Gateway

    “Give me all your money!” The older kid who picks on people of all ages, Carlos “Cruz”, towers over me with his hand outstretched and face stoic. I've seen this kid beat up high school teens without so much as batting an eye. How am I, a wimpy looking boy with glasses, going to hold my own against a seventh-grader? I stick my hand into my pocket and pull out today's lunch money; a grand total of five dollars and twenty-five cents. My whole arm is quivering like a leaf, and the money clatters onto the sidewalk. Cruz stares at me expectantly, so I rush to...