Read Pins: A Novel for Free Online

“‘Jesus Christ Pose’?”
    “Aw, man, you should see the video. They don’t show it anymore, ‘cause a bunch of religious assholes got it banned. The singer is on this cross, then he like flashes to all these different creatures being crucified, like even Terminator.”
    “What, Schwartzenegger?”
    “No, the machine, the robot part.”
    “Severe.”
    Dink stood by him as he picked out a few others. “You like metal?”
    “Well. . .”
    “You’ll like them.”
    “What’s this? Tool?”
    “You know,” Dink grabbed his crotch suggestively. “Tool. They got one song called ‘Prison Sex.’”
    “That is sick.”
    Dink went back to his drawer, held the three videotapes he’d fished out of the pile. “So, c’mon. Showtime.”
    They went downstairs. While Dink fiddled with the VCR, his mother came in with her coat on.
    “I’m going out, so keep it down,” she said. “I don’t want the neighbors calling the police on you boys. I’ll be back by ten. That’s when I should get you home.”
    “Awright, Mom,” Dink said.
    As the tape started, Joey watched her car lights pan across the wall through the living room window.
      “Jeez, your mom let’s you have people over and goes out?”
    “Well, sure. She’s got a life, too. Ya wanna beer?”
    “You sure it’s okay?”
    “Sure it’s okay.”
    He scanned Dink’s living room. A big stereo, VCR, even modern paintings on the wall, not like the corny landscapes that were in his house.
    “Nice place,” he said as Dink handed him a bottle.
    Dink hit his bottle against his, said, “To a season of pins.”
    Joey’d never been toasted before, except at Christmas or New Year’s when he stayed up late with his parents. This was different, this was somebody special, a guy, a new friend.
    The beer tasted like salty soda.
    “It likes you,” Dink said.
    “Huh?”
    Joey’s beer spilled foam down the neck.
    “Oh shit. I’m sorry.”
    “No prob.” Dink went to the kitchen, grabbed a few paper towels. As he wiped up, he said, “Moved here after the divorce. Mom’s cool. Makin’ some bucks with her real estate gig. Plus Dad sends alimony and …” he pointed the bottle at himself, “child support.” He sipped more beer.
    They did a bit of battling burps, watched their own matches first, cringing at fumbles, slams, cheering smart moves, escapes, all caught on video by Dink’s father, who lived in Passaic, but came to all of the matches. Joey wondered how it felt, not having a father all the time, but it didn’t seem polite to ask. Instead he merely grooved on the buzzy beer feeling.
    “Shoulda tried a whizzer,” Dink advised as they watched an earlier match. They’d both lost, but Dink was still a better wrestler, so Joey listened, all the while admiring his own image. It was one of Dink’s gifts, seeing how impressive the team looked, black singlets with thick orange and white stripes down the sides.
    The side piping made them look somehow thicker, he wanted to say, but didn’t think Dink would get it.   He was still getting used to the Colts as his. As much as he enjoyed the strange thrill of being next to naked in public, he was glad the body of their singlets was black. Some teams had light-colored or even white singlets, which left nothing to his imagination. He could even tell who wore a jock strap or Lycra shorts, or even detect the shifting positions of a wrestler’s gonads.
    Watching himself on video for the first time up close, Joey couldn’t help but compare his own body with his teammates. He fit on the ascending scale of weights, bigger than Anthony and the others below him, smaller, of course than the upperclassmen. He liked the way Dink was smaller, yet thicker than him, the way their butts were different. Seeing himself wrestling, he realized he wasn’t a muscle-bound hulk, but he wasn’t the beanpole he saw in the mirror. I’m goodlooking, he thought.   I have a very nice body.
    “So, you had Fiasole last year,