Depending on the size of the load, Naz would then determine the mode and speed of transportation. The merchants had surprised Naz with a brand new bike for Christmas two years earlier, and he sometimes used this as well. But Naz’s favorite mode was his legs and his favorite speed was running—fast.
Naz took off his book bag and placed it under the table.
“By all means, make yourself at home,” said Mr. Tesla.
Naz smiled and looked down at the bundle on the floor next to the door. “Anything breakable?” asked Naz as he walked to the refrigerator.
“No, but still be careful. There are some small electronics.”
Naz looked in the refrigerator and pulled out a red soda pop and a ham and cheese sandwich that was wrapped in clear paper and said, “Fuel.”
“Don’t be bashful; help yourself.”
This had become the daily routine for Naz and Mr. Tesla. There were only slight variations in the meal Mr. Tesla prepared for Naz, and their verbal jabs and/or pleasantries with each other. Naz sat on his usual side of the table where he couldn’t see the picture, unwrapped the ham and cheese sandwich, and began eating.
“Any homework today?” asked Mr. Tesla.
“I suppose.”
“Plan on doing it?”
“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t, depends on if I have time.”
School came easy to Naz. It was boring to him. He hated it and did just enough to get by. He knew if he half-paid attention in class, did well on all his tests, quizzes, and classroom assignments, he would pass all of his classes, and that was good enough for him. To him, homework just wasn’t a priority. Mr. Tesla, along with Dr. Gwen and all of Naz’s teachers would always say Naz wasn’t living up to his potential. Naz wondered, what was his potential? He barely knew who he was, how could he have any idea what or who he wanted to be. So he lived day-to-day, in the moment, as he liked to say. He didn’t put much stock in structure or rules that he viewed were only there to constrain him.
Between running back and forth to school and running for the Market Merchants, Naz used up plenty of energy; therefore, he could eat like a horse. He ate the ham and cheese sandwich in less than two minutes, put the bundle of goods on his back, and headed out of the booth with the soda pop in hand.
“See you in about two hours, Mr. Tesla.”
“Be careful, no more knife fights.”
Naz gave Mr. Tesla a thumbs-up.
Before Naz left the store, he put some sunflower seeds in Tone’s cup and bid the bird farewell. He waited for Tone’s reply, but again the bird was silent. Naz chuckled.
Naz took different routes to the various merchants and never the same route twice in a row if he could at all help it. That way, the gang leaders and drug dealers who tried to recruit kids his age to gang bang and sell drugs, and anyone else who was interested in his dealings couldn’t get a bead on him.
Naz’s first stop was a half mile east into Section 29 where he would drop off and pick up at Piccolo’s for Ibrahim Moussa, the tall, dark-eyed, stringy-haired proprietor who had first helped set up Naz’s unique arrangement with the Market Merchants, now known as the Market Quadrumvirate. From there it was two miles north into Section 30 to Mercado’s, owned by the eccentric Mercel Cardonias, the most successful of the merchants in the Quadrumvirate. Next Naz would take a break and pick up Meri from Higginbotham, which was about a mile-and-a-half southwest of Mercado’s and a mile southeast of Bellarusso’s, which was Naz’s last stop before returning to MeeChi’s.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BELLARUSSO ’ S
Bellarusso’s was owned and operated by Richelle Bella and Frances Russo. Richelle and Frances had a special place in their hearts for Meri and wouldn’t let Naz run his errands there without her. There were always two bundles packed when Naz arrived: one for him and a smaller one for Meri. And they always paid Meri instead of Naz. For all intents and
Naz took off his book bag and placed it under the table.
“By all means, make yourself at home,” said Mr. Tesla.
Naz smiled and looked down at the bundle on the floor next to the door. “Anything breakable?” asked Naz as he walked to the refrigerator.
“No, but still be careful. There are some small electronics.”
Naz looked in the refrigerator and pulled out a red soda pop and a ham and cheese sandwich that was wrapped in clear paper and said, “Fuel.”
“Don’t be bashful; help yourself.”
This had become the daily routine for Naz and Mr. Tesla. There were only slight variations in the meal Mr. Tesla prepared for Naz, and their verbal jabs and/or pleasantries with each other. Naz sat on his usual side of the table where he couldn’t see the picture, unwrapped the ham and cheese sandwich, and began eating.
“Any homework today?” asked Mr. Tesla.
“I suppose.”
“Plan on doing it?”
“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t, depends on if I have time.”
School came easy to Naz. It was boring to him. He hated it and did just enough to get by. He knew if he half-paid attention in class, did well on all his tests, quizzes, and classroom assignments, he would pass all of his classes, and that was good enough for him. To him, homework just wasn’t a priority. Mr. Tesla, along with Dr. Gwen and all of Naz’s teachers would always say Naz wasn’t living up to his potential. Naz wondered, what was his potential? He barely knew who he was, how could he have any idea what or who he wanted to be. So he lived day-to-day, in the moment, as he liked to say. He didn’t put much stock in structure or rules that he viewed were only there to constrain him.
Between running back and forth to school and running for the Market Merchants, Naz used up plenty of energy; therefore, he could eat like a horse. He ate the ham and cheese sandwich in less than two minutes, put the bundle of goods on his back, and headed out of the booth with the soda pop in hand.
“See you in about two hours, Mr. Tesla.”
“Be careful, no more knife fights.”
Naz gave Mr. Tesla a thumbs-up.
Before Naz left the store, he put some sunflower seeds in Tone’s cup and bid the bird farewell. He waited for Tone’s reply, but again the bird was silent. Naz chuckled.
Naz took different routes to the various merchants and never the same route twice in a row if he could at all help it. That way, the gang leaders and drug dealers who tried to recruit kids his age to gang bang and sell drugs, and anyone else who was interested in his dealings couldn’t get a bead on him.
Naz’s first stop was a half mile east into Section 29 where he would drop off and pick up at Piccolo’s for Ibrahim Moussa, the tall, dark-eyed, stringy-haired proprietor who had first helped set up Naz’s unique arrangement with the Market Merchants, now known as the Market Quadrumvirate. From there it was two miles north into Section 30 to Mercado’s, owned by the eccentric Mercel Cardonias, the most successful of the merchants in the Quadrumvirate. Next Naz would take a break and pick up Meri from Higginbotham, which was about a mile-and-a-half southwest of Mercado’s and a mile southeast of Bellarusso’s, which was Naz’s last stop before returning to MeeChi’s.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BELLARUSSO ’ S
Bellarusso’s was owned and operated by Richelle Bella and Frances Russo. Richelle and Frances had a special place in their hearts for Meri and wouldn’t let Naz run his errands there without her. There were always two bundles packed when Naz arrived: one for him and a smaller one for Meri. And they always paid Meri instead of Naz. For all intents and
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