Read Curveball : The Year I Lost My Grip (9780545393119) for Free Online Page A

in the Indian summer sun and watching my caveman buddy take about forty-three million foul shots. As an added bonus, he was enlightening me with his insights about the female mind. “So then” — grunt, shoot, swish — “she just invited herself over here and told you to take pictures of her?”
    â€œNo,” I said, “that’s not what happened at all. Mr. Marsh assigned us to be partners, and then —”
    â€œShe wants you, man.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about? I just said the teacher assigned us to work together. And then I was the one who asked her to come over.”
    â€œOh, yeah” — grunt, shoot, swish — “she totally wants you.”
    I stood up, walked over to AJ, and knocked on the side of his head. “Are you listening to me at all? The teacher made the assignment, and then I made the invitation.”
    He pushed me away with one hand, and shot with the other. It was a complete air ball, and he said, “See, now you made me miss. Like it’s my fault you can’t accept what’s happening in your love life.”
    I sat back down in disgust. “My love life ?”
    He smirked. “Yup. See, she made you invite her over here. First she arranged to be in your class. Then she probably knew you’d be the only two freshmen in there, so she would be your partner. Her final sly move was to use her femi-mind tricks to control you into asking her out.”
    â€œFemi-mind tricks?”
    â€œYeah. All the high school girls have ’em.”
    I stared at AJ blankly. He’s used to that, so when he’s on a roll, it doesn’t affect him. He continued as though I were leaning forward on one arm, looking up at him in an awed silence. “See, you know how there’s, like, band camp and football camp and stuff right before school starts?”
    I nodded as slightly as possible. I didn’t want to indicate any sort of agreement or anything.
    â€œWell, for girls, I’ve heard there’s this special kind of camp that we’re not supposed to even know about. For maybe three days before freshman year, they go up to the high school for, like, hormone boot camp. I’m pretty sure the instructors are the senior cheerleaders or something. Anyway, the girls master essential feminine wiles, and then they use ’em on us.”
    â€œUm, and you know this how?”
    â€œBecause of Elena Zubritskaya.”
    Elena Zubritskaya was this girl who had moved to our town from Russia in seventh grade. She was short and petite, with dark hair and glasses. In middle school, she had been quiet, shy, and mostly invisible.I hadn’t seen her around in high school so far, but I guess AJ had.
    â€œWhat about her?”
    â€œWhat about her? What about her? Have you been walking the hallways blindfolded for the past two weeks? She went away for the summer a mouse, and came back a raging tigress!”
    â€œReally? Little Elena?”
    â€œBelieve me, Pete, you are the last male in the world who’s still thinking of her as ‘little’ Elena. She’s a whole new woman. I mean, she always had a raging body …”
    (She did? I honestly, honestly had never noticed.)
    â€œâ€¦ but now she’s working it. I mean, the girl is strutting through the building. She has completely morphed into a bespectacled love goddess! Plus, you know how she didn’t used to talk a whole lot, and we thought she couldn’t even speak English? Now she’s like ‘So heavy this books,’ and eleven guys suddenly appear to help her with her bag. Or she’ll go ‘I no have pencil,’ and instantly, there’s seventeen guys standing around her with pencils in their hands. Shemight not have her grammar down yet, but she’s suddenly fluent in the international language of love. And she’s leaving a trail of destruction. It’s sick.”
    AJ took a break from talking to practice