mixed it around. Then he put it in the microwave and cut up an orange.
“Good to go,” he said to the cat.
He was still eating when Manny arrived.
“Want to watch TV?” Donald asked.
“Nah. I was thinking we should play Monopoly. We haven’t done that in at least a year.”
So Donald climbed the stairs to his room and got the game. He also unplugged his radio and brought that down.
“What the heck is this?” Manny asked as a gruff, heavy voice on the radio started singing about a ring of fire.
“Sounds like Johnny Cash.”
Manny winced. “What are we, sixty years old? Put on a good station.”
“This is good. I listen to this station every night.”
“You got weird tastes, man.” Manny rolled the dice and moved his little metal boot to Vermont Avenue. “I’ll buy that,” he said.
Donald also rolled an eight and sighed. First move of the game and he already owed Manny six dollars. “Great start,” he said.
“This might be a rout.”
“No way,” Donald said. “Monopoly is a marathon, not a sprint.”
“What do you know about marathons?”
“I know I wouldn’t want to run one.”
Donald shoveled the last forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and got up to put the plate in the dishwasher.
“What do we have to drink?” Manny asked.
“Apple juice.” Donald opened the refrigerator and looked in. “Chocolate milk.”
“Could I have some juice?”
“Sure. Oh, and there’s half a pot of cold, stale coffee from this morning if you want that.”
“No thanks. You go ahead.”
Donald rolled his eyes and shook his head. “My dad will microwave it when he gets home from work. Strong black coffee. He lives on the stuff.”
“Doesn’t it keep him awake?”’
“Not for a second. We don’t have any trouble sleeping in this family. Good sleep genes or something.”
“No stress?”
“We don’t let it get to us. Not usually. Only if one of us has a bad wrestling match.”
Manny laughed. “How’d it go today?”
“I beat Mario and lost to Jesse. We got Palisades tomorrow. You going to be there?”
“Yeah. I can run after. You can join me if you need to run out your frustrations again.”
“I’m not counting on any frustrations tomorrow. I think I’m ready to win one.” Donald rolled the dice and landed on Indiana, which Manny had just purchased.
“You’re not winning this one,” Manny said with glee. “That’ll be eighteen bucks.”
Donald tossed the bills across the board. “Just wait until I buy Boardwalk and Park Place. You’ll be sorry.”
“I’m scared, buddy.” Manny looked over at the radio, which was playing “Mess Around” by Ray Charles. “You gotta be kidding me with this music,” he said.
“It grows on you.”
Donald rolled a six and moved his metal wheel-barrow forward. “Finally!” he said, landing on Marvin Gardens. “I’ll buy that one.” He rubbed his palms together. “I’d say I’m back in business.”
It was nearly nine thirty when Donald’s mom got home from work.
“No sign of Dad yet,” Donald said as he hugged her in the hallway.
“He’s working until midnight so he can leave early tomorrow to see your wrestling thing.”
“Great.”
“How was the dinner?”
“Not bad. I souped it up a little. I like to improvise, you know.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Manny came over.”
“That’s good.”
“I kicked his butt in Monopoly.”
Mrs. Jenkins shook her head with a wry smile. “You boys are so competitive.”
“I know. We can’t help it.”
He sat with his mom while she ate her dinner, then he went upstairs to shower and go to bed. Tomorrow was huge, and he wanted to be rested.
But it took him nearly two hours to fall asleep. And even then he kept dreaming that he was in a half nelson, his shoulders being forced toward the mat. The mat was a giant Monopoly board. Everyone in the bleachers was calling him a loser.
He woke up in a sweat and looked out the window.
The match was still fifteen
“Good to go,” he said to the cat.
He was still eating when Manny arrived.
“Want to watch TV?” Donald asked.
“Nah. I was thinking we should play Monopoly. We haven’t done that in at least a year.”
So Donald climbed the stairs to his room and got the game. He also unplugged his radio and brought that down.
“What the heck is this?” Manny asked as a gruff, heavy voice on the radio started singing about a ring of fire.
“Sounds like Johnny Cash.”
Manny winced. “What are we, sixty years old? Put on a good station.”
“This is good. I listen to this station every night.”
“You got weird tastes, man.” Manny rolled the dice and moved his little metal boot to Vermont Avenue. “I’ll buy that,” he said.
Donald also rolled an eight and sighed. First move of the game and he already owed Manny six dollars. “Great start,” he said.
“This might be a rout.”
“No way,” Donald said. “Monopoly is a marathon, not a sprint.”
“What do you know about marathons?”
“I know I wouldn’t want to run one.”
Donald shoveled the last forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and got up to put the plate in the dishwasher.
“What do we have to drink?” Manny asked.
“Apple juice.” Donald opened the refrigerator and looked in. “Chocolate milk.”
“Could I have some juice?”
“Sure. Oh, and there’s half a pot of cold, stale coffee from this morning if you want that.”
“No thanks. You go ahead.”
Donald rolled his eyes and shook his head. “My dad will microwave it when he gets home from work. Strong black coffee. He lives on the stuff.”
“Doesn’t it keep him awake?”’
“Not for a second. We don’t have any trouble sleeping in this family. Good sleep genes or something.”
“No stress?”
“We don’t let it get to us. Not usually. Only if one of us has a bad wrestling match.”
Manny laughed. “How’d it go today?”
“I beat Mario and lost to Jesse. We got Palisades tomorrow. You going to be there?”
“Yeah. I can run after. You can join me if you need to run out your frustrations again.”
“I’m not counting on any frustrations tomorrow. I think I’m ready to win one.” Donald rolled the dice and landed on Indiana, which Manny had just purchased.
“You’re not winning this one,” Manny said with glee. “That’ll be eighteen bucks.”
Donald tossed the bills across the board. “Just wait until I buy Boardwalk and Park Place. You’ll be sorry.”
“I’m scared, buddy.” Manny looked over at the radio, which was playing “Mess Around” by Ray Charles. “You gotta be kidding me with this music,” he said.
“It grows on you.”
Donald rolled a six and moved his metal wheel-barrow forward. “Finally!” he said, landing on Marvin Gardens. “I’ll buy that one.” He rubbed his palms together. “I’d say I’m back in business.”
It was nearly nine thirty when Donald’s mom got home from work.
“No sign of Dad yet,” Donald said as he hugged her in the hallway.
“He’s working until midnight so he can leave early tomorrow to see your wrestling thing.”
“Great.”
“How was the dinner?”
“Not bad. I souped it up a little. I like to improvise, you know.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Manny came over.”
“That’s good.”
“I kicked his butt in Monopoly.”
Mrs. Jenkins shook her head with a wry smile. “You boys are so competitive.”
“I know. We can’t help it.”
He sat with his mom while she ate her dinner, then he went upstairs to shower and go to bed. Tomorrow was huge, and he wanted to be rested.
But it took him nearly two hours to fall asleep. And even then he kept dreaming that he was in a half nelson, his shoulders being forced toward the mat. The mat was a giant Monopoly board. Everyone in the bleachers was calling him a loser.
He woke up in a sweat and looked out the window.
The match was still fifteen
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