Jim & Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

face.
    â€œSon, what kind of a knot do you tie when you rope a calf?” Jim asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Bobby said.
    â€œHow many feet apart do you plant rows of corn?” Jim asked.
    â€œUh…five?” Bobby guessed.
    â€œTell me what you know about the Black Hawk War,” Jim said.
    â€œNever heard of it,” Bobby admitted.
    Jim sighed, and shook his head sadly.
    â€œYou are no relative to me,” he said. “I don’t care what century you come from.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œI am a descendant of Black Hawk,” Jim said, “leader of the Sac and Fox Nation. A century ago, he fought a great battle. Five hundred Indians against twelve thousand United States soldiers. The white men captured Black Hawk, took our land, and slaughtered hundreds of our tribe.Women and children too. I will never forget what happened to my people.”
    At that moment, a voice called from the other end of the construction site.
    â€œThorpe!” a man yelled. “Slacking off again? You lazy Indian! Get back to work or go home! There are plenty of able-bodied men waiting to take your place.”
    Jim took his shovel and jammed it hard into the dirt. “I wish we could talk more, but…”
    â€œThorpe!” his boss yelled again.
    Bobby and I said good-bye and found a quiet spot off to the side where we could sit down on a couple of cinder blocks. I pulled the new pack out of my pocket again and tore the wrapper off, plucking out one of the cards. I didn’t even look to see which player was on the front.
    Bobby took my hand without any protest this time. We closed our eyes and I concentrated on going home. Back to Louisville. Back to my century.
    Soon the tingling sensation started and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was working. The buzzing feeling went up my arms and down my legs. It got stronger and stronger, and then I felt myself disappear.

7
One Mississippi, Two Mississippi…
    WE LANDED IN A GRASSY FIELD . THAT WAS STRANGE . Usually when I come home, I come home . Like, to my bedroom.
    â€œWhere are we?” I asked Bobby Fuller, who had tumbled to the ground next to me.
    â€œSheppard Park,” Bobby said. “I play football here sometimes.”
    The field was perfect for football—flat and rectangular with no bushes or trees in the way. In fact, there were four boys tossing a football around. They looked to be about our age. I didn’t know them, but Bobby said a couple of them went to his church.
    â€œHey Fuller,” one of the guys hollered, “you and your friend wanna play some touch? With you two, we can play three-on-three.”
    â€œWe have school tomorrow,” I whispered to Bobby.“It’s getting late.”
    The truth is, I didn’t want to play. Football is not my game. I was never any good at it. Like I said, my hands are small, and I don’t like guys chasing me around, knocking me down. I like to stand in a batter’s box and take my three swings.
    â€œSure!” Bobby yelled to the guys. “Lemme see the ball.”
    Man, I hate Bobby Fuller. I felt like walking off and leaving, but I didn’t want to look like a wimp.
    â€œI’m no good,” I said, following Bobby as he jogged over to join them. “I can’t throw a football. Can’t catch it either.”
    â€œWe’ll put you on the line,” Bobby told me.
    We divided into two teams of three guys each. I was on a team with Bobby and this skinny black kid named Reggie.
    â€œYou guys kick off,” Reggie yelled to the other team, and the three of us dropped back to receive.
    â€œLet me and Reggie handle the ball,” Bobby said. “You block.”
    Fine by me. I didn’t want to run with the ball anyway.
    One of the kids on the other team kicked off. It was high, end-over-end, and deep. Reggie dropped back to catch it. He took a few steps and lateraled the ball to Bobby. The other team was