BY MARIKA LYNCH

 Christopher Quintana flips through a packet of three-by-five index cards.

 He is a bit jittery, has a lot of things on his mind, like missing the fourth day of
 sixth grade to go to court.

 At 11, he was the youngest person arrested during this spring's Elián González
 protests. Police said he blocked traffic and instigated a crowd of 200 to riot -- all
 95 pounds of him.

 Wednesday, he waited for a judge to decide his fate at Miami's Juvenile Justice
 Center. He passed the time memorizing his spelling words, handwritten on 18
 lined index cards, punched with a hole, and held together by a metal ring.

 I-n-s-t-a-n-t-a-n-e-o-u-s. Denounce. Besiege.

 He pauses.

 ``I'm worried about getting a job,'' he said. Even though juvenile records are
 sealed, the boy who dreams of being an astronaut heard he might have trouble in
 the future if he has a criminal past.

 He laughs nervously.

 By noon prosecutors dropped charges against Christopher, one of 435 people
 arrested in street protests after federal agents removed Elián from his Miami
 relatives' home April 22. Angel Travieso, the Miami Police officer who arrested the
 boy, gave prosecutors a conflicting story Wednesday that made it look like
 Christopher might not be responsible for stopping traffic after all, said Don
 Ungurait, spokesman for the Miami-Dade state attorney's office.

 Like Christopher, many of the other protesters saw their cases either dropped or
 the charges reduced. Of the most serious 64 crimes committed that weekend,
 only 23 of those charges stuck, Ungurait said.

 So far, none of the protesters have received jail time.

 The mass arrests sparked allegations that police used too much force. A citizens
 committee is investigating, and a report should be out next month, said Miami
 lawyer Andrew Rosenblatt, group chair.

 Meanwhile, Miami Police say their officers have been cleared in most of the 21
 internal affairs complaints -- including Travieso in Christopher's case, said Delrish
 Moss, Miami Police spokesman.

 The department has issued its own report, which concluded: ``The overall police
 department response . . . was commendable. There were noted minor
 departmental policy infractions, which . . . can be corrected with training.''

 Christopher's brother Alex, 16, describes the night of their arrests this way:
 ``Serious, this was honestly the most scariest moments of our lives.''

 The boys' saga began about dusk Easter Sunday, when the Quintana brothers
 and dad Guillermo climbed into a Chevrolet Malibu and headed for Chinese food
 on their way to church services.

 Christopher wanted to see Elián's house in Little Havana. Dad agreed, but
 because of protesters they couldn't get past the intersection at 57th Avenue and
 Flagler Street. The boys got out of the car to buy a Cuban flag. The only items left
 were Cuban flag bandannas. They bought two and tied them around their heads.

 They saw a car stalled on Flagler and stopped to push it out of the street. When
 they returned to their Chevrolet, police approached.

 Christopher said he was wearing his seat belt when Miami Police removed him,
 allegedly grabbed him by his hair -- and told him he would face a sexual assault
 in jail, according to the family and a witness, Israel Caballero, 24.

 Christopher was originally charged with inciting a riot, a felony, but that charge
 was dropped. He and Alex were left with misdemeanor charges of disorderly
 conduct. Their father also was arrested, but those charges were dropped.

 On Wednesday, Alex, an avid basketball player and Christopher Columbus High
 sophomore, and Christopher, who loves to sing with the choir at Hialeah's
 Immaculate Conception church, walked into courtroom 2-4. They had been offered
 a plea deal: community service in exchange for dropping the charges. Insisting
 they did nothing wrong, the boys refused to accept.

 Instead, they stood behind their lawyers, Ellis Rubin and Robert Barrar. Dad
 Guillermo, mother Marietta Ramos and stepfather Yuri Ramos piled in behind
 them.

 Just as their trial was supposed to start, Assistant State Attorney Patricia Lieber
 walked into the room, whispered into Barrar's ear, and then announced: ``At this
 time, we will be announcing a nolle prose in the case.''

 Christopher didn't understand that the charges were dropped until his father
 embraced him.

 Relieved he said, ``I thought that was going to be longer,'' and ran down the
 courthouse stairs, straight to the woman selling refreshments beneath a blue
 flowered umbrella, and did a little victory dance.