Chapter 4: A Brand New Day

Man, was I happy when I woke up the morning after our first night on James Cool. Moms had already left for work. Usually it was Romper Room around the house when she left for work. No sooner did I come from my room to engage Sonny in a rematch from the night before that I heard the most annoying ear piercing screech.

"Eh, eh, eh," the screech bellowed. "Eh, eh, eh." It was a female’s screech and it was coming from Sonny's room. I had to find out what was going on.
"Sonny!" I yelled as I jiggled the locked doorknob of Sonny's room. "What's going on in there?"

After a brief moments of tussling and a few 'baby, be quiets', Sonny came to his door, unlocked it, cracked it and politely told me to "burnout, you lil' motherfucka, go outside and play some catch or something."

"I ain't got no body to play catch with," I replied, trying to sneak-a-peek at one of Sonny's girlfriends.
"Play with yo' self, for all I care," Sonny suggested, "just get the hell outta here."
I was distraught. There we were in a brand new townhouse, I had no friends and my brother wouldn't play catch with me because he was banging some chick. "I'ma tell Moms," I warned, "and she gon' beat yo' butt."

"And I'ma beat yo' ass," Sonny said soon before the screeching began again. "Now scram, twerp."

I bugged out for a minute before I realized why I woke up happy in the first place. I had me a girlfriend and she was pretty brown sugar, baby. I grabbed my glove and baseball and made a mad dash for Gabriel's house.

"Who is it?" a grumpy sounded older female voice said from behind Gabriel's family door. "Who do you want?" the voice said after I introduced myself.

"Is Gabriel there?" I asked through the door.

"Yeah, she here, but she can't have no boy company, young man."

"Huh?"

"I said, she ain't allowed no boy company. So, go on away from here and wake up somebody else up."

I was saddened. The older lady had hurt my feelings. "How am I suppose to know she can't have no company?"
I screamed before kicking the door and high-tailing it on back to our place.

Much to my delight, when I got back around to our place I realized Moms had left two pancake and cheesy egg platters for Sonny and I. I smashed mines and I guess the adrenaline rush of being chased away from Gabriel's had me thinking unclearly because I smashed Sonny's platter as well.

Only after I finished the last syrup drenched pancake did I remember what happened to me the last time I ate one of Sonny's meal. I picked up the telephone and called my grandma. I would have called Moms, but she always told us to call Granny if we had a problem while she was at work. I called Granny often.

"Hello, Granny?" I said when my grandma answered the phone.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Granny, Sonny gon' get me."

"Why? What did you do to Sonny?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Now, come on baby, Granny know you done did something to make Sonny wanna get you."

"I mean, I ate his breakfast."

"Oh, baby, you know you ain't suppose to eat nobody's food but yourns. Now, you know I'on condone siblings fighting, but if Sonny taxes yo' backside then you deserve it today. Where Sonny at? Put him on the phone."

"I can't. He in his room with some girl."

"What? What some girl?

"I'on know. Some girl."

"Boy, you done done it now. You kids. I done told Virginia ya'll don't need to be there watching ya'll self. I'm on my way ova there."

I knew Sonny was going to be mad at me, but he had made me mad by putting me out of the house. Then that older lady didn't make it any better. I shouldn't have eaten Sonny's breakfast. I made my way back upstairs.

"Sonny," I cautioned, "Granny said she on her way over here."

"What?"

"You heard me. You betta get that girl outta here."

"You snitched on me twerp?" Sonny said after quickly escorting the girl out of the backdoor. "Nigga, you know
Pam came way over here from the Southside to spend the day with me. Skipped Operation Brightside and everything to come see me and you gon' snitch."

I broke to the bathroom and locked the door.

"Come outta there Cass and get this ass whupping," Sonny threatened. "Come on out. Granny ain't finna save you from this ass whupping, boy."

After a brief silence, I thought I was safe. I was going to come out of the bathroom, but I remembered Sonny had pulled that trick on me before. I decided to stay put unitl Granny got there.

"Bring yo' lil' ass on outta there," Sonny screamed after another moment of silence. He was now trying to break the bathroom door down. "I'ma beat yo' ass, boy."

It was close to noon when Granny finally arrived and I was relieved. In those couple of hours in the bathroom I got a chance to take a bath, brush my teeth six times and try on some of Sonny's deodorant and cologne. I even took Sonny's clippers to my head, putting a part on the left side of my head, right above the temple. It was kind of crooked, but I liked it. It was my first part and I thought I looked cool like Sonny looked whenever he put a part in his hair. I even took a nap.

"Come on outta that bathroom, baby," Granny said. "Come on nye. Granny tired and need to use that bathroom."

"Hey, Granny," I said, smiling as I opened the bathroom door. "How you.." Before I could finish, my grandma reached out and grabbed my collar.

"What have I told you 'bout lying on your brother?" she screamed. "Now, I'ma beat yo' ass." And with that, I took one of those classic grandmotherly beat-downs, complete with the 'gon and get something to wipe yo' face off' pep talk.

After the belt whipping, I retreated to my room and took refuge by climbing onto the rooftop outside my window. I wanted to daydream about Gabriel and the kiss on the cheek she'd given me.

It's one thing to sit on the roof late at night and a whole different subject in the middle of the day. The St. Louis heat is unforgiving on those late summer days and that day was no exception. No more than ten minutes on the roof, I realized I needed my favorite summer past-time; sunflower seeds and lemonade.

Pops had put me on to the concoction during one of his stories about traveling and playing in the minor leagues. "That's the key to get to the bigs, Cass," Pops would say. "You gotta enjoy every minute of it." I'd been hooked since nine.

The most pleasant of surprises greeted me when I returned to the rooftop. Two guys, probably around Sonny's age, were in the backyard getting set to play a game of cork ball. They each had a glove, two tennis balls and a cork bat. We'd played plenty of cork-ball over on Park Ave., but we preferred the League ball. We also had plenty of open space with Terry Park and the vacant lot at the beginning of the 3400 block of Park Ave. Over on James Cool, all the vacant lots had been redeveloped into town-homes and Chambers Park was too close to the Bluemeyer Housing Projects for JVL tenants to play ball in.

Watching the two guys warm up, it was obvious they were brothers. I didn't know if they notice me on the rooftop, but after a few seeds and a glass of Moms' finest, sweetest lemonade, I got an idea.

"How 'bout a game of three-man?" I yelled as the brothers' attention turned upward toward the rooftop.

They glanced at each other, smiled, and the older, taller one asked, "who is you?"

"My name Cassius," I answered. "Me and my brother Sonny just moved in the neighborhood."

"Aw yeah," the younger one said to his brother, "daddy 'nem said someone just moved on the side of us."

The configuration of our townhouse was a three-plex. It was our place, 2931 James Cool Papa Bell. Right next door at 2931 1/2 was Marlin and Cynthia's place and on the side of us were the two brothers and their family's place, 2929. Right across from them was Gabriel's family place at 2927. Gabriel' place and the brother's place formed a gangway that led to the backyard and front. Gabriel's family place was part of another three-plex.

"Can you hit?" the younger one continued.

"Sure," I said modestly, "I can hit."

"Well, come down and show us what you got."

I grabbed my glove for the second time that day, but I left the league ball in the house. I told Granny, who had stayed over after my beating to look after us, that I was going out back to play ball and was stopped dead in my tracks.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Granny cajoled. 'Cause if you asking me, it sure don't sound like it."

"Granny can I please go out back and play cork ball, please?"

"Now, that's more like it," she gushed, preaching to me about the sanctity of not lying on my brother.

"But, I didn't lie on him Granny, he did have some girl over here this morning."

"Well, Sonny said you lied on him 'cause he was going to beat you for eating his breakfast."

"That ain't even true, Granny. He didn't even know nothing about no breakfast."

"Hush, now boy, and go outside and play. Everybody know how you like to play make believe. Now get on outta here. Bye."

Chapter 3: Hot Summer Nights

The first night in our new crib was cool. We had a central air and cooling unit that helped starve off the Midwest's August heat and humidity. Moms loved that. She crank the air up to a cool 65 degrees and marveled at the speed in which the entire three bedroom, three level townhouse was cooled. We even had cable TV.

Pops had called and told us his agent was told by the Cardinals that they were planning on calling Pops up to the big leagues when the rosters expanded on September 1.
More impotantely though, Sonny and I had seperate bedrooms. No longer did we have to share rooms and sleep on bunkbeds. I could play with my army men in peace and he could talk to his girlfriends without my eavesdropping and picking up his mack daddy lines.

Moms made my favorite that night, too; fried chicken, brocali and califlower with CheezWiz on top. Man, life was good.

"Now, ya'll listen," Moms said as Sonny and I set plates for dinner. "There are going to be some changes in how we live around here. It's time for you two to learn some responsibility. Sonny on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays you need to wash dishes."

"Moms..." Sonny protested to no avail.

"Boy, shut the hell up and listen," Moms said, rationing portion of fried chicken to her offsprings.

"Like I said, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays you got dishes and Cass you take out the trash. On Tuesdays, Thursday and Saturdays, Cass, you wash dishes and Sonny you take out the trash. Ya'll rotate on Sundays. Tonight, Sonny is your night."

"Each night, I want my kitchen floor mopped. Take turns. Sonny, tonight's your night. Both of you are responsible for cleaning your own rooms and I want them done on Saturdays, along with the upstairs bathroom."

"Whatta ya' mean," Sonny interuppted again.

"I mean, Saturday, Sonny, you clean the bathroom and the Saturday after that, Cassius you clean it. Simple ain't it."

"And what you gon' do," Sonny foolishly asked.

"I'ma keep these damn lights and air on, put food on the table, clothed yo' ass, ya' know, things like that."

"You'on pay no bills," Sonny smart alecked. "Pops do."

"Yo' daddy don't pay a damn dime on no bills, boy," Moms corrected. "Shut the hell up and eat yo' damn food, Sonny, befoe I pop yo' ass right square in the mouth."
Sonny retreated, but I was surprised when Moms said Pops didn't pay any bills. I just knew he was chipping in on something. I was disheartned to find out other wise.

After dinner, Sonny and I started on our new chores. It was a late dinner, so by the time we were finished it was our bedtime. Moms had dosed off right after she ate dinner so by the time we were done cleaning the kitchen, she was sound asleep.

It was late and the only thing for us to do was stay up and watch television. Moms' master bedroom was on the lower level of the townhouse and our bedrooms were on the third floor, giving us more freedom than the law allowed.

After a brief home made session of Wrestling at the Chase, Sonny sent me to my room so he could whisper sweet nothings to one of his girlfriends from the Southside. I had no problem leaving, especially after Sonny put me in the full nelson and made me scream uncle.

"I'm telling Moms, watch," I cried out as Sonny relinquished his grip. "You gon' be in trouble."

"Shut up, fag," Sonny shot back. "You always talking 'bout telling Moms. Take yo' lil' punk ass to yo' room and you betta not say nothing or else it's on when she go to work in the morning."
Sonny was close to six feet tall at thirteen and sort of physical. He was way stronger than I, so the threat was well taken. I went straight to my room.

As I changed into sleep clothes, I kept hearing what sounded like a rock or pebble being pelted against my window. I was startled at first. I peeped through the window blinds and saw that cute girl Gabriel down below looking for more rocks to throw. The sight of her was comforting.

"Gabriel?" I asked, "whatta ya' doing?

"I'm trying to see my new boyfriend," she deadpanned. "Come on out."

"I can't" I retorted. "My momma'll kill me."

"Well, I'm coming up," she said.

I was stomped. "Coming up? Whatta ya' mean, coming up?"

"I'ma climb up there," she explained.

This girl is crazy, I thought. How in the world is she going to climb up my roof to get to my room? She easliy showed me.

My room was in the back of the townhouse and right outside my bedroom window was the rooftop. Right below the rooftop was a ledge that connected the roof to our backporch. By jumping on the ledge, all Gabriel had to do was reach out and grab the roof and climb up. She did.

"Ain't 'chu gon' help me?" Gabriel barked as I watched in amazement.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. I reached out to help her complete her mission.

Gabriel had changed from what she was wearing earlier, but that wasn't a bad thing. She wore khaki short pants and one of those yellow designer polos from Izod LaCoste and the outfit fit her to a tee.

"Gabriel, what are you up to?" I asked as she tried to make her stint on my rooftop a comfortable one.

"Go get me a pillow, please Cassius," Gabriel demanded. "Cassius...ooohhh...I love that name. Cassius Clay Winston, my baby for life."

"Here you go," I offered, giving Gabriel the only pillow I had on my half bunk bed. "I like your name too. Well your first name at least. What's your whole name?"

"Gabriel Monique Robinson," she said, "my daddy named me."

"Where's your daddy at right now?" I wondered.

"Gone," she answered.

"Gone where?" I probed.

"Gone to meet his maker," she informed, sensing I was getting a little bit too nosey. "But I'on wanna talk about him right now, where yo' daddy?"

"My daddy is in Louisville," I boasted.

"Where's Louisville?," she unashamely asked.

"In Kentucky," I answered, wondering "you ain't never heard of Louisville before?"

"No," she said matter of factly, "not ever. Why yo' daddy in Louisville? Don't he love ya'll."

"Yeah, girl, our daddy love us," I retorted. "He's down there playing baseball for the Cardinals."

"Whatta ya' mean for the Cardinals?" Gabriel wondered. "I thought the Cardinals was from St. Louis."

"They are," I explained, "but they have a minor league team in Louisville and my daddy playing for them until the Cardinals call him up September 1."

"For real?" Gabriel said in amazement. "Yo' daddy play for the Cardinals?"

"Not yet, but almost," I cauntioned.

I went on to break down to Gabriel how the minor league system works for major league baseball and when I was finished, she surprised me by giving me an innocent peck on the cheek.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"'Cause I like you," she answered, "and you my new boyfriend."

She went on to explain to me how her mother had accidently killed her father in self defense when Gabriel was five. She said family members had told her she was there when the incident happened, but she couldn't and wouldn't want to remember it happend. She said her father physically abused her and that is what she remembered.

"A gang of ass whuppings," Gabriel called the abuse, "body slams and choke holds. I'm glad she shot him."

"Where's your momma?" I asked.

"At work." Gabriel answered. "She leaves at ten at night and comes home at eight in the morning, screaming at me and my lil' sister about what kinda work we ain't done the night before, while my big brother get to do whatever he wanna do. Where yo' momma?"

"Hopefully in her room sleep," I answered, "she goes to work in the morning time."

"Well that's cool," Gabriel assured, "I'ma gon' go in the house befoe my Grandmomma wake up and be wondering where I'm at. You wanna help me down?"

As Gabriel made her way off of the rooftop and onto the backporch, I heard the sound of car window being smashed. I looked out toward the alley and by the time I looked back at Gabriel she had booked. Before long the car alarm was blazing and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know whose car it was, so I decided to just close my window and mind my business.

One of the three car theives looked right at me as I closed my blinds, but I prayed he didn't see me. I'd seen him, so he must had seen me. I thought about informing Sonny, but remebered the all out assault I had just recieved from him and scrapped that idea.

I decided to go to sleep and not even worry about the car thieves. I didn't know them and they didn't know me. Besides I wanted to hurry up and get to bed so that I could dream about Gabriel's pretty self.

chapter 3 continues...

Chapter 2: Love at First Sight

We hadn't even finished moving in to our new digs, when I saw the prettiest girl ever in my young life. She was stunning. Strikingly stunning in her flower print summer dress and matching sunlit sandals, her hair fixed in curled pig tails and skin caramel complicated. Tall for her age, she was probably an inch or so shorter than me, but she was still as fine as they come at eleven.

"My name is Gabriel, but my friends call me Gabby," she said, running up to me as I grabbed the last of my belongings off the makeshift moving truck Mom's brother Unc used to help us relocate. "What's your name?"

She was crass, and she was bold and somewhat rude, but I was smitten, excited by her presence.

"My name is Cassius," I countered, "but my friends call me Cass."

"Cassius what?" she asked.

"Whatta ya' mean?" I retorted.

"What's yo' full name?" she demanded.

"Oh," I said dumbfounded, "Cassius Clay Winston."

"How old are you Cassius Clay Winston," she demanded again.

"I'm eleven," I answered. "How old...?"

"I'm twelve and I'm oldest," she interrupted. "That means I run this."

"Run what," I asked.

"This."

"What's this?"

"Our relationship."

"What realtionship?," I wanted to know.

"You my new boyfriend," she informed.

"Yo' what?"

"You heard me," she corrected, "my new boyfriend."

"How? Why? Whatta you saying?"

"I'm saying, I got first dibs on the new kid, so now you my boyfriend."

I was befuddled. Definitely shocked. I was about to continue to figure out Gabriel's angle when Moms pulled rank.

"Cassius!" Moms screamed out from the front door. "Quit messing with that fast tail lil' gal and get yo' butt over here."

Boy was I relieved. Moms had helped save me from a terrifying moment, but to tell the truth, it was more exciting than terrifying. I couldn't quite figure out Gabriel's motives. We hadn't even fully moved in our new home and I instantly became her boyfriend.

"I gotta go help my momma finish moving," I informed Gabriel. "I'on know when I'll see you again."

"Bye," she said, trying as hard as a twelve-year-old can to be sexy. "I'll see you later Cassius Clay Winston."

I didn't know the girl, but I was indeed mesmerized. As I helped the family finish sorting our things I couldn't help but wonder why Gabriel was all on me like that. I didn't mind, I just wondered. I did know I had to tell Sonny.

"Sonny," I said, when my big brother ventured back out to the front steps. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Man, naw," Sonny barked, "why you ask?"

"I'on know," I chickened out, "I just asked."

Chapter 1:Adios Park Avenue

I had never heard of James 'Cool Papa' Bell nor the street that bore his name until my mother informed my brother Sonny and I that we were moving onto the North St. Louis street named after the Negro Baseball League great. Honestly, back then, my brother and I thought it was the silliest name a street could ever be named.

"What kinda name is that for a street any damn way," Sonny asked. Thirteen at the time, Sonny was very defiant towards our mother and he made it a point to let her know he didn't want to move from the City's Southside into the Jeff Vander Lou housing projects.

"Boy, watch yo' mouth," Moms shot back, raising her hand with an open palm to warn Sonny he was on the verge of another classic beat down, "before I wash it out with soap and hot water."

"I'm just saying, Moms," Sonny countered, "I'on wanna move to no Northside. Especially no JVL. Them cats be illin'. Let me stay with Granny."

I was a bit of a momma's boy, a titty licker, if you will. Wherever Moms was going, I was going, so I was cool with the move. Besides, everybody on Park Avenue already knew our dad, Pops Winston, played minor league baseball within the St. Louis Cardinals' organization, so a move north could only spread the news.

"My momma ain't trying to raise yo' hard-headed butt, boy," Moms said to Sonny. "She done raised her kids. So grab some boxes, go upstairs and start sorting yo' things. We outta here in three days."

Three days wasn't a lot of time for Sonny to do all the necessary things he had to do; besides packing, he had about three different girlfriends on the Southside he had to break the news to. One, Pam, was fifteen, so she was cool about it. Another, Monique was happy we were moving and the other, Niko, was heartbroken.

"Why, Sonny," Niko wondered, "why ya'll moving so soon?"

"Moms wanna be in the new spot by the first so we'll have a month before school starts," Sonny explained. "That way, we'll be all settled in by the time Pops get back to town."

Pops, a defensive specialist with speed to burn and an decent throwing arm, was expected to be a September call up by the baseball Cardinals. At 30 years of age, he figured he had put up decent enough numbers at Triple-A Louisville to be at least a expanded roster addition. By all accounts, the Cardinals planned on doing just that.

"Does that mean I'll never see you again, Sonny?" Niko continued. "Does that mean we gon' break up?"

"Baby, calm down," Sonny consoled, "you know my Grandmother still lives on Park Ave, so I'll be seeing you again. So, let me get off this phone so I can start packing my suff."

"Sonny, wait, don't go," Niko pleaded. "I wanna tell you something."

"Niko, I gotta go, Moms 'bout to come in her tripping," Sonny said. "I'll call you later."

Moms was a tall, regal woman, albeit a little on the skinny side. She lived fast, played hard and didn't take kindly to disrespectfulness toward her, her kids, family or friends. Her and Pops had gotten married when she became pregnant with Sonny. Moms was just eighteen at the time, Pops seventeen and on his way being drafted by the Cardinals in the 20th round of the 1972 amateur draft.

Despondent over his draft selection and subsequent signing bonus offer, Pops elected to go to the Community College in the hopes of improving his draft prospects. Two years later, the Cardinals drafted him again, this time in the 12th round and he signed.

The young couple struggled financially. By the time I was born in '74, Moms had moved back in with Granny on Park Ave, while Pops toiled in minor league cities in Texas, Arkansas and Kentucky. We lived with Granny off and on up until that August day in 1985 when we moved to the JVL.
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That last day on Park Ave was an interesting one. Some of the neighborhood crew decided to have an impromptu baseball game between the Park Avenue Pirates and the McGinnis family in Terry Park, a neighborhood gathering place for kids and adults alike.

The McGinnis' were a family in the neighborhood that outnumbered everybody else's family three to one. They could fill out a baseball team by themselves and not just a nine man team. More like a 25 man roster. The Pirates were made up of everybody else in the neighborhood who weren't related to the McGinnis'.

Although we had black Pittsburg Pirates baseball capswith the P on the bill and matching yellow t-shirts, the Pirates struggled to fill a team of nine consistently. Sometimes we played with seven or eight people. Once, when we had only five people show up, the McGinnis' loaned us four of their relatives. That game ended up in a fight between us and our temporary teammates.

After taking ground balls and warming up, both teams were ready to go. We had umpires, bases, aluminum bats and a real league ball, courtesy of Pops. I made sure everyone knew it was my ball, by labeling it: "This Ball Belongs To Cassius Clay Winston." Marcus McGinnis didn't take to kindly to that.

As I stepped into the box to lead off the contest, Marcus snapped.

"Why this lil' nigga got his name all over the damn ball for, man?" Marcus asked to no one in particular. "We know it's his ball. C'mon scrub, dig in."

Marcus McGinnis wasn't but a year or two older than me, but he was intimidating. He had a certain roughness to him that scarred the be-Jesus out of me and stepping into the batter box that afternoon was freighting.

"Strrrrike one," the home-plate umpire, Junior McGinnis, bellowed out as I watched Marcus' first pitch fastball buzz by. Junior was one of the older McGinnis' and he usually called the games from behind home plate. He had played ball with Pops at the Community College, so he thought he was the most qualified to call ball and strikes.

"C'mon, Cass, swing the bat, baby," my teammate and cousin Corleone said. "Swing the bat."

"Watch the fastball, Cass," my other cousin Lucky said, "he ain't got no curve."

"Ball", Junior screamed out as Marcus' attempt to shut Lucky up bounced about three feet in front of the plate.

"I told you," Lucky teased, "he ain't got no curve."

I could tell that Marcus was getting mad about being teased about his curveball, but I knew he wasn't going to stop trying to throw it either, so I decided to take one more pitch before I swung the bat. Pops had always told me to think two pitches ahead to counteract what a pitcher was trying to do. Marcus was trying to establish his curveball.

"Ball two!" Junior screamed as he dipped out of the way of Marcus' wild curveball. By then, his cousin and catcher, Meko, was frustrated.

"Hey, man I ain't finna be trying to catch all these wild 'lil curve balls," Meko informed, "so throw some heat."

By the time Marcus flung that 2 and 1 fastball down the middle of the plate, I was already in attack mode and stroke the pitch to left center where Donnell and Demond McGinnis gave chase all the way to the fence some 350ft away.

"Go Cass, go," a Pirate yelled.

"Run lil' brother, run," Sonny said.

"All the way home," Carleone conjoled. "All the way home."

As I rounded second base and headed into third, I could see the centerfielder, Demond, had gotten to the ball quickly, but I was determined for my first homerun of the summer.

"Slid, slide," the on deck batter, Main, said. Main was the only person our age from the neighborhood who actually played organized ball, so I figured I had better get dirty. Funny, as I slid headfirst into home Meko wasn't even trying to make an attempt to catch the ball and tag me out. A mouth full of dirt later, Main just looked down at me and said, "my bad Cassius, I thought they were coming home with it."

Sonny and Pops were closer than Pops and I, but everybody always said I could play ball just as good as Pops. The inside the park homer solidified that.

"That nigga ran them bases like his daddy," one spectator said. Another, Dope Fiend Dave, went one better. "Man, dat boy ran dem bases like E.T. McGee."

Marcus was mad enough to fight or at least throw a bean-ball at the next batter prompting a fight. The Pirates were happy and I was confused.

"Who is E.T. McGee?" I asked Dope Fiend Dave as I spat the Terry Park dirt out of my mouth.

"Who is E.T. McGee?" Dave shot back. "You know kid, dat nigga dat play for the Cardinals."

"His name is Willie McGee," I corrected Dave in my youthful naiveté.

"We'll dat nigga uglier dan a motherfuckin' extraterrestrial," Dave protested. "Look jus like dat ailien from the movie. E.T go home. E.T. go home."

The whole park just erupted in laughter. Just when I thought it was about to get ugly with Marcus and his quick temper, the whole park just erupted in laughter.

Chapter 1 continues...