Some might think Jay was cheated. By his mother, who walked out when he was 9. By his dad, who took a job a couple thousand miles away and let him stay above a bar in a one-room apartment. By the basketball coach, who saw his talent but chose youth over determination. And even Jay’s not sure whether this last year of high school in the small town of Sturbridge, Pennsylvania, will add up to anything. But just when senior year seems a waste–kissing the wrong girls, offending the right ones, playing basketball on a church league with other “rejects”–life begins to click again. The church league gives him some of the best basketball he’s ever played, and the right girl gives him a second chance. Jay may not know what he wants next out of life, but he’s beginning to get a clue about how to play the game.
From the Paperback edition.
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|Title of eBook: Playing Without the Ball|
|Release Date: 08-18-2010|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Laurel Leaf|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Playing Without the...|
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Playing Without the Ball
The wind catches you by surprise when you turn the corner onto Main Street in Sturbridge, Pennsylvania. It's brisker than you expect, and in your face if you turn off a half-deserted side street and head up toward the post office or Rite-Aid or the Turkey Hill convenience store. Especially in late autumn.
It's the week before Halloween, getting dark in a hurry, so Rite-Aid is busy with people picking up giant bags of miniature candy bars and little kids scoping out masks and plastic jack-o'-lanterns. The rest of the stores are mostly closed for the night, but the pizza place is busy and the music store is hanging on for another hour or so. Nobody's in there except the clerk guy with long stringy hair, reading a magazine behind the counter. You can get used CDs for five bucks.
The diner's open across the street, but on this side the gun shop is closed, and Sid's clothing store just shut its lights a couple of seconds ago.
I turn into the alley between Shorty's Bar and Foley's Pizza. The alley is just barely wide enough for Shorty's twenty-year-old blue pickup, but you can squeeze past it if you have reason to take a shortcut over to Church Street. You go around back to reach the steps up to the apartments.
There are four doors up here. The one marked number 3 is mine, just a room with bare walls and a scuffed hardwood floor. The bathroom is painted mint green and has a stand-up shower stall and an oval mirror above the sink.
I sleep on a mattress in the corner; I can't afford a bed yet. I've got a closet, but I also hang clothes on my chair, especially wet stuff like my basketball shorts.
I get free rent. Not exactly free--I work it off in Shorty's kitchen...