tío just smiled sheepishly and told everybody to go ahead and eat. All the kids—about ten of them now—trooped back into the living room with their plates a-heaping and all the adults ducked into the kitchen and the dining room, where the radio was playing loud-ass bachatas. I was the only one without a plate. Papi stopped me before I could get away from him. He kept his voice nice and low so nobody else could hear him.
    If you eat anything, I’m going to beat you. ¿Entiendes?
    I nodded.
    And if