Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison by T. Parsell (ready to read books TXT) 📕

inches taller. It seemed like my body had sprouted faster than I could catch up to it. In my mind, I was still shorter than my newfound height of six foot two. My body weight wouldn't match up for several more years. It left me feeling uncoordinated, and I was constantly tripping, stumbling, and knocking things over.

"You clumsy idiot," Sharon shrieked when I spilled her coffee on the livingroom carpet. Her cup had been sitting on the floor, next to the sofa. I ran andgrabbed something to clean it up, but then she screamed at me, "Not mygood towels!" She stormed into the kitchen and returned with a rag. "Forget it,"she said, "Just get out of here!"

Fortunately, my dad ran a carpet cleaning business on the side, so there wasn't a stain that would serve as a constant reminder of how awkward I had become.

It was also my first year in junior high school and the beginning of my problems in gym. I was always the last kid picked for teams, and the one who drew the most moans when I was finally chosen. I was as klutzy on the field, baseball diamond, and basketball court as I was in my own living room. To make matters worse, I had to shower with everyone afterward. I was nearly sixteen before I sprouted pubic hair.

I was shooting hoops by myself, when he snuck up behind me and took the ball. He did a quick lay up and tossed it back to where I was standing fifteen feet from the basket.

"What's you doin' out here?" Slide Step said playfully. "You don't know nothin' about this game."

"Sure I do," I said smiling. "Just 'cause I'm not very good-doesn't mean I don't know nothin'." I took a shot, and to my surprise it landed in the basket.

Slide Step looked up, grabbed the ball as it swished from the small chain link net, and tossed it back. I used to play Around the World in my driveway back home. We had a hoop over the garage. I took another shot, and it landed again!

"Oh, two in a row!" Slide Step said, smiling. He tossed the ball back to me. "Watch out now!" This time I missed, and he grabbed the ball and slowly bounced it as he walked behind me another six or eight feet from the basket.

He took a shot and missed, the ball hit the rim and bounced back. I grabbed it, dribbled forward and did a quick lay up. He came behind me and grabbed the ball as it dropped from the net. He passed it back. I was smiling, because the three out of four shots I just made-was about six times my normal average.

I bounced the ball forward, and he moved in to block me. That's where I usually got flustered. I could make a basket or two if I just took shots from anywhere around an imaginary arch in front of the hoop-but I didn't play well when someone was coming after me, checking and blocking. I turned my hack to him and nervously leaned forward, so he couldn't take the ball. He got behind me and reached around, as I tried to go right and then left and then right again. He wasn't giving any; his hips were right on my butt.

A couple of guys going up the stairs to 10 Building stopped to watch us play. I leaned forward, backed my butt into him and then quickly turned to my left, taking a wide hook shot with my right arm. The ball swished through the net! The guys on the stairs laughed. So did Slide Step. It was a lucky shot, but I wasn't sure they knew it.

Slide Step retrieved the ball and passed it back to me. He stood just inside my imaginary arch, shadowing me as I moved right and left again. He quickly reached around and snatched the ball, bumping me in the process.

"Foul," I yelled. He took the shot and easily landed the basket, slipping around me grabbing the ball as it bounced from the net. I reached out my hands, but he ignored me. "Foul," I repeated.

"What?"

"You fouled me," I said.

He took the shot and landed it. "That wasn't a foul," he said. He looked up and smiled at the guys on the stairs. He tossed me the ball, "but you can have it, anyway."

My brother taught me to bounce the ball in between my legs to transfer it from my right to the left hand. It was the only trick I knew. I took a stride back and then bounced it perfectly between steps, smiling broadly. I was starting to feel cocky. Slide Step's eyes twinkled with delight, and the guys on the stairs laughed. A few more had joined them.

"Uh oh," Slide Step said playfully, "You better be careful, Little Squeeze, or I'm gonna have to haul my dogs out here in a second."

I jumped up in the air and pushed the ball with both hands toward the basket. The ball missed the basket entirely, and the guys behind me howled. Slide Step caught it in the air, before it ran loose in the yard.

He dribbled behind me, turned and then moved backwards toward the hoop. I tried to block him, but he just kept backing into me, like I wasn't even there. "Don't foul me," I said, but he kept on pushing. "You're fouling me," I said.

"No I'm not," and he moved right, faked left, and in a flash was behind me dumping the ball into the basket.

He came out and did it again, leaving me standing there, looking foolish. The guys laughed again and the crowd had seemed to grow. Slide Step stepped out, moved in, and easily slipped passed. This time, the ball hit the rim and bounced behind me. I went to grab it, but as I turned around, he was already on my tail and easily recovered it, grabbing it in midbounce from my