Below is an excerpt from the new book Star Nine, by South Florida author Giancarlo Diago Cevallos, follow the author @giancarlodiago at Instagram.
Prolog
Ai rite tis to fulfil a promis. Ai asked fo a bit o help wid de forin languages. De rest is mine. Dank you, de few who love an beleve in me.
Hello world! Ai am Nine, dont foget! Ai was born in america to fogoten parents, in a fogoten city. Unsure bout ma race o birth, but Ai am about fifty. Skins brown, blak hair, Ahm fit and strong, but the blotches stil sow.
Ai wear mah old fasin. Loose, bagy, torn clothes kniked from donasins. Mah sifty eyes, ample scaring, makes strangers avoid me. Folks sidle away on the street. Ahm used to it. I stil hold my poket knife to slas trouble.
Readers, judge if yoo want!
But… read and decide fo yorself. Dat aynt asking much. Learn how Ai, Nine, became a star.
Dont yoo foget!1
1[Hello, Angie here! I will add translation notes for foreign languages, from conversations Nine remembers astoundingly well. This book is a test only for Nine’s English, not other languages. So, I transcribed the foreign dialogues accurately, hopefully. But make no mistake; this story belongs to Nine, my stellar student. Enjoy!]
i
Dat evening in early spring, Ai drifted to miami in de USA. Ai explored downtown, stoping at de window of a bakery. People walked around me, avoiding my scarred skin an torn clotes. Ai stared at de bery tarts, steeming golden inside. Ai couldnt buy; got robed in Naples on my way souf. But stil Ai stared. Worse dan de hunger, ma memories resurfaced.
Once as a boy, Ai hid on de edges of a weat field, wedged in bery brambles. Ai ignored de torns an tried to read. But Ai made no sense o de leters, tuked in a hard green cover. Ma fader found me. Ai bloked his hit wid de book. Nate asked *Boy, stop lazing around. De farm needs our work.*
*Just trying to read. Ai would be done by now if yoo bodered to teach me.*
Ai failed to blok de second blow.
Ai left de bakery, determined to drown ma mind in drink. Ai entered a bar wid an unreadable sign. Blue light bounced from seasels an botle caps hanging from wals. Ai sat at de bar an ordered *Pour yor best bery juice.*
*Liqers?*
*Yoo heard. Bluebery juice.*
De bartender served ma drink. As Ai considered how to pay, or run, giant rumbling sounded from outside. A man entered wid a leader jaket and sunglases. He said to de room *Wich o yoo chaps want $100? Be my valet for tonight, park my motorcicle.* He laughed loud, since it wud be cheaper dan de oficial valet outside. Ai turned away. Some young man rused to obey.
De biker sat at de bar next to me. A wite-haired, plump man at de bar wid us asked *Were did yoo leave de bike?*
*On de sidewalk.*
De older man sook his head. De biker scaned me. He said *Budy, Ai wil pay for drinks, Ai have de money. Seems like a wolf fought yoo an won!* He laughed again.
*Choke an die on yor money.*
*De bum wants to be rude? Yoo would respect me if yoo saw my condo.*
De wite-haired man chukled, *In our Miami, dats not even a brag. Yoo can live in a beachfront condo, but itll be 100 square feet wid 4 roomates.*
De biker sook his head, den turned to me. *Idiots. Ai trow dis dirty dog a bone an he wants ma arm.*
Ai took out ma nife and pointed it at him. *Ai sould cut yor arm of and sove it down yor troat.*
De room quieted. De white-haired man stood. De biker held up his hands, quaking *Ai didnt mean disrespect. Ai am Roderik, wat is yor-*
*Quiet.*
De older man said *Ai meant to relax of-duty today. Sir, drop yor nife. Ai, oficer Cliford, am bringing yoo in custody.*
We stared a minute. Den Ai tosed him de nife, wich he caught.
