Titans Read Online Free PDF Page B

because work is truly unavailable, or because you are not willing to pick up a hoe and tend the fields.” The priest holds up his index finger. “No work is beneath us, for the Lord does not discriminate between the field owner and the laborer. All are loved equally.”
    Dani, Zara, and I all turn slowly toward my father. His head looks like it’s about to split open. He’s actually quaking with anger. The priest couldn’t be clearer in his message.
    If you’re out of work, it’s because you don’t want work .
    After the congregation sings a half-hearted hymn, we file out. My dad glares at Arvin from across the room, cringing when the priest shakes Arvin’s hand and thanks him for coming. With Arvin is another man dressed in a gray tailored suit. He’s tall and dark-skinned with a smooth head. There’s a cloth square, red as sin, peeking from his pocket. Arvin introduces the guy to the priest, and they shake hands too. Arvin’s older brother, Theo, is nowhere in sight.
    “That’s who Dad interviewed with on Monday,” Dani whispers to me.
    My head snaps in her direction, unbelieving. “But Daddy hates the races.”
    “He hates them the same way he does brandy, with one hand on the bottle.” She shrugs. “But he needs a job.”
    “It didn’t go well?” I ask, afraid of her answer.
    “Do Dad’s interviews ever go well?” she responds, too loudly. “That man couldn’t get a job if it hit him square between the eyes.”
    Zara nudges me and cocks her head toward Dad, who is glaring at Dani. When Dani sees him too, her eyes bug out from her head.
    “Dad, I didn’t mean—”
    But he only brushes past her and storms toward the car, back muscles tight with anger.
    I cast one last look at the younger Gambini brother before we head after Dad. Arvin is short and thick with too much hair on his head, as if he’s mocking men who are balding. He smiles easily, but the gesture never reaches his too-small eyes. His ruddy cheeks remind me of Christmas and beautiful Michigan winters, but he’s missing the authenticity to drive the resemblance home. The tall man by his side motions toward the exit, and Arvin wastes no time excusing the two of them.
    This makes me smile, seeing Arvin jump when someone else instructs him to.
    No one speaks on the way home, which only makes things worse. When our family argues, it’s almost a relief. We’re communicating. We’re trying . But when everyone shuts down like this, it rattles me.
    Discomfort crawls over my skin as my dad pulls our snot-green ’02 Buick into the driveway and kills the engine. I’m afraid to breathe until Dani gets out of the car and slams the door. My mom goes after her, and then my dad charges after my mom. Only Zara and I remain. She’s sucking on a peppermint she got from church and asking what Dani said that made Dad so mad. But I can’t answer her, because my eyes have snagged on something that causes my heart to race.
    Tucked into a small slot next to the Buick’s steering wheel is an orange envelope.
    I watch the house for any sign of my dad, and then I reach into the front seat and grab it.
    “Was that the thing in Dad’s pocket last night?” Zara asks in a whisper, though there’s no one to hear us.
    I turn away from Zara in case it’s really bad, and open the flap. Out slides a thin piece of paper. I don’t read much of it. I don’t need to. The red, stamped words are the only thing I need to know.
    EVICTION NOTICE
    I crumple the paper in my hand and my breathing comes faster. Zara calls my name and tries to pry the paper from my fingers, but I’ve shut down. My body tightens and my eyes cinch shut and sweat pricks the back of my neck. It’s happening again. My biggest fear will be actualized.
    When I finally open my eyes, I find my dad standing outside the car. He sees the envelope in my hand and tears the door open. “This isn’t yours,” he snaps. Unlike Zara, he’s able to rip both envelope and paper from my hand with