Read Online Ball Don't Lie by Matt de la Pena - Free Book Online

mess with no kid before, but I’m gonna do like my
pops did with me. When I messed up, my pops whipped me good
.
    Mico pulled in another drag and blew it to the side of Sticky’s red face.
That’s how my pops made me a man. Now, if
I’m gonna stay here in this crappy apartment
. . . He circled his finger around the room.
If I gotta live like this, man, you
damn for sure we doin things my way
.
    He held the cigarette in his left hand, reached around with his right and scratched his shoulder blade. Transferred the cigarette back into his right hand.
I’m gonna make you
grow up to be a man
.
    Mico reached out quick and grabbed the back of Sticky’s head, pushed his face into the couch. He held Sticky’s head still with a strong left hand and stuck the burning cigarette against the thin skin behind his left ear.
    The sizzle on skin made Sticky swallow everything. Gasping and sucking. Choking. Pushing with his hands to get away. He was sucking in all the pain and dry-heaving through his mouth and nose.
    Mico held his head tight, screwed the embers in.
    The skin melting and dripping. The smell like burning rags. Everything snapping and cracking and breaking in his ear.
    He held the cigarette there until Sticky’s charred skin pulled every last bit of the red out.
    Warm piss ran down Sticky’s jeans. Darkened the faded blue denim. Pooled on the rug in front of his bare curled toes.

Sometimes I Think
    if I don’t make it to the NBA I’ll kill myself. I know
it don’t sound so good when I say it, Annie, but that’s how I
feel. There ain’t nothin else I wanna do. Just play ball. I mean, I
hear them people talkin bout how hard it is to make it and all
that, but I know I could do it. Dallas says if I keep workin on
my game I got a good chance. Slim, too. They said I got the intangibles. Old-man Perkins says if he was startin up a squad
from scratch he’d be lookin for a point guard just like me.
Someone who could score points
and
get assists
.
    It’s like this, Annie, God puts us here for a reason. We all
born with somethin we could do good, but it’s up to us to make
sure we use it. That’s why I play ball so much. I ain’t gonna lie,
I think God put me here to play ball. And when I go to pray at
night, I pray so I could get better and better. That’s why I grew
so much last year. That’s why I could shoot so good. It ain’t just
me doin it.
    This lady I used to stay with told me all about what could
happen when you pray. And she was true. I know she was now.
    Last week I was walkin back from Lincoln Rec, you know,
and I just started thinkin about all this. It was after I had one a
my best days ever. I couldn’t miss a jumper, my dribbles were
super tight, I was swipin the ball left and right from everybody.
I remember right where I was when I started thinkin about it:
corner of Washington and Grand View, right outside the
Foster’s Freeze where this crazy white dude was strummin his
guitar. I remember it was gettin all dark and there wasn’t too
many cars out. I sat down at the bus stop there and thought
about it. I couldn’t believe what’s happenin to me. How good I
could ball now. How I can take almost any guy I play against
now. And I know it ain’t just me, Annie, but God, too. I know I
couldn’t ball like that just by myself.
    Do you understand what a sweet life they got in the NBA?
They got fat bank accounts and big-ass houses. They got three,
four cars each. BMWs and Expeditions. Range Rovers. And all
they gotta do is just play ball all day.
    They get paid to play ball, Annie. That’s crazy.
    Sometimes when I’m sitting in class I picture what it would
be like if I got there. The announcer sayin my name over the
P.A., the crowd holding up signs, me chillin out back at the
hotel after a big game, watchin some highlight I did on
SportsCenter. When I’m walkin through the airport people
pointin at me and sayin, “Is that Sticky Reichard? Nah, for
real, is that Sticky Reichard?”
    When I think