sidewayz glory Read Online Free PDF Page B

cast. “It’s a little soon to be thinking about it, you know?”
    Kennin wasn’t sure Mariel had heard him. Suddenly her face hardened as she stared past him. “What?” she snapped.
    Kennin twisted around, Ian was standing behind him, with his baseball cap on backward, as usual. He was a short, stocky red-haired guy on the football team with Chris, and liked to think of himself as a big gangsta thug.
    â€œLook who’s back,” Ian said with a smirk.
    â€œGet lost,” Mariel snapped.
    â€œNow, now,” Ian said in a teasing, scolding voice, “I don’t think Chris would want to hear you talk that way.”
    â€œI don’t give a crap what Chris wants to hear,” Mariel said. “I said, get lost, loser.”
    Ian winced slightly. Kennin noticed that the cafeteria had grown quiet. People were listening and watching. Tito and a couple of the other guys from the gearhead table had gotten up and were coming over.
    â€œYou’re calling me a loser?” Ian spit. “Look who you’re sitting with.”
    â€œCrashing isn’t losing,” Mariel shot back. “Besides, I seem to recall that he handled you pretty easily, both in a car and with his fists.”
    Ian’s face began to flush. “You ever notice how few races this guy actually finishes?” he said contemptuously.
    â€œThat’s funny,” Mariel replied. “Every time he races against
you
he not only finishes, but wins.”
    By now Tito, Megs, and the others had arrived. A couple of guys heard what Mariel said and chuckled.
    Ian’s face was bright red. “That’s bull. The first time he didn’t even drift. And the second time he frickin’ tried to run me into a solid rock wall.”
    â€œExcuses, excuses,” Mariel said with a dramatic sigh and a wave of her hand, as if she’d heard it all before. “Let me ask you something, Ian. Have you ever actually won a drift battle? Because I can’t remember one.”
    â€œYou know, Chris isn’t going to be real happy when I tell him you bought gook-a-look here a three-course lunch,” Ian shot back.
    Kennin placed his hands flat on the table and tried to launch himself up, but the long stiff cast on his left leg hit the edge. He almost lost his balance and had to grab the table to steady himself.
    Ian laughed. “What are you tryin’ to do, Chinaboy? Kung fu with a cast? Hey, maybe they call it cast fu!”
    If Ian thought he was going to get some laughs, he was wrong. The crowd around him was silent.
    â€œTake that back,” Kennin warned him.
    â€œOr what?” Ian said.
    Instead of answering, Kennin reached for his crutches, sliding one under each arm. By now the cafeteria had gone dead silent.
    â€œKennin, don’t,” Mariel said.
    â€œYou gotta be kidding,” Ian sputtered nervously, glancing at the guys around him. “You think I’m gonna fight a guy with a cast and crutches? I’d look like an idiot.”
    â€œI have news for you,” Kennin said, planting the crutches on the floor and inching toward him. “You already look like an idiot. I’m tired of telling you to cut that racist crap. You take it back right now, or else.”
    Ian twisted his head from side to side. “You hear that?” he asked the guys around them. “He’s calling me out. I’m not starting this, he is.”
    No one answered.
    â€œKennin, stop,” Mariel said.
    But Kennin didn’t stop.
    â€œYou don’t stand a frickin’ chance,” Ian said.
    â€œHe’s right, Kennin,” Tito said.
    But Kennin still didn’t stop.
    â€œCome on, guys,” Ian practically pleaded. “Someone call this nutcase off before he gets hurt.”
    No one called Kennin off.
    â€œOkay, Chinaboy, you asked for it.” As Ian started to lift his fists, Kennin flipped one of the crutches around and shoved the wide end into