Gomez Boys: The Bicycle: Gomez Boys: The Bicycle, #1

By J.E. Santa Maria

Gomez Boys: The Bicycle is a quick read and novelette that is loosely based on a true story.

 

The reader experiences a vivid memory of Ed as he narrates a predicament that his brothers got him into. Taking place in a rough barrio of 1950s East Los Angeles, reminisce with Ed as he recalls all the craziness one fateful day held. You see, 6-year-od Ed has never before been in a real fight, robbed, solved a crisis, or royally humiliated all of which just so happens to happen all in the same morning. Stuck between a rock and a mountain, Ed must rely on his slightly older brothers to work together to help him get back his precious brand-new bicycle before the street lights come on or else face the potential wrath of his Papa. But, the Gomez Boys find themselves in over their heads as tempers flare, hilariously bad luck, and sibling rivalry seems to constantly detour the Gomez Boys from completing their mission. Can the overthinking Ed, cool-headed Oscar, and the wildly whimsical Jojo work together long enough to successfully confront 12-year-old Ricardo "The World's Scariest Bully" and get the bicycle back?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.E. Santa Maria
• Release date: May 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201861049

Book preview

Gomez Boys: The Bicycle

Gomez BoysThe Bicycle, Volume 1

By J.E. Santa Maria

Published by J.E. Santa Maria, 2022.

GOMEZ BOYS: THE BICYCLE First edition. May 2, 2022. Copyright © 2022 J.E. Santa Maria.

Written by J.E. Santa Maria

I dedicate this story to my wife and daughter—eat fish; I dedicate this story to Grandpa and Grandma—don't get lost on Happy Jack Road. You gave me inspiration for the story and to always keep writing. I love you guys.

Chapter 1 Oscar

Iremember. I closed my eyes and started to walk again. I could feel the sweat—again. It was accumulating in glassy beads of salty liquid on my upper lip. All at once, I could feel sweat droplets appearing out of nowhere tickling my face. But, not the good kind of tickling. They were much like annoying gnats that orbit you and love tickling your face and neck the moment you let your guard down. I began rubbing my lips from left to right, twice. Of course, because rubbing them any other number of times made me feel strange. Kind of like if I moved my left foot, then I’d have to move my right one, too. More tickling this time on the side of my head. I then rubbed my temples up and down, only twice. A sharp pain sent electrical impulses of fuchsia and maroon through my mind’s eye and made me wince. I could have blamed my excessive sweatiness on the summer Sun. Then again, I could blame the sweat on nerves just as well. My insides felt like an ice-cold soda bottle, at the bottom of the ice chest, one that would make your hand painfully numb if you could not reach in and pull it out quick enough. Yet, at the same time, my skin felt as if tiny fire ants were crawling and stinging me all over. Mama would say, Mijito, just think of something happy. I tried to think of something happy, but every thought brought me to think about my stolen treasure and that made me more upset. If I only had my bike. I could be moving fast and feel the wind whizzing past my ears. That artificial breeze could cool me down. Then, just like gnats and ants, all of the thoughts came swarming around in my mind: you’re weak, pathetic, stupid, poor, too small, and a scaredy-cat.

Overcome with emotion, as any six-year-old would do, I started to sob. His evil face flashed before my mind’s eye and I opened my eyes to get rid of the image. I wiped tears away with my palms and studied the swirls on my fingertips, not paying attention to where I was going—blindly moving forward. The universe was against me, and the planets of doom lined up, it was like walking under a ladder, seeing a black cat at midnight all on Friday the 13th. The first time the guys trusted me to go off all by myself, I had to run into the world’s scariest bully. To my utter misfortune, I found out the hard way that all those rumors about him were true. He would roam the barrio seeking whom he could eat up and spit out—just for a little street credit. He was worth his weight in cruelty, and if cruelness was worth as much as gold then he would be a bazillionaire. He made me scared and angry at the same time; a sensation that was utterly new to me. Maybe I... no... we can win my bike back. Out of nowhere, all these thoughts about how I could have handled the situation kept firing off in my mind like a machine gun I’d see on our black and white T.V. And, just like the magnifying glass Papa put over it so we could see things better, I saw all of my mistakes: what I could have done to win, what I should have done to win. I thought of fantasies about growing superhuman strength and popping Ricardo like a potato bug under my shoe. But, reality set in, again. I had got into my first real fight, and I failed so miserably.

There was no way to avoid it. It was going to happen.