RAYMOND
I don’t know how it happened, but Julio and I became good friends. It probably had to do with the fact that we were both stuck out on the farm, and hour from civilization, slaving under the blazing sun, with no other people our age. He was kind of moody and sulky, but I learned to just shrug it off.
He was still as skinny as a broom-stick. When he skinned off his shirt to dig in the swales with me he looked like he had just escaped from a concentration camp. “Dude,” I said, eyeballing his bumpy spine that looked like it wanted to break through the skin on his back. “Were you starving in Mexico?” Maybe not the most tactful thing I could have said, but he didn’t get offended. He shrugged his boney shoulders and grinned at me.
“Nah, I’ve always been like this.” He pinched
