The Water Museum Read Online Free PDF Page A

horn.
    *  *  *
    They drove out to the Silver Strand. It seemed like all San Diego and all Chula Vista and half of National City were heading for the beach. Fat moms and swabbies from the naval air base and old farts in big Hawaiian shirts and all those wetbacks from Tijuana. The vatos didn’t like the fuckin’ wetbacks, that was for sure. Sureños from the south battled it out with Norteños from the north; Chicanos faced off against Mexicanos. Beaners versus rednecks. Everybody against the black brothers. And just forget about the Asians. It was natural selection, just as they had learned from Darwin as explained by Professor Junior. Nobody liked nobody.
    “Yo, Junior,” Shadow said as he parked in the sandy lot across the highway from the beach. “What we reading next in Mr. Hitler’s class?”
    Mr. Hitler. Junior snickered. That friggin’ Shadow.
    “We’re reading about Lewis and Clark.”
    “What’s up with Lewis and Clark?”
    “They, like, took canoes and rowed all across America and checked shit out for the president.”
    “No shit? Like who, Reagan?”
    “No, ese. A real old dude. It was a hundred years ago.”
    “Reagan, like I said!” Shadow announced.
    He jumped out of the car, circling to the back door.
    “Ladies,” he said, holding their door open. He was swooping on La Smiley—everybody knew it. Junior was worried: La Li’l Mousey was too much woman for him, he was sure of it.
    “Did Louie and Clark find dinosaurs?” Shadow asked.
    “You crazy.”
    “Read that book, boy!” (Who, Shadow?)
    La Mousey terrified Junior by putting her arm around his waist.
    They walked to the tunnels under the roadway. Jet fighters patrolled the beach on their way to North Island. Border Patrol helicopters appeared and disappeared to the south. The concrete tunnels were sandy. People had tagged inside them—blurry messages and pictures nobody paid attention to.
    Two shadowy thugs were coming their way, and Junior didn’t even look at them, he was so enraptured by Shadow and so sweaty under La Mousey’s arm. The first thug slammed his shoulder into Shadow as he passed. Shadow bounced off the tunnel wall. The thug said, “Lárgate, pocho.”
    “What did you say to me, bitch?” said Shadow.
    “Pocho puto,” the thug replied.
    Mexicans.
    Shadow smiled. “You come into my country and talk smack to me? Really? Really? Okay.” He nodded. “Sure, why not.”
    Shadow fired a right fist straight into the thug’s ribs and followed with a left that knocked him off his feet—shoes sliding out from under him on the sand-covered cement. His head clonked like a coconut when he went down.
    “Shadow! Shadow!” Junior yelled. The girlies backed to the wall and shrieked with pleasure.
    “Do him, Junior! Do him good!” Shadow yelled as he kicked and punched the other Mexican to the ground. Junior turned to the fallen thug, who was groggy but rising. He drew back his foot, pausing for a second to consider his black Converse, then kicked the thug in the mouth.
    *  *  *
    “I’ma barf,” Junior said as they spun out of the lot and hurried toward the freeway. Shadow was crazy-happy, bloody knuckles and all. He punched the ceiling.
    “You ain’t gonna barf!”
    “I’ma barf,” Junior said.
    “You whipped that asshole but good, peewee!” Shadow hollered. “He’s in love with the world!” he shouted. “Hey—don’t barf. You do not barf in my mom’s car.”
    Li’l Mousey leaned over the seat and massaged Junior’s shoulders.
    “Junior?” she said. “You okay?”
    He groaned.
    “Honey,” she said, “you got a tooth stuck in your shoe.”
    He barfed.
    Shadow shrieked, “Not in my mom’s car, homes! Damn!”
    “Sorry,” mumbled the professor as they sped back to the ’hood.
    *  *  *
    The next morning Junior was in bed reading The Stand when that knock came again on the screen door. For a moment, he considered not answering. But he did.
    Shadow. Bloodshot eyes.
    “Heavyweight Champion