"Vukcevich-RugRats" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vukcevich Ray)

RAY VUKCEVICH

RUG RATS

The three of us decided to bust out of the state orphanage way back in May to go
looking for our Moms., Jack's our leader, and Nancy's his girl. I'm what you
call the sidekick.

Sometimes we can get a dude down on his luck to say he's our old man so we can
eat in one of those places where they make you pray before they feed you.
Nancy's got the right stuff for that, the way she bows her head and turns her
soft brown eyes up to look at him, please mister, won't be no trouble. We split
before they can ask too many questions because we're never going back to singing
the praises and hooking rugs and listening to crabby old Mr. Sweet bellyache
about how much harder the kids in India work, and don't tell me I won't find my
Morn. Jack messes up my hair and says sure you will kid, didn't she give you the
words?

He means my pocket dictionary. He thinks all the words in the world are in the
book my Morn pushed into my hands the day they took me away, and I don't tell
him any different.

We've been ducking and dodging for months now, and it's snowing and it's so
cold. We make cartoon bubbles when we breathe, but the bubbles don't say
anything. Mostly we huddle in doorways, me in the middle, Jack on the lookout
and Nancy all girl snugly soft hugging in close.

"Here comes one," Jack says and the two of them open like a flower and I get up
robbing my eyes to make them redder, and Nancy whispers, "just be the little
dickens," pinches my cheek, and Jack points me at the woman shopper walking fast
looking neither left nor right, and I go off like a little boy heat seeking
missile come up to her say hey lady you seen Santa Claus?

This is the very moment she'll decide. Jack likes to say it depends on how deep
down motherly she's feeling and whether she's had her charity fix yet today.

No luck this time. She brushes me aside and as she passes she looks back over
her shoulder, looks sad, looks bewildered, drills me with those righteous
eye-beams, suddenly mad as hell and not ready to take it anymore, hisses, "Get a
job."

"But hey!" I yell. "I'm only ten years old!"

I want to use the B word on her. I glance over at Nancy who would be so
disappointed in me if I used the B word, but I really really want to. I'd cry if
I thought it would work, but the woman is already banging on down the street
like I might run up and catch her and make her look at me again. Besides, these
days I don't cry for nothing. I kick at a rock that isn't there. I put my hands