The Battle of Jericho Read Online Free PDF

take whatever he wants.’”
    Todd laughed at his brother, and turned to his mother with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. “Hey Mom, can I get that new video game player for Christmas?”
    Not to be outdone, Rory demanded, “I want a CD player! My old tape player is history!”
    â€œWe’ll see,” she said mildly. But Jericho knew without a doubt that she’d get them whatever they asked for.
    â€œWhat about you, Jericho?” Rory asked. “What do you want for Christmas? Let me guess—a brand-new SUV! You got your driver’s license now.”
    â€œYes, but that’s just a piece of paper. An SUV costs too much money, Rory. Maybe I can get a car for my birthday,” Jericho replied quietly. “I think I’d just like some clothes for Christmas.” He glanced at Geneva, who said nothing. “May I be excused?” he asked. “I have some homework to do, and I want to practice my trumpet.”
    â€œYou don’t want any apple pie, do you?” Geneva asked,in a way that made Jericho think she wanted him to say no. He didn’t need it anyway, he thought. A Warrior of Distinction should look good.
    â€œMaybe later, but thanks,” Jericho told her as he headed up to his room.
    â€œDon’t play that trumpet too loudly,” she called up the steps to him. “You know it gives me a headache.”
    Jericho didn’t reply. Geneva hadn’t even come to the Bengals game for which he’d been asked to play. Todd and Rory and his father had been thrilled to go, but she’d said something about not being able to get off from her job as a nurse. He knew she could have managed if she had really wanted to. He could hear the boys arguing over who got the biggest piece of pie as he shut his door and finally let himself relax.
    He had tacked posters, mostly of the Cleveland Browns, the Cincinnati Bengals, and a few of his favorite jazz players, all over the brown walls of his bedroom, which added quite a bit of color. He turned on his CD player, popped in a piece by Miles Davis, and sighed in satisfaction. He flopped on his bed and let the music take him away.
    He couldn’t help but think of the Warriors of Distinction, and how good he would look in one of those jackets. He knew his dad would be very proud of him. He was always sweatin’ him about getting involved with stuff that would look good on a college-bound transcript—especially to Juilliard. The Warriors of Distinction was a good start. He wondered why the club carried a name that sounded like they were soldiers or fighters. From what he could tell,they were a bunch of do-gooders who knew how to play the game of pleasing the school administration. He thought briefly of Eddie and how rough his home life must be.
    But he let the thought pass as he weighed the value of getting hooked up with such a group. Mr. Tambori was always hounding him to make serious life decisions. Well, this was an easy choice, Jericho thought. Jericho figured maybe even Geneva would be proud that he finally did something exactly right. But as the jazz music swirled around him, it wasn’t Geneva he thought about. It was Arielle Gresham—the girl with the skin the color of warm, sweet cocoa, the girl whose walk made him dizzy.
    He got out his trumpet then, and played with Miles Davis until the brown house he lived in became a blaze of colors.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 4—NIGHT
    THE PHONE RANG HALFWAY THROUGH THE CD, jarring Jericho back from the music of his trumpet and thoughts of Arielle to reality. “Hello,” he said softly, wishing that it would be Arielle’s voice on the other end.
    But the strong male voice that answered was one he didn’t recognize. “Jericho Prescott? Warriors of Distinction calling here.”
    â€œUh, yes, that’s me, I mean I, I mean me.” Jericho closed his eyes.
Get it together!
he told himself.
    â€œThere’s a small warehouse on