All American Boy by William J. Mann Page B

don’t,” Regina says, holding the girl back.
    Her father just keeps walking.
    â€œPapa wants to drink,” Jorge says, watching him entranced.
    Luz pulls out of Regina’s arms and slaps her brother across the face. “Don’t say that,” she scolds.
    The boy doesn’t cry. He just keeps staring after his father.
    â€œCome stay with me tonight, Luz,” Regina offers.
    â€œI can’t. I have to watch Jorge.”
    â€œBring the boy. It will be delightful to have you both.”
    Luz looks at her. “My father will be angry.”
    â€œYes,” Regina says, looking after the man. He turns a corner and disappears. “I imagine he will.”
    â€œBut we’ll come,” the girl says, suddenly defiant. “What do you think, Jorge? Should we go spend the night with Mrs. Day?”
    The boy nods.
    Regina beams.
    How pretty Luz is. Pretty like Rocky.
    Strong like Rocky, too.
    â€œWe don’t have to stay here,” Rocky had told her, one night in the dark. Papa was in the other room, blaring his radio, smashing bottles against the wall. “We can get out of here anytime we want,” Rocky said.
    â€œBut how?” Regina couldn’t imagine leaving.
    â€œWe can run away , Regina. You’ve seen it in the movies. We can climb out our window at night and run away.”
    â€œBut where would we go?”
    Rocky was looking at her swollen lip in the mirror. It was all purple and black, like a fat nightcrawler. “He’d never find us,” she said, her eyes in the mirror. “We’d go to the city. No one would ever find us there.”
    Luz packs a small bag for herself and Jorge. Regina watches her, jubilant. They climb into Kyle’s Trans Am, Jorge sitting on Regina’s lap in the passenger seat.
    â€œIs he too heavy for you?” Luz asks.
    â€œOh, no, not at all. He’s just right.”
    Luz smiles as she starts the engine. “I’ve never seen him take to anyone the way he’s taken to you. Usually he is afraid. Shy.”
    Regina lets the child kiss her powdered cheek.
    Luz backs the car out of the driveway. A heavy blue darkness settles over Dogtown. The wind howls.
    This is the bad part of town . That’s what Regina had always heard all of her life. Mormor said the dirty Eye-talians threw garbage in the street down here. Uncle Axel said whores did their business in the old factory tenements. Robert said pinko commie hippies burned the flag in public.
    And this is where Walter came —
    â€œWalter.”
    She sees him. There, ahead of them in the street.
    A boy on a bicycle, pedaling as fast as his little legs can take him. Walter. Little Walter. And he’s crying.
    She turns. But he’s not so little anymore. He’s a man now, looking so much like Robert, standing there in Howard Greer’s driveway, opening the passenger’s door on his car to let a boy with orange hair slide inside.
    Regina leans down to whisper into Jorge’s ear. “Do you see that young man there? The one in the driveway of that house?”
    Jorge follows the direction of her finger but says nothing.
    â€œThat’s my son,” Regina tells him.
    â€œReally, Mrs. Day?” Luz asks, overhearing. “Is that really your son?”
    â€œYes. That’s Walter.”
    â€œWhat is your son doing in Brown’s Mill? I thought he had moved to the city.”
    â€œHe’s come back.”
    Luz makes a little laugh. “And he lives here in this neighborhood?”
    â€œThere’s nothing shameful about Dogtown, Luz,” Regina insists. “I used to think there was, but I was wrong.”
    They pass onto Main Street, leaving the swamps behind.
    â€œBut I was wrong,” Regina repeats.

7
    ALL AMERICAN BOY
    It’s the summer of tall ships, fifes and drums, and flags flapping from every house—and Wally Day has just been named this year’s All American Boy.
    â€œCan you turn