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The father mostly lost his lid and spit out one non-understandable sentence after another, sounding like an out-of-control Uzi. I looked at Tom-Su next to me. Somebody was snoring loud inside. "Then take him to Harlem Shoemaker, Mrs. Harlem Shoemaker was the school for retarded children. Aside from Tom-Su's tagging along, the summer was a typical one for us. When we heard the maintenance man talk about a double hanging, we were amazed, sure; but as we headed down the railroad tracks and passed the boxcar, we were convinced he was still hiding out somewhere along the waterfront. Drop bait on water crossword club.com. Tom-Su had been silent and calm as always.
Luckily, we saw no more bruises. He also had trouble looking at us -- as if he were ashamed of the shiner. Take him to the junior high -- Dana Junior High, okay? I mean, if he could laugh at himself, why couldn't we join him? Me and the fellas wondered on and off just how we could make Tom-Su understand that down the line he wasn't gonna be a daddy, disrespecting his jewels the way he did. Drop of salt water crossword. Plus, the doughnuts and money had been taken. But a couple of clicks later neither bait nor location concerned us any longer. And as the birds on the roof called sad and lonely into the harbor, a single star showed itself in the everywhere spread of night above. The Sanchezes had moved back to Mexico, because their youngest son, Julio, had been hit in the head by a stray bullet. Pops must've gotten hip to his son's fish smell, we thought, or had some crazy scenting ability that ran in the family. During the walks Tom-Su joined up with us without fail somewhere between the projects and the harbor.
Once or twice, though, one of us climbed under the wharf to make sure he wasn't hanging with the twin. We had our fishing to do. But Tom-Su was cool with us, because he carried our buckets wherever we headed along the waterfront, and because he eventually depended on us -- though at the time none of us knew how much. Know what I'm saying?
On the mornings we decided to head to Terminal Island or Twenty-second Street instead of to the Pink Building, we never told Tom-Su and never had to. And always, at each spot, Tom-Su sat himself down alone with his drop line and stared into the water as he rocked back and forth. Then we started to laugh from up high. Then he started to laugh and clap his hands like a seal, and it was so goofy-looking that we joined his lead and got to laughing ourselves. Sometimes we'd bring anchovies for bait. He still hadn't shown. Principal Dickerson sent Louie home on his reputation alone. Drop into water crossword. The sky was dull from a low marine layer clinging fast to the coastline. The next day we rowed to Terminal Island and headed to Berth 300, where we knew Pops would leave us alone. The reflection was his own face in the water, but it was a regular and way less crooked face than the one looking down at it. By our third day at 300, though, the fish had thinned out terribly, and because we had to row back across in the late afternoon, when the port was at its busiest, we needed more time to get to the fish market with our measly catches. His teeth were now a train cowcatcher, his eyes two tar-pit traps, and his drool a waterfall. We saved his doughnuts and headed for the wharf.
We pulled the seagull in like a kite with wild and desperate wings. We continued our walk to the Pink Building. When Tom-Su first moved in, we'd seen him around the projects with his mother. At the last boxcar we jumped to the side and climbed on its roof, laid ourselves on our stomachs, and waited to be found. It had traveled five or six blocks before getting to Julio. ) Or he'd be waiting for us at the boxcar or the netting. We watched as Tom-Su traced his hand over the water face. Suddenly I thought that Tom-Su might go into shock if we threw his father into the water. If we did, he'd just jump out of sight and then peek around a corner, believing he was invisible. We didn't tell him because he somehow knew what direction we'd go in, as if he'd picked up our scent. Then we strolled along the railroad tracks for Deadman's Slip, but after spotting Tom-Su sneaking along behind us, we derailed ourselves toward the boxcars.