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Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Elaine E. Deyo
Type: Fiction
Pages: 116
Copyright: Jan 1, 2008
You might wonder what a bunch of kids like us was doing hanging out with the FBI. It was by intimidation. It was illegal as hell. Criminal! We were kids! Not that we cared. It was powerful and intoxicating. It was the most exciting summer of my life, that first time. Though the proof can be found in Bureau records, not you, nor anyone else, will ever be able to see it. Now I do Our Nation’s Citizen Protection Business from here, like Roger T. Davenport did back then. But I don't use kids to do my job.
Mystery and Adventure featuring a baseball team of poor, fatherless kids, that somehow manages to become involved with spying on a group of Mafia characters for the FBI.
Read what happens when this little band of scruffy, free to come and go as they please kids, get too deep into the business of both the FBI and the Mafia.
Excerpt
Our team has nine players, as I said before. There’s Nickki Andersen, she’s eleven, Edward Foster, thirteen, Bobby Cappelli, twelve, Nelson Jones, nine, Larry Oliver, twelve, Alexander Reese, twelve, Adam Wilmot, eleven, and Patrick Kenner, thirteen. I’m Samuel B. Jenkins and I’m twelve.
We’re underprivileged. At least, that’s what we’re called . . . sometimes to our faces. It's because we don’t have any money and aren’t likely to get any soon . . . or ever. We’re the lucky ones because we have what the other kids would love to have; we have the most important thing in this life. We have our freedom.
Most of us have a mom, a decent bike, a few pairs of jeans, a place to sleep, and enough food to eat, and nobody has time to check up on us. That’s a lot of freedom. We come and go whenever we want. Who wouldn’t want to live like us?
We know every nook and cranny along I-435, west of Kansas City International Airport, east of the airport along I-29, and within the airport itself. It’s our territory. We stay around the airport, mostly. It’s me and Nickki, Edward, Bobby and Nelson. We're together every day of the year, including holidays.
The Marvels have each other. All nine of us. We share everything. We share clothes we’ve outgrown, eat at each other’s houses; sleep there too, when it’s bad at home. Nobody owes nobody. It evens out over time. Lots of whole families don’t have that. I’d say we’re more grown-up than most of them that brought us into this world. More loyal too. We wouldn’t run off and leave each other, like our dads done us.
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