Chapter 2

Charly the American

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TOCAYO
Part 1
Prologue
Playa Norte
Charly the American
A Catholic Education
Cold Showers
A Peruvian Name...
Tossing Armando...
Bob Cousey's Shorts
Inside Immaculada
Warming the Bench...
A Little Socrates...
Running From Lola
Ping Pong Politics
A Perfect Basketball Day
A Man Needs His Friends
A Pig In a Hole
Condors Over Ticlio
Wrestling in the Plaza
Handcuffs and Curfews
Rochabus
A Hero Hiding
Hitting A Brick Wall
Part 2

Still smiling, I sidestepped down the aisle, intentionally banging my metal lunch pail and my old leather book bag against every single desk or shoulder that I passed. Halfway down the aisle, I spotted Charly. He was sitting in the last desk of the aisle beside the window, his desk tipped on its back legs, his head lodged into the corner, looking past the green grass and the grey day at the 8-foot brick wall, wondering how far he would get before they came after him.

Interrupted by the noise I was making, the gringo turned to look at me. In typical gringo fashion, he made a point of turning his head slowly and looking me up and down as if he were not very interested in what he was looking at. He inhaled peruvian air like the rest of us, but he exhaled gringo contempt.

Ah, but even then I was not someone who accepted anyone's contempt, even a gringo's. I was as tall as he was, but with glistening olive skin and thick black hair recently cut very, very short. I was skinny, yes, but my bones were strong and I knew that to Charly the American, to this contemptuous gringo, because of the expression on my face, the way I carried myself, and the way I stared back at him, I looked like trouble. He let the front legs of his desk descend slowly to the floor.

Without taking my eyes off him, I headed straight for the last desk in the aisle beside his. I claimed the seat between him and Buque, a student as tall as me, but much larger. So much larger, in fact, that he had earned the nickname of a large ocean going vessel, a buque. I turned to face the room like a monarch turns to face his subjects. "Ahhh," I announced to the room at large, my arms spread wide, "this will be the center of my discontent for the next nine months." Then I tumbled into my seat with a clatter.

"Buque!" I shouted immediately, turning toward him while sliding my bookbag and lunch pail behind the seat. "Buque, the Great Ship of the Peruvian Ocean! So we're going to be classmates this year."

"Santa Maria will never be the same," Buque said, and smiled gently.

I smiled back, then rolled my head toward the American, sitting so sullen beside me. "And who is this other great ship? I feel like a great pier, sitting between two great ships of the ocean!" I hoped I had made the gringo jump when I shouted to Buque, but when I looked at him I could not tell. He looked like he had not taken his eyes off me since the moment I had walked into the room.

"He's new," Javier said, "a gringo."

"Ahhh, poor devil" I said without taking my eyes off Charly. Then, because I am peruvian and because I thought it would irritate him, I introduced myself in English. "Hello, Mr. American Student, I am Carlos!"