Search and Destroy - Rilegato

Hughes, Dean

Rilegato

ISBN 10: 068987023X ISBN 13: 9780689870231

Casa editrice: Atheneum, 2005

Riassunto

Hearing stories about the front lines of Vietnam, Rick Ward is eager to see the drama for himself and so joins the Charlie Rangers to make sure he finds himself in the midst of all the action, but his plans for pushing himself to the limit become reality soon enough when he finds himself in the heart of the deadly fight and sees just how ugly war truly is.

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L'autore:

Dean Hughes is the author of more than eighty books for young readers, including the popular sports series Angel Park All-Stars, the Scrappers series, the Nutty series, the widely acclaimed companion novels Family Pose and Team Picture, and Search and Destroy. Soldier Boys was selected for the 2001 New York Public Library Books for the Teen Age list. Dean Hughes and his wife, Kathleen, have three children and six grandchildren. They live in Midway, Utah.

Estratto. © Riproduzione autorizzata. Diritti riservati.:

Chapter One

Rick wanted to win. He watched as the volleyball floated over the net and dropped toward the sand. A teammate in the middle got low and dug the ball, and then Renny set it, very high. Rick loped forward, leaped, then spiked the ball hard with his palm. But he'd mistimed his jump and didn't get over the top of the ball. It shot toward a player on the backline, but the guy jumped aside and let it go. The ball hit beyond the line and all the players on that side of the net cheered.

"That's all right!" he shouted. "You got us that time, but it won't happen again."

"Rick!" Judy was walking toward him. "I told you, I have to go," she said.

"Can't you just wait for one more game?"

"No! That's what you said after the last one."

Rick turned to Renny. "Sorry, man. Gotta run."

"Don't worry about it." Renny grinned. "We're better off without you."

"Hey, what are you talking about? I'm your star." Rick gave Renny a fake slam across the chest with his forearm. Renny, who was about four inches shorter than Rick and not as strongly built, acted as though he'd taken a real blow. He stumbled backward, letting his arms fly out, like some sort of clown.

"Okay, maybe you don't care if I leave, but what about all these girls longing to gaze at my bronzed physique?" Rick struck a muscleman pose, and Jill Rush laughed appreciatively, then pretended to pant, like a dog.

"Or maybe it's your empty head they like the most," Judy said.

The words had a little too much edge. Rick started to say something, but Judy was already walking away. "Please, Rick. Come on." She didn't even look back.

"Okay, okay." Rick ran across the beach to the spot where he'd left his bag and pulled on his shorts. His boat shoes were full of sand, but he worked his feet into them anyway and ran to catch up with Judy. She'd told him from the beginning that she couldn't stay at the party long. But lately it seemed she was making far too many cracks like the one about his empty head. Actually, Rick thought he was smarter than Judy. True, she got better grades than he did, but she studied night and day. He'd never killed himself on his schoolwork. Still, he read a lot more than she did. Of course, Rick had to admit, she was going places and he wasn't. The two had graduated a couple of weeks before from Millikan High in Long Beach, California, class of 1969. In the fall Judy would be heading to Cal, Berkeley, which was more than Rick could say he was doing. Rick wanted to get away from home too, but he hadn't yet figured out how he was going to do it.

Judy got into the car before Rick could open the door for her, so Rick walked around to the driver's side and tossed his bag on the backseat. He'd worked hard the summer before to buy a '57 Chevy, a two-tone job in turquoise and white. It was his dream car, but it was also falling apart, and he didn't have the money to do much about it. He was working again this summer, making three bucks an hour carrying hod for a bricklayer. At that rate he would bring in a lot of money, but he knew he couldn't put it all into his car if he wanted to go to college in the fall.

"Hey, what's with you lately?" he asked. He felt around in his pockets and realized his keys were in the bag in the backseat.

"What's with you lately? I can't believe how serious you are about volleyball."

"Hey, if I'm going to play, I might as well play to win."

She let her eyes roll and then looked away.

"Come on, Judy. What's the matter? You treated people like garbage today. Are you in a bad mood again or -- "

"I'm tired, Rick. We're out of high school and none of your friends act like it."

She was so serious. Judy had an easy smile and soft lips, perfect teeth, but lately she'd stopped wearing makeup, even lipstick, and she hardly seemed to smile anymore. She had started looking like a hippie, with her bell-bottom jeans and her peace beads. The thing was, Judy could look beautiful when she wanted to. So why didn't she want to?

Rick started his car and the radio blasted out Marvin Gaye singing, "I Heard It Through the Grapevine." It was a song he loved, but he turned the radio down. Judy had started listening to nothing but folk music and protest songs. That was all she seemed to care about anymore.

"Listen, Judy. My friends may like to have a good time, but they're not stupid. They're planning to go to college -- most of them, anyway."

"Junior college, if they get that far."

"Oh, okay. And you got into Berkeley, so all of a sudden you're too high and mighty to hang out with them."

"Shut up, okay?"

"Why should I? You know it's true. You think you're better than everyone else."

"No, I don't. What I'm doing -- or at least trying to do -- is grow up. But you -- it looks like your only goal is

to be as tan as possible and win stupid volleyball games."

Rick didn't know how to respond to that. Didn't she know he was kidding around? When had she lost her sense of humor? He drove for a time before he said, "Look, it's summer. I just want to have fun for a few more months. Then I'm going to...you know...get going on my goals."

"What goals? You didn't even apply to college. You say you want to be a writer, but you don't write anything."

Rick felt stung. "I do write."

"Yeah, in your notebook. Show me one thing you've finished. Even a short story."

"I've finished stories before."

"Only in your creative writing class -- because you had to get something in for a grade. You've never written anything if you didn't have to." She had begun to turn the knob on the radio, probably looking for some of that stupid music of hers. If he'd done that in her car -- her dad's car, actually -- she'd have told him to stop it. Why did he put up with her, anyway? Maybe it was time to break up once and for all. They'd done it several times before, but they'd always ended up back together. The thing was, he could talk to her more easily than anyone he'd ever known. There had been a time when the two of them had talked whole nights away, just trying to figure out the world. But she'd changed.

"I write more than you know about," Rick said, weakly.

"Do you? Do you really?" When he didn't answer, she said, "I don't know who you are anymore, Rick. You've got about ten different people inside you and I only like one of them. I don't know why I end up with the other nine most of the time."

"What are you talking about?"

"When you're around Renny, it's like you never left junior high. He's about as deep as an oil slick."

"He likes to have fun, Judy. Fun, remember? It's something you had a slight feel for at one time -- before you decided you knew everything."

"See, that's the other thing. You and I both know what's wrong with the world, but you pull back. And then you accuse me of being too serious. You'll talk about problems, but you won't do anything about them."

It wasn't the first time he'd heard her say that. But the truth was, even though he agreed with a lot of things Judy said, he was never as sure as she was. It wasn't his job to fix the world. People who knew a lot more than either he or Judy did weren't having much luck at doing it. And what made her think she knew all the answers? "So let's see," he said, after a time. "Which me is the one you like?"

"I'm forgetting. Very fast."

"Come on, Judy. Tell me."

She sighed. "Oh, Rick. You know very well -- or you ought to. Remember the Joan Baez concert? Remember afterward? You almost cried, talking about the way so many kids in this world have to suffer."

He did remember that night, and he did know that side of himself. He couldn't look at posters of starving children in Africa without feeling overwhelmed with grief. But what did she expect him to do about it?

"I love the part of you that wants to write," Judy said, this time with some softness in her voice. "You've written some beautiful things. But you never finish. You don't have any discipline."

"That's not true! I don't finish because I don't really know anything. I haven't seen anything. I haven't experienced anything real."

"So that's why you spend your life at the beach with Renny and the old high school crowd?"

"Lay off, Judy. I'm about finished with that. What I'm thinking is that I'll take off and wander for a while. You know, just work my way around the country. Talk to people. Maybe even find a way to get to Europe or somewhere like that." If he could convince her, maybe he could convince himself.

Judy laughed. "Rick, I'm sorry, but you're becoming more of a joke all the time. You won't do anything like that. You know how much you want rolled-and-pleated upholstery for this stupid car. You'll work all summer and then spend it on stuff like that. Then you'll take a few classes at a local college and drop out after a term or two. You're going to end up like your dad, working at some job you hate just to put food on the table."

Her words hurt a whole lot more than he wanted her to know. "Oh, yeah, and I guess you'll go up to Berkeley and spend all your time being the queen of the protest movement." He had wanted to sound superior, but the words only sounded snide.

"I will be involved in the movement. You know that. But I'm going to study, too. I'm going to law school eventually, and I'm going to fight some of the stupidity going on in this country."

She'd finally settled on a radio station that was playing a Bob Dylan song, "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall." Rick had heard it over and over and it made no sense to him. Of course Judy knew exactly what the song meant. It was all part of this phony thing she was doing now -- trying to be angry and profound.

"Come on, Judy," he said. "Everything is stupid to you these days."

"No, not everything. But look. My dad has enough money to do some good in the world, but he's always buying himself a bigger boat or a fancier car. People are starving to death and my parents don't think a thing about spending twenty dol...

Su questa edizione

• Editore: Atheneum
• Data di pubblicazione: 2005
• ISBN 10: 068987023X
• ISBN 13: 9780689870231
• Rilegatura: Copertina rigida
• Numero di pagine: 160