The Battle of Jericho Read Online Free PDF Page A

money, and she let him call his mother, which was a long-distance call to Alaska, whenever heneeded to talk to her. An edge existed between them, however, usually unspoken, but he knew it was there. It could be because Jericho looked so much like his mother, who was round and dimpled and always laughing. She lived in Anchorage with her new husband and his six kids. Jericho visited her every summer and even though he missed her terribly, he was always glad he didn’t live there in that crowded house with them.
    Geneva was a great cook, however, and the smell of fried chicken pulled Jericho to the back of the house. He tossed his bag into a corner and headed to the kitchen. Rory, who was nine, and Todd, who had just turned eleven, were doing homework at the kitchen table.
    â€œHey, Jericho,” Rory called out.
    â€œWhat’s up, Shorty,” Jericho replied. “You break any hearts today?”
    Rory giggled, as he did every day when Jericho asked him that. “Not yet, but I’m working on it! How about you?”
    Jericho tousled Rory’s curly black hair and tickled him, making him laugh even more. “Just my usual thirty or forty girls. It was a slow day today.” But Jericho’s smile faded as he thought about how far from the truth that was. His friends seemed to be able to collect girls like baseball cards, while he couldn’t even say one intelligent word to Arielle Gresham.
    â€œWhassup, Jericho,” Todd piped up.
    â€œNothin’ much. How’s it going, Todd?” Jericho asked the older boy.
    Todd, who wore an old Cleveland Browns sweatshirt that Jericho had given him, looked up from his math homeworkand smiled at Jericho. “We had track signups today. I’m gonna run this spring,” he said.
    â€œLooks like we got an Olympic star at the kitchen table, Geneva,” Jericho said to his stepmother as she came into the kitchen to turn the chicken. “Better give him extra mashed potatoes. While you’re at it, since I’m gonna be his trainer, better give me extras too!” Jericho was starving—he hadn’t eaten since lunch.
    â€œWhen did you get home?” she asked. “Don’t you think you ought to say hello or something when you get in?”
    Jericho could feel his good mood fading. Geneva could always find a way to put just a little edge to her voice, with just the slightest touch of disapproval or displeasure. “Just a few minutes ago,” Jericho replied. “Didn’t Uncle Brock call you?”
    â€œYes, he called,” she replied without comment.
    â€œI came in here to say hello to everybody, but all I found were these two jokers,” Jericho said, trying to remain cheerful. Rory and Todd grinned at him.
    â€œWell, you’re just in time. Wash your hands for supper,” Geneva said without looking at him. “Boys, clear this stuff off and set the table for me,” she told Todd and Rory.
    Jericho refused to let Geneva spoil his good mood, nor did he intend to tell her about the invitation from the Warriors of Distinction. He was sure she’d find a way to make it somehow seem less important. So he helped the boys set the table and he smiled to himself all through dinner. He knew that Geneva liked the way he treated his step brothers—he gave them football jerseys and played baseballwith them and helped them with their homework when his dad was busy. Jericho could tell the boys adored their built-in big brother.
    â€œWhat time is Dad coming home?” Jericho asked Geneva.
    â€œHe called and said he’d be late again,” she replied. “A couple of the officers are out sick with this flu, and he’s doing overtime. With Christmas coming, it can’t hurt.”
    â€œCops aren’t s’posed to get sick,” Rory reasoned. “Suppose I call nine-one-one and a recording says, ’Sorry, but the officers had to go blow their noses, so tell the burglar to