Bama Boy Read Online Free

men go mad for, and nobody’s ever seen her wear the same thing twice. Big deal!”
    “Yeah. Big deal!”
    “And I’ll tell you something else,” I said, leaning forward over the table and pointing with my fork for emphasis. “She’s wrong about Jimbo. He may be poor and white, but he’s not trash. So when you meet him, don’t let her influence you.”
    “Oh, don’t worry! All it takes to make me like him is to find out that Tiffany doesn’t. I think I love him already.”
    “Who, me?” asked Maggie’s boyfriend Brian, sitting down in the chair Tiffany had just vacated.
    “We were talking about Jimbo Maxwell and Tiffany Tyler,” Maggie explained.
    Brian’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Jimbo and Tiffany ?” he echoed incredulously, jumping to the wrong conclusion. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
    “Oh Brian, don’t make me laugh!” Maggie said haughtily, thrusting her freckled nose into the air. “He’s poor white trash, you know—far beneath her! She told us so herself.”
    “She’ll think ‘poor white trash’ after Friday night’s game,” Brian predicted. “I’ll admit, the whole team nearly cracked up the first time we heard him call signals in that drawl of his—I’ve never heard anybody make ‘twelve’ a two-syllable word before! But then we saw him play, and nobody’s laughing anymore. I think there may be more to old Jimbo than meets the eye.”
    “I hope you’re right, Brian,” I said with a sigh. “You don’t know how much I hope you’re right!”
     
Chapter Five
     
    Jimbo came to my house for his first tutoring session the following Tuesday night. When we had agreed on six o’clock Tuesday and Thursday nights, I hadn’t realized I was making a serious error in scheduling. Richie’s pee-wee football team played its games at five o’clock on Tuesday evening, and Mom and Dad never missed a game. That meant I would be alone in the house with Jimbo for most of the hour. After my experience with Russ, I was a little nervous at the prospect.
    Jimbo arrived at my house promptly at six, and I invited him in and led him to the living room, where we spread our books on the coffee table. We spent a few minutes making general remarks about school and the people he had met there, and soon I began to feel less jumpy.
    “That guy in our physics class,” Jimbo said. “What was his name?”
    “Anthony. Anthony Pierce.”
    “Oh, yeah. Is he your boyfriend?”
    I discovered I didn’t want to talk about Anthony. “Well, yes and no,” I answered evasively. “Speaking of names, is Jimbo your real name, or is it a nickname?”
    “It’s a nickname. My real name is James Robert Maxwell, Junior.” He glanced around the room. “Say, it’s awful quiet in here. Where’s Richie?”
    “He’s got a football game tonight. Mom and Dad have gone to watch him play.”
    “So it’s just you and me, huh?”
    Jimbo’s words might have been innocent enough, but they brought back all my earlier fears. Suddenly the house seemed very still and quiet, and I was very much aware that I was alone with a boy I knew little or nothing about.
    “Yes, it is,” I said warily, edging away from him slightly. “Just you and me.”
    “You don’t have to worry about me,” Jimbo said, smiling at me in understanding. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”
    It was a little embarrassing to have my mind read so easily, but I couldn’t help but be relieved. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that you—it’s just that the last guy I tutored seemed to be a little confused about what subject we were studying.”
    “No kidd’n’?” asked Jimbo with undisguised curiosity. “Who was he? Anybody I know?”
    “I don’t kiss and tell,” I said, my cheeks burning. “In fact, I don’t kiss at all!”
    “ Never ? What a waste!”
    “Well, not under those circumstances, anyway. And I’d rather kiss a slug than kiss R—him.”
    “Try not to be too hard on him, Tracy. Just listen to