Strider Read Online Free PDF

really,” I admitted. The future is something I try not to worry about.
    â€œJust don’t drive a truck like your old man,” Dad told me. “It’s a rough life. Sleeping in the cab and eating in cafés gets old after a few years.”
    â€œI wasn’t planning to,” I said. Now that I took a good look at Dad, he did look tired. Maybe all those country-western songs about truckers are true.
    Suddenly Dad asked, “How’s your mother getting along?”
    â€œOkay,” I said. “She works pretty hard.”
    â€œShe making any friends?” he asked.
    What Dad really wanted to know was, Does she have any men friends? Dad had let me ride with him so he could snoop. This made me so mad I said, “Sure she has friends. They get together to make stuffed animals to sell at craft fairs.” I wasn’t going to squeal on Mom and tell him about Bob from the hospital lab, who sometimes jogs with her and stops by for breakfast, or the paramedic who drives an ambulance, wears a beeper, and takes both of us out to dinner once in a while. Mom always refers to him as the Beeper. Nice guys, both of them, but I don’t think Mom is serious.
    Dad was silent, trying to think how he could find out what he wanted to know without letting me know what it was he wanted to know. I was so annoyed I asked, “What about you, Dad? Are you making any friends?”
    Dad shot me a look that wasn’t exactly friendly. “Sure,” he said. “I got lots of friends.”
    We let it go at that. I didn’t really want to know about the friends Dad makes at truck stops. As we sat facing one another in that booth, it seemed to me that Dad and I didn’t have much to say to each other. Maybe we never did.
    Dad made good time back to the Salinas bus stop, but we were quiet most of the way. Without a load, Dad was losing money and was in a hurry to get to Bakersfield to load up more bins of garlic. As I watched him drive off, I felt sad. If he asks questions about Mom, he must be lonely, deep down. I wish I had been nicer.

August 20
    My pants are too short! All of them!
    When Mom and I were looking over my clothes for school, I got out my pants and discovered they don’t even reach my ankles. They are only good for cutoffs, which are what I have been wearing all summer. I wondered if Mom had noticed the hair I was growing on my legs.
    Mom hugged me and said, “I’m going to miss my little boy.” Then we were off to Penney’s for pants. We left Strider shut in the shack.
    After pants, we went to the shirt department, where I reminded Mom of my thrift shop shirt which I was saving for school.
    She said, “Oh, that shirt,” as if she was both amused and annoyed by it.
    As we drove home, I couldn’t forget her remark about missing her little boy. It made mefeel guilty. How am I supposed to become a man and be her little boy at the same time?
    There was nothing I could do about it, I decided. Besides, I have new pants, hair on my legs, and a great shirt.
    By the time we came home, Strider had eaten a corner out of the rug. It’s a good thing it’s our rug, not Mrs. Smerling’s.

September 12
    Today I discovered two kinds of people go to high school: those who wear new clothes to show off on the first day, and those who wear their oldest clothes to show they think school is unimportant.
    This morning I ran with Strider, mopped Katy’s floor, ran home to shower, and put on my shirt. Then I hurried up to the Brinkerhoffs’ to leave Strider in their yard.
    Barry was waiting. “You’re brave,” he said when he saw my shirt.
    At the intersection near school we met a boy a little taller than I named Kevin Knight, who was new in junior high last semester. He’s a rich kid. Anyone can tell by his expensive watch, ironed sport shirts, and chinos with creases instead of jeans. Even his haircuts look expensive.
    Kevin scowled at me.