Sticks and Stones Read Online Free PDF

to a dial on the dashboard. “Keep your eyes on this. It tells you if you’re keeping the plane level.”
    There were two steering wheels, one in front of me. I put both hands on mine.
    “Dad — I haven’t written my will yet,” Carlos yelled.
    So much for moral support. Mr. Rojas flipped the switch and I was flying the plane. I couldn’t believe it — it felt like I had the sky in my hands. Mr. Rojas pointed out the window. “That’s good, Jujube. Over there you can see Leduc.”
    I had a cousin who lived in Leduc.I looked for her house, but then the streets seemed to be getting bigger. I heard Mr. Rojas gasp. He grabbed his wheel and we came up out of a nosedive.
    “Oops,” I said.
    “Oops?!” screeched Sophie.
    “We warned you, Dad,” Carlos said.
    “Can I try again?” I asked.
    “Maybe in a little while,” Mr. Rojas mumbled. He looked pale, so I decided not to bug him about it. One heart attack per day is enough for an adult. Kids handle five to ten, but you’ve got to go easy on adults.
    We flew around for over an hour. Coming back, I saw our school again, underneath us. I took a deep breath and felt very light. It’s that school that’s the problem, not me , I thought. I wasn’t going to let it drag me down again.
    Back on the ground, Sophie, Carlos, and I watched the plane taxi to the hangar. “O.K.?” asked Carlos. He was so close,but not touching me. We stood looking at each other. Beside us, Sophie coughed.
    “You started that project for English yet?” I asked him.
    He shrugged. “Not till the night before it’s due.”
    “Want to work on it with me?”
    “Sure. Got a topic?”
    “I want to do it on graffiti,” I said.
    “Wow,” Sophie said.
    One eyebrow went up, but Carlos looked interested. “Any graffiti in particular?” he asked.
    I laughed. “Very particular.”
    He nodded. “How’re you going to get Old Dead Lips to go for it?”
    “It’s supposed to be about ways we communicate,” I said. “Ways we pass ideas back and forth. The graffiti on that bathroom wall is sure passing ideas around about me. And I’ve got some ideas about that.”
    “I bet you do,” Sophie grinned.
    “Maybe I’ve got some too,” Carlos said.

Chapter Eight
    Monday, Carlos and I took our cameras to school. I skipped gym again so we could work at the same time. He covered the guys’ bathrooms and I covered the girls’. Most of them were empty because classes were on. I stood at the first wall, the camera in my hand.
    The wall was old. I could see it needed repairs. The words looked as ifthey’d been there forever, almost a part of the brick itself. SLUT was the first word I took a picture of. JUJUBE GELB IS A SLUT . I focused carefully. The shutter whirred and clicked.
    As I walked around those walls snapping pictures, something happened. It was as if, somewhere, I was stepping over an invisible line. As if I was finally saying to everyone, “You can’t make me take this anymore.” As if I had my life back and was I ever going to make it move.
    For several days, Carlos and I went around downtown and the malls, snapping pictures of graffiti. Carlos had even gotten a shot of a guy writing on a bathroom wall.
    “Who’s that?” I asked.
    “He’s in grade twelve. I don’t know his name,” Carlos said.
    “Well, he knows mine,” I said. He was adding to a list of comments about my nightlife.
    “He doesn’t know you,” Carlossaid. A warm feeling came and went in me, like a breath.
    “You’re a good guy, y’know that, Carlos?”
    Carlos went a little red. It seemed to take him a while to breathe again. I wanted to touch him. But I didn’t. Then he shrugged.
    “I got a lot of hassle when my family first came to Canada. It was because I couldn’t speak English. I flunked grade three. The kids made fun of me, called me names. Most of the first English words I learned were the names they called me. I remember thinking English words were not friendly. So I guess I know what it