Chasing Pacquiao - Hardcover

Pulido, Rod

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0593526732 ISBN 13: 9780593526736

Verlag: Viking Books for Young Readers, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

"Rod Pulido delivers the ultimate one-two punch: bare-knuckled, bruising honesty wrapped in humor, sincerity, and sweetness." — Becky Albertalli, bestselling author of Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

Experience the extreme joys, sorrows, and triumphs of a queer Filipino-American teenager struggling to prove himself in an unforgiving world. A poignant coming-of-age story, perfect for fans of Patron Saints of Nothing and Juliet Takes a Breath.

Self preservation. That's Bobby's motto for surviving his notoriously violent high school unscathed. Being out and queer would put an unavoidable target on his back, especially in a Filipino community that frowns on homosexuality. It's best to keep his head down, get good grades, and stay out of trouble.

But when Bobby is unwillingly outed in a terrible way, he no longer has the luxury of being invisible. A vicious encounter has him scrambling for a new way to survive—by fighting back. Bobby is inspired by champion Filipino boxer Manny Pacquiao to take up boxing and challenge his tormentor. But when Pacquiao publicly declares his stance against queer people, Bobby's faith⁠—in his hero and in himself⁠—is shaken to the core.

A powerful and unflinching debut that will both shatter and uplift hearts with every read.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Rod Pulido grew up in Cerritos, California. As a child, he loved making toy spaceships out of cardboard and devouring ice cream straight from the carton—he still does both. He earned his Bachelor of Arts in film production from California State University, Long Beach, where he founded the first Pilipino Graduation Ceremony in Southern California. His movie The Flip Side became the first feature by a Filipino director to world premiere at the Sundance Film Festival. Rod strives to uplift and entertain with stories that highlight the Fil-Am experience. He enjoys collecting comic books and working out at the gym—stereotypes be damned! Chasing Pacquiao is his debut YA novel. Follow him on Instagram and Twitter @RodAPulido.com

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Round 1

Whenever I text Brandon from school, I almost feel like a superhero. Not that there's anything super heroic about texting my boyfriend, but it puts me in danger of exposing my secret identity.


I also get to flex my poetry powers. My thumbs hover over my phone like two asps about to strike. A flurry of tapping follows. I read the text over, and, with a groan, delete it from existence. For the past few days, this has been my pattern: write, groan, delete, repeat. Bran deserves more-especially today-but I don't have a hell of a lot of options. Or time. A few more tries and the piece is more or less complete:

Like the Bat-Signal at night
I'll come running when you call

You are my one and only

Just like Nick Fury's eyeball


I count the number of syllables, making sure there are twenty-eight total. Four lines, seven syllables each. The structure of the Filipino poetry form tanaga.

"Aw, comic book fanboys in love. Happy anniversary, B!" Rosie, a strikingly pretty Latina and my best bud, plops onto the seat beside me and brushes back her dyed-orange drapes of hair.

"Announce it over the loudspeaker, why don't ya?" I whisper. With a sigh, I tap send, and the text flies out into the ether. At the surrounding lunch tables, the usual goes down: chatting, eating, littering. Thankfully, nobody seems to have noticed Rosie's characteristic outburst.

"Sorry, mi amigo." She lowers her voice to a near-acceptable level. "Hey, I made you something to mark the occasion. Relax. I didn't use your names."

She pulls a black picture frame from her bag and sets it between us on the table. My breath catches. It's a painting of a dark purple heart set against a backdrop of blue and black swirls. Written across the heart in calligraphy are the initials B + B. It's incredibly detailed, gorgeous, thoughtful. Before I can thank Rosie, someone else cuts in.

"Who's B-plus-B?"

Shit. Right off, I know the owner of the shrill voice: Charlotte Wilkes-the nosiest girl in school, possibly all of MacArthur Park. A one-teen TMZ.

She whips her platinum blond hair over her shoulder and takes a seat across from us without being invited. "What, your nerdy ass finally nab a girlfriend, Bobby?"

My stomach clenches, but I'm ready for her question. Been ready for months, practicing my answer out loud ad nauseam in front of the bathroom mirror, in the shower, probably even in my sleep. "I actually do have a girlfriend. She's homeschooled, she's a total geek, and she's cute."

The key to selling a good lie is to cloak it in layers of truth.

Charlotte leans in closer. "Uh-huh. So what's the name of this cute geek of a girlfriend nobody's ever seen or heard of?"

"Brandy."

She squints, game for the challenge. "Where'd you meet?"

"Where else do geeks meet? The comic shop." Also the truth.

"Right. Got a pic of her? Let's see." She grabs for my cell, but I slip it into my pocket. Okay, I wasn't ready for that one. My phone has a few selfies of Brandon and me; no way can I let her see them.

"Um, we don't-she doesn't like taking pics." My eyes dip slightly. "She's kind of shy."

Charlotte smirks. "Sure she is."

"Hey, chica," Rosie says, "back off with the interrogation."

"Yeah," I say, "don't you have a Gossipers Anonymous meeting to get to?"

"Whatever." Charlotte's distracted by a gathering at the center of the quad, and she dashes toward the commotion.

Air shoots from my mouth. Close one. The knot in my stomach starts to loosen, but it quickly tightens again. In the middle of the crowd, a giant student repeatedly pummels a smaller boy with spiky blond hair. Freshman, from the looks of it.

"Fuck that little faggot up!" somebody yells.

I wince at the slur, even though hearing it at school has become a regular occurrence. There are some words I never want to get used to.

Onlookers cheer, while others barely take notice, numb to the routine. He floors the boy with a punch to his jaw, making him spit blood. Possibly a tooth. Before any teachers arrive, the bell clangs off-key, and the larger boy disappears through the stream of bodies.

Rosie sighs. "Another peaceful day at Westlake High."

As a few students help the battered boy to his feet, blood spills from his lips-a graphic reminder of why my secret identity can never get out.

I rise and shove the frame Rosie made into my backpack. The gift really is amazing; Rosie's so thoughtful. Just wish she'd been thoughtful enough to give it to me anywhere but school.

***
  
At the end of the day, I hop on my bike-a cherry-red seven-speed-and tear off campus like I stole something. Back in 2008, when I was only nine years old, Dad gave me this bike right before he died. HeÕd used it every day to get to his job at the laundromat. Without this bike, our family would not have eaten. As he lay withering away in bed, the cancer shredding his stomach, he said he wished he could have given me more. That memory slips into my thoughts every time I go for a ride.


I pedal over cracked concrete, past brick walls decorated with various gang tags, then hang a right onto the obstacle course of chaos known as Alvarado Street. A red SUV swerves and nearly clips me. The driver blasts his horn-'cause it's my fault he texts and drives. They say driving in L.A. will make even the most chill person freak out. I wouldn't know, but somehow I doubt it's as terrifying as biking through it. I wouldn't risk the trip without a good reason.

Brandon Elpusan is better than a good reason.

The shadows of the 101 Freeway swallow me as I ride under the overpass, through the shanty tent town. My body slumps at the sight of so many families who are even poorer than Mom and me living on the street. A few blocks later, I cut into the hilly residentials of Silver Lake, where the streets are cleaner, the homes larger, the graffiti nonexistent. Silver Lake sits barely three miles from MacArthur Park, but it's a whole other world. A richer, whiter one. More than just the 101 divides the two neighborhoods.

Five minutes later, I coast up to the Villain's Lair, my favorite comic book shop in L.A. Six months ago to the day, I met Brandon here. He'd just started working as a cashier after school, and we hit it off right away. We talked for nearly an hour that first day and had a highly informative discussion regarding the age-old question: Why don't the Hulk's pants rip when he transforms? We decided on gamma-irradiated stretchy pants.

I chain up my bike and open the glass door. Posters of iconic heroes dominate the walls-Wonder Woman, Teen Titans, the Avengers-along with lesser-known characters like Deena Pilgrim and Savage Dragon. I breathe in the familiar scent of lemon air freshener and new comic books, and the stress of the school day fades away.

Bran leans over the cashier counter, sporting a Dawn of the Dead tee, the sleeves tight against his lean arms. Like me, he's Filipino, but his brown complexion is a shade lighter-probably because he spends so much time indoors at the Lair. The boy could use more sun, but other than that, he's perfect.

He brushes back his dark bangs and greets me with a dimpled smile that makes my palms sweat. "Welcome to the Villain's Lair. May I help you?"

I grin back. "Hope so. I'm looking for a dope gift for that special geek in my life."

He furrows his brow in that cute way he does. "Right. Well, we just got in some super-cool hardcover editions: All-Star Superman, Powers: Who Killed Retro Girl?, Civil War."

"Hmm, hardcovers?" I chuckle. "He's not that special."

"Really now? Okay, you know what makes the best gift? Poetry. Writing your own, I...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Viking Books for Young Readers
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2023
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593526732
• ISBN 13: 9780593526736
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 272
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Zeitfracht Medien GmbH; info-medien@zeitfracht.de; ; Ferdinand-Jühlke-Straße 7; Erfurt; 99095; Deutschland